Fake Tits

I kept pulling up her shirt.  She resisted.  I pulled on her pants and panties.  They came off without much fuss.  Back to the shirt.  More resistance.  She’s tugging down on her shirt while her lower half is completely naked and grinding into my crotch.  Weird.  Are the boobs really that much more precious to a woman than the pussy?  Then I discovered the answer.

Fake tits.  Super fake.  Like the kind that bumped up an A to a C.  The kind where you could see the outline of the bag along the perimeter of the boob.  Unnaturally pert.  Egregiously firm.

But the worst?  The feel.  Under clothes, fake tits look great.  Superb, even.  Parade them around the National Cathedral and be the envy of your friends and neighbors.  But naked?  Disturbing visual.  And they felt like rocks stuffed under a nipple.

Rocks.

No soft supple malleable sponginess.  Just rocks.

Such a pretty girl.

So pretty.

So flawed.

As soon as my cupped hands encountered the immoveable objects that were her breasts, I knew she would never be girlfriend worthy.

What goes through a guy’s head when he’s got a hot chick halfway home to sex and he caresses silicone under a taut drum head of flesh?

I’ll tell you what.

Don’t give too much of yourself to this girl.  Keep it superficial, just like her tits.

This is a chick who lives and dies by her beauty.  A trophy wife in training.  A girl who doesn’t mind being an accessory on the arm of a powerful man who is fucking ten other women.  A strategist.  A status whore.  A decepticon.  A cipher.

A girl who reapplies her makeup every fifteen minutes.

And I was right.

There’s room in the world for those types of women.  Just not my world.

So I offer some advice to small-boobed women.

Don’t butcher yourselves.

You look great under a sweater with augmentation.

But I’m not fucking a sweater.

And that’s what really matters.

Isn’t it?

No, it isn’t?

Goodbye.

Warning:  I wrote this drunk and post-coital at 5am.  Reconsiderations pending.  Reader beware.

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The Sexual Frame

One of the traits of the beta is that he is uncomfortable with animal sexuality — his own and especially that of the women he craves.  He is loathe to initiate contact, late to respond to flirtatious signals, and leery of acknowledging the raw sexual nature of women.  His unease with himself and with women’s equally ravenous sexual appetites compels him to constantly elevate women onto pedestals and to befriend them platonically before making his intentions known, if ever.  He thinks that expressing his sexual nature too soon or too boldly will diminish them both.  He simply cannot conceive a scenario where a sexy girl will make love to him on the first day they meet.  This straightjacket of limiting beliefs is why he fails.

A way to avoid these emotionally arid pitfalls is to adopt a frame of mind that is infused with sexuality.  Everything begins in the mind.  When I see an attractive girl across the room and start walking toward her I immediately picture her naked and writhing under my sheets, sweating in ecstasy.  When I am talking with her and it is clear that we click, I imagine what it would feel like to touch her bare skin.  I am kissing her before our lips have committed to the kiss.  As we delve deeper into conversation, a part of me visualizes peeling off her clothes and imagining transactions… scenarios… a dirty smutty world of possibilities.

This is how every man should approach his interactions with women he is turned on by — unapologetically, sensually, instinctually.  Civilized norms should hold no sway over your untamed thoughts or the id that fuels them.  They are yours to do with as you please and to set the tone of whatever follows.  The advantage to having this carnal mindset at all times lies in the power it gives you to draw women into your reality.  When a woman is into you she will sense your sexual energy and mirror it.  Your thoughts will become her thoughts.  Your desire hers.  Later after sex when she is lying in your arms and talking about what led to this point you will discover that she knew it was going to happen when you knew.

Lead as a man in making no excuses for your libertine nature, and she will follow.

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Perverted Porn

If the variety of porn is any indication, most guys are capable of acting out the craziest atrocities fantasies in the bedroom.  But the appeal of some bizarre porn niches baffles me.

Drinking cum out of a glass
Grossout rating: 8
Worse than that scene in Rocky where he gulps raw eggs.  Jizz should not be drunk like a cocktail, no matter how strawberry-kissed the lips slurping it down.

Sexual perversion rating: 9
Where is the turn-on here?  There’s no hot humiliation aspect a la facials, and the girl is making gurgling noises and grimacing while choking back the slime.  Usually the camera is zoomed in on her mouth, which means her naked body in the background isn’t visually available to distract from the repulsiveness of her cumchugging.  You’d have to be a world class pervert to get aroused watching this spectacle.

