Tag Archives: promiscuity

Patriarchy, Promiscuity, and Capitalism

In high school my first “long term” (i.e., almost a year) relationship, my first “girlfriend” was a pretty, but rather plain, girl my age. Our romantic matching was quite simple, a quite simple exchange. I gave her romantic attention and was her “arm candy” increasing her social status among other girls, and in return I got to have sex with her all the time. Both of us were mostly happy with the arrangement. I broke up with her because I found out that she had had sex with another guy when we were “on a break.” Apparently, all her girlfriends knew it but I didn’t. I had been “cucked” essentially.

Although I wasn’t “technically” a virgin when we got together, she was “technically” a virgin and that tiny imbalance in sexual experience suited both of us just fine. In fact, perhaps my first “red pill” when it came to dealing with girls was when I “admitted” to her that although I wasn’t “technically” a virgin in the sense of penis-in-vagina intercourse, and I had a lot of experience with a number of other girls that “counted” (because I ejaculated in/on them in various places) I had really only “done it” – officially – penis in vagina – with one other girl and only a handful of times.

When she realized that I was not, in fact, the 16 year old serial womanizer she thought I was, it totally broke her fantasy. Not long thereafter, we “had a break” in which the first thing she did was hop into bed with a new boy at her school. Apparently, this was not as thrilling for her as she thought it would be, and she also apparently realized that she could not, in fact, replace me with a higher status male and that her teenage pussy was not the ticket to Alpha Fucks that she thought it was. If her girlfriends were to be believed, he also didn’t have the sexual intensity that I had, being mostly of the “in and out for a few minutes” school.

So she engaged in a conspiracy with her girlfriends to lie about this dalliance and got me back for a few months, until I was told of the “affair” by one of her girlfriends, who happened to want me for herself. Once I found out, I was humiliated, and immediately the magic went out of our relationship. I was only barely aware of it at the time, but a huge, huge factor in my attraction for her was the fact that I was the one that popped her cherry. I found not only honor bound, in a sense, to invest in our relationship, but the fact I was her only boy made me feel like I possessed her – and she possessed me – on deep level. It was more than just sex, it was essentially a kind of marriage.

When her very typical female promiscuity disabused me of my patriarchal sexism and hymen fetishism, interestingly enough I did not, in fact, become a Male Feminist Ally. Quite the opposite in fact. Once word was out that Hipster and Virgin were no longer a couple, my dance card filled up QUICKLY. I found out that having a reputation for being a “nice guy” – one who was loyal, in fact, with an instinct for monogamy – had not only preceded me but she had talked up my sexual prowess to all her girlfriends. Whether she “meant it” or was merely bragging to her friends hardly mattered.

So within a month I did, in fact, become the serial womanizer that she had been disappointed to find out that I was not. All of a sudden a half dozen 16 year old girls with ripe bodies and long pretty hair were calling me on my parent’s phone, offering to drive over to my house, pick me up, take me to their houses when their parents weren’t home, and “let me” do whatever I wanted. So I enthusiastically took all of them up on their offers. The next few years was spent engaging in essentially booty calls for dozens of high school girls who had admired me from afar waiting for the Virgin to get her claws off of me.

In manosphere terms I had been pre-selected, with just enough “alpha” traits combined with just enough “beta” traits, to be in high demand. I had long hair, a brooding manner, with just enough “bad boy with a heart of gold” allure that these girls were always on their toes to treat me well and fuck me well.

I started to notice patterns of my own behavior in the “types” of girls and how I felt about them that – as any good feminist will tell you – was surprisingly class based. I considered my background to be “middle middle class.” There were obvious class markers that showed me which families were higher class, and which families were lower class – than us. Obvious markers were the size of their parent’s house and the cars they were bought by their fathers. Other more subtle class markers were education, raw IQ, and aspects of socialization.

I remember a handful of girls that were clearly one – sometimes two – steps above me in the capitalist class hierarchy. I found that these girls were absolutely mercenary with me. They were sexually aggressive, somewhat intimidating in a social sense, demanding of me in social settings, and I had to be on my best behavior to avoid subtle behaviors that marked me as lower class. These subtle behaviors were almost always related to “sub-political” issues. All of the rich girls were “liberal,” sexually liberated, “feminist” in a certain you-go-girl type way, and universally (with one exception, the rich Christian girls) hostile to my religious background. Some of them – not all, but more than other groups – simply had a more “alpha” personality than me. They were highly social, good at social situations, highly verbal, and even more “intellectual” than me – although this “intellectualism” simply meant knowing which social attitudes to have, which movies and bands were cool (Jane’s Addiction = high status, Tom Petty = low status) – this sort of “intellectualism” had nothing to do with scores on the trig tests or even logical and grammatical consistency. It was class in the sense of Jane Austen.

I got all sorts of sex out of these girls but I never connected with them emotionally. I’m assuming it was simply that I was willing to “put in the work” and keep it going until they were satisfied. Hey, at 16-19, if it didn’t last long enough, just wait 10 minutes and go again until it does. After five or six girls, you pretty much figure it out, where everything is, and the girls in touch with their own bodies just needed you to stay hard while they rode you and pressed their clit against your pelvic bone.

