The Heartbreaker and the White Monster: A Lay Report

Last night, in some nonsensical moment from a dream, I said to someone, “I’m going to give her the ‘White Monster’.” If that sounds like a “high school kid” talking about his cock, that is about right.

Who was I talking to in the dream? I don’t know. Was there context? Dreams don’t seem to need any context. But it does seem I was suggesting I wanted to fuck some girl. Which girl? This girl, the girl in this story. She wasn’t in the dream, but when I woke up, she was the girl in my mind’s eye.

I’ve never called my cock the “White Monster,” but I did give it to her tonight, after all. Can dreams foreshadow reality? Who knows, but this is definitely a lay report.

A little over a week ago, I was sitting in the Fish Bowl: which is what I call my favorite café here in Japan. The café has a long counter behind big floor-to-ceiling windows. The view from that counter is like being inside a ‘fish bowl,’ looking out, and watching all the girls walk by. That café is where this story begins.

I was doing some work at the Fish Bowl when I saw her. She was about 20 feet away, and staring at me. Huge smile on her face. It was a massive IOI, more than that, it was recognition (although I didn’t know it then).

I did what I do when girls hold eye contact with me; I said “Hi.” I just mouthed it, “hi,” with no sound. I held eye contact. And her feet were moving, slowly, a bit trancelike, and her eyes shimmered. Then she was just about past me, but still looking at me, and then farther, and looking back, and to the doors nearby, and one last glance before she walked out into the station.

Talking to Runner I referred to her as “1980’s b-list art school girl.” That was what she looked like that day. Big overcoat, red plaid pants, with punky, half-bleached braided pig tails, chipped black finger nails, and sneakers. She wasn’t my favorite girl of the day, but after that big look she gave me, I had to go talk to her.

She was lingering as I approached. She had seemingly run out of gas, and had settled near some guy, and I half expected that he might be a friend or a boyfriend, but he was not. I opened her. That huge smile was back again, in an instant.

I said, “do you speak English?,” and she said no, but she was hooked. I said, “I saw your eyes,” that we had looked at each other, and that I wanted to meet her. We struggled a bit in a mix of Japanese and English, and we started using my phone to translate. Yes, she was an art student. “Nan sai, desu ka” (“How old are you”), I asked? 19 years old. And then…

“You talked to me before,” she said.

I had already hit on her, two years ago. If you’re quick with the math, you’ll know that means she was 17 when I first stopped her.

I am hot-blooded enough to be attracted to the fertility of young girls, but I am pro-social enough to support the idea that we should leave girls alone until they are of the legal age. I might not know a girl’s age when I approach, but if I’m unsure, I can ask. If she’s underage, I tell her she’s lovely and excuse myself. That is what I did with this girl, two years ago. I know that… because that is what I always do.

This is maybe the first time that some young girl that was previously under the age of legal consent has bounced back into my life.

Of course she gave me her number.

She was fun via text. She did ask about my age. I said, “much older than you.” She said, “40s?” I just moved deeper into the conversation, and she seemed fine with that.

I said I wanted to see her again, she said “how about tomorrow?,” and it was on. We made plans to meet at a different café.

As that first date happened, she showed up looking much cuter. Tights, a skirt, her hair now in little “buns” on either side of her head. Her skin is not great, but her eyes are fantastic and big, like two small mice perched on her cheeks.

We talked for two hours. Sitting, side by side (of course), just coffee and conversation. She smelled wonderful and I felt myself wanting her. I invited her back to my place. She declined in a very warm way, with a smile and some promise in her big eyes. I liked her.

She thanked me via text after the date. And I responded, and then…

She kind of went dark. No response.

She was so on with that IOI the day I took her number. And then on via messaging. And then when I asked to meet, she volunteered for the next day. And then, she looked great on that date. And wore this perfume that tempted me so much. And then… silence.

And THAT is when I got this feeling that this girl was going to have a talent for breaking hearts. That is how she got her name, The Heartbreaker. Even now, it is mostly an intuition, but I get that feeling from her.

I don’t really “chase.” I am the hardest working man in daygame, but I don’t chase. “We all want what we can’t have.” Nah. I don’t feel that way. No hard feelings, but fuck what I can’t have.

I did feel this little ache when she went quiet, though. I almost always want to see a girl again after a good date and when she “shut it off” for a few days… I noticed.

