DR Data Sheet Redux
#1
Hey guys I'm back..

I'm a guy who strives for full transparency. So here's some thoughts on my absence and post deletions. They are not an excuse but rather a processing of some of my inner demons.

I think that forums and many other things can only survive and thrive through authenticity. I'm a Buddhist, and many times my slaying lifestyle has slapped against what I hold dear in the teachings of the Buddha. I don't know how many times I went from a week of debauchery in Sukhamvit to a silent meditation retreat in Myanmar. I swing like a baboon, literally. I suppose these two face many of us contain could be a thread post. But here I'll just continue with some DR musings, which I hastily deleted when my false morality overtook me some weeks ago and led me to try to erase (impossible) the erstwhile errors of my ways. I can erase the words but can never erase the deeds--but would I want to.

Where I last left off I was suffering some misgivings and misdirections from a big-tittied tour guide in Punta Cana. She clearly wanted me for something, but her bedded body language suggested it was beyond the usual. The first night she submitted with resignation, to which I pulled out. I need sexual commitment and she gave none.

The next day she took me to some hidden local beaches of Punta Cana, where we enjoyed amazing seafood and surf. It was mostly locals, but somehow a few tourists had found there way there. One couple were newlyweds from Atlanta, who clearly had never been out of the country. The poor schmuck embodied everything the international swooping man escapes from. By American standards, his wife wasn't awful. White, dumpy, and on the verge of succumbing to the high fructose syrup diet. But she was giving him every manner of hell a gringa bitch can deliver. She complained about the sun, and the water, and the waiter, and endlessly lamented the quality of the hotel. She bitched about the taxis and the food and the color of the sand.  Throughout the bitching, my hot-bodied brown babe kept ordering me beers, procuring the best shrimps, slathering me with sunblock, and attending to all my needs. I saw this poor married fool keep looking over, and you know what he was thinking. "This is an option? What the fuck did I do?"

After sunset, someone from her tour company picked us up and delivered us back to her hotbox. After a lovely day, I thought I could easily break through whatever reluctance was there. But it manifested again, and I just called her on it. I asked if he she had a boyfriend and she said "no, but why do you ask."  I never knew for sure, but my hunch was the gay dude she talked on and on about was indeed her boyfriend, and they had some agreement that would allow her to cash in on the many tourists she entertained in Punta Cana. I will never know, as that night I caught a late bus back to SD, where my budding harem was waiting, along with my strange German artist friend and the rest of my pipeline.

More to come....
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#2
Damn, its the worst when you invest and can't get anything. Girls play the game too. Always love to hear about DR, as I've spent a ton of time there. ACtually going back in a couple weeks. And so many busty girls is probably my favorite things about the dr
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#3
I was exhausted and a bit frustrated on the bus back to Santo Domingo. The tour guide was super fine, with some of the sweetest caramely tits I had ever experienced. But the dead fish fuck was such a buzz kill, and I was trying hard to shake it. I only had service through part of the bus-ride, but was busy with my pipeline where I could.

The really dark girl I nailed just before leaving SD wanted to meet me at the bus station, but as there are always hotties around travel hubs, I didn't want to waste that opportunity, so we set a date for that night. I was also in contact with this milf with huge cans and what looked like painted on eyebrows. Her pictures showed a slammin body, so I was excited about getting that one going.

I also needed to find some new digs, as my previous pad in the university district was feeling downright unsafe. The girls who had visited expressed surprise that I was there. I also felt watched at all times. For those of you who have traveled to danger zones, you know that you are often "cased" before being victimized, especially for express kidnappings.

So I pick up some Presidentes and head back to my pad. Amazingly, nothing had been stolen in the two nights I had been gone. I guess "tipping" the guard was paying off.  I shower up and get sipping my Presidentes, and by now, the sexy very dark girl is blowing up my phone as she knows I'm back in Gotham. How strange the scales of power tip after you bone a girl. She's practically begging me to come over as soon as possible, and I oblige. Her body is just otherworldly with that deep mahogany skin and sumptuous curves. Her face could look a bit less like George Foreman, but the body makes up for it.  So she arrive, and clearly would have banged immediately, but she was really in the mood for fried chicken, so I order her some to get her in the mood. BTW you can get anything delivered in SD if you ask. We enjoyed a few shags and then thankfully she had to leave due to curfew.

After 5 nights in the DR, I had been so frantically busy chasing internet and day game, I hadn't even researched night game potentials. I spent the remainder of the evening finding a better flat in zona colonial and setting up dates for the next days. I did get a couple girls to come up from yelling at them off the balcony, but after a few minutes I got the vibe they wanted to rob me, so I asked them to leave. They protested at first, so I pretended to get the guard on the phone and they bolted.

More to come...
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#4
I don't recall how late I was up drinking Presidentes and grooming my harem, but I woke up in a sort of Caribbean fog, fully clothed and alone, a with a white cheesewhiz type moustache. It was definitely time to get out of this hole and get my shit together.

I had no idea where I was in terms of payment or reservation on this place, so I took the suicide elevator up to the top floor where the apartment manager/airbnb profile lady had her office. I had actually been intending to visit up her since the beginning of my trip due to her overfriendliness in our airbnb communications. She was equally friendly in person, and had I been back in Wisconsin, it would have been full game on. Here in the DR, she reminded me of decaffinated coffee floating in the bottom of my french press. But she refunded me the days I would miss, so I gave her a fine review on the site-minus the safety concerns.

I get an Uber to zona colonial, where I had booked my next pad. I get there before 10am, so of course my host is sleeping somehwere. I ring the bell incessantly until some dried up old lady answers a nearby door and tells me something I translate as "the fag isn't home"  there are countless deragatory terms in Spanish for gay, but 'marica' is especially bad.

So give the old lady a few bucks to watch my bags and start shuffling aroudn the neighborhood. One of the coolest things in the DR are these corner cigar shops where the old timers hand roll cigars. They are true artists and their products are the absolute bomb. You can get a freshly hand-rolled cigar for a buck and wash it down with a local cognac for a buck. Its 10am in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, and I'm at a corner table on a busy pedestrian street smoking a fine stogey and sipping cognac. The brown beauties are strutting past in their high heels late for work, and they all give me a passing glance. I am so far from Wisconsin I could bust. In fact I'm too enraptured in the moment to even stop them for numbers. I'm just in the moment.

After 30 minutes I go back to the flat to see if the "fag" is awake yet. Turns out yes, as the bared gate  to my apartment is open and my luggage is inside. The place is stunning, with the refined touches only a gay latin man can provide. We hit it off immediately, and I use my gay amiguity game to pull him in.  I do about 15 minutes of this before I drop the straight bomb. Like clockwork, he starts telling me about all his female friends he is going to introduce me to. Game on. Another gay bullseye.

We go down to the corner and get some Presidentes and lunch. He tells me about all the gay european backpacker dudes he's boned and i tell him about my DR conquests He listens intently and then begins his critque. Gentlement listen up. When a gay local starts telling you about how to slay local women, you LISTEN. 

We're drunk as snot by 2, so I shuffle back to my new pad and pass out..  I'll be awake by 6 when the night and my pipeline really opens.. more to come...
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#5
Good stuff K pop. Living through you as im still in usa
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