But emotionally? Pfft, I’d never share anything even remotely intimate with these girls, never show a weakness, never say what I really felt, maintained a stoic attitude because it seemed like any slip was a one way ticket out of their social class. Didn’t want any provocative opinions, nothing proprietary, nothing sexist or racist (all of us were uber-white, of course.)

But the girls down one step in the class hierarchy? The ones whose fathers (if they even knew their fathers) that didn’t have a college education, were mechanics and workmen? To them I was alpha and they were – something. This is where my true Patriarchal Class Predator came out. I’ll never forget the one, literally hours on the right side of legal when we first “hung out” – it was as if I was a porn star. I always left her with a broad smile on her face. With these girls, at parties, I would literally hunt them. The predator/prey dynamic was intense and the power imbalance make the sex absolutely fucking explosive – for both of us.

And apparently I had a finely honed predatory sense for just these girls. My entire body language changed around them. I was never the “rapey” type – that is far too simplistic to describe the dynamic. With the rich girls I just waited until they made an unambiguous move and if they teased too much – well, big deal there were unlimited fish in the sea. Virginia suburbs in the 1990s – tens of thousands of young White girls, 16-25, with an hour’s drive in my car. But with the working class girls, I was the alpha, and the top. I had just enough class markers to show that my eventual class status would be higher than their fathers – but none of this was conscious to either one of us. They would have just thought “he’s so smart and funny.” But I was still close enough to their class that they weren’t just disposable playthings and my masculinity was just a bit softer – thus less intimidating – then their rougher fathers and brothers. I was in fact, a Supreme Gentleman, someone who really “got girls.” But my confidence was enough to signal to them that I could get sex anywhere, thus their had to be something more than just pussy to get and keep my interests.

These were the girls that after sex I fell in love with even if I still aspired to get one of those rich girls. The power dynamic just worked. There is no such thing as “equality” and face it, girls get off on a power imbalance. It’s the core of their sex drive. It’s only exploitative when men leverage it.

Feminists are wrong when they say rape is about power not sex – no. Paglia is correct. Rape is about sex. But sex is about power. Oscar Wilde said “everything is about sex, except for sex; sex is about power.”

Spot The Class Markers

The social conditions at the time were a major cultural war between an emerging bureaucratic managerial class, highly educated, socially liberal, secular, completely dominant in academia and other institutions. The conservatives, especially the Christians, were concentrated lower on the class hierarchy

Black people had their own communities, of course, and were simply corralled by the Rich White Liberals to vote for the Democrats via Section 8 and make-work jobs in lower-end government bureaucracies. The daughters of the Rich White Liberals wouldn’t be caught dead “mudsharking” – but would of course pretend it was awesome if their lower class counterparts did it – less competition for White men!

But the conservative partiarchs and Christians did have their own institution that provided them with a major amount of power – the military and the Defense contractors. The military and the Defense companies were staffed with socially conservative, conventionally masculine, and very high IQ and very educated White partiarchal men, and their wives staffed the school boards that held the line against the worst class predation of the liberal bureaucrat class and racial integration.

As usual, it was the working class White Christians that lost out because the “anti-communist” movement of the John Birch style – as well as the Christian movement since FDR – was always invested heavily in capitalism and “communist” was just a slur that meant social democracy, business regulations, and union busting. Here, E. Michael Jones gets it right – you get a form of early neo-conservative that will keep the Fag Pride Parades out of your neighborhood, keep you separated from the high crime Blacks, and give a sort of lip service respect to your cultural values, and in return you get low wages, capital flight, and job outsourcing. (You can’t offshore military jobs and secret clearance jobs, remember.)

Or you get liberalism, which means you’ll get a dollar an hour above minimum wage, integration with blacks in your school (if your daughter is raped by one, she’ll have easy access to an abortion, if you son is beaten by a gang of blacks, well he was probably a racist and deserved it) but your culture and your values will be demonized.

Eventually, both sides, the Conservatives and the Liberals, decided that the White Working class – even the White middle class – was just too problematic, and Blacks were never going to get their act together, so the only solution was to replace Americans – White Americans – with “immigrants.”

Common sense patriarchal values – you don’t let your daughter “sample” every nice looking bad boy for a decade before marriage – and also you don’t want your son being manipulated emotionally and socially by “those kind of” manipulative teenage girls very aware of their own sexual power who probably wouldn’t make good wives and mothers – were replaced with the a kind of third wave feminism that is just Puritanism in reverse. Now your sons a rapist if he doesn’t give his hook up an orgasm or he breaks up with her before she breaks up with him. Your daughter is taught to be both sexually aggressive and promiscuous – and to claim victimhood at the same time. Dad’s earning power is destroyed by both the conservative business class AND the neo-liberals that have financialized and offshored everything. But hey – they will let mom work too, and provide the kids with day care! You know, pay working class women to take care of other working class women’s children so they can work to make up for the lost income of Dad.

That way the teenagers have no supervision thus can engage in all the suburban promiscuity they can handle. It’s liberation, don’t you know.

