Even Tom Brady Runs Game

db (a chick) left this comment to my alpha body language post:

re: alpha body language, check out most nfl quarterbacks, from their stance on the field while playing to how they conduct themselves in interviews and on the sidelines.  much more alpha than the typical preening wide receiver whinyboys.  and, though the offensive line guys are arguably tougher, have a more ‘james bond’ style.  think tom brady – who was quoted in an old issue of si when asked about how he got giselle saying something like “you have to shake her confidence; make her wonder ‘what’s wrong with me’.”

You’d think a guy like Tom Brady, an apex alpha, would have no need for any sort of game. He could show up and women would make his job easy. But even Tom sees a need to run game on a female uberalpha like Gisele. It sounds like Tom hit up Gisele with a well-placed neg. Tom, like me, understands the importance of leveraging a woman’s insecurities to boost one’s status and thereby raise a woman’s buying temperature. People who believe “natural alphas” don’t play these sorts of head games with women are wrong. Tom Brady has revealed that alphas use game, too, and oftentimes more cruelly and devastatingly than the typical enlightened beta on a path of sexual redemption. Some may argue an alpha doesn’t need to run game, but that’s not how alphas think. An alpha is always looking to amass more and hotter pussy than he knows what to do with.

This vignette illustrates clearly the power of game — it helped a natural alpha like Tom Brady, a man already in possession of the full suite of conventional male attractiveness traits, breach a supermodel’s panty barrier.

In other news, Mel Gibson has informed his much younger Russian girlfriend that he will have a paternity test done on her baby when it is born. Mel has been reading my blog. I’m glad to see him shedding the straightjacket of his beta religious sensibilities. A looming $500 million dollar divorce payout will do that to a man.

Maxim #666: All kneel before the god of biomechanics, by sword or by surrender.

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Sexual Dystopia: A Glimpse At The Future

A recurring theme here, and one that has gone wholly underappreciated by our elites on the Left and the Right, is how insidiously the culture and the sexual market have changed since the advent of the Four Sirens of the Sexual Apocalypse. As a helpful reminder, here are the four sirens I’m talking about:

1. Effective and widely available contraceptives (the Pill, condom, and the de facto contraceptive abortion).
2. Easy peasy no-fault divorce.
3. Women’s economic independence (hurtling towards women’s economic advantage if the college enrollment ratio is any indication).
4. Rigged feminist-inspired laws that have caused a disincentivizing of marriage for men and an incentivizing of divorce for women.

As I have written, these changes are slowly, but powerfully, tectonically shifting the courtship playing field. The big winners are alpha males and the big losers are beta males. Alpha females continue to do well because their beauty is so rare that they can successfully leverage their mating capital even when market conditions turn unfavorable. Beta females lose their long term advantage under the new dispensation at the gain of an ephemeral, deceptively alluring short term advantage. The modern PUA, an amalgam of the wisdom of old-fashioned rakes and the science of new-fangled evolutionary psychology, is one outgrowth of this massive and heretofore misapprehended trend.

We’ve had 40 years of this informally polygamous system killing us softly, and the results can be seen directly in delayed age of first marriage, rising divorce rates, decreasing fertility, and harem volunteerism, and indirectly through the coarsening and bastardization of American sensibility and governmental policy (e.g., Title IX, multicult suicide pact, AA, open borders, the ascendence of the therapy culture, and just about every assinine court decision since).

Maxim #66: The worst thing to happen to America was women’s suffrage.

Naturally, changes on this scale don’t happen overnight. There was a store of good will and optimistic future time orientation bequeathed us by our beta male forebears — the men of the 19th and 20th centuries who built America into the hyperpower that made France shit its knickers — that will take generations to dissolve into the watery gruel of transnationalist solipsistic hedonism. We may even witness brief moments of cultural comeback, but the overall trend is unmistakeable. We are going the way of Rome.

A few months ago I had an email exchange with Randall Parker who writes two blogs I enjoy – Parapundit and Futurepundit. I wondered aloud what Greg Cochran — co-author of a PC shibboleth-smashing book about how human evolution has sped up in the last 10,000 years (and judging by his online persona a royal prick (my kind of guy) held in high esteem by his fellow genomic scientists) — anticipated the future shape of human evolution would take given the sexual marketplace changes I’ve written about on my blog. Specifically, I wanted to know if the Four Sirens would speed up human evolution even faster than the dawn of agriculture. This was Parker’s and Cochran’s reply (via R. Parker):

Contraception is a selective pressure for the desire to make babies and for less planning. Women who want to make babies won’t use the pill. Women who can’t plan for dinner won’t plan for getting a doctor’s appointment for a contraceptive prescription. I’ve written posts about this on FuturePundit. An Australian twins study found that Catholicism and fewer years of education are both positively correlated with fertility (no surprise on either score).

