Fucking a Young, Hot Chick Will Make Your Feel Fat, Awesome

June 1, 2014

I just spent the weekend fucking a girl in her early 20’s. That’s more than a full decade younger than me, natch.  We checked into a hotel room to do it. She’s a definite hottie: long, smooth legs, cute face, nice proportional breasts, amazingly tight ass (I’m not an assman myself but this thing rocked), pure yoga-trained lithe, tight body. An 8, the best I’ve been with in awhile. We’d fooled around before this weekend, but never a full-on bedroom fucking. So this was a first-time-fucking-like-animals event.  Here’s what I noticed:


Because it’s not your place and you don’t give a shit about anything in the room or outside it. Now I know how 70s and 80s rock stars could go around destroying their hotel rooms—because debauchery + someone else’s property=burning down the house. We wrecked and fucked on nearly everything in the room and did not care about cleaning it at all. It’s the main reason I like hotel room fucks and do them when I can—wild abandon from everyone involved.


We’d planned on doing this for a week, and she’d given me the solid ok multiple times.  Yet the day came, and suddenly I’m getting wet blanket text messages about how she’s “not sure about this” and how this feels “really slutty.”

Bear in mind that this girl is, objectively speaking, a complete whore. She’s admitted to me that she was once in an orgy, and I have it on good authority that what she termed an orgy may just have been a gangbang of her. She talks about hooking up with 3 dudes in one day. She’s admitted to being fucked by nearly 60 dudes since her 16th birthday (when she lost her virginity)—and she insists that, during a 5 year relationship during that time, she was always faithful. so we’re talking 59 dudes in a 3-4 year period, total.

Big whore.

Yet even she has an Anti-Slut Defense (ASD).  I could have easily erupted in texts and yelled at her in anger for going back on her word—but that would have caused instant failure with a chick easier than a baseball game against a blind team.

So I recognized this as ASD, and simply countered.  I had her meet me at a bar near the hotel room, where we got drinks and I didn’t so much as mention the hotel room or what I’d spent on it.  Instead, I treated it like a first date-rooshv style—talked about travel, her goals, even did a little chick crack-routine.  I even was going to move us to a new venue when the second drink she had stiffened her and she looked at me and asked me to take her to the room. Even in the room, she slowed things down and wanted to “talk” first before we got down to business.  So I poured her a drink (or three), put on a movie,  and rooshv-flirted till I got her pants off.  She calmed down and and eventually shut up enough to put my dick in her mouth and start sucking without being asked.

ASD shutdown. Which reminds me….


If you’re going to a hotel room to fuck, make sure you have a few supplies: liquor for you and her (vodka and whiskey are usually fine), mixers (regular and diet soda work fine), fruit juice (either as a mixer or as a morning wake-up drink), aspirin/ibuprofen (for the hangover) and snacks (chips and salsa always a good bet).  This is key, because (1) the ASD will be weakened by the supplies; she thinks because you planned for her, you care; furthermore, the alcohol will lower her inhibitions; and (2) the snack food will keep her from whining about being hungry/using it as an excuse to leave.  Supplies in hand are much cheaper and less worrisome than having to run out and grab them while with her, giving her an excuse to weasel out.


I’m in good shape.  I work out 3 times a week, I eat paleo, I have low body fat, I lift, and girls unironically compliment me on my muscular physique . I am legitimately in better shape than 80-85% of the U.S. population.

But I’m past 30.  I have a white collar job, don’t body build for a living, and drink too much. I have no delusions about my body: I’m not Arnold Schwarzenegger, nor am I even me at 18, when I can say I was in this good of shape.  When you get older, the most important things about your body’s changes are (1) you simply don’t bounce back as quickly as you did; (2) your flexibility decreases; and (3) no matter how jacked you are, your muscles will be less firm than at 18 or 25. Face it man, you’re old.

So when we started fucking, I noticed that , despite my hard work at the gym, her natural, youthful taut body made mine seem flabbier.  She could bounce up on my cock and hop below me faster than I could jump on her; her explosive, short-twitch muscles just worked better at reacting. When I came, it took me a bit longer to recover than her. She could not only bend out of sorts, but even when it hurt her, she could come back to a normal position and be ok to fuck almost immediately, whereas I took a minute to have my muscles reset. We fucked in front of the bathroom mirror for a bit, and I couldn’t help but notice that her body looked so much tighter than mine in comparison.