All because we can’t acknolwedge obvious facts about human nature – one, SEX IS ABOUT POWER and the more of a power difference, the HOTTER the sex. We can’t acknowledge that women are not just men with boobs, but biologically evolved to create and nurture life. Because we have lost community social capital to financialization AND racial integration. Racial integration = racial conflict, and in the anti-white zeitgeist, whites are automatically to blame.

And in our present context, it’s because working class White solidarity was destroyed by religious hucksters who said “labor union = atheist communism” and that “greed is good” (in the new version of the New Testament, apparently) and working class White family formation was destroyed by birth control, condoms, sexual liberation – and the fact that teenagers had no supervision so do what comes naturally.

And nothing comes more naturally to teenagers than fucking.

88 Lines About 44 Women

Once on MWIR I said I’ve had sex with “a hundred” women but that wasn’t really an accurate number. So a while back I’m hanging out with my friend and bitching about my ex-girlfriend and this girl I used to hook up with and my friend asks me how many women I’ve had sex with. I started counting and quickly realized I’d have to take off my shoes just to get through the college years. So over the course of a week or so my friend and I start actually writing it down and it’s around 50. That’s a fairly accurate count.

Yep, I’m a huge, huge slut. Or at least I used to be.

Now, if you believe the manosphere types, this is some sort of great feat, some sort of “accomplishment,” something that only 20% of men have the ability to do. Frankly, I don’t believe it. I’m a handsome fellow, but I’m no Brad Pitt. I have “game” – meaning, I know how to flirt – but most of my sluttiness was long before the “manosphere” and “PUA” and the like.

So what’s the secret? I’d say living in the big city helps, as well as moving around a lot. You are always meeting new people and being introduced to new social scenes so you meet a lot of women. If you meet a lot of women, you have more opportunity to have sex with them. There really is no trick or anything.

I’m no slut shamer and I don’t have any sort of bad feelings about the girls I hooked up with, on the contrary, I have quite fond memories of most of them and think they had excellent taste in men. While I have most certainly had my heart broken more than once – and broken a few hearts myself – the flings and hookups just felt good. I do not think of the women I’ve had sex with as “sluts” or in some way bad. They were just girls that wanted to have sex with me. Sometimes we were “boyfriend and girlfriend” and other times just some random woman I met at a bar.

Well, after thinking about it and doing some research, I found out that 50 is a lot. Most men and women do not have anything close to that number of sexual partners. In fact, it’s like less than 10%. That level of promiscuity is often associated with borderline personality disorder and men who have trouble keeping long term relationships going. My longest relationship was nearly 7 years, three others were 2-3 years. The 7 year one may as well have been an “open relationship” – I was fucking all sorts of girls and I know she fucked at least a few guys during that time too. Sex was never our problem, we both very much liked having sex with each other, but we were both hotheads and it was pretty much an emotional roller coaster. One day she just walked out on me, she just got bored. I was ready to settle down and she wasn’t.

Sex isn’t necessarily some great emotional thing for me. I’m perfectly comfortable with having “no strings attached” sex with a women I met that night. I know there are some women that are the same way. But I have a feeling that for most women, sex is a lot bigger of a deal than it is for many men. You only have to think of the reproductive systems themselves to understand the difference. A man makes a billion sperm a day, he could impregnate a new woman every day. A woman makes one ovum a month for 30 years and that’s it. Women get pregnant for 9 months. In the era of reliable scientific birth control, women have been “liberated” but I still guess that sex is more “intimate” for a woman than it is for a man.

So the manosphere says that women have an “alpha fucks and beta bucks” strategy. What this means is that gals have sex with the best looking men – the “alphas” – when they are young and hot, then when they approach “the wall,” they settle down with some beta schlub they aren’t really that into because the hot alphas are not longer answering their texts. They rationalize this by saying they are now “ready” for a “nice guy.”

Of course, it’s a horribly insulting thing to say to a man. I don’t think women realize how insulting it really is. I don’t think the women mean to be insulting, but they just don’t get it. The point of my parody article “slutty flings and virginal rings” was just reversing the sexes – and how awful it sounds. Men like me get accused of “pumping and dumping” women, while women like me are just “finding themselves” or “weren’t ready for a relationship” and the like. It’s sort of ridiculous.

So as long as women have this strategy, men really have no choice but to be the “alpha fucks” and not the “beta bucks.” It’s sort of a prisoner’s dilemma.

I don’t really have any regrets, per se, at least not about the casual sex. When I was in high school they basically handed out free condoms and said “have fun kids!” So, we did. Thankfully, I was always pretty rigorous about using condoms so I never got any STDs – and I’ve been tested numerous times. But if I had to do it all over again, I’d be a lot less slutty.

I would have stayed with my college girlfriend, but the problem was I wasn’t established enough to be a husband and a father. I was still in college, I was making virtually no money, and I simply couldn’t afford to have a wife. If there was community support for young married couples, we could have worked things out and we would probably still be together. But I never had the authority that a husband has, and birth control meant no kids, so difficulties in the relationship were harder to work out. Either one of us could just walk away at any time and that had a psychological impact on the commitment.