She reminds me of a girl my buddy Moving Target dated a few years back. They were on, on, on and very into each other. And then… trouble. There would be these “gaps” where she was “out of pocket” that drove him crazy. And there were “other people” too. I think they genuinely loved each other, what they had was real (for a while). But the “pull away” – that was talent she had. It “got” him. And I felt it with this one… she’s got the same talent.

In my personal experience, the closest I have felt to that as an adult man was with The Siren. She was on, on, on with me too. She told me she loved me. She was a composer, a truly artistic soul, one of my favorite girls of all time. We dated for months; a beautiful, artistic connection, and then… she pulled back. I am not afraid to work, but sometimes chasing a cat will only make it run away faster. I let her go, but I felt the effect. Did she do that all the time? Did it “get” guys when she did it? I was not the man I am back then, but I was on my way. And even though she was special, when she “pulled back,” I could let her go. I did have other options. I missed her, she was special, but I didn’t “get got.”

The Heartbreakers was a similar kind of dangerous temptation. She had that same talent.

In our last exchange, she told me she would “see me next week.” I pinged her three days later, on a Saturday. We chatted, and she offered to meet me that night, after work. She didn’t have much time. I said, yes. I wanted to see her.

She tried to get me to come to a café she works at. No, I said. I don’t need her friends and co-workers around. I’ve been in cafes all day, I said, maybe ice cream? She accepted. We met up. I said, let’s get ice cream, go to my house. She had a tight, nervous smile, but she agreed. Off we went.

She only had an hour. My place. Music. Some ice cream. After about 30 minutes, we were looking at the books on my bookcase, and I did want her. I stepped in. Kissed her. She took it. Not overly passionate, but some good achy noises coming from her. With a few minutes left, I tried to drag her to the bed for a heavier make out, but she said no. Cool. I told her so. You can talk to me, I said. Your feelings are important, I said. I believe all that.

I walked her out. Her dad (yes, really) was coming to pick her up in 10 minutes. Did she tell him she was on a date? “No!,” she laughed. Okay, good. Smart girl. Off she went to see dad.

Later that night she sent me a three messages:

HER: I want to talk about my love
HER: I am in love with a lot of people
HER: Do you mind if I have a boyfriend?


She is young and I couldn’t really know what she meant by all that. I am also dating other people, so, no, I don’t care if she has a boyfriend (although this was the first time she’d mentioned him). That line “I am love with a lot of people” was actually unusual and interesting, I kind of liked her for saying it. Anyway… I knew I would keep going.

A few days passed, and I told her I wanted to see her. We had good momentum, time to move it forward. She said she was busy and that she’ll let me know when she’s free.

Runner and I talked about this kind of line from a girl. He had a girl tell him the same thing that same week. Do you really listen and wait for her to tell you when she is free? I don’t. I take it as “not now,” give her some space, ask her out again. That is always my plan.

I waited a few days and messaged her, told her the days I was free, said I wanted to see her. She suggested “tomorrow” (which was today). I accepted.

And then… she flaked. Bummer. That is how it goes sometimes…

But in this case, I argued the toss.

I sent her “NO FUN” (push), in all caps. I told her I liked her (pull), but when she makes plans with me, I want her to keep them (push, enforced a boundary). I told it was exciting when we are together (pull), that I love her eyes (pull, again), but we need to make a plan (a kind of push). None of this was ideal, but it was better than giving up – and as it was, it got me laid that night.

I had shown some strength. I could come back to her again later without feeling like a pussy or a pushover. I didn’t know how she was going take all that, but I had played my hand, and for that moment, I was off the gym to lift some iron.

But before I even made it to the gym, she had come back to me, saying, “how about dinner?” Tonight, I said? I was surprised, but yeah… the push/pull and the strength seemed to have worked. She had reversed herself. She was coming out, after all. I saw this same pattern with Miss 19 earlier this year.

I had her come to my house. We hung out a bit, I kissed her, lightly, and then a bit harder, and then I took her to dinner.

Some of the appeal of her, was this “heartbreaker” archetype. It’s not my thing, but I was curious to explore the psychology of it all. She was an interesting case.