Two guys one girl
Grossout rating: 2-10 (highly variable on male to male physical contact)
There’s a reason why male porn actors get little face time and are reduced to mere functional genitalia to occupy the woman’s orifices — guys don’t want to see hairy, sweaty naked dudes obstructing the view of the girl any more than is necessary to get the coital point across.  Two of them is just double the obstruction.  And if one of them happens to misfire and accidentally shoot his load into the face of the other guy, well… let’s just say I would need many MANY fucking years of therapy after watching that.

Sexual perversion rating: 4
Judging by its internet popularity, the fantasy of two men shish kabobing a woman isn’t uncommon.  But if scrotums start commingling, cocks start touching, or male body parts start incidentally rubbing against each other, the perversion rating zooms up to 10 if you’re a straight guy.  It drops to 1 if you’re gay.

Cum swapping
Grossout rating: 5-8 (depends on volume of transfer)
This is right up there with the cum cocktails.  I dunno, a girl spitting skeet into the mouth of another girl doesn’t seem like a visual treat to me.  Maybe I’m sexually repressed?

Sexual perversion rating: 6
Beyond missionary, not quite a sheisse vid, cum swapping exemplifies de rigueur perversion.

Bukkake
Grossout rating: 7
Plus: facial.  Minus: cascading sheets of semen.

Sexual perversion rating: 7
I suppose an argument could be made that where one is good, one hundred is better.

Frat house voyeurism
Grossout rating: 4
More annoying than gross.

Sexual perversion rating: 5
Lord knows I understand the thrill of fucking in public, so porn dedicated to that popular perversion makes sense.  But fucking in front of a roomful of drunk fratboys whooping like retards and giving play by plays?  This turns me off faster than watching The View.  I suspect the LNS crowd digs this stuff.

Machine/medical instruments sex
Grossout rating: 5
The inside of a vagina should not see the light of day.

Sexual perversion rating: 5
Eh, uninspiring.  Makes me empathize with an ob/gyn visit.  Props to the Sybian, though.  Ten bucks those girls are really getting off!

Do my wife
Grossout rating: 1
Not gross, just disturbing.

Sexual perversion rating: 7
When I’m watching a good fuck, I don’t want to see some guy playing the husband character sitting in a nearby chair and pretending to be emotionally distraught as his “wife” gets pounded by one of the bang bros.  Seriously, what kind of dweeb goes in for the cuckold fantasy?  Obviously someone who has DEEP fucking insecurities and wrestles control over them through whacking off to adultery porn.  If I’m gonna identify with anyone it’ll be the pool boy, not the sap, natch.  Now stop crying, bitch, and hand me your wife’s speculum.

Asslicking
Grossout rating: 10
Falls under the category of “Can never get clean enough”.

Sexual perversion rating: 8 (her ass), 10 (his ass)
Hey, you’ll find no bigger aficionado of anal than me, but there’s a world of difference between plowing her with my tool and getting her dingleberries caught in my teeth.  Girls don’t shit wafer thin mints, so how is licking her anus supposed to be fun?  I pray I never shake hands with a guy who gets off on asslicking porn.  And porn where the girl licks the guy’s carpeted asshole?  Sweet fancy moses, why don’t you just reach in the bowl and eat his log, scatgirl?

Squirting
Grossout rating: 3
No, I don’t mean natural squirting, which is a beautiful act of humanity.  I mean the supersoaker squirting where they fill the girl’s pussy up with a gallon of skim milk and let ‘er rip.  Exaggerating the normal bodily functions is pretty much the byline of porn, but twisting it into a ridiculous caricature of the real thing is a complete turnoff.

Sexual perversion rating: 3
Enjoying the sight of a girl squirting is perfectly normal.  Enjoying the sight of a girl vomiting out of her vagina is slightly perverted.  For guys who like this, I suspect childbirth regression issues.

What’s going on here I think is that straight sex is no longer enough for a segment of the male population.  The bar of deviancy is constantly being raised to the point that foreplay includes golden showers.  I predict women will continue to dress and act sluttier so as to satisfy the ever-growing demands of porn-raised generations of men.

Coincidentally, paternity testing will also rise.