I’m a big fan of courtshippledge.com because if there was a culture of courting, as opposed to “dating” I’d almost certainly be married to my college sweetheart and have two kids by now. Instead, I’m trying to figure out if an ex-girlfriend had my baby. It’s impossible to really know, she’s blocked me on all social media and basically won’t talk to me. It’s sort of driving me nuts but I really don’t know if I should push the issue or not. She was this super hot 22 year old yoga chick and I just went nuts over her. Then she wound up dumping me to get back together with her high school boyfriend. What can you do? These are the new rules.

Women want to postpone childbearing as long as possible. I really do not understand this weird anti-natalist attitude among a lot of white women, I had always assumed that women had this drive to get pregnant, but clearly there are many that do not. You’re never going to stop teenagers and young adults from having sex, so you either have early marriage and early childbearing – or you have this, the hook up culture, “dating” and serial monogamy. This is what women want, it’s Sexual Utopia in Power. It’s women, not men, that drive this.

As for all the spanking stuff, honestly that’s mostly me hopping on the 50 Shades bandwagon to get people to read the 9/11 story. So far it’s working great. Although I can assure you, there are lots – *lots* – of women that like being tied up and spanked. It never fails to surprise me the kind of stuff women are into.

Feminism – Not Porn – Ruined Marriage

The most dangerous people to any sort of renaissance of Western culture and the European peoples are White feminist women, especially those middle age or older.

Full stop.

I realize I’m already treading on thin ice, because these old biddies remind too many people of their mothers. But not me; my mother was not a feminist in the slightest. That’s probably why she is still happily married – to my father – had more that double replacement level children, and is now a beloved grandmother – *and* great-grandmother. She had both boys and girls and has both male and female grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

So none of these aging second wave feminist women remind me of my mother, at all. I feel perfectly ok criticising them.

So one of the most common feminist complaints is the “double standard.” Women who are promiscuous as sluts, while men who are promiscuous as studs. Leaving aside this really isn’t the case, no one seems to ask – why should there be a “single standard” for both men and women? Considering that men and women are different – not just their reproductive systems, but even their cognition – why would anyone expect there to be one single rule for both?

It’s actually a really simple thing to figure out. Ask one of these aging second wave feminists how they want to “fix” this problem of double standards. Should we start “stud shaming” promiscuous men? Christian and many traditional men seem to think so, which you see in the backlash against “game” and “PUA.” This is why Christians and traditionalist men like to assert there is some “gay” or homosexual about promiscuous men. (The more women you have sex with, the gayer you are, apparently. That’s the sort of logic conservatives are famous for.) The problem is, of course, women *love* promiscuous men. How do you think they had the opportunity to be so promiscuous?

So the aging second wave feminists will tell us the solution to the “double standard” is to stop “slut shaming.” Since men are praised (by women) for being promiscuous, women should be praised by men for being promiscuous.

Really, they give themselves away. For all the bra-burning and blabber about “equal rights” and the like, what they really want is to have their sluttery praised. Notice that they do *not* want men to stop being promiscuous, they want it to be ok for women to be promiscuous. In other words, these aging second wave feminists are not very different than their Third Wave Sex-Positive Feminist counterparts – the only difference is, the Third Wavers had the ovaries to admit they were Empowered Sluts. The aging second wavers don’t have the courage their younger counterparts do.

Now even the pseudo-traditionalist types who say they are against men being promiscuous too make it awfully convenient for themselves. They will say that men and women should avoid promiscuity, but it can be overlooked in either sex. It’s just that, at some point, the promiscuous men are supposed to “man up,” stop being so promiscuous and marry the women – *when the women decide they are good and ready for marriage, and not a moment before.*

I mean, they spent their teens and 20s fucking these promiscuous men, and now the men won’t “man up” and marry them. Instead – horror of horrors – these promiscuous men just started screwing around with younger women! That’s basically rape, child molestation, and certainly exploitation in some way, right?

The pussy should have been enough. I mean, these Feminist Princesses were so gracious to “allow” you to have sex with them, so now you owe them a ring, a house, and alimony and child support when she decides to replace you. Otherwise, misogyny. You hate women.

So one of these things these aging second wave bra-burners will tell us is that it was Playboy – porn – that ruined marriage. Or the media – anything, anything, except any hint that it might be women – particularly, women under the sway of that left wing crank ideology of feminism – that actually caused the massive shift in public morals that led to the sky high divorce rates, fatherless children, the massive decline in white fertility and all of the associated dysfunctions caused by these things.

Many feminists openly stated they wanted to destroy marriage, and they did it in two simple steps. First, they encouraged women to give away the milk for free, thus removing one of the major incentives for buying the cow. The fact that this little saying is conventional folk wisdom – something your married, non-feminist grandmother might have said – shows you there is some wisdom behind the notion.

The second thing they did was even worse. Plenty, perhaps most, men will overlook a woman’s past – *if he got the other benefits of marriage.* After all, marriage is not just about sex. But feminists took away all those benefits as well. Let’s see – presumptive maternal custody. If wifey decides she is unhaaaaaapy and wants a divorce, she gets the kids. The courts favor this and the culture favors this, only the most highly motivated fathers will fight the culture and the courts to get custody.

