In your best prose, write about man's innate lust for women

it's not the olden days anymore

I can't imagine women without their legs. Walking, running, spreading, those legs of theirs. What lies in between is obvious and barely interests me, that cesspool of warm pink slime. I'd rather tongue my cheeks for the same feeling, without the commitment.
Legs enrapture me. Stumpy or skinny or athletic male legs, their hairy hairiness, all fuzzy and dark, who needs these in the metropolis? We are no longer lumberjacks or cave dwellers in Siberia. I detest and deplore the legs of men and warm myself on the twisting, turning, evolving legs of females, women, ladies, chicks, girls.

Maybe. I was focusing on prose more than idea, and just quickly wrote whatever came to mind

>prosefag

the prose is god awful tho

I love reading this. Fuck all the haters, i hope you find a woman who appreciates you.

gay as fuck

the only thing I could think about was you dipping your quill

maybe this can be a sort of fedora meme for prose *dips quill*

The prose is fedora tier and the message is cliche as fuck

>tho
Again, maybe. I spent less than two minutes on it, and didn't even proofread.

I actually did see a guy with a fedora bring in a quill and some ink one day to a writing class. I remember betting on whether or not he had a quill, beforehand, with a friend.

I did have a Veeky Forums girlfriend, but we broke up recently due to misunderstandings

protip: u r a pee sood

>pseud
I'm not exactly saying that what I wrote was any good user. Just having some fun in a friendly Veeky Forums thread

Is this a list for a Haskell script of what do you want with all the ":" there?

get a Veeky Forums girlfriend

they won't try to have an open relationship and won't speak everything in quotes

In your best prose, write about man's innate desire to eat

Not mine, but I've seen this posted on Veeky Forums before, and thought it was pretty good

Women are extremely obnoxious because there is no way to turn off your instinct to value them and desire them based on their immediate appearance.

The male transcendental aesthetic assigns irreducible sublimity to something as soon as it detects that the thing has a vagina. This isn't even a single operation. You don't just look at a woman and go "I want her." That would at least be tolerable. What actually happens is that the "I want her" impulse is mediated across secondary channels and processes that tediously unfold in your mind. You look at her, you realize she has a vagina, and then six different half-imagined fantasies and weird yens like "I wonder what her asscrack smells like?" start playing themselves out, where previously you had been thinking about the physics and engineering of suspension bridges.

The more sex you have, the worse it gets. I saw a girl walking home tonight and she had bare legs because she had just been at the gym. My brain immediately slotted a 96% accurate, involuntary fantasy of what it would feel like to kiss and lick her legs before fucking her, based on previous experiences of fuckings that I've had. All she was doing was walking around. She gets to have a completely free and unfettered mind, but because I saw her mundane leg flesh, I had my time and cognitive energies wasted by imagining the exact spot where her ass fat meets her thigh fat and trying to guess at what kind of pussy lip configuration she has.

Sometimes I try to force myself to realize that women are just people, just semi-hairless apes like me. But the more I do that, the more I find it sexy that I want to smell and french kiss their holes. No matter how you try to escape your innate tendency to rate the sublimity of a frumpy 5/10's semi-hourglass shaped body as on par with the plasma jets of a quasar, your brain just finds a new way to humiliate you. There is no possible way to look at a woman and not want to fuck her. I want them to leave me alone so I can read my fucking book on the bus in peace.

Women are like the chocolate almonds that roll under the fridge: desirable and forever out of reach.

McDonalds, anyone?

what if I identify as food instead of a man?

And cockroaches have already tongued them.

Finish Winds of Winter already George.

youtube.com/watch?v=rA-RgGA_ZyY

I can do this, but someone quickly define the parameters of 'prose' for me so I don't end up like

feminine penis only makes it better

I relate to this deeply

It is not like a switch being thrown, to be attracted to a woman. It is not like a tractor beam pulling you in and blinding you to everything else.