I asked her why she had said ” I am in love with a lot of people” and she said: she wants to love many people because she wants to be loved by many people. I fucking hate the idea of modern “polyamory,” I am a “don’t ask, don’t tell ” kind of guy. But she wears this vibe of hers very well. She is “dumb teenager,” I don’t take her 100% seriously, but there was something almost original in her expression of “love.” She is sincere, and I can see this adding to the “heartbreaker” vibe.

My friend Moving Target’s girl was bisexual, sort of “airy,” hard to pin down, “spread her love around.” Similar vibe here; this might be a type. I think this lifestyle is just taking root in her, but even so, I think it would make most guys insecure. Jealousy can be the most destructive thing, but in this case, that wasn’t what I felt. I was unbothered.

She is an interesting type. I have fucked a lot of girls, but some of her psychology was “first time” for me, at least in terms of being conscious of it all. I was watching her… studying her.

After dinner, back to my place. Took her right to my bed, no resistance. I didn’t have much time (like 40 minutes) and I assumed I would get close, but not try to fuck her tonight… but it went farther than I assumed it would.

In bed, I wanted more tongue from her and I was trying to teach her that. She said, “deep kiss is rare in Japan,” but she is 19, and I assumed she is no expert on any of this. I told her to “give it to me” (I love to say to girls)… and she did. And she was purring nicely. And I moved a leg between her legs, and she took it. I grinded a thigh into her mound, and she pushed back.

I untucked her shirt, and ran my hand up her belly, to her neck. She took it. Under her bra, to her little hard nipples. Purr, purr, purr. Yes, she was in.

I gave her so much eye contact. I literally welcomed her, and she laughed, but I mean it; This is our time, I told her. Welcome. Welcome to being in my bed. Welcome to how I see sex. Welcome, if she is into it, to the first of many deep sessions. This is literally what I say to girls. I don’t expect her to understand all this (not yet), but she took it.

I touched her everywhere, and when I went to pull off her skirt, and her tights, she took that too. And then, her shirt. She is tiny. Small tits. I had her down to little white underwear with red trim. I wonder if she expected to get laid tonight? In this case, I don’t think so.

I put my hand between her legs and she was sopping wet; like a jar of warm jelly. I just played with her. More eye contact. No hurry. No rush.

I took her panties off. Yes, I was going to fuck her. But I ate that wet box first. And gave her my fingers. She was “with me.” So I took my pants off, and got a condom. And she was careful to watch the condom go on, to make sure I put it on, and…

+1 daygame.

We only had like 5 minutes until she was supposed to go and catch her train. I took the liberty of an extra 10 minutes or so. I fucked her slow, mostly. No goals. No need to prove anything. I made her look at me. I reminded her that we were doing this together. She put her arms around me. It was not epic, not at all, but it was good.

It was time to go. I pulled out. I held her a bit. Still giving her 100% eye contact. I said, lets go. I handed her those white panties. And I stood up. I pulled the condom off as I walked across the room.

Her laying in my bed tonight, and taking my cock inside her, was a kind of surrender. But after the first time, you only know so much. She doesn’t really know if I’m going to disappear with my “trophy.” I don’t know if she’s going to run off, if she’ll be “one and done,” a sexual experiment, and nothing more than that. But I like how I played it.

I had taken another girl across the river. And she was not my favorite, but she was interesting date.

Conversation was good with her. She isn’t a super beautiful girl, but I have had a great time with her every time I’ve seen her. She does have fantastic eyes. And through those eyes, she seems to be comfortable holding the heat with me, and the heat of wanting multiple lovers, and the heat of wanting to tell each of them that that is how it’s going to be. For a tiny girl, she has a quiet power.

And tonight, yes, I gave her the White Monster. It was a dream come true, I suppose.

She feels dangerous to me, and it’s not because she is experienced. I would give her those big, wet kisses tonight, I’d suck at her tongue, and she wanted to wipe her mouth after each one. Very young, very new to all this.

I thinks she is a heartbreaker. And I think I’m on the early part of her career of breaking hearts, very early, before she’s perfected her poison. I have enough experience and confidence to play with her without getting burned. But I guarantee that some young guy she’ll date soon will be outmatched by her. I think she has a talent for a kind of tension that teases, that “gets” guys, that isn’t about potential, but mostly about getting strung out.

I am so interested. In her. In all the girls. It was a good experience.

Viva daygame.