Author describes a sex scene

Antifafu

There's very few times when a man wouldn't think of it that way.

Why are antifa girls so ugly, bros?

read nietzsche

I might be brain damaged. Can't find anything even with reverse search. Spoon feed the poor disabled user.

Low estrogen

She's a big name in Nietzsche scholarship, not something talked about online

They have just as much estrogen as any other women. They are ugly like most women are because they don't exercise and eat like shit. The average American has a terribly unhealthy lifestyle and obviously that's reflected in their physique.

The runt in the OP is clearly sub-developed. To a degree this would of course be a result of nutrition but it doesn't explain her petite prepubescent hips and breasts which must be hormonal

what about cat person

When I was a pre teen I read a Sasuke and Sakura lewd fanfiction and instead of the usual bad writing that comes with erotic literature, the author focused on the vulnerability and comfort found between the two characters along with the sensuality of the minute actions and events the characters experienced during sexual intercourse that I jizzed my pants and I’ve been looking for a similar high ever since.

No. Only freaks get horny. Leave my site, fag.

CURRENT TIMES I HAVE BEEN HORNY COUNTER:
0

just a different body type. doesn't necessarily mean she has an hormonal imbalance

She's pretty af you tasteless pig, you little freak.

>its muh genetics

She looks like a literal ten year old child in many pictures. It reminds me of that family in California who were starving their kids

gib name pls

she looks fine. she's just tiny. not all women have large breasts and very defined hips

Antifafu aka. Tomi Dunaway

>muh hardbodies
You have the worst taste in the thread, go back Veeky Forums you fag, and take your dog-eared copy of American Psycho with you too.

Augustus west of virginia

Augiedoggie

You fuckin slamdunked that guy w/ the dog-eared American Psychi bit. I'm not being sarcastic. Just like to call an own when I see one.

Yes. But I get a boner when a girl smiles at me, because I'm a 22-year old virgin.

>overprivileged
No such thing.

The young little calf this calf he went down the road, the fine young calf rode only to be accosted by the gatekeeper. The big man with the hat he accosted the fine young calf with a tip of his gate and he said
"Eh lad, where are ya goin down by the pool, aye the poole"
Nevermind the pool, replied the fine young calf, where may I find the lady who I have often seen resting upon these little rocks
"no rocks past my gate" is what he said and lowered the gate down down down till the tip hit the dust
aye and to you too! and the calf doubled back up the road.
but the calf did not think of rocks or gatekeepers or pools for that matter, the young calf only thought about the lady who rested upon the rocks by the poole past the gate
aye the gate
just then, right then, a fine young lady rode down the avenue in the finest smock the calf had ever seen. aye a smock aye the finest he had ever seen
who is this, she thought
who is this the finest young calf I have ever seen the calf thought the lady thought, aye the calf
“Nae” said the lady in the smock
nae what replied the fine young calf thought the fine young lady thought the fine young calf
And neither said a word as the lady, aye the lady, and this time is true the lady, rode past the road down the road to the gatekeeper. The fine young calf replied to himself, aye himself, this is the lady, the lady I have seen upon the rocks past the gate by the pool
what pool, nae the poole who built this land, aye the poole, aye the poole, or perhaps poole’s pool which was a bay, aye a bay, where fine lady’s smocks rested on the rocks by the fine young ladies by the rocks by the pool of the poole aye the poole
The fine young calf rode up to the gatekeeper once more
“lad” he said, “I think, aye think, aye told you once, aye did I, I did, not to come back down this rode, see here”
nae, said the calf, ye told me brotter, aye he’s the one, aye, ye did, while I was picking flowers by the mulberry rode
“that rode aye, I did did I, aye,” the gatekeeper said and tipped his gate once more, but the fine young calf was on to his tricks and rode himself down under the gate and the gatekeeper screamed and cursed, aye cursed and screamed but could not leave his post as he did his job for free.