It is much more spiritual than that.

The lowly man pumps into his fist to satisfy base urges and calls it a day. The enlightened man holds on this and reflects. And even with his brief passion spent, he may be engrossed with the pure sexual being of the one lusted after, if have she the feminine qualities, the sexually appealing proportions and demeanor that, wielded by the right woman, is power. Wielded by the wrong one, or by one too young, is reckless power.

The man who chases women to satisfy nothing more deep than the chase, is an enlightened man indeed.

lious ck already did this routine in a much less asspained way, boring

I actually like this a lot.

fucking kek

did you get this off a no-fap reddit board?

must fuck in her cat
if she scream then I will
hit her head with club

No it is part of my religion.

*dips le quill*

Woman is a fair thing. The want of woman is a diabolical thing. And, that makes the whole affair rather unfortunate.

bretty good

deez nutz

A stink in my bedroom is as good as the filth on a woman I work with. The only difference is my hard dick.

Moonlight and love songs never out of date. Hearts full of passion, jealousy and hate. Women meets man and man must have his mate... that, nobody can deny.

The world will always welcome lovers as time goes by.

Wrote in 3 minutes don't judge too hard lads:

Despite my best efforts I need her. And for the next few months I will fixate and stay up at night dreaming about the non-existent future we might have together. Eventually I will approach her. She will turn me down and I will lay in bed broken and without hope. But I cannot escape the curse, surely my eyes will latch onto another and the vicious cycle will repeat. Break it if you can.

Starts off Melville, ends off Rogers

>AD 2000
>no philosopher has found an escape from this problem
we're doomed

Are you trying to deprogram me?

i would suck a shit out of her asshole

This is good but not great
can relate
*dips le quill*
Prose is basic, but I can sadly relate

I noted the kairos of the world, and turned to my son after a brief moment. It was a beautiful, cloudless day, the air warm and clean.
"You asked me once about women. Do you remember?"
He did.
"My honest opinion. Women are the first and last challenge for a man to surmount."
He smirked at me.
"No pun intended. But a man cannot dominate himself if he is dominated by his want for a woman. Hell... lust keeps you bound to this fucking earth even after your death, I'd say. Even when you lack the apparatus to feel it. So strong is this urge. And when it is repressed or directed poorly, it causes a man to deviate from what is normal."
Normal was a sloppy term to him. Any man, to his mind, who claimed to know what normality is or should be was talking out of his ass. I waved a hand at him.
"From what is harmonious. Optimal. The relationship between a man and a woman can be beautiful, but do you need to have sex in order to love someone?"
"I'm digressing."
Now we are both looking out across the clearing, at an array of flora in full bloom and resplendent in the liquid light of the sun.
"The sexual urge is the urge to create life. View it only as such."

In man's lust for women there lies a non negotiable violence. In the most animal sense, that is, at passion's emotional crescendo, she becomes a thing that must be taken; A fundamental thing that can usurps evolutionary restraints on behavior like safety and kin.

It's not any one thing that gets you. Some men claim that they're "ass-men" or "tit-men" or that all they really care about is personality. And any of those might be the hook that draws you in. It may well be your fixation, your goal, but it won't be what gets you.

It's the small things. The fire in her eyes. A little quirk in her smile. The sound of her voice. Maybe even a conversation that leads down an unexpected path. One of those or something else will finally break through your defenses. And once it's past that natural barrier it will spread like wildfire. You remember her smell, your heart beats faster. You catch her looking at you, the walls of your world close in around you until everything that you know is her. Every part of you physically wants her. Every synapse in your brain offers you a heady mix of endorphins if you claim her as your own.

You aren't even seeing her any more. You're seeing what she could be. You're mind races through fantasies, both base and primal. Things you may not have even considered until the moment she broke you.

And that's it. She's got you now. There's no fighting it, no escaping it. She will own you until you own her or she destroys your perfect version of her. You're damned, either way, so you may as well enjoy the ride.