I asked Greg and Henry about this. Greg says in theory one can calculate the speed at which higher fertility will be selected for. But Henry says there’s not good data on the heritability of fertility.

As for other selective pressures: Greg has speculated that people will become more loyal to family. So the world will become more like the Middle East. Not good.

Greg also sees a biological eugenic arms race on the horizon.
http://www.isteve.com/Thatcher-Speech-Text.htm

Unencumbered by post-Christian ethics, the Chinese government recently passed a pre-1945-style eugenics law calling for the sterilization of “morons.” The ruthlessness of this law portends that if China implements genetic enhancements while the multiculturalist West either bans them or pursues a politically correct reengineering of human nature, the inevitable result within a few generations would be Chinese economic, and thus military, global hegemony. As the weapons scientist and evolutionary theorist Gregory Cochran pointed out, “We cannot opt out of this biological arms race any more than we could opt out of the nuclear arms race.” Therefore, those serious about either preventing or decreeing genetic engineering should start planning a preemptive nuclear strike on China, and soon.

Time to speculate about the future. In sum, we will have more people with lower future time orientation (i.e., the temperament to save for a rainy day and delay gratification for greater future gain), more impulsiveness (great for knocking up broads, not so great for building and sustaining first world levels of civilization), and more distrust of societal institutions in favor of tighter familial bonds (great for aspiring warlords and corrupt kleptocrats, not so great for maintaining a loyal national military or respect for the law or a basic sense of fairness).

In possibly what will turn out to be the juiciest irony in all of human history, feminism and its co-ideologies of deceit may usher in an America that looks more like a patriarchal Middle Eastern caliphate of their worst nightmares. The realization of the matricentric utopia that feminism has been clamoring for these last few generations will undo the very foundation upon which the rancid ideology was able to prop itself.

Human nature does not offer us a bottomless chest of treasure. Few are exempt from trade-offs, and no society can have everything its heart desires. To restore American greatness and comity of its people, feminism and its cousin -isms will have to be rolled back. This will mean women will sacrifice their earning power and some career freedom. The alternative is what we have now — economically independent women, freed from shame and the restrictions of their biology by the pill and abortion, following their vaginas straight into soft polygamy, state-supported single motherhood, and grossly unjust payday divorce settlements.

Now I will tell you how to save America from this fate. The answer will surprise some of you:

More PUAs.

America is beyond saving in the traditional ways. The rot has metastasized. There will be no glorious beta male uprising. Like one of the commenters from yesterday’s post pointed out, the first cute girl to bat her eyelashes at one of these revolutionary Che Betas will have him betraying the brotherhood faster than you can say “just the tip”. Nor will there be a repeal of the 19th Amendment, though there should be (and, no, I am really not kidding about that. Exhibit A: Cuntrag).

No, the solution is to give the New Girl Order *exactly* what it wants: Game, and an army of cads that practice it. Force feed the beast until it is choking on its own gluttony. The emissaries of the Great Lie must have the consequences of their ignorance and treachery shoved down their throats. In time, the unabashed pursuit of hedonism and the embrace of Darwinistic nihilism (two potent forces which, coincidentally, happen to have truth and pleasure on their side. Exhibit B: God is dead) will raze the neoliberal monolith to the ground, and from the ashes the eternal human cycle will begin anew, strengthened and revitalized. A complete reconciliation with our tragic destiny gives us the only chance to avoid it.

More neg hits, more qualifying, more takeaways.

Faster, please.

ps: don’t bother recruiting me. i’ll be poolside.

pps: conservatives need to get their heads out of their asses about the nature of women.

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How To Prey On Women’s Insecurities

Women are not special little snowflakes in either the vaginas they possess or the insecurities which burden them. Women mostly share the same self-doubts: “I’m fat”, “I’m past my prime”, “He doesn’t appreciate me for my mind”, “He’s going to use me”, “OMG cankles!”, “My boobs are small/saggy/veiny/covered by an acre of areola”, “I hope guys can see how smart — SMRT smart! — I am”, “I hope he doesn’t think I’m a slut”, “She’s wearing the same shirt as me! Panic at the disco!”, etc etc.

