Women everywhere, dressed to reveal. Unless they're fatties - which I do notice, with repugnance, while most men's eyes will self-defensively sheer away from the fat-rolls which make them repulsively invisible.
The feminist whores have made it impossible for men to get a break from all the sexual signals that women put off, the sexual spam which they spread far and wide to draw the attention that their narcissistic cravings require.
Bright colors. Giggling inanities at breaks. Lipstick, makeup, scent, revealing clothing - whether a slit skirt or low-cut blouse or something that's practically see-through, maybe even molded to her hourglass figure.
All the advertising is the same, pretty girls airbrushed to perfection.
The bars, even if you just want a quiet drink. There she is, wobbling around and broadcasting her sexiness to all-and-sundry for her own thrills.
All the time she's on display, thinking: "I'm soooo cute, all these men want meeeeee!"
This is the common
No, don't touch! That's a no-no. She can do anything and everything she wants - you cannot touch. She gets enough of a sexual thrill as-is from keeping you at a distance. If she doesn't like you, you'd better not even let her know that you took a look. Raaaaape!
If she likes you - why don't you want her back? Are you gay or something?
Thirsty, thirsty men who can't get a break either way.
I cannot at this moment remember who said that men's sexuality was that of a sniper - women's was of spam. Unwanted and everywhere. It was the book Anatomy of Female Power that likened it to pollution.
Greasy, sticky, staining everything, hard to be rid of.
We drown in it. Call them Beta's, call them Blue Pill, call them what you want. They're starved for it and can't get away from it - movies, tv shows, advertising, walking around. The sex is sprayed everywhere, graffiti sluttiness designed to make every man a horndog 24/7, dissatisfied with his life and looking for poontang. Extra poontang too - which is why there is so much interest in PUAs.
While the women go drifting along in their little bubble of serene glow, radiating their sexuality for that little frisson of satisfaction deep in their vagina. Slowly building up an inner itch which only the *best* man can scratch properly.
It's a surprise that there's not more rapes. It goes to show how well-contained men are, have to be. While teh wimminz are free to satisfy their basest urges.
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