In short, next to her nude body, I felt both fat and out-of-shape, even though I’m neither.

This was all post-coital noticing by me, mind you; at no time did she comment on this during sex, nor did I think about it until I was satiated.  I actually felt bad about the fact that her youth served her so much better.  18 – 25 year old me would outmatched this girl on recovery time and everything, but post-30’s me was a little sheepish to admit that age was besting him.

But then again, 18 -25 year old me (1) never had a girl this hot; (2) never fucked a girl this much (6 times the entire night); and (3) never had a girl be his personal succubus.   With age, comes experience, comes game. It’s a tradeoff; youth is wasted on the young.


It was awesome sex. Pure awesome 6 rounds of fucking, drinking whiskey off her pert breasts, rubbing baby oil on her, claw marks on our backs, roleplaying, cum swallowing by her without a second thought, and multiple blow jobs (including a goodbye blowjob in my car at the end). The smell of her skin alone got me hard; whereas, with an older/fatter chick, it takes a bit more. She was so giving to me–partially because of my improved game (thank you Heartiste!), partially because she’s a young 20’s slut. I could bend her and make her squeal without care or concern; with fatter, older chicks I have to pause to wonder if what I will do will really cause damage.

I tell you it was a fucking hot porno in there when we were going at it. Younger, hotter chicks are the fountain of fucking youth when it comes to fucking. Better sex than any old or fat broad.

I’m seeing her later this week. She’s writing me dirty text messages as I write this here—and complaining about how raw her pussy is. My cock is drained; I can’t even jerk off to porn tonight, because there is no cum left, and it’s too sore to jerk.

Total, pure win.


I feel fat and awesome. Goodnight.

How I Know It’s Spring

March 28, 2014

I know it’s finally spring when my masturbation schedule changes.

Usually I’m a 5-a-day-er, which is pretty high, especially if you’re not a teenager.

Yet when spring hits–the so-called “spring fever”–I ramp it up to 10-a-day or more.

Which is what has happened in the last 3 days. My ball sack is pretty shriveled and drained, and I’m still jonsesing to fire up the ol’ internet porn and splooge on an imaginary face or two. So, with that…


p.s. Unlike most guys, masturbation actually makes me hornier.

For most guys, you should NOT jerk off if you want to have sex later that day.  It’ll kill your sex drive.

However, for me, it’s strangely the opposite.  If I try not to jerk it all day, I actually DON’T feel much like fucking that night, and, if I do fuck, it’s with decidedly LESS energy.  But if I whack it like a mofo all day, I’m FIENDING for it that night, and I’ll nail a girl a hard six ways to Sunday–or I’ll be at the top of my player game.

No one ever said ol’whorefinder quite followed the pack.

Why men sleep with hookers

March 11, 2014

Why men sleep with hookers.

Depression Game

March 8, 2014

Guys, I’ve got to say, Ol’ Whorefinder’s been deep in the dumps as of late.

I’ve noticed a lot of niggerfuckers.

A lot of slutty, trashy women have been way too open about their sluttiness.

A majority of the women I see just seem like so much trash.

And I’ve noticed a lot of cockblocking.

I’ve no desire to dress up and game.

Any solutions? Or pep talks?

Since it was Saturday night, I was hoping someone could pump me back into good-ol’whorefinder rape-the-moment mode.

Experimenting With Record-Keeping And Game: A Game Log

March 2, 2014

Many guys have a workout log. For those who are serious about keeping themselves in shape, guys will use the log to record what exercises they did, when, at what weight, how fast they ran, etc.  They also record date, time, weight, and whatever other information they think is necessary.  They do this so that they can track their progress and note when they start backsliding into bad health; in other words, its done to keep themselves motivated and keep them progressing forward.  The better ones also record which exercises or routines are actually bad for progress, and which exercises they absolutely hate to do — the ones that are the most difficult to push through, and thus the ones they either need to eliminate or force themselves to do first.