You mission, should you refuse to be weighed down by useless pangs of guilt, is to make a woman’s insecurities your ally in the pursuit of closing the deal. You want to drive a wedge between her and her self-confidence. The reason is elementary: Women wish to date up. So a man can either raise his own status to appeal to the girl he is trying to pick up (see: Game, medical school), or he can lower the girl’s status so his status seems higher in comparison (see: Game, Skittles Man). He can also do both, but this might be overkill on women who are less than an 8. The last time I exercised both options on the same woman, it was with regular reader and bean diddler Sara, and you all can see the results of that in the comments.

Women are the gatekeepers to sex, but what exactly is the gate? It’s her self-perceived status relative to yours. Or, her beauty. Quite simply, if a woman perceives she is more beautiful than the kind of woman you can be expected to snag, she will give you a harder time than she would to a higher value man who looked and acted like the sort of man used to dating women of her beauty caliber. This dynamic also works with status metrics like educational attainment, because women project their desires onto men and assume men will up- or downgrade them on things that are important to women. We know better, of course.

Men have two intrinsic playing field advantages in the sexual marketplace. One, men have a longer window of sexual desirability. A typical 35 year old man has better prospects than a typical 35 year old woman. He won’t need to settle as far down the mate ladder as she will. Two, men can better withstand blows to the ego. We are designed to take a licking and keep on ticking, as we are, barring rare exceptions, the initiators of courtship. If you want to bang hotter women than you are accustomed to, you must leverage both of these advantages to the maximum.

Knowing this, you can easily improve your odds with any woman by subtly exposing her insecurities using the implements of psychological mindfucking. The trick is to avoid direct assault on her soft underbelly. You don’t tell a girl “I like your low rider jeans, but aren’t you worried that it accentuates your muffin top?” No, you need to breach her defense perimeter indirectly, like a Trojan horse:

“I’m sort of an exercise buff, so I appreciate a woman who feels the same way about keeping fit.”

Any woman with fat issues will hear this: “Does he think I’m not into keeping fit? Are my belly rolls undulating??”

More examples of the art of exposing female insecurities:

Use on a girl who looks like she might be self-conscious about her boobs: “Yeah, fake boobs are weird. If only women knew that most men prefer real, firm, round boobs.”

Use on girls pushing up against 30: “I think younger women are overrated. Sure, they have great figures and are spontaneous and always up for fun, but their lack of… maturity… can get tiresome after a while.”

Use on girls who have a slutty past (thanks to me, you’ll be able to tell) and are worried about being pigeonholed as a one night… hole: “Most guys are too judgmental about a woman’s life choices. I don’t believe in that. Only weak people feel a need to live according to other people’s expectations.” (Irony intended.)

Use on girls who are insecure about their smarts: “I just finished reading Joyce, but I’m not going to bother you with that. It’s a little high brow.”

Use on girls who are insecure about being perceived as high maintenance: “You like playing frisbee? Funny, I never would have taken you for the down to earth type.”

Use on girls who have bad fashion sense and worry about it (*every* girl worries about how she dresses): “I think it’s refreshing that you’re secure enough to wear flip-flops without irony. Not every girl cares about keeping up with the latest trends.”

Note for the haters: If my experience is any guide, women of high self esteem will fold like cheap lawn chairs to ego-evisceration game even quicker than putatively low self esteem women. Especially the grad school and lawyer chicks.

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Paleocons Are Hedonists

And the god of biomechanics did enlighten thee…

Frequently phlegmatic commenter Thursday posted a link in the comments to yesterday’s slut admiration society post that contained a news item about noted paleocon Roger Scruton marrying at the age of 54 a 26 year old woman:

Scruton did not become a father until two years ago when he and his second wife, Sophie Jeffreys, had Samuel. A second child, Lucy, was born last August. Jeffreys, an architectural historian, is 28 years his junior. They live contentedly on a farm in Wiltshire.

