In which a bizarre character wanks it.

The text below was originally published cca 2014 by SOTMⁱ who meanwhile "unpublished" it, or whatever, DHLMCⁱⁱ. Such desperate flailing does absolutely nothing at all, except I won't credit them by name nowⁱⁱⁱ. The original title was "She Was 17 Years Old", if you care.

Growing up in America, it was hammered into my mind that 18 was the cutoff to have sexual relations with a girl. Even if the age of consent was 16, pursuing a girl so young was sure to prompt “jailbait” comments from well-intentioned friends who also warned about ambiguous statutory rape laws that require a lawyer to decipher.

Guess what, growing up in Romania (which, let it be pointed out, is an actual place, unlike "America") it was "hammered" into my mind that socialism is the grand future and other nonsense. Who the fuck cares, seriously ?!

Once you add in the societal shaming of older man and younger girl pairings, it's no surprise that you almost never hear stories of men in their 20's or beyond getting with high school girls.

Oh for fuck's sake!

Seriously, the reason I'm not getting my rocks off with some twelve year old is legalistic arcana ? Could it be perhaps that I routinely find nineteen year olds dubiously attractive at best, for the obvious fucking reason, which is immaturity ?!

What the fuck are you going to talk about, with the kiddies, once the sweat dries off ?

When the sad failure of "America" comes up in conversation with twenty-somethings (as it fucking well will!) in the grotesque shape of her failure to have read anything (and let me fucking underscore, anything) you can send her off to remedy^iv, after a sound beating if so inclined. What are you going to tell the nine year old, "well... I guess when you're older you might understand" ?!

There are fewer laws and shame^v in having such relations in Europe and South America, but my American-washed brain prevented me from pursuing all girls under 18, in spite of living on these two continents for years. The fear of imprisonment stayed with me far from the hands of the feminist-dominated American judicial system.
Somewhere in Europe, I met a 17 year old on the street. Normally I'd end the conversation without trying to get her number, but this time I pursued, and we had a brief date. It didn't result in a kiss, but I felt the seal was broken, and my mind was prepared to go farther the next time around.

Consider that his shitwashed brain still calls the stinky appendage "America". Even after living in South America for whatever's left of "years" after Europe takes its share. I suppose that part is... also due to the feminist-denominated something or the other ?

"Suddenly, the seals" and assorted such bullshit. Picture this if you will, the existence of a thirty-something so unexamined, so self-unaware that he literally sees no problem whatsoever with the plain experimental observation that there's not any kind of formed thought or personal opinion behind his activity, nothing of his own informing his ethics or shaping his behaviour. Simple diffusion, like the two working class kids that'll end up fucking if their job forces them to meet regularly enough and frequently enough. Like any other automaton, reacting predictably to the environment.

He's not saying "I didn't fuck my neighbour's poodle because the neighbourhood watch threatened penile amputation every time I tried to French kiss it" as much as he's saying "If I happened to move into a neighbourhood where everyone fucked Pooch... so would I, and I see nothing whatsoever problematic about this."

What sort of men are these ?!

And please dun tell me a wizard feminist did it. Feminism is the scar tissue left behind this caliber of desertion.

Two months after, I met another 17 year old. She was a woman in every respect, with large, perky breasts and a 5'9″ height that her personality had yet grown into.

To set the record very plainly straight : the only respect in which a woman is a woman is endurance ; and I very much doubt the random 17yo girly with "perky breasts" this idiot ran into had somehow managed to amass sufficient experience of loss so as to have matured.

I am not saying this is impossible ; on the contrary, I will say that I personally met exemplars. But I met them in brothels in warzones, not while walking around in my fucking hoodie through the tourist reservation of affluent touristy towns ; and even then it was a shaky, a sad, an ablated sort of maturity whose forced existence paid no one any kind of compliment.

His 5'9" adolescent was a woman in the exact sense the United States produced a culture.

