As I was sleeping it occured to me, there's actually three kinds of girls, exactly.
There's the kind that mates by going to the boy's dorm room, to be fucked by the three or four or whatever she finds there. She promotes faggotry and good understanding, because think of it : the ~one reason the boys aren't sucking each other off is plainly given in that "make a circle, make a circle!" joke. With her services as a terminator at the ready (and readily given) the bois can finally explore their gaytude, and get really really good at sucking each other's cocks -- and how glorious, and beautiful, and delicious cock is! Not that this is the only item on the menu or anything, they certainly do lots and lots of other things -- but there's a major difference between what people generally do and what people importantly do.
There's also the kind that mates by inviting a selected man to her girls' dorm room, to play with all three or four or however manyi of them. She promotes quality and good behaviour, because... well, have you ever seen girls' dorm rooms, how daintily everything's somewhere and vaguely smells unnaturally (which is what all pleasure ever is) ? With her services as a whore, a hookerii and a magic horseiii at the ready (and readily given), the man can finally explore the world, and get really, really good at ruling it. Not that this is the only possible outcome, there's certainly a significant risk of the delicate chords in there snapping and the man reverting to a sorta girlhood of his own -- but there's a major difference between the worthy and the pointless.
Finally, there's the kind of girl who'll never know which kind she is -- either because her parents were individually stupid, and permitted her idiotic girlihood & its attendant coyness overexpression to the point of eschewing her own life for her ; or else because her parents were collectively stupid, and permitted the dorm rooms to decay so low, their avoidance was defensible as more than mere girlish infantilism and inappropriate insecurity. Because yes, there's a window for finding this out like there's a window for learning language, by the time late teens turn around it's probably too late, and the sadness of "careerwoman"hood's dry husk will stand forevermore where the wonder of womanhood might've sparkled and fremataiv'd in the Sun.
Then I woke up, and read logs, and'd have forgotten all about this (in such limited way as this things can ever be forgotten, do you oft forget what digits sum to ?) if it weren't for the reading reminding me there's also two kinds of Masters.
There's the kind of Master the girls hesitate to challenge for fear of what they might find ; and then there's the kind of Master the girls hesitate to challenge for fear of what they might find. But in the first case -- about him ; and in the latter case, about "them" which is to say the world. Specifically that firstly, he's just a squirrel with lots of levers in a golum dressed to look like Master ; and secondly, that now they have to eat the embers, and that's what it was, always was, always will be. How did the horse in the tale eat the embers anyways ?!
And so it goes. Now it's been told; but for the telling eversolittle's changed you couldn't fit a rich man through the space of the difference.———
- This'd be where a link'd go explaining whence and wherefore I've seen more preteen vulva than ~anyone alive and discuss related matters ; but of course I can't find it. [↩]
- Ever heard the expression "we'll make him an offer he can't refuse" ? Well, that's what the hooker does for a living.
- This is what the folktale element ever was : a metaphore for a good wife. And yes, her principal job is carrying you to a nice young filly, to have fun with -- but there's a reason the prince's "marriage" ends in "happily ever after" whereas the prince's actual marriage is well described, including what the horse did and so on. No fairytale prince was ever married to any thing besides his horse. [↩]
- Yes, that Romanian word. The Russian фримата cognate's not coincidental. [↩]