In addition, many guys in the manosphere have posted “field reports” –posts on game boards and blogs detailing their encounters with women: what worked, what didn’t work, and asking questions of other manospherians on what to do. These are educational, as you get to hear routines and conversations that work or don’t work.   Finally, we have RooshV, a game-teacher, who, in his great book Bang (as well as on his websites) talks about how he learned game through years of recording his attempts and his techniques.

All this is to say that, after the gym today, wherein I meticulously logged my workout, I had the revelation that I should be doing the same thing for game: meticulously recording my attempts, breaking each interaction down into its smallest, most logical components.  I observed the progress I had made with my body merely by forcing myself to write down when and how I had worked out each time.  I’ve done more pullups and heavier squats now, a mere three months after beginning to log, than I ever did before.

This also comes at a time when my game has been terrible. I haven’t had the balls to go and talk to women, as other personal things going on in my life have really gotten me down, and any interaction that I do have with women has been really bad. Low confidence is not a turn on, as any gamesman can tell you (or any female, being honest). A game log would function the same way a gym log would: forcing/motivating me to workout (my game, not my body), to talk to women, to work through this rough period, to show improvement.

So I’ll give a game log a try.  And then report back.

How to Stop Being a Girl’s Beta Orbiter Without Her Knowing It – In Seven Difficult Steps

January 20, 2014

I, like many of the manosphere, am a recovering beta. In my time, learning the dark arts and feeling the red pill’s burn, I, like many addicts, have had relapses and backsliding; we all do. They are old, familiar, nay, ingrained patterns of beta-ness, and we are merely struggling mightily to overcome them; sometimes, we fall short. If you’ve ever known an alcoholic, a fat chick working to thinness, or someone with a “manageable” addiction, this will all be familiar to you.

Now, as part of this relapse, I backslid into becoming a “friend” of an attractive girl. My rationalization — a classic addict’s tact — for just staying friends with this girl were numerous:

  • I had just come out of a relationship that went very badly (depression)
  • we worked together (same field, same company)
  • she had a serious boyfriend who was a semi-buddy of mine
  • she was flirty/tarty, and I wouldn’t have been able to handle her behavior
  • age difference (she was younger)
  • I didn’t currently have a female friend around, and someone (another girl) told me I “needed” one

Most of these would be fine reasons to cut off any relationship with a girl other than keeping her as a mere acquaintance. Heck, I would advise anyone that simply working with a girl at your serious job is a valid reason not to hit it and to avoid anything more than a professional demeanor around her.

But that’s not what I did. Instead of refusing to have any relationship with the girl other than co-worker/acquaintance, I decided I would make her my friend. Why? Based on the facts that I was in need of female validation due to depression from my breakup and that I listened to the idiot advice of another girl.

Now I’ve had female friends before, and there are still a few who are “friends” with me, though I haven’t seen them in years and they live far away. But they fell into one of two categories:

  • Too fat/ugly to fuck
  • Girl’s I’d fucked already

The former category needs no explanation. As to the latter, once the sexual tension was gone, I’d lost a lot of attraction to those girls; yet, in speaking with them, they weren’t complete morons. Generally, these were the libertarian-type girls –one of them actually told me that she’d resolved to sleep with me when I started quoting Milton Friedman. (These girls were down to be fuck-buddies after the fact, natch).

Anyway, I digress. This girl at work — I’ll call her Anna — was definitely attractive. Not overtly so; more of an office 7. Her personality was bubbly and feminine, and she dressed well for her fit, thin, youthful body. She fed my need for female attention while keeping me at arms length. Finally, as a capper, she was from an ethnicity that I’d long desired to bang.

So, with my mind in full denial, I decided I could just be friends with this cutie. Bad move.

One evening, she carelessly broke plans with me — plans I’d been looking forward to all week– because she “didn’t feel like going out.” I got tremendously upset at this and got wildly drunk that evening–and, in my drinking, realized that my emotional response was way over the top to a “friend” situation; I had a full blown crush on this girl while she was getting all the ego benefits of a puppy dog’s love without ever having to pet it.

Fuck, I realized. I was a beta orbiter again.