She had a noticeable slump in her shoulders, as if announcing to the world that she didn't want to be so much taller than boys her age, a condition that would surely fade as her confidence rose. I figured it would take no more than three years until she would be seen with massive heals^vi, strolling through the nightclub with a face so cold that few men would brave an approach.

There is such a thing as the hump of the girl that'll be pretty soon, though it's more common among very tall, lanky 12yos. As a factual matter tall girls rarely wear tall heels, but in any case the cold face's more of an escort thing than a "womanhood" thing.

I was able to get her phone number. She didn't even ask where I was from or how old I was. I thought it was a poor prospect, but she showed enthusiasm when we text messaged, and we soon set a date one evening to go for a walk.

Who the fuck takes people he doesn't know on a walk ?

Suppose she walks much slower or much faster than you, what then ? Suppose she can't take the sort of distance you prefer, what are you going to do, cane her ? Suppose some retard pops in trying to mug you, is she going to accidentally shoot you trying to get him ? Suppose there's noise, other people, all sorts of obstacles that cause my own slavegirls, attuned as they are to my speech and my movements, to still lose a word or two here and there. What if she mumbles ? Jesus Christ you can't even see her face, how will you discern a joke from a whatever else it could have been ?

Take the girl to a god damned restaurant, feed her a decent steak for once in her life. Take her to a coffee shop, to a fucking bookstore. Take her to a strip club like young Dustin Hoffman. Stop being so fucking poor, seriously now.

I was braced for a night of awkwardness.

Do you know how I brace for five minutes of awkwardness ?

Go right ahead, guess. Fucking guess.

Yeah, that's right.

Why the fuck would you put up with inept crap, what, your time has no value now ? Door game has born ?

We met near a fountain and the conversation was essentially me interviewing her. She barely responded due to her weak English, but did eventually ask how old I was. I told her the truth—34 years old. She didn't give it a second thought.

The trepidation is starting to irritate.

Her shyness became apparent when she never dared to break a silence. If I didn't say anything, neither did she.

I could think of other reasons one doesn't break the silence, such as for instance "never interrupt a moron while it is being quiet" or simple disinterest or acute depression or whatever. But let's take the word of the neuro-programmed cunning linguist reporting, and say it was due to shyness.

This meant that the crickets chirped all night,

Holy fuck... do these people never get bored ?

Seriously now, what sort of diseased brain is required to spend a whole night classifying bugs/stamps/whatever, in and by itself, with the other person there present ? It's almost as if what dating principally meant to these people was a pretext for socially-acceptable solitude.

If he wants to be by himself with his train set / battletrek whateverica this badly, why even fucking bother other people ? Just buy the boxed set and canned food. There was such a thing as a sourdough miner before, the world didn't come to an end, why attempt to be a sourdough miner at the Times Square New Year's party ?!

but much intimate eye contact was exchanged.

What the fuck is this item ?!

I never had intimate eye contact with people I never met before.

Because see, specific knowledge, shared language, previously discussed anecdotes, experience, actual preexisting intimacy permits the interpretation of eye contact into these registers. How the fuck does this dude manage it with someone he absolutely and very literally does not know ?

This must be some bit of ocular evolutionary biology that left me by the wayside, I don't have the eyefucking with strangers. Woe.

What attraction could possibly exist between a 17-year-old girl and a man twice her age?

That's not the question. The question is, what attraction could possibly exist between two people who have nothing to say to each other. That's the fucking problem, the only problem. Outside of that, whether it's this dude sexing some female teenager or some female teenager sexing "older black men with a much lower vocabulary than mine" (ie whether it's discordant or concordant with the fashions du jour at the local Kink High) has entirely no bearing and bears absolutely no interest.

I'm not even proposing a certain answer to that question. Maybe there's something, or in any case more than Sartre-nothing, or than Kirkegaard-nothing, or than whatever-epsilon. But I am saying this particular idiot's efforts are doing nothing towards anything whatsoever! For shame!