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Hotter Women, Better Sex

There are a lot of false impressions circulating about the motivation behind men’s Darwinian struggle to fuck the most beautiful women.  Of course, the cultural explanation is gibberish so I won’t bother to address that here.  What interests me is the oft-repeated claim, mostly by women but also by some men with beta issues, that the primary drive for men’s unstoppable lust to score only the hottest girls is to boost their ego by being seen in public with arm candy.

This is not true.  The essential motivation for scoring the best-looking women is the visceral pleasure signals it sends to the reward centers of the male brain.  To gaze on a beautiful woman’s face, admire the curves of her body, and make love with her all night long is its own reward.  The little bit of ego-massaging that comes from walking into a crowded room and showing off the hot girl in your company pales in comparison to the ecstasy of privately kissing her lips in a quiet room with the blinds drawn.

I suspect the people who think that men chase hot girls the most feverishly so as to lord it over other men have an agenda.  They want to believe that human nature is not immutable; that with the right amount of peer pressure and fist-shaking at the media juggernaut men’s desires can be altered — tamed — to accommodate their conceit.  And pride is malleable where thermonuclear blasts of lust are not.

If, on the other hand, men pursue the best-looking women at the behest of hidden compulsions buried deep in the reptilian cores of their brains, then there is nothing can be done to change this fact of manhood and what it means for less attractive girls.

How your body responds to a woman during sex tells the tale.  The hotter I find the girl, the better the sex is, all else being equal.  Since men remember sex acts with crystal clear clarity, it’s easy for me to recall the exact specifications of my sexual encounters with each woman in my life.  Not to put too fine a point on it, but my jizzbombs were heavier and the distance ejected farther with the prettier girls.  Since this is something I cannot consciously control, it is proof of the innate characteristics of the male sex drive.

In the interest of science, I’ve put my beauty-to-cumload comparison in a handy chart:

hotness of woman               size of load               squirt distance
0                                            *                                *
1                                            *                                *
2                                            *                                *
3                                            pre-cum only           had to be squeezed out
4                                            droplet                      dribble
5                                            <5 grams                  2 cm
6                                            fills bellybutton        3 inches
7                                            1 tbsp                         8 inches
8                                            2 tbsps                       1.5 feet
9                                            1/4 cup                       3 feet
10                                          gallon**                      5 yards**

*insufficient data
**extrapolation                  

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Big Fat Phony Smile

If the eyes are the window to the soul, the smile is the neon vacancy sign outside the motel.

I don’t *feel* high maintenance.

Girls love to smile, whether it’s justified or not.  A broad smile illuminates the face and makes the world notice her.  There is probably some Freudian oral delights aspect to it as well.  The next time you are walking outside, try counting the number of people you see smiling or who smile at you as you pass.  It’s usually no one.  For a girl during her peak beauty years, every waking minute is a good reason to smile and advertise her exalted place within humanity.

There can be too much of a good thing.  The smile’s impact wanes when it becomes a fixture on the face, like the nose.  It loses any meaning and begins to suggest mental vacuity.  So many American girls (European girls seem to be immune to this affliction) have such inflated self-esteems that they flash insincere smiles constantly lest anyone forget to be entranced by them.  The impossibly wide phony smile is the tool in trade of the attention whore.  Now when I see a girl like the one in the photo above smiling like a prom queen I conclude she is a vapid girl with a non-existent inner world who will need to be gamed high-energy style.  The problem with dating girls who smile obsessively is that if you ever give them a reason to drop the smile they will hate you for life.

True sexiness is a lost art.  A woman is incredibly sexy when she balances her time smiling with the detached expression of a relaxed mouth.  She lets her eyes pick up the slack left by the smile.  When I’m talking to a girl whose eyes do most of the subcommunication I get the sense the hamster has not fallen off the wheel in her head.

You won’t see guys smiling as much because the pursuit of women is serious business.  Or maybe they think a straight face looks tough, cool, and emotionally self-contained.  In the dating field, guys who smile just a bit too much are approval-seekers rather than approval-givers.  They want the girls to notice how good-natured and fun-loving they are.  In other aspects of life, men who smile too much are looked upon with suspicion.  In fact, there is a word for perpetually smiling guys — used car salesmen.