The fine young calf walked down the road strolled and rode hoping to fine young lady find, aye find fine ladies aye on the rocks by the poole aye, but he could not catch a glimpse until he found the sign, aye the sign, the sign that signed he was not allowed past the gate, aye the gate, and he asked the sign aye the sign,
why sign, he asked, aye, why can’t I enjoy the rocks aye or the pool aye the poole, why must I ride the road past the gatekeeper and pick flowers along the mulberry rode, am I aye I not permitted to view the fine young ladies who rest upon the rocks aye the rocks, am I not a fine young calf myself, do the fine young calves not get to be with the fine young ladies, aye the ladies, aye the calves aye fine and young we go to gether aye
The sign did not reply. And just then, right then, aye, the same fine young lady, in a different collared smock rode past the road and past the sign
aye lady, called the calf, aye please tell this sign I belong on the rocks, but she did not reply.
The Sign did not reply. The fine young calf began to cry:

WHY?! WHY MUST YOU TORMENT ME SO WITH THESE JEZEBELS? My one single wish is to be left to my own asexual devices, free from the thorned grip of perverse tempation, unclouded or swayed in my noble search for intellectual playthings of the mind, yet by your hand I am endlessly titillated by these vixens with their prodigious hips and provocative figures. Can I never satiate this thirst, will I ever know the touch of a woman and enter between her loins? Will these hands ever feel a woman's swaying weight in their open palms? Will I ever know a plump, ruby pair of lips perched betwixt my shoulder and my ear, whispering "I want you, I want you now" in that chocolatey croon I know so well from dreamtime? Will my seed ever drip from her moistened hole, indicating the completed unity of our unhinged sexual impulses?

Life is a constant hell. Day in and out the tired red eyes glaze in some attempt to shield me from these images. I am floating in the blistering heat of my id's vacuum, castrated and blinded by my wretched libido. No wonder I resent women so.

The SIGN did not reply. the fine young calf aye the calf lied aye lied.

Sorry kiddo, I like women with big tiddies, luscious, full-bodied hair and whore paint

You can tell she hates sex because it reminds her of patriarchal oppression. She'd be down to fuck only if she was allowed to peg you also because it's more "fair". Of course some """men""" would be into this, because they have as much estrogen as her.

...

feminists like to fuck just as much as anyone else, user

No, they're more like the anti-sex league in 1984. You'd know if you bagged more than one warning coloration-haired neurotics.

I've "bagged" about ten, and they were just as dtf as anybody. People like secks, politics rarely enters the convo

Was the strap on ridged or smooth? Were they rough on you? Was it weird laying on your back and pulling your legs up to your chest? Or did you go on all fours so you could feel your dick swinging, slapping your thigh when they rammed it in?

embarrassing post desu

Well I want to read this now. Is it good?

meh, I hit a nerve bragging and I honestly feel bad about it

yes, all of this

I thought it was amazing and life-changing when I read it 7 years ago (I was 18 at the time.) I'm inclined to think it's good, maybe not as good as I thought it was but worth checking out.

This. If anything feminists are usually way more into sex than non-feminists.

You just got so mad over feminism that you posted your elaborate sex fantasy on the anime Stirner-worship board. Fuck off.

people are just different in bed, they save the political face for people they don't plan on sleeping with. If someone wants to sleep with you, feels the desire, it's pretty impossible to turn them off

getting your prostate dicked feels amazing user maybe if a qt fucked your ass you wouldnt be such a hateful bitter incel

what a fucking freak

Here she is with her masculine bf, as you can see she is way outta your league

no you fucking bug she’s not at all

Those bags under her eyes are not a good sign.

Maybe selling out and pretending to be leftist would be beneficial to many virgins here, as the soyboys in that community get to have some real qts
problem is, they'd have to be okay with her sexual past and being open minded about that kind of shit, plus having to hear about feminism on a daily basis

Why does this board attract effeminate types? Is it because reading is a feminine hobby?

if you werent feminized by a strong male idol while you were a teen, youre basically nothing

agreed, I may be a virgin but at least I'm not soy

>books is for fags!!!!