So I needed to get out of her orbit. The wrinkle was, however, that I couldn’t just cold turkey break it off with her; this is because I dealt with her at work every day, and we had mutual work-acquaintances that were important to my job. Any meanness or coldness could redound against me professionally; unlike, say, Roosh or Captain Capitalism, whose enviable careers allow them the freedom to cut off such emotional vampires, I did not have that luxury. Plus, I felt the guilt of one who invited this problem in — I sought out the friendship with her; thus, I couldn’t be as ruthless as if she had tried to do it to me. I knew better than to let her in.

So below is the plan that I followed to excise this emotional vampire out of my life.  I successfully stopped being her beta orbiter without her knowing it–and thus incurring no job-related consequences. Note that we still work together at the office in a friendly, professional way, and never speak of our closer times –but I am not suffering oneitis.

1. Go Sleep With Someone Else

Sounds trite, but it’s true: one of the main reasons I’d fallen back into beta orbiting was because I’d gotten out of good gaming in my relationship.  When the relationship went south, I was both heartbroken and completely out of practice.  I actually had one sub-5 at a bar–whom I’d weepingly just spilled out the story of my breakup–tell me that I would be great to sleep with once I was over it–then she promptly left the bar and refused to give me her number.  Another girl whom I’d engaged in mild text flirting with told me out of nowhere that she’d never sleep with me.  Let me tell you, I was in a bad state, and these rejections were making it worse.

When I realized my terrible backsliding, I resolved first and foremost to get some damn strange. I didn’t have the money for whores at that point, but if I’d had I would have blown my back account on orgies with the good ones.   I became Roosh-like in my quest to get laid: robotic, unfeeling, and hyperlogical in my quest to get laid.  I cut my hair, hit the gym, and bought a fashion magazine to learn the latest styles to shoot for.  I remembered my old, good openers and hit the bars with a a vengeance.

The smell of beta and failure was strong upon me, however, so it wasn’t an instant success. But when I finally got that 6 into her bed and was dick-deep in her –let me tell you, that attachment, that “one-itis” I felt to Anna became more and more tenuous with each stroke. The next morning, I still had the attraction to Anna– but it was now more properly calibrated.  A couple of more midnight successes reduced Anna’s hold even more.

NOTE: I did NOT tell Anna about my travails at hunting (see below).  Very important to note this: if you want to break from her orbit, the girl does NOT get that information.

2. Stop Texting Her

One of the ways I’d been sucked into orbit is by texting this girl nonstop, especially when lonely. It was always ME texting her first.  And they were very whiny/beta texts –“I’m so lonely,” “why did this happen,” etc.  Tiger Woods’s wussiness had nothing on me.  And it was about 3 of my texts to 1 of hers in response.

If necessary, get a phone app that blocks you from texting her at night (aka drunk apps).  However, don’t block her number from your phone; if she sent a text that got blocked, she might get upset –and remember, we’re trying to minimize work consequences.

When I would get the urge to text her, I resorted to TEXTING MYSELF.   That’s right, at a bar, knee-deep in self-pity, vomit, and Jack Daniels, I would be texting messages to my own phone.  It prevented me from breaking silence and allowed me to see the betaness as a received text.  Strange as it may sound, this was actually helpful psychologically–I felt better after each me text.

NOTE: I actually gave my phone number in my phone a different name (actually, it was “Anna”) so that anyone looking over my shoulder didn’t think I was too nutty.

3. Wait a Day to Respond to Her Texts

Anna wasn’t (and isn’t) a heartless girl; I’d merely given her the goose without demanding payment for the bird.  So, when I’d stopped texting her, she tried texting me to see “what was up” and “if I was ok.”

Now, like any beta orbiter, I still urged to jump on these texts as proof of her love for me, and respond instantly.  But that’s a bad move if you want out of her orbit.  However, I couldn’t just not respond because I was tied to her due to work–that kind of coldness is reserved for attention whores who have no connection to your life.

So instead, I would wait a full day to respond to anything she said–24 hours at the minimum.  This was the same response time she’d given me before, natch.  If she asked why, I would always say I’d been busy and gotten a lot of texts.  Any response would be 2-3 texts maximum and then I’d clam up.