A man used to get married because it came with certain benefits – regular sex, children that were his, the leadership of his family, and the social prestige that came with being a married family man.

Well now, thanks to feminism *and nothing else* a husband can have no expectation of regular sex. That is “entitlement to a woman’s body” – which makes you just like that half Asian pretty boy killer – not to mention it’s marital RAPE!!!

Second, “leadership of your family” – what is that, some sort of misogynist throwback to the 1950s? Why should the man be in charge? It has to be “equal” – or better, the woman should have the final say, because women are just so much more mature and sensitive than men, they are just morally superior of course.

Is there any social prestige left in marriage? I don’t see any. The culture assumes that married men are morons who are lucky to have his sweet precious long suffering wife, a dopey moron always being corrected in the TV commercials by his wife and an ever present African American gentlemen.

You see, chivalry works when a man who has *more power than a woman* uses that power in a gentle, respectful way. If the men don’t have power, then they are just “beta orbiters,” supplicators and pedestalizers. Chivalry from a beta schlub is creepy or pathetic – at best – and sexual harassment at worst.

The manosphere classic, Sexual Utopia in Power by F. Roger Devlin catalogs all this brilliantly. This is the new arrangement that men are supposed to accept:

A white woman is expect to “find herself” by having lots of sex with many numerous sexy bad boys from her 16th birthday until her 29th birthday. Then, one of these studs she has been regularly servicing for 13 years is supposed to “man up” and make an honest woman of her. They will have 1.5 kids, then divorce (his fault, he probably watched internet porn or something) and he’s stuck paying for her, the kids, and her new boyfriend who is quite possibly living at the house he paid for.

Failing that, she might panic and find some “beta” schlub she isn’t particularly attracted to, but since he’s never had sexual attention from a woman before, he gets all pussy crazed and actually wifes up one of these amateur prostitutes. This, of course, will inspire nothing but *contempt* in the woman, because this beta schlub actually found her to be marriage material – when she knows damn well that she is not.

Is anyone really shocked that men are no longer signing up for this “privilege?”

To fix the problem is actually pretty simple – STOP EXPLOITING YOUNG WOMEN. Teach young women the differences between men and women. Teach them that their duty is to compliment – not compete with – her husband and bear children. I urge all the young virgin women who are interested in marriage – say so. Say you’re saving yourself for marriage. Say you are going to be the kind of wife a man wants. And start it young. 16 years old? You’re old enough to be considering marriage. If you are old enough to “find yourself” by having sex with boys and men – you’re old enough to consider marrying one of those boys/men.

Feminist don’t want this. Feminists believe they should be able to have two children by two different “alpha studs” and have the welfare state pay to support them should Alpha Badboy not come through with the ring and the mortgage. Feminists believe that women will invent as much as men, will build the large corporations that dominate the economy just like men do, and that given the right education, women will become construction engineers, just like men.

The only thing holding them back is The Patriarchy – that social construct where by men know they are the father of their own children. To a feminist, that *is* oppression. Not just a double standard, it’s actually “misogyny” – hatred of women!

There has always been a class of prostitutes in every society. It’s just that in the modern West, our prostitutes are usually amateurs. Which means it’s great for whoremongers – sleazy hipsters who just happen to be relatively good looking and not shy around women – and it’s terrible for those good, responsible family men that women want to marry them on their 29th birthday after the whoremongers have moved onto younger flesh.

Bed, made, lie in it, feminists.

No rings for sluts.

P.S. – feminists go out of their way to suppress how much feminism itself was sold to them by big business, most notoriously, Big Tobacco. From the “Torches of Liberty” march to the Virginia Slims commercials of the 60s and 70s, women were told it was a “double standard” that men could smoke and not be socially shamed while women were looked down upon for smoking cigarettes.

Was the feminists response to fight against men smoking? Of course not. It was to fight for the right for women to smoke as well. Good job, wimminz, you totally weren’t suckered by men far smarter than you that did not have your best interests at heart.

You’ve come a long way, baby!

High School Harlots 5

I told you I was a huge slut. I never thought about it. You just met some girl, flirt, kiss her, and start fucking. We all did it.

I don’t remember where or how I met Rena. That’s sort of disconcerting to me, as I’m sitting here racking my brain trying to remember where and how I met her. It must have been a mutual friend or something. Considering the way it typically worked, I guess we just met and started fucking. She had a fucking amazing body. She was a lifeguard. Blonde hair, blue eyes, 19, almost two years older than me. A total bitch. Really, a nasty piece of work. I just liked fucking her. She had a waterbed, her mom bought her condoms because she wasn’t on the pill. I guess her mom had the idea that it would be better for her to be fucking at home rather than somewhere else. She would pick me up, drive me to her house, we’d spent the weekend fucking all day. I used to love eating her pussy. She had a great rack too. Her pubic hair was blonde too which I had never seen before.

The main thing I remember about her is how we broke up. So there were these three NSA agents that used to swim at her pool and we all became sort of friendly. There was a husband and wife, and their friend, the Air Force officer that stole Rena from me. Talk about getting AMOG-ed – how is some 17 year old boy supposed to compete with a 24 year old Air Force officer? He had an ugly face, but of course was fucking built. It took me all of ten minutes watching their interaction to realize Rena was going to be fucking this guy sooner or later.