Physical attraction, I suppose. I can't speak for why she came out to see me, but her timid beauty, not yet enhanced by female guile and manipulation, was more than enough for me. I decided that I wanted to have sex with her.

Give me a fucking break.

And furthermore : the little bits of magic they rely on to float the narrative are just as painfully poking out as with the other set of lunatics. "I decided", seriously ?

Words have fucking meanings, decision is not the pretend-arbitrary plot device getting everything back on its predictable track. Decision flows from... eh, what's the use. He "decided", and thus therefore the insanity of the whole premise needs no further explanation.

As we walked around the city, I touched her more and more, knowing that touch would partially replace what my words would have done had language not been a barrier. Every so often we'd stop to check out a view and I'd plant my hand on her arm or back. She never objected, eventually agreeing to have some wine at my apartment.

Grocery store wine, what a treat. Good thing there's not a bone of "feminine guile" in her, she can feast on bumfuel and think it an experience.

But anyway, yes, sure, physical contact gets adolescents going even moreso than adults... hey, by the way, here's a curiosity no girl to date managed to quench for me, maybe you can help. Are you ready ? It goes like so : why the hell every dude on Fetlife feels the need to post at least some naked pictures ?

Yes, I'm aware that nudity is a great driver of your sexual activity, and that you're very likely to at least attempt to fuck a chick just because she stripped, even if you wouldn't be interested were she dressed. Naked plays a big part in your decision process, "is she naked ?" counts for more than "can she keep a job". Okay.

But!!! This is not how women go! Women decide whether to fuck you or not by how you look dressed, not by how you look naked! The body plays a part, sure, of course, but whatever random starlet's complaint about Cary Grant was that "he has a huge tool but not the ass to push it in right". Function, not form, okay ? They care how you look naked much less than you could possibly imagine ; and this holds also at least to some degree for other things.

After stopping at the grocery store to buy a bottle, we made it to the front door of my building. Unexpectantly, she told me she wasn't coming in. Something must have been lost in translation.
“Okay, well, I can drop the bottle off and we can continue our walk,” I said. “But don't wait outside.” That's how I got her to step into the building.
“I'm going to put the wine in the refrigerator. Come take a look at my apartment.” That's how I got her inside my place.
“I have a nice view. Come take a look.” That's how I got her in my room and on my balcony.
I was almost disturbed how my mind had no objection to escalate when just months prior I would have been scared to even ask her out.
I poured some wine and the mood was right for a kiss. It felt natural. I enjoyed it because of her beauty more so than her age. She insisted on leaving after finishing her glass, and I did little to convince her to stay, already having gone much farther with a girl her age than I have before.

It felt natural ?

What, like George figuring things out, solving problems, considering angles, "nobody can accuse me of not being comfortable" ?

I took her to pizza for our second date. She wore a shirt that said “Future Model.” Tall girls can be exceedingly bulky, but she was trim with a thin layer of baby fat that smoothed out her figure. After pizza, we went to my apartment and straight into my bed. One hour passed and she was still fully clothed, refusing to let me rub her vagina.

For one thing, it's a vulva. Not a vagina. The internal part's the vagina, the outside, that you rub, is the vulva. Ok ? Holy fucking shit get the terminology right at the very fucking least ; it requires no human contact, can be done in a library, should be ok. Ok ?

For the other fucking thing who even has women dressed indoors, what the fuck is this. The last time I spent an hour in bed with a dressed woman was never, because who the fuck does this ?! Outside of terrible UStardian TV fare, why would there be dressed women in bed, and what do they wear in the shower ?!

This continued for some time, and when I was on the verge of giving up, I thought, “Well, if she is still here, after my persistent attempts, and doesn't show any sign of leaving, that must mean she wants me to keep going.” So I continued, knowing full well she may get annoyed and leave.

Or maybe she's homeless.