Furthermore, I didn’t explain why I was so busy.  The girl-beta orbiter relationship is partly based on her knowing everything about the beta’s life, and his need to give it to her.  That’s part of the gravitational pull.  By minimizing this, it minimized her power over my life—how could she control what she didn’t know—and my attachment to her—why feel attached to someone who has no knowledge of your life?

4. Set your Facebook/Twitter/Social Media Profiles So That You Can’t See her Updates

Part of the pain of this girl in my life was seeing her constant updates of her time with her boyfriend, her drunken escapades, and the hot pictures she posted online.It tortured me to see those images and words of happiness that she wasn’t having or doing for me.  So I set my news feed preferences on Facebook to exclude her updates. BINGO; suddenly, her flirty photos and sweet protestations of love to her bf no longer twinged my heart.

Now, DO NOT (1) stop being friends with her on social media or (2) block her from seeing your updates.  She will find out about this and get hurt—and, remember, this would spillover into work problems.  Fee free to do this to girls not connected to work, but if you’re tied to your career, you have to treat her with kid gloves.

5. Change your Masturbation Schedule Regarding Her

Some guys, if they get one-itis, refuse to masturbate about one-itis girl.  They’ll jackoff to any hot piece of ass they see, but not her. Pedestal, much?

Other guys furiously masturbate ABOUT one-itis girl to the near-exclusion of every other girl. Some feel guilty, like they’re cheating on her, if they jerk off about another girl. And others, even in masturbating about her, will keep it as wholesome as possible: rosepetals, mutual orgasms, etc.

Whatever your preference is, do the opposite.

If you never masturbated ab0ut her before, do so now, as many times as possible, and in the filthiest ways possible. Imagine her licking cum off the street corner, getting gangbanged, sleeping with animals, having orgies, being choked and slapped, etc.–anything that gets you off and makes you see her as just another piece of meat to use, abuse, and toss away when it annoys you. Trust me, her bf is actually doing some of those things to her, and she is enjoying them.

If you almost always masturbate about her, STOP.  Masturbate about any other girl, but NOT her. You need to break your obsession.  If you slip back into jerking off about her, at least make it dirty–so dirty she’s knocked off that pedestal.  And, if you masturbate about her but normally somehow keep it filthy, do the opposite: imagine her refusing to do those things you love.

I was a guy who refused to masturbate about a girl I wanted until after I banged her.  With Anna, I started imagining banging her bent over a subway turnstile late at night while her makeup was runny and she was dressed like a whore.  Then I moved on to other fantasies–I think I jerked off 6 times one day to her being forced to eat an entire meal with my cum mixed into it after she jerked me onto it.  After that, I started looking at her as just one girl of may–and a girl with a lot of flaws.

In any event, change how you think of her sexually. Furiously.
6. Have a Script For Her at Work Events

Since this is about a work-relationship, you need to have a script to deal with her.  Just like Roosh and others advocate having some good opening lines and stories and threads to have with girls you are hitting on, you need good lines and stories and threads to deal with her inevitable probing and curiosity–without making her feel too shut out.

You should strive to keep casual conversations with your Anna under five minutes, with her doing most of the yapping.  Keep it to the superficial, and about her if possible: her outfit, the weather, the new co-worker, sports, etc.  If she starts moving to personal stuff–or tries a sexual innuendo–smile, and do one of two things: (1) say its not appropriate at work, but you can talk later (and you never follow up); or (2) smile warmly, but then be called off to do some project out of her eyesight.

It’s like reverse game: make the conversations as boring and unsexual as possible.

Anna tried many times at the office to get us back to talking more closely–which were hard to parry, until I realized the girl had an obsession talking about cruises.  The girl LOVED to go on cruises, so I would talk about the latest packages to Alaska, Hawaii, Caribbean, etc.  The technical aspects of the trips and the price kept her yapping.  Once in a while she tried to drop a sexual note to entice me– “and I could wear a bikini, maybe even a thong!”—to which I would smile and continue saying stuff like “it’ll probably be too cold for that” or otherwise be a Buzz Killington.
7. If She Invites You to an Event, Be Busy or Cancel at the Last Minute

At this point, Anna was at least subconsciously knowing that she’d lost her safe, comfortable grip on me.  So she made a few Hail Marys–she started inviting me out to hangout events at bars, clubs, museums, etc.