So we’re at her house, fucking, when the doorbell rings. Literally, my cock is in her mouth. She pulls it out and says, “oh shit, I forget Lt. Biggus Dickus is taking me to a movie.”

I couldn’t fucking believe it. I said, “what you’re going out on a date with this guy? What the fuck?” She said, “oh no, it’s not a date, we’re just going to the movies!” I’m thinking, whatever. That was pretty slutty, even for her, to fuck me an hour before she goes out on a date with this guy. We were supposedly boyfriend and girlfriend, but neither of us really liked each other all that much. Just the fucking. So she yells down to the guy to wait and starts getting dressed, tells me to hang out at her place if I want. I figure it’s over anyway, so just leave.

So one totally random thread with her – she reintroduced me to a guy who would become one of my favorite musicians – David Allen Coe. He was essentially the king of rednecks. I first hear about him from my cousin down south, who listened to his “dirty songs” – these funny obscene ditties about fucking and drinking. Then, Rena played me one of his albums, and I remember the song, a biker tune, that started out “I got my red wings today.” Uh, look it up if you want more details, it’s pretty fucking gross.

Years later, when I’m in New York City, drinking at the dive bar with Aisha, she says, “oh my god you have to listen to this new album we got in the jukebox. It’s so funny!” She then proceeds to play a song:

“I was drunk the day my mom got out of prison. I went to pick her up in the rain. But before I could get to the station in my pick up truck, she got runned over by a damned old train.”

High School Harlots 4

So Betty and I had long since broken up but we still hung out every once in a while. At some point she told me, “do you know that waitress at the diner? With the brown hair? She asked me about you. She thinks you’re cute.”

I had no idea who she was talking about but we go to the diner and hang out and have coffee. So Betty introduces me to Marge. Marge was really, really hot. She had really light brown hair and amazing, beautiful, captivating blue eyes. Thin, with sort of smallish boobs and a fucking hot ass. She loved wearing skirts with no panties.

I basically thought she was totally out of my league, but since she had asked about me, I figured I’d give it a shot. Honestly I was a little bit shy, but managed to talk to her, and got her number. I took her out on a date.

We went to sushi – I had never had it before. I was trying to use the chopsticks, and the waiter came by and put a rubber band around them, turning them into some sort of lever thing, and said “try that.” Fuck it was humiliating, being AMOG-ed by a waiter on my first date with Marge. She didn’t talk too much, but she smiled a lot. I really didn’t know if this date was going well or not. At the end of the night, we kiss. It was pretty long and passionate. Well, the next day she calls me up and invites me over to her house. So I drive over there. She lived in a really, really expensive neighborhood, in a fucking mansion, maybe the biggest house I had ever seen. Right on the water, and they had their own private dock. I walk in the door, she smiles, I kiss her. We walk over to the couch, sit down, and start fucking.

We would date for I think three years. Right after high school, we got a place together downtown. $450 a month, this tiny little studio apartment. We had no furniture. The second we got the keys, we go into the bedroom, lay down on the floor, and fuck for like three hours straight. She got on top of my and rode me for hours and hours. She had rug burns all over her feet from rubbing them against the carpet while she was riding me. Good lord, this girl liked to fuck. We had sex three or four times a day, pretty much every single day for years. She just never, ever, ever got enough. I was totally, head over heels in love with her.

She used to do that thing, when we were fucking missionary, she would rock her hips back and forth. Good lord, I could barely stop myself from coming too soon when she did that. She became friends with the girl that ran the apartment complex, this raver chick. So one day, we’re hanging out, doing ecstasy, and Marge and this girl start making out. So, my first threesome. It was fucking hot, watching this girl go down on Marge. Marge was just a sex fiend, she never, ever, ever got enough.

She was the kindest sweetest girl. Always happy. Bubbly. She used to do this totally endearing, charming little thing. Whenever she got excited about something, she would do this hilarious impression of Mr. Burns from the Simpsons, rubbing her fingers together and say “excellent!”

God I miss her. We should have gotten married, but shit happened. By the end of it we were fighting all the time. When Betty and I broke up, my heart broke. When Marge and I broke up, I was devastated. It’s funny, just a few months ago my niece and I were watching old home movies, and Marge was on one of the tapes. We were about 19 I think, in front of my parents house, playing with my niece who was a baby at the time, totally adorable. Marge was so beautiful, and so kind, and so loving – and fucked like a champ. But, she was crazy, honestly, crazy as a loon. I think I still love her a bit.

I hadn’t talked to her in years and years, but she was one of the first people to call me, in a panic, when The Event happened.

High School Harlots 3

The first rule of Slut Club is: you don’t talk about Slut Club.

They say confession is good for the soul. All the names have been changed to protect the slutty. So these made up names are different than the ones I used in the New Years Resolution post, and I can’t be bothered to look them up, so it’s a new set of fake names.