And the Pale Sentinel of the Paleocon Underworld Peter Brimelow was in his 60s when he married the 22 year old cutie-pie Athena:

Bacchus bless these refined aesthetes of poon hounding. Men of wealth and taste…

In other news, commenter Patrick provided a helpful link to MP3s of the “War of the Roses” stunt thats plays on the local DC radio station 99.5. Why do haters bother doubting me? As Patrick wrote:

I can confirm from a quick sampling –especially yesterday’s show– that the shows are indeed real and not scripted, that the presumed-alphas indeed don’t give a shit, and that their duped girlfriends are probably going to get cheated on by default anyway.

A particularly funny segment where a cheating man claims an AIDS test discovered by his girlfriend was due to him having accidentally put on another dude’s underwear at the gym. Obviously he banged some total slut he didn’t care a bit about so the roses trick didn’t work because no man would send even free roses to a whore he suspects to have venereal disease. The other-dude’s-underwear ruse was pretty weak though.

Great post.

Another win for me. I tire of the paucity of challengers to my brilliance. Pissboy! Wait for the shake.

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War Of The Roses

There is a local radio station that runs a prank every week called “War of the Roses”. The station enlists a willing participant — usually a girlfriend/wife — who suspects she is being cheated on by her boyfriend/husband. Sometimes the girl gives the name of the other woman she suspects her boyfriend is banging. The DJ will then pose as a flower merchant and call the boyfriend to tell him he has won a contest and the prize is a free bouquet of flowers he can have delivered to anyone he wishes. Over the station’s phones, the poor dupe’s girlfriend will secretly listen in on his decision.

Almost every guy falls for this prank. And nearly all of them are confirmed as cheaters, because nine times out of ten the boyfriend will have the flowers delivered to his mistress/downlow lover, and hysterics of varying dramatic force by the jilted girlfriend/wife will ensue over the phones. It’s good fun for everyone but the couple.

The prank, besides its entertainment value, serves to demonstrate quite clearly how alpha males behave and how women react to alphas. As I’ve written before, when you are starting out the best way to learn game is to observe a natural alpha in field — his mannerisms, speech, attitude, and deftness with which he handles a woman’s shit. (You can also learn a lot about what *not* to do by observing the natural beta in the field.)

Since it’s self-evident that nearly all men who have the option of cheating on their girlfriends are alpha (1. they have a girl, 2. they are attractive to other girls, 3. they have the testosterone to not give a fuck about the repercussions), the “War of the Roses” prank is a window into the relationships of women with alpha males, and Exhibit A on how alpha males react when they have wronged their women.

What you will learn from this prank won’t be surprising to anyone who is a reader of my blog, but it’s fun to have the theory proven correct — again and again — by real life examples, and proven so incontrovertibly, too. So how do the boyfriends react when the prank is revealed, their unfaithfulness uncovered, and their girlfriends’ voices cracking with tears and anger?

• He will never apologize or get defensive. One guy said he was sorry, and that was the only guy I can remember whose girlfriend dumped him over the air.
• He will first curse out the DJ before acknowledging his girlfriend’s presence on the phones. This can go on for an amusingly long time as the girlfriend tries to get a word in edgewise.
• He will go on the offensive, accusing his girlfriend of “blowing things out of proportion”, “being a bitch for calling him out on the radio”, or “getting way too dramatic”. He will often tell his girlfriend to shut up and stop crying, then in an ominous tone of voice, “we’ll talk about this later”. He preempts his girlfriend’s fury and indignation with his own.
• The girlfriend will try to get him to prostrate himself, asking “Why?” and “How do you think this makes me feel?” He will never oblige.
• The girlfriend will ask about the other woman. “Do you love her?” “Does she have something I don’t?” He will never oblige.
• If the girlfriend hurls imprecations at him, and the drama level reaches Code Irate, he will hang up with a jaded “Fuck you”, “This is horseshit” or “I’m done” while the DJs beg him to stay on the line.
• After he has hung up, the DJs will ask the girlfriend if she will stay with her alpha cheating boyfriend — or rather, they’ll try to persuade her to dump the guy — and, invariably, she will hem and haw and make excuses and you just know she isn’t going anywhere. Some of the girls even mention his positive qualities, which are funny in themselves as these qualities often take the form of “he makes me feel special”.

