A hot if somewhat mannish-looking female teacher is in court on charges of “raping” one of her students during their months-long sexual adventure.
A teacher is accused of sodomizing a middle school student and raping him during their alleged months-long sexual relationship.
Lindsey Jarvis, 27, pleaded not guilty to two counts of rape at the Fayette County Courthouse in Kentucky, where she held hands with her husband of three years.
She was also charged with rape, sodomy and unlawful transaction with a minor in neighboring Woodford County, where she was accused of sexually assaulting the boy in May 2016.
Police found evidence on the victim’s phone suggesting the two were in a ‘romantic relationship’, and Jarvis was arrested on Friday.
If you’ve heard this story before too many times to count, you’re not going crazy; sexual predation by female teachers, many of them hot and married, of their young (and usually willing) charges is rampant in America, FOR SOME ODD REASON. (Hint: it’s the leftoid glorification of unconstrained female sexuality and the concomitant demonization of normal male sexuality and patriarchal prerogative, plus various r-selected biofeedback loops that accompany declining cultures in the throes of late stage decadence.)
You can tell by the psychocunt smirk in her mugshot she expertly summoned like a seasoned PUA that there was no adult alpha man in her life who could stand up and answer the call, “Who bitch dis is?“. On paper, she was her husband’s bitch. On paper. In reality, she was no one’s bitch, to the detriment of society.
Never rely on legal documents to secure a woman’s love. You can only win her heart in the supreme court of her raging id.
But the black heart of this sordid tryst — the essence that tells you everything you need to know about why she did it and why she’s smirking — isn’t in Lindsey Jarvis, Wonderslut. It’s in Lindsey Jarvis’s lapdog, her dutiful, supportive husband.
Lindsey Jarvis, 27, pleaded not guilty to two counts of rape at the Fayette County Courthouse in Kentucky, where she held hands with her husband of three years
There’s a time to hold your wife’s hand, and that time is NOT when she’s in court for fucking and tickling the anus of one of her underage students for months on end.
(Who, by the looks of her, will probably go right back to livin’ la vida alpha fux beta bux once she’s out of jail (one month)).
Their body and facial language is a thin palimpsest barely concealing two rotten souls — hers rotten with wantonness, his rotten with appeasement. That’s a married couple in complete sexual polarity reversal, defying the God of Biomechanics with arrogant impunity. She’s the alpha male, here, looking into the middle distance, thinking of some other male, head tilted away from her doting husband who, for his part, must reach across her lap to take her hand, his eyes downcast in submission and supplication, probably fighting back a gnawing fear of her hot body and BPD love leaving his life forever (even though he never really had unrestricted access to her body and heart, but just try telling ARE MARRIED BETA MALE that, and he’ll suddenly find a reason to passionately defend his manly honor.)
“But he’s innocent in this!”, you poon plebs shriek ignorantly. No, friendos, he’s not innocent. He’s an enabler. A force ten amplifier of the crassest female instincts and tramp malice. America is suffering a crisis of these “supportive” beta male husbands who stand by their cheating slut wives, bearing for themselves all the shame and responsibility that should be the sole domain of their faithless women.
You think a beta phagg like Lindsey’s Lapdog just started being supportive now, in Lindsey’s time of greatest need? Ha, no. This doormat was born supportive, a human toilet seat upon which the world’s whores would sit to pinch their cock-impacted loafs embedded with the crusty cum of secret lovers, knowing all too clearly that a pushover like this milquetoast will take those steaming slut deuces and beg for more.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but women are DISGUSTED by indiscriminately supportive males. Look closely at Lindsey’s face in the second photo; that’s disgust mixed with contempt amid a swirl of illicit yearning. No man who’s had experience with more than one or two women would miss the meaning in that face. And no man worth his dignity and salvageable serum T level would unconditionally “support” a cheating wife who seethed with that much resentment for him. He’d tell her to hit the road, face first, and be glad he was rid of her for the rest of his life.
Unquestioning beta male support is ruining our women. It’s as simple as that. Beta thirst kills feminine virtue dead. Manginatude frees the Inner Whore in every woman.
If women, especially spoken-for women, don’t fear consequences for indulging every sexual compulsion (and women have many, often contradicting, sexual compulsions), then they won’t curb themselves. Women are not natural self-regulators; they require a strong pimp hand to avoid descent into womb wilding, whether that pimp hand comes in the form of a dominant alpha male or a dominant patriarchal culture.
Instead, America’s men are caught in a spiral of self-abnegation and slavish pussy pedestal polishing. Witness:
On her 25th birthday, husband Andrew Jarvis paid tribute to his wife, writing: ‘Happy 25th birthday to my sweetest Lindsey!
‘So thankful for your wonderful heart, which teaches me so much about compassion and kindness.
‘So thankful for your wisdom and discernment that help guide us through life….Love you with all my heart, and so thankful to have you as my best friend.’
First mistake: a wife or gf should never be a man’s “best friend”. His lover, his confidant, his alibi, his accomplice, his lolita, his sex toy, sure. But not his best friend. That cloying admission reeks of neediness and uxuriousness, and sucks all the romantic lifeblood out of what should be a sexually dichotomous relationship. Women don’t want a best friend for a husband; they want a lover and a king.
Second mistake: penning this treacle at all. He could have done so much more for his cause, meaning his sex life and future paternity certainty, had he sent her this instead on her birthday:
I’d like to end on a hopeful note. How do we solve the crisis of supportive beta husbands and boyfriends enabling the worst sort of female animal behavior?
My suggestion, one I’ve been proselytizing for a while, to no avail apparently as we can see the population of supplicating betas grows year over year, is….hold your breath….Game. If beta males gained the skills of the crimson arts and had more choice in women, or at least perceived that they had more choice in women, the confidence instilled in them would stream outward and fill the hearts and Bartholin’s corpuscles of the women in their lives, and a big beautiful mutually reinforcing limbic synchronization that aligned with the ancient biomechanic laws of sexual polarity would draw man and woman closer together, and those wild cockscillations that undulate darkly in the vajfold crevices of every woman threatening to crumble heartbridges would be calmed.
Or, having options in women, beta males would at least be more emotionally continent about their choice of long-term mate and be more willing to jettison those women who don’t make the grade.
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