One thing the naturals do well is the friendly smile when approaching women.  This automatically sets them apart from most men.  But they drop the smile before it gets stale.  The smile alternates with the serious face and is punctuated with the occasional cocky smirk — it all plays into the girl’s desire for an unpredictable man.  If she’s smiling because of some deliberate action on my part, all is good.  If she’s smiling like a retarded billboard ad, I tell her she has a piece of food stuck in her teeth.

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Hottest Lovemaking Ever

according to a girl whose opinion I value.

Set the scene.  A man is returning home after having been away for months, maybe years, sacrificing his body in war or his comfort in third world charity work.  He is scarred from his experiences but has kept the memory of his lover close throughout his ordeal, giving him the strength and willpower to complete his mission and fulfill his duty to his principles.  All he could think about during his lonely nights that stretched into lonely weeks without end was the face of his lover.  Sweating under a hot sun and surrounded by suffering he had imagined her soft kisses and the light touch of her fingertips.  In moments of despair he visualized himself home, racing into her arms, lifting her up as her hair tumbled around them.

But now, the reality is even sweeter than his dreams.  They rush into each other, kissing until they are short of breath, grasping and clenching so tightly there isn’t a shard of daylight between their pressed bodies.  He carries her into bed, his hunger from months of forbearance suddenly released in a cataclysm of desire, his heart pounding so hard she can feel it through the sheets which have twisted into knots between them.  Overcome by his lust, she falls back and lets him soak her in.  She has never felt more feminine.  To be loved so absolutely that every worry vanishes and happiness shrouds her in serenity makes her feel almost ashamed.  They drift off in bliss.

Me, personally… I like it on top of the kitchen counter.

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Love

No one goes on vacation thinking of the long ride home.

What is unique about love is that it alone among all the human desires defines by its absence the utterly meaningless life.  With love, the poor person can feel rich as if the struggles of his survival were minor inconveniences.  With love, the old person forgets his age.  With love, the young person sheds his angst.  A man can amass a kingdom’s fortune and an emperor’s power but without love his worldly successes stand like hollow totems to unhappiness.  What good is anything if it doesn’t ultimately reach a conclusion in love?  The wealthy businessman who spends all his hours in his office and wastes his years whistling past the grave being too busy for love is a loser no less than the unloved degenerate street bum.  Sushi tastes better than a 20 dollar bill.

The mischievous thing about love is that as vital as it is to a fulfilling stint in consciousness, it mocks its own importance with reminders that it rests precariously on a foundation of some very banal preconditions.  People fall out of love and it is rarely for lofty reasons.  A man loves a woman until she gains 50 pounds.  A woman loves a man until he loses his job and goes unemployed for months on end.  And when that pretty face turns ashen and carved with the years will it really be love anymore?  Those crass attraction buttons still have to be pressed for love to appear and then to sustain itself.  Self-delusion about the dirty business behind love is not only required, it’s inevitable.  Why ruin the fun by obsessing over the dull ride home?

A lot of seducers mistakenly think that love is a garnish to the main course of pursuing and winning the hearts of women.  They compartmentalize — it’s a bonus to feel love, but damned if they’ll let that get in the way of the good times.  The worst thing to happen to a guy who gets ass regularly is not rejection (after all, rejection is the badge of honor worn by womanizers) but falling in one-sided love.  Or, similarly, falling in love only to have his woman dump him.  Getting dumped is part of the game, and can be expertly handled, especially if there are fallback options.  But the alpha who succumbs to the folly of love opens himself up so completely that state control is no longer his prerogative.  He risks everything, including his most cherished asset… his trust.

This is the wrong way of approaching relationships.  It’s fine to be calculating about the pick up, and the dating, and even the relationship management, but attempting to corral as thermonuclear an emotion as love is only going to light the fuse on the bomb.  I’ve seen many players sabotage their relationships with really great girls who had captured their hearts because they feared losing control under the chaos of being in love.  They put all this effort into bedding her and making her fall for them that they lost sight of the main objective.  A man can be all alpha but if he doesn’t cash it in for the ultimate prize he’s revealed the beta at his core.

I once lost a girl I loved.  The rush of pain was so intense even a fight club pummeling couldn’t have distracted me from it.  But I didn’t stoically shrug it off.  I threw glasses at the wall.  I broke things.  I smashed up my apartment.

If you aren’t smashing stuff after losing a lover you don’t know the pleasure of relinquishing everything for love.

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