>plus having to hear about feminism on a daily basis
this right dere

Let me tell you ectliactly who I am, the man says, breathing little puffs of Sen-Sen in Sam's face. I am the Briggth Avenue Library Cop, and I am in charge of punishing boyth and girlth who bring their books back late.

Little White Walking Sam begins to cry harder. I've got the money! he manages through his sobs. I've got ninety-five cents! You can have it! You can have it all!

He tries to pull the change out of his pocket. At the same moment the Library Cop looks around and his broad face suddenly seems sharp, suddenly the face of a fox or wolf who has successfully broken into the chicken house but now smells danger.

Come on, he says, and jerks Little White Walking Sam off the path and into the thick bushes which grow along the side of the Library. When the poleethman tellth you to come, you COME! It is dark in here; dark and mysterious. The air smells of pungent juniper berries. The ground is dark with mulch. Sam is crying very loudly now.

Thut up! the Library Policeman grunts, and gives Sam a hard shake. The bones in Sam's hand grind together painfully. His head wobbles on his neck. They have reached a little clearing in the jungle of bushes now, a cove where the junipers have been smashed flat and the ferns broken off, and Sam understands that this is more than a place the Library Cop knows; it is a place he has made.

Thut up, or the fine will only be the beginning! I'll have to call your mother and tell her what a bad bay you've been! Do you want that?

No! Sam weeps. I'll pay the fine! I'll pay it, mister, but please don't hurt me!

The Library Policeman spins Little White Walking Sam around.

Put your hands up on the wall! Thpread your feet! Now! Quick!

Still sobbing, but terrified that his mother may find out he has done something bad enough to merit this sort of treatment, Little White Walking Sam does as the Library Cop tells him. The red bricks are cool, cool in the shade of the bushes which lie against this side of the building in a tangled, untidy heap. He sees a narrow window at ground level. It looks down into the Library's boiler room. Bare bulbs shaded with rounds of tin like Chinese coolie hats hang over the giant boiler; the duct-pipes throw weird octopustangles of shadow. He sees a janitor standing at the far wall, his back to the window, reading dials and making notes on a clipboard.

The Library Cop seizes Sam's pants and pulls them down. His underpants come with them. He jerks as the cool air strikes his bum.

Thdeady, the Library Policeman pants. Don't move. Once you pay the fine, son, it's over ... and no one needth to know.

Something heavy and hot presses itself against his bottom. Little White Walking Sam jerks again.

Thdeady, the Library Policeman says. He is panting harder now; Sam feels hot blurts of breath on his left shoulder and smells Sen-Sen. He is lost in terror now, but terror isn't all that he feels: there is shame, as well. He has been dragged into the shadows, is being forced to submit to this grotesque, unknown punishment, because he has been late returning The Black Arrow. If he had only known that fines could run this high -!

The heavy thing jabs into his bottom, thrusting his buttocks apart. A horrible, tearing pain laces upward from Little White Walking Sam's vitals. There has never been pain like this, never in the world

He drops The Black Arrow and shoves his wrist sideways into his mouth, gagging his own cries.

Thdeady, the Library Wolf pants, and now his hands descend on Sam's shoulders and he is rocking back and forth, in and out, back and forth, in and out. Thdeady ... thdeaady ... oooh! Thdeeeaaaaaaddyyyyy

Gasping and rocking, the Library Cop pounds what feels like a huge hot bar of steel in and out of Sam's bum; Sam stares with wide eyes into the Library basement, which is in another universe, an orderly universe where gruesome things like this don't ever happen. He watches the janitor nod, tuck his clipboard under his arm, and walk toward the door at the far end of the room. If the janitor turned his head just a little and raised his eyes slightly, he would see a face peering in the window at him, the pallid, wide-eyed face of a little boy with red licorice on his lips. Part of Sam wants the janitor to do just that - to rescue him the way the woodcutter rescued Little Red Riding Hood - but most of him knows the janitor would only turn away, disgusted, at the sight of another bad little boy submitting to his just punishment at the hands of the Briggs Avenue Library Cop.