Jesus fuck, who cares what some moron that spends hours being pawed while dressed in a bed fucking wants ?! Let her get back to shopping for hoodies.

I steadily marched on until most of her clothes were removed and I was finally able to curl my finger around the strip of her panty cloth and onto her labia.

Leaving aside what hells of fucking tedious, interminably bureaucratic unpleasantness this connotes, doesn't it sound just fucking objectionable ?! Is it just me ? Why would anyone do this, doctors don't go to such lengths to deliver lifesaving treatment and they took a fucking oath! What is this nonsense ?!

“I have a condom,” I said. Less than ten minutes later and the deed was done.

This actually might be a pinnacle of the textually sordid, Zola be damned. Have you ever read of meaner sex ?

Please let me know if so, I can't summon examples to [my admittedly numbed] mind.

I didn't last particularly long because her vagina was constructed very tightly. Thankfully, there was no blood.

Blood is one of the best lubricants, in which context I am unsurprised it was absent.

Also, contrary to what internet-porn-watching-experts may have scientifically deduced, all nulliparous vaginas are constructed tightly.

I thought that doing an act forbidden in the West would give me a higher amount of pleasure, but it was more of a burden. She wasn't in a ready-to-fuck state and would need both emotional and physical training in order to get her up to speed. Besides the extra tightness of her vagina and the suppleness of her body, she could have been any other girl I've had before. It was just another bang, of running game and dealing with a girl's unpredictable behavior and desires. And that's all there really is to say about that.

Good help us deal with the predictably stolid. And by "us" I mean the girls, mostly, because women can't fucking stand these cucks and I don't really care, I'm well insulated.

1. You know, like WSW, MSN, M&M etcetera. "Someone other than me". [↩]
2. Deleted His Locally Maintained Copy. Spurious acronyms, wheee!

   I should probably have titled this article IWBCWI, because totally, pretending some bit of nonsense "is" an acronym really makes any dullard in the audience just assume there's more substance to it than absolutely nothing at all. You know, precisely the way "newspaper mentions" worked before the journahocaust.

   What better marker of the simple mind attempting simplified approaches than frettage about whether so-and-so "is a thing" ? [↩]

3. Consider the matter of opposability as discussed in the logs : if you publish something and then delete it, the effect will be that you will lose any positive consequences of the thing while keeping all the negative. It is for this simple economical reason that you don't actually want to ever delete anything. It's just not an +EV move for you, that's all there is to it. [↩]
4. Permit me to quote, verbatim :

   Me : waiting for godot, ever read it ?
   Her : lol no i havent : /

   Her : plus i read what a trilema is
   Her : and its a pretty cool concept
   Me : trilemma.
   Her : lol thank you
   Me : yeah, don't get it wroing in your head. in english it's lemma, dilemma, trilemma.
   Me : comes from latin, means approximately "proposition"
   Her : hmm yes sir
   Her : interesting you only really hear dilemma

   Me : ever read d'annunzio ?
   Her : no i havent

   Me : "the zone", it's a russian term. ever read eg solzhenitsyn ? "the gulag", a large open air prison system
   Her : lol

   Me : iggy pop ?!
   Her : hes alright
   Her : i read his book

   Me : great hehe. say, you ever read huysmans ?
   Her : no i havent
   Me : you've really not read much, have you ?
   Her : lol i think i have but i dont think weve read the same things

   Right. She's a chick that dumped some dom douche who, in his own words,

   I read a lot. My readings range from the columns of Nicholas Kristof and Paul Krugman to nerdy science fiction and fantasy (Asimov to GRRM) to the writings of the Dalai Lama and Robert Pirsig to the latest banal garbage on bdsmlibrary.

   Garbage in, garbage out, garbage throughout.

   And yes I made her rub salt in her crotch. And other things. [↩]

5. As Ballas' words resound in our collective ears, "never guilt ; only shame". [↩]
6. Original spelling preserved. [↩]