Occasionally, a cheating boyfriend turns out to be a beta at heart. (Yes, natural born betas sometimes cheat, but it’s rare because the opportunity is limited.) You can always tell these guys, because they are the ones whose voices go shaky as they mousily deny wrongdoing and then apologize profusely when the jig is up. After his confession, he is in ankle-grabbing mode and his girlfriend and the DJs anally rape his dignity on the air. He will shower her with promises. She will then threaten to dump him, her voice tone having switched abruptly from hurt girlfriend to ballcutting bitch lawyercunt, and she will usually hang up first, while he futilely laments “Man, I fucked up.”

Maxim #49: If you plan on cheating and get caught, act like a total dick who did nothing wrong. Your girlfriend will then wonder if it’s something she did.

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Arnie

Lex was a ruggedly handsome man, mid-40s, and in shape from near daily yoga and martial arts classes. He was fidgety and frenetically hyperverbal and rarely came up for breath once he got rolling on a story drawn from his illustrious past and present lifestyle. And what stories! He ran a business in the recreation industry which put him in contact with a steady stream of young European girls. This contact often led to intimacy. Many patrons of his business would regale you with tales of witnessing Lex whisk some new 22 year old Polish hottie back to his quarters for a night of debauchery, only to do it again the next night with a new girl.

The four of us sat around the restaurant table swapping war stories from the field. Lex’s tomcat career was long and fruitful, but an undercurrent of melancholic nostalgia buttressed the impression that he had let one or two “quality girls” get away. He seemed, in a way, a traitor to his contentment — a victim of chance and his compulsions. Lex made a passing comment, barely noticed in the cavalcade of sex stories if you weren’t paying attention, that “it was getting harder out there” and he needed to adjust accordingly.

Zeets admired the unapologetically masculine lifestyle Lex chose for himself. Marriage, kids, social approval, clock punching and clock ticking? Fuck that noise. Lex lived on his own terms, in hock to no one but himself. Zeets playfully encouraged Lex’s telling of his numerous conquests and the game he runs on women in the big city. Lex was especially fond of “fruit stand game” where he would casually sidle up to a girl (Lex banged chicks of all ages, as long as they were younger than him) and guess what meal she was going to cook judging by the veggies she had in her basket. Since Lex was a competent cook, this banter would often segue into him inviting her over for dinner.

Trent, the fourth and youngest man at the table, also approved of Lex’s playboy adventures, but his approval carried more weight. Trent was a one woman kind of guy, always strapped into a long term relationship that lasted for years and eager to get back into one on the rare occasions he was single. Trent was no herb; he had the tools and the skill to seduce many women if he wanted, so his relatively monogamous existence was all the more intriguing.

Outside of the restaurant we parted, and Lex declined our offer to go to the bar for drinks and carousing. He was on his way back home to make a thousand calls. Lex could hardly focus on anything for long — his ADHD was legendary — and he barely stopped moving as we bro-slapped hands goodbye.

Around 1AM back at Trent’s apartment, as we were about to step inside, an older man, late 40s or early 50s, with a paunch and one shirttail of his light blue button down poking out of his jeans, greeted us with a weary but friendly expression. He introduced himself as Arnie and said he had been Trent’s neighbor for five years. Trent nodded his head knowingly as if he recognized Arnie, but later told us in private he had never seen the guy. He probably had, but it didn’t register.

Arnie was an affable bloke, and we stood outside in the mild air leaning against stair railings under the diffuse glow of the city lights for fifteen minutes talking guy stuff. We learned Arnie was never married, lived alone, and worked in a blue collar hands-on job, and that it was clear to me that he possessed the basic intelligence to work white collar if he so chose. He had lived in the city his whole life and his apartment was rent controlled. There was no chance he would leave, despite the landlord working hard to force out his tenants by passively ignoring repairs that needed to be done.

Arnie relished our company, that much I could tell. He asked us if we were planning to go out somewhere again that night. Trent mentioned the bar where he bartended and Arnie made a frown, explaining that that bar was too “hoity-toity” for him; he preferred down to earth establishments hanging “with the boys”. We laughed, because Trent’s bar is not really snobby, especially not for this city. We began turning our heads and shoulders toward the door and told Arnie we were going to call it a night. Arnie looked disappointed. “Well, another time, then.” He nodded at Trent. “Maybe I’ll meet you over at your bar sometime.” There was a hint of overeagerness in his gravelly voice.

As we stepped inside to leave Arnie behind in the streetlight-misted night, the door swung behind us with a slow creak. When it thumped closed, it echoed heavily in my ears.