Thdeadeeeeeeeeeee! the Library Wolf whisper-screams as the janitor goes out the door and into the rest of his orderly universe without looking around. The Wolf thrusts even further forward and for one agonized second the pain becomes so bad Little White Walking Sam is sure his belly will explode, that whatever it is the Library Cop has stuck up his bottom will simply come raving out the front of him, pushing his guts ahead of it.

The Library Cop collapses against him in a smear of rancid sweat, panting harshly, and Sam slips to his knees under his weight. As he does, the massive object - no longer quite so massive - pulls out of him, but Sam can feel wetness all over his bottom. He is afraid to put his hands back there. He is afraid that when they come back he will discover he has become Little Red Bleeding Sam.

The Library Cop suddenly grasps Sam's arm and pulls him around to face him. His face is redder than ever, flushed in puffy, hectic bands like warpaint across his cheeks and forehead.

Look at you! the Library Cop says. His face pulls together in a knot of contempt and disgust. Look at you with your panth down and your little dingle out! You liked it, didn't you? YOU LIKED It!

Sam cannot reply. He can only weep. He pulls his underwear and his pants up together, as they were pulled down. He can feel mulch inside them, prickling his violated bottom, but he doesn't care. He squirms backward from the Library Cop until his back is to the Library's red brick wall. He can feel tough branches of ivy, like the bones of a large, fleshless hand, poking into his back. He doesn't care about this, either. All he cares about is the shame and terror and the sense of worthlessness that now abide in him, and of these three the shame is the greatest. The shame is beyond comprehension.

Dirty boy! the Library Cop spits at him. Dirty little boy!

I really have to go home now, Little White Walking Sam says, and the words come out minced into segments by his hoarse sobs: Is my fine paid?

The Library Cop crawls toward Sam on his hands and knees, his little round black eyes peering into Sam's face like the blind eyes of a mole, and this is somehow the final grotesquerie. Sam thinks, He is going to puntsh me again, and at this idea something in his mind, some overstressed strut or armature, gives way with a soggy snap he can almost hear. He does not cry or protest; he is now past that. He only looks at the Library Cop with silent apathy.

No, the Library Cop says. I'm letting you go, thatth all. I'm taking pity on you, but if you ever tell anyone ... ever ... I'll come back and do it again. I'll do it until the fine is paid. And don't you ever let me catch you around here again, son. Do you underthand?

Yes, Sam says. Of course he will come back and do it again if Sam tells. He will be in the closet late at night; under the bed; perched in a tree like some gigantic, misshapen crow. When Sam looks up into a troubled sky, he will see the Library Policeman's twisted, contemptuous face in the clouds. He will be anywhere; he will be everywhere.

This thought makes Sam tired, and he closes his eyes against that lunatic mole-face, against everything.

The Library Cop grabs him, shakes him again. Yeth, what? he hisses. Yeth what, son?

didn't read lol

Yes, I understand, Sam tells him without opening his eyes.

The Library Policeman withdraws his hand. Good, he says. You better not forget. When bad boys and girls forget, I kill them.

Little White Walking Sam sits against the wall with his eyes closed for a long time, waiting for the Library Cop to begin punishing him again, or to simply kill him. He wants to cry, but there are no tears. It will be years before he cries again, over anything. At last he opens his eyes and sees he is alone in the Library Cop's den in the bushes. The Library Cop is gone. There is only Sam, and his copy of The Black Arrow, lying open on its spine.

Sam begins to crawl toward daylight on his hands and knees. Leaves tickle his sweaty, tear-streaked face, branches scrape his back and spank against his hurt bottom. He takes The Black Arrow with him, but he will not bring it into the Library. He will never go into the Library, any Library, ever again: this is the promise he makes to himself as he crawls away from the place of his punishment. He makes another promise, as well: nobody will ever find out about this terrible thing, because he intends to forget it ever happened. He senses he can do this. He can do it if he tries very, very hard, and he intends to start trying very, very hard right now.