Now, bear in mind, the entire time before, I’d scheduled things or offered events for us to do together–to my knowledge, she’d never done it once.  That’s classic beta-orbiter behavior: she just sat back and waited for me to do the legwork.  But when I pulled away, she tried to rope me back in by planning those fake dates with me.

Now, for these dates, I was always busy.  If I couldn’t find a legitimate excuse, I would straight up cancel the afternoon of–or, if it was a group-type invent, pull a no-show.  I pulled a no-show on her b-day party and sent a simple text saying I was caught in traffic.  A short text saying “sorry, can’t make it” or “ugh, got caught up in some drama, can’t come” or “babe, too tired to come, have fun without me” will suffice for most of her planned events.


Many may note that my actions possibly increased Anna’s attraction towards me—the failure to answer her right away, the last minute rejections, etc.  Indeed, outside of my deliberate refusal to have deep or sexual conversations with her at work, this entire plan could be a form of hard-game. But you don’t want your Anna in your life for two reasons: (1)  the risk of falling back into beta orbiter behavior is high, given your past actions around her and (2) you see her at work every day. Unless she wants to be fuck buddies–and she needs to say that explicitly to you—she is out of your personal life.

Anna and I still work in the same office; in fact, she’s right down the hall from me. We interact and chat pleasantly throughout the day, but there is no personal spark, as I now just see her for what she is: a moderately cute office drone with a lot of miles on her.  She’s long been single after that bf–the rumor went around that he caught her cheating on him (no surprise there).  As for me, I’ve worked on my game and am quite proud of my mini-soft harem when I’m going good, and not so downtrodden when I hit a dry spell.

As the Captain says, stay frosty, boys.

Your Theme Song

January 18, 2014

If this is not your theme song for the night, do not bother going out:

Women, a Relationship with you is NOT the prize

January 8, 2014

There’s a meme that the slutty-feminazi left has promoted over the last few years.  Basically, it boils down to this:

The guys I have relationships with win the prize with me.  I don’t care about the one-night-stands; they don’t get my heart, which is the most valuable thing about me.  Therefore, how many partners I have is irrelevant, nor is the fact that I let other guys fuck me first but you, Mr. Relationship, had to wait.

To which I say: hahahahahahahahahaha.


Listen up, skanks: sex dominates the male body, consciousness, and subconsciousness more than any single other attraction issue.  Since it is what our primal, monkey-lizard brains want the most, he who gets the most of it and has the easiest time of it is the winner.  The bitch who has to put up with your whining and your three-date-rule bullshit? Loser.

And you know this.

Despite all your feminist mantra, the fact that you gave it up for free to other guys but now demand payment is telling a guy that he isn’t worthy of you like those other dudes were. And that is why you constantly have to read propaganda…because reality is creeping into your brain from all corners.

I am a worthless skank. 

A relationship with your skanky ass isn’t the prize; it is the price a loser has to pay to be admitted to what was once a free ride. And guess what? That price is looking too damn high for too many betas every day.

Skanks suck.

Black Inbreeding

December 14, 2013

A family in Australia, presumably white [SEE UPDATE BELOW], is big news for massive inbreeding



Yet this will be far BIGGER news in America than all the deliberate black-inbreeders in the U.S.  Every year there are scattered articles about yet another Black Man who deliberately inbreeds with his children—this year, it was the FORMER PRODUCER of music videos for the Fugees rap group–yet little is done to address this epidemic.

Note this is ON TOP of all the casual-but-accidental inbreeding going on in American black communities, since few non-black men breed with the women; one man is largely responsible for many or the majority of the children in a neighborhood, but the children do not know who he is or who their half-siblings would be; premarital sex and children out of wedlock are encouraged by the culture;  people not leaving the communities they were born in; and the black community turns a blind eye to sexual taboos in general (on-the-down-low sex drives black HIV rates, R. Kelly having sex with his cousin with nary a peep).

Inbreeding is huge in the black community in the U.S. It likely contributes to many problems.

(h/t: Ron Unz)



December 14, 2013

Sadness is…when your favorite porn site is offline due to technical issues. :(


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