So anyway, I was working as a cashier at this mall. There was this 16 year old girl, Betty, that bought something from me and liked me. Later she told me she went to this store all the time to buy stuff from me. I never noticed her. But at some point, a friend of mine, who was friends with this girl who was friends with Betty, told me about this party. She said, “do you know Betty? You know, this girl. With long brown hair and brown eyes? You met her at the mall.”

Honestly, I didn’t remember. But she strongly, strongly implied that Betty liked me, had a crush on me, and was interesting in doing something with me. She didn’t come right out and say, “Betty wants to fuck you” but I got the message.

So a friend and I went to this party. My friend’s friend introduced me to Betty. She was 16, cute, and I sort of remember seeing her around the mall. We chatted about whatever. She told me she liked me.

I don’t remember much of the build up here, but what I came to find out is that Betty was a virgin, and wanted me to deflower her. This entire thing had been an elaborate set up, between her and her friends, to invite me to this party and have me “break her in.”

So we wind up talking a lot, go off someplace quiet and kiss a few times, make out a bit. Then everyone starts passing out and going to sleep, and she and I lay down on a couch, in a room with about 10 other people asleep on other couches, the floor, and curled up in chairs. We make out, things get a little hot and heavy, and we start taking our clothes off under this blanket we have. I had condoms with me – don’t remember if I brought them or someone gave them to me – and I get some last minute assurances that this is really what she wants.

So, we’re naked, I’m hard, I’m on top of her, and I start to stick it in. I remember she winced, grimacing in pain. I stop. I ask her, “does it hurt?” She has her eyes tightly closed, and nods her head up and down, “yes.” I ask her, “do you want me to stop?” She shakes her head back and forth, “no.” So gently, slowly, I keep pushing it in. I go really slow for a bit, then start going in and out, a bit harder and faster. Soon, her face relaxes, she starts moaning. I’m kissing her, biting her neck, biting her earlobes, and this goes on for, I don’t know, ten minutes? Hey – I was 16! She was something like my third! Give me a break. At some point I come. I keep making out with her, pull it out, and put the condom in the ashtray on the table next to us. We fall asleep together.

Well, the next morning, her friend decides to razz us about this. I guess she wasn’t sure if we were going to go all the way or not. She says, loudly so the other couples can hear, “oh my god they did it! Look, there’s the rubber in the ashtray! Naughty naughty!” Betty is a bit embarrassed, but not really that much. But the trouble came when word got back to her older brother who was at the party as well. Some guy tells me, “hey, her brother is fucking pissed. He’s in the other room, pacing around, saying, ‘that hippie dude fucked my little sister! I’m going to fucking kick his ass!’

Considering her brother was definitely tougher than me, and a guy who had already had his car torched over cocaine debts to gangs, and was rumored to carry, I was fucking scared and expecting a fight, one that I could very well possibly lose. But someone convinced him to leave, so Betty and I and her friends hung out for a while, I got Betty’s phone number, we all went to the local diner for breakfast, and I told Betty I’d call her and we would hang out again. We would “date” for about a year, on and off, after that. My parents didn’t allow me to fuck at their house, and her parents wouldn’t let her fuck at her house – she actually was not supposed to be having sex at all, and was not on the pill (yet) – so she would drive her stepdad’s truck to my house, we’d drive over to the local park – which doubled as a “lover’s lane” for the neighborhood, and fuck in the back.

Once, for whatever reason, the cops decided to knock on the window right while we were fucking. She quickly puts her shirt and pants on, while I’m covering myself with my jeans, and she rolls down the window. The cops says, “ma’am, is everything all right in here?” She says, “yes, it’s my boyfriend.” The cop asks, “is there anything happening here you don’t want to be happening?” She says, “no, it’s ok, it’s my boyfriend. We’re just, uh, hanging out.”

The cops says, “ok ma’am. Stay safe,” and gets back in his car and drives away.

See, consent is sexy! Where’s my fucking ally cookie, feminists?

High School Harlots 2

One summer in high school, my parents took a two month trip and left me at home, totally unsupervised. It was a very, very interesting summer, and by the end of it, by some miracle, the only damage was a broken ashtray that my parents – who didn’t smoke – had from 20 years prior for guests, and a stain on the carpet. As I said, a miracle.

Amy was number five or six, depending on how you count. She was dating my friend Tom. Well, “friend” may be stretching it. “Weed dealer” is probably more accurate. I was over his house doing some business and she was there on the couch. She was this tiny little thing. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Um, 15 years old. Depending on how you count, I think I was her third or fourth. I don’t remember too much about our first meeting, but somehow she got my phone number, and called me up. She said, “hey, it’s Amy, Tom’s friend. We met yesterday. I have some pot, you want me to come over?” I told her I didn’t have any money. She said, “don’t worry, we’ll just smoke out.”

So, she comes over, brings an eighth of pot. We sit down on my bed, smoke a joint, then start fucking.

She loved adventure, so I would come up with crazy sexual things to do and she would enthusiastically participate. Sex on the roof of my parents house in broad daylight. We tried every position. On a few memorable occasions, she gave me head while I was driving.

Never do that, by the way. We’re lucky to be alive.