When he reaches the edge of the bushes, he looks out like a small hunted animal. He sees kids crossing the lawn. He doesn't see the Library Cop, but of course this doesn't matter; the Library Cop sees him. From today on, the Library Cop will always be close.

>author describes a sex scene in a way that makes it obvious that they've actually had sex

>Winkler by Giles Coren (Jonathan Cape)

>And he came hard in her mouth and his dick jumped around and rattled on her teeth and he blacked out and she took his dick out of her mouth and lifted herself from his face and whipped the pillow away and he gasped and glugged at the air, and he came again so hard that his dick wrenched out of her hand and a shot of it hit him straight in the eye and stung like nothing he'd ever had in there, and he yelled with the pain, but the yell could have been anything, and as she grabbed at his dick, which was leaping around like a shower dropped in an empty bath, she scratched his back deeply with the nails of both hands and he shot three more times, in thick stripes on her chest. Like Zorro.

>Haruki Murakami’s Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage:

>Shiro’s were small, but her nipples were as hard as tiny round pebbles. Their pubic hair was as wet as a rain forest. Their breath mingled with his, becoming one, like currents from far away, secretly overlapping at the dark bottom of the sea.

Hmm I dunno. Maybe post another detailed description of the whole dynamics of pegging and I'll be able to tell you, buttboy~~

This even though I'm on the literature board. I don't know what the joke is, but something tells me that, no matter how good it is, it didn't warrant 6 posts.

I read it I think it's interesting.

Although upon doing a little research I now know it's part of a Stephen King novella and am again left wondering about the inner life of that sex pervert.

not since i was about 19.

Marquise de sade : philosophy in the bedroom.

this shit is "50 shades" for man about a old woman that falls in love with a 15 yo girl and introduces her in all sorts of sexual misconducts. Its perfect because its sex and philosophy debates in a delightful rollercoster.

stop posting this bitch who cares if she knows who nietzsche is

she just looks like some 4/10 slav chick you pleb.

holyshit this is autistic

Because literature is a part of the humanities which acknowledges that the world is bigger than and includes people other than the self. Stepping out of the self is essential to get the most from this discipline, to make a better world, and not be an animal.

I frequently got a boner while reading Gravity's Rainbow

read Houllebecq

kotchan.org/chat/int#General

Hamsun does the best job at describing sex.
>He wanted her, and then he had her

Feel like my desire to sleep with other people, and all male desire, is merely a repressed urge to rape. Any books for this feel?

Nah girls like this tend to be very submissive sexually because they have low esteem and it's a turn on

They also tend to be huge sluts or totally monogamous romantics in my experience, with no middle ground

get help dude

Post anti sex literature or frick off

uhhhh Houllebecq
I agree but not so crass

Really hate saying this but Infinite Jest and Taipei both touch on the vapidity of sex

Half the NYT-acclaimed books by women writers since 2010 touch on this too. Our culture puts so much import on sex that it's really easy to get burned out

Leftist NYC library girls fuck much less than you're typical Trump-voting state university slut

If you really want a chaste cutie you have to tolerate & understand socialist attitudes or just convert to Mormonism

I feel like there's always so much sex around and sexuality everywhere but I've never even come close physically, it is odd

t. houellebecq

Absolutely this. If anyone here read the whole GR and didn't get a single boner, go kill yourself (unless you're a woman, obviously).

Thats not even the best part. She is actually a proxy for the dude’s crush so he can impregnate her. How is the semen transported is never explained tho

It's hilarious that some sperg was mad enough to actually spend time photoshopping this.

>anime Stirner-worship
None of those things describe this board. Fuck off, teenbro leftypol twitterdiscord memer. You're throwing an autistic embarrassing fit because someone made a funny "elaborate" post, which is pretty much a staple of imageboard conversational conventions.

Why did you post a reddit icon? Are you from there?

>~~
Go away.