I'm honestly happy you said my prose is basic. Better than bad prose.

Thanks m8

They will never understand why and neither will we. All we know is must.

Me lika da pu$$y

Sexy, sexy women everywhere! A walk in the world is always a walk with a good chance of titillation. I see breasts and think of them bare and of their love boxes, and their wonderful faces are none the wiser, and that is fun!

Yet, you get those real uggoes, too... I feel bad for them, but I certainly could do without. And, I feel bad for me; for I see the unsightly creatures and feel pity, and I did not venture out to feel pity! Begone, weird things! Leave me to my mirth, curse you!

...

Even ambition acquires the shape of some woman in the end. What she does is bring out my craft, my need to seem different, to do somthing well, to please, if finally, to regret. Consider the op's foto: it is the woman herself who grabs my attention.. but i also notice that she's (posing rather) at rest on a pallet, that the pillow is small, flat, that the overcast light brings out the pink of her dress, set so nicely off against the olive brown antiquiness of the wall paper.. if the room is hers, and small, and I somehow know she likes Dostoyevsky, I might refer to it as her 'Raskolnikovian chamber,' or some such nonsense. The key wd be to combine what you see with what you know, to make her notice that you notice (and not her, necessarily) until the moment arrives when she feels like your someone she can really talk to, and then it's just a matter of time..

>lust for a woman brings shit like this to the fore..

Patrice O'Neil said shit like this every day.

F

this is a shallow description

i like this but he needs to use shorter words in the first paragraph. i understood but it was a slog

Why in the fucking world would you attribute this to him when every man in the history of the world has thought this at some point?

This thread is filled with betas

>shorter words
This. Vagina should be, "vagoo".

gay af

abysmal

weak, bluepilled

turbo beta

stopped reading at 'kairos'

are you an actual robot or just trying really hard to come off as stoic? a human being would not write this

accurate but shallow, this is only the surface

dj pauly d trying extra hard to sound intellectual

really bad

Even though she might be dirty my body feels compelled to lick it.

this is great

She was violence.

Ouch. 50/50 on the beta/stoic I guess. Now that I write it 80/20. Suggestions?

Wait, shit. 80/20 robot. I'm drunk

I wake up and nothing drives me but the sight of large breasts and the prospects of insert my penis the valley between.

I do not care for her words, the definition of an airhead's parlance. I don't mean to be dismissive but the only time a woman is intellectually or spiritually valuable is if she's working or nun. Otherwise you may ignore and go straight to the point. Inserting your penis in any orifice, as per the biological contract of your sorrowful existence. Eternal craving and loneliness is what the untrained call it, but once you had enough or you wan't have any, it is merely called the cessation of lust.

needs a little less P&P and a little more P&P 1.5

Aw fuck 80/20 robot/beta. Kill me now

I have a sci wife and she's wifable

>stopped reading at 'kairos'

At least finish reading it for fucks sake. I want some critique.

>At least finish reading it for fucks sake.
its stupid nigga

>define the parameters

you're not gonna make it

>tfw Eva Green isn't your gf

right? I'm watching her in Penny dreadful right now

Me likey

As sleep beckons nightly, women beckon daily?

As sleep puts all great men on their backs, woman puts all great men on their knees?

As a man who does not drink will feel his throat burn, a man who does not love will feel his heart turn to ash.

No that one's not very good

What OP is talking about is these things-
Quotidian
Embarrassing
Passionate
Hot blooded
Enticing
Innate
Never satisfied

It really is like hunger or thirst in a lot of ways

Like every day as man we wake up as a prisoner who hasn't eaten, and women hold the food
When we eat we are overwhelmed with satisfaction and pleasure, sedated
Then our appetite builds again

Nice. Penny Dreadful is very Veeky Forums

I want to turn myself into a minuscule sized man and project myself into Eva Green's pubic region where I will start a new life