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Results From The Female Beauty Rankings

The rankings of the ten girls from last Friday’s post are in, and the results, as expected, are pretty much in line with the general concept that men by and large share a surprisingly similar perception of what constitutes female beauty along the 1 to 10 scale. If a woman had two scores that were within 20 votes of each other, I gave her a two number ranking.

Woman                                             Readers’ Score            My Score
(a) TBG’s asian 10                                         6                                  5
(b) wino                                                        9,8                                8
(c) Rain And’s Mom                                        7                                  7
(d) fur smile                                                  9,8                                9
(e) red beret                                                 2                                   2
(f) heavy wool skirt                                       3                                   3
(g) IOI                                                          10                                 10
(h) chocolate fry                                            5                                   6
(i) schnoz                                                      1                                    1
(j) chipmunk                                                  4                                    4

A few thoughts:

There was more agreement on the 4s, 5s, and 6s than I predicted. Obviously, I chose this category well.

There was more variability/less agreement at the upper end of the scale, and firmer agreement at the bottom end. This was intentional. In the first installment of “Female Beauty 1 To 10” I stacked the deck in favor of strong contenders for the 8, 9, and 10 spots by using such world beating hotties like Alizee, Sophie Marceau, and Monica Bellucci. This time I made an effort to fill the upper slots with plausible girls. That is, girls you might have a chance of seeing in your daily life from one week to the next. Naturally, “daily life” 10s in most locales excluding fashion districts and playgrounds of the rich and famous are not going to be as hot on average as supermodel/celebrity/actress 10s. Truly superb specimens of female pulchritude don’t stay in general circulation for long. Hence, the greater difficulty in finding a round-the-way girl who could qualify as a bonafide 10.

As one commenter astutely noted, TBG’s asian 10 looks like what the future sexbots will look like. Doable, but also a little bit “off”. Perhaps this is because it is easier to model an Asian’s face as they have flat, nondescript features compared to other races. And their skin is smoother, facilitating a realistic transference to high tech plasticine. The voting also confirms that TBG has no taste and is probably a woman impersonating a man impersonating a woman.

Throwing in a couple girls from different races didn’t seem to affect the voting much. This is a point in favor of the hypothesis that macro beauty standards tend toward universality.

Chipmunk looks nothing like Schnoz. Not even if they were the same woman separated by 30 years. Some of you need Lasik. But since the conspiracy theories will continue to fly, I chose those two randomly off the internet. If they are the same woman taken at different times then that would be a ridiculous coincidence.

For those of you (women and Peter) who were saying “Oh, red beret woman just needs to lose the glasses and she’ll look better” or “If heavy wool skirt girl just lost 15 pounds…” or “If schnoz fixed her hair and used some skin lotion she’d be an attractive woman”, all I have to say is:

BETA PLEASE!

You are so full of shit you must actually believe the nonsense you write.

In the future, I plan to do a “1 to 10” post with another race — all Asian or all black. And maybe a NSFW post with just naked bodies minus the attached faces, to see if your ratings of women’s bodies corresponds with facial beauty. I’ve always suspected that, despite the uncommon butterface phenomenon, hot bodies are normally paired with hot faces. Most of the time you can safely approach a girl from behind if her ass is round and she has a slender hourglass shape and lustrous hair — her face will not disappoint.

I will also change the ranking system in future installments to allow you to vote any way you like. I’ll continue choosing candidates according to my personal 1 – 10 rank ordering just to see if, given the looser rules, your voting still matches up with mine.

Evil Easter Egg

Rain And’s Mom was not the Evil Easter Egg, though I can see why some of you thought that. It *is* pretty evil to put someone’s younger-version Mom up for the ultimate judgement and then to demonstrate by the voting that thousands of men would like to bang said Mom in every available hole and splooge on her face for the cum de grace. The Subprime Splooge of a Thousand Betas. Who said romance was dead?

It took a while, but after an impressive cooperative effort the discovery was made. (I think commenter benjack was the first to stumble on it.) The Evil Easter Egg was IOI girl. Yes, the girl you all ranked as a 10 is… 14 years old. She is a Polish model who was kicked out of a fashion show last summer for being underage.

You sick pervs. How does it feel knowing that you imagined kissing, fondling… face fucking… a 14 year old girl? That you chubbed out to a bubble gum teen? We’re all Aqualung now.

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