I think she was the first girl I fucked doggy style. There is something interesting that happens to me when I’m fucking a petite girl. The fact they are so tiny makes me objectify them more, and I sort of naturally handle them a little rougher that I might otherwise. I guess it’s just the large different in power, physical strength and size. I’ve noticed it, and it just happens automatically, without me thinking. I tend to throw them around like a rag doll, flip them this way or that, and just manhandle them.

Since I barely knew Amy, in fact, had known her for a grand cumulative total of about 30 minutes before we were fucking, I totally, utterly, sexually objectified her. I didn’t know anything about her, her personality, her hopes, dreams, or interests, and she didn’t know mine either. We mostly kept it that way. The fact she was so easy, had thrown herself at me, and was basically a stranger, made me treat her pretty much just as a piece of meat.

Which, of course, turned her on a lot and made her come many, many times.

So at some point we had spent the weekend fucking at my parent’s house, and we’re getting ready to do it again, and for whatever reason, I told her I wanted to fuck her over the desk. I remember the look in her eyes when I said that. I might describe it as “smouldering.” I remember looking at her and literally objectifying her, as I sort of plotted what I wanted to do to her. She loved it when I came up with new and interesting things to do. Now, you might think fucking a girl over your desk is not particularly new or interesting, but you have to remember that it was for us, as we were basically kids. Teenagers.

So, over the desk she went, with her tiny little white ass. I don’t even remember where I got the idea, but I would slap her ass in that position, and pull her hair. If you had told me then that nearly 20 years later I would remember that day with such clarity I could write about it, I’d have thought you were mad. People are strange.

On school nights when she wasn’t allowed to stay out, so she would wait until about midnight, call me to tell me her dad was asleep, then I would drive over to her house, she would let me in through the basement door, and we’d fuck on the couch. Then, at about 2 am, I would drive home.

Anyway, I don’t remember when or how we “broke up,” I think she just went chasing after some other guy. But afterwards, we stayed “friends,” and I do remember wanting this other girl, Shannon, a friend of hers, which made Amy jealous. We were on the way to a party, sitting in the back of the car. I wanted nothing to do with Amy, as I was interested in this other girl. So she made it her mission to seduce me. The entire car ride, she kept grabbing my leg, tickling me, and whispering obscene things in my ear. I made an honest, good hearted effort to ignore her, but at some point, whatever she did just got me fucking hard.

Later, at the party, Amy, Shannon, her friend, and I were falling asleep, passing out on a sort of makeshift bed on the floor, two mattresses pushed together and lots of blankets and pillows. I’m still ignoring her, but at some point she says, “come on, just let me suck your dick, that’s all. Come on.”

Well, the other two girls were asleep, and she had been doing this sort of thing to me for hours now, so I just gave in. She sucked me off, then I just pulled her legs around my shoulders and fucked the hell out of her. We tried being as quiet as possible, but at some point, Shannon wakes up and sees us, then just sort of drifts back to sleep. I was so pissed. Because of that, I wouldn’t actually get into Shannon’s pants for another year.

High School Harlots 1

The first one was Chrissy. I was brand new to this high school, and she was the school slut. I had been to “third base” a few times with a few girls before that, heavy petting, making out, but nothing serious. No girl had ever made me come before. I had jerked off a few times, saw a few Skinemax movies with topless women on cable, but I was a typical 16 year old virgin.

Well, Chrissy told me she had gotten drunk at a football party and blew half the football team, in what amounted to a “ritual.” Guys lined up, she blew one after the other. I also knew she had a reputation from a few other girls I had met.

She was cute, long brown hair, an amazing body, I guess a “7.” So we’re working together on this after school activity, alone in a classroom, and we sort of accidentally bump into each other. My crotch sort of rubbed across her ass. There was a “moment” where we were both sort of turned on.

Then, I made my move. I sort of brushed my hand across her crotch, gave her a smirk, and was shocked – totally unprepared for what happened next. She said, “you made me really wet. I’m really turned on. Want to mess around?”

A hour later, she was blowing me in the band room. I came in her mouth. She would blow me two more times over the course of the week.

Um, that’s it. She just wanted some sexual attention. But I’ll always remember her, because she was the girl that “turned me out.” She was a slut that recruited me into the slut lifestyle.

Well, I would write about my babysitter who used to rub me under the dinner table, barely able to contain her laughter because my mom didn’t notice, but it would probably be illegal to write about it, as she was 17 and I was 12. Remember, it’s only child molestation when men do it.

Higher Education

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h/t SunShineMary

“Undocumented events discussed online in the Reddit community have also sparked heated debates regarding the right to freedom of speech. Pictures posted to the forum showed male students from Radford University hanging sexually suggestive banners from their houses. The banners displayed slogans such as “Thank U fathers 4 ur freshman daughters” and “Your daughters walk of shame starts here.” Similarly controversial, yet more humorous and well received, was an alleged display at an art room at the University of Minnesota. The student’s piece displayed 5 identical Captain America figures masturbating. While most readers took extreme offense toward the vulgarity of the banners hung by the Radford University students, there were comical and creative responses posted in regards to the Captain America exhibit.”

http://www.thedailyaztec.com/2013/09/student_expression/

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