The Daily Stormer, a major maul-right tributary coming close to perfecting that balance between sincere shitposting and humorous ironic detachment, has a hot bake on Natalie Portman’s ugly sister and her Cosmo column imploring Reptile-American women to dump men who aren’t enthralled to be sharing snatch space with a vibrator.
When you do decide to let him in on the fact that you own a vibrator that you would also like to use in bed together, there are two possible reactions: He’s either overcome with joy that your sex life is about to get even hotter (and wants to start immediately), or he’s, well, weird about it. He might say it feels “a little unnatural,” or ask if his penis and sex skills aren’t enough. And if he does, he’s in trouble.
Because if a man is anti-vibrators, you should absolutely, without question, dump him.
Yeaaah, this is dumpsthatneverhappen.txt. I saw your photo, Julia Pugachevsky. The pug part is right. Don’t flatter yourself. If you managed to snag an aryan shivsa with something on the ball there’s no way in hell you’re dumping him. Especially not for something as trivial as refusing to fuck you if you have a purple saguaro pressed against your benumbed clit. And lo and behold, like magic!, her goyboy borefriend looks like he came prefitted with a choke collar.
There’s a whole genre of femmefic tumblrrhea written by Fake Hotties — fat sows, fugs, and striver plain janes — that amounts to egregious wishful projection that the authoress is an independent, empowered, orgasm-demanding riotgrrl HB9 who came here to chew gum and fuck two dicks at once, and she’s just about out of gum. As fiction, it’s so transparently bad that it boomerangs back on the girlwriter. As Whoreschach Test, it’s a perfect mirror of the girlwriter’s bitter heart, revealing a lying phonyfuck cunt who either has never held a man for longer than the time it takes him to get his whiskey dick operational, or is stuck with a mangina cucklet who reminds her by his irritating omnipresence of her low SMV.
Girls who proudly flaunt their vibrators are best avoided as investment properties. If she can’t be bothered to put up at least of facade of modesty, she doesn’t respect your desire and needs as a man. (Hint: most men prefer to save their exclusivity for chaste women.) This goes double for chicks who insist that men tolerate the additional company of an artificial penis during lovemaking. If your girl is that desperate for sexual relief while fucking you that she needs the assistance of a vibrator, she’s either a world-beating slut with a carnal appetite that will guarantee her straying, or you’re not doing anything for her. Either way, this kind of girl should never be promoted from occasional cum receptacle.
Seguing to the title of this post, the final word (in my estimable opinion) on the topic of eatin’ pussy was written off-handedly in this archived gem of Chateau consilience.
Eating a girl out anytime during the first few weeks of dating is beta. When you eat a girl out, you telegraph your incredible horniness for her. Men normally do not want to go down on women and bury their mouths in that fetid, humid mess unless they find her so overwhelmingly hot that they can’t help themselves. Women instinctively know this, so they correctly gauge that a man who goes down on them on the first date must feel he’s with one of the best he’s ever had. This, in turn, will sour a woman’s attraction for a man, since no woman in the history of the universe has ever felt raging lust for a man she believed lower than herself in value.
Cunnilingus later in the relationship is absolved from this rule, because you have already demonstrated your manly ability to use her strictly for the piledriving hole she is.
I’m not anti-eatin’ pussy, but men should be aware of the risks involved (both disease and psychological feedback arousal-damping risks). Very broadly, alpha men don’t eat pussy. Beta men do. And if a man is eatin’ pussy for any reason other than his own pleasure — say, because he feels obligated to help deliver his woman the elusive O which his dick and jerkboy je ne sais cocq can’t summon — then odds are good that he is an appeasing beta male who must endure tongue cramping and oral abscesses to sufficiently please his woman. And if that’s his station in the relationship, his tongue ain’t gonna save him from her inevitably checking out.
There are exceptions to the eatin’ pussy rule. When an alpha male is so overcome with animal lust for his HB9+ that he’s compelled by inner forces to dive downtown and sniff the intoxicating aroma of springtime snapper, then we can say that he’s not beta-tizing himself by the act. Still, it’s smart poon-swooning policy to refrain from chowin’ on the downy before spending a few months crustin’ the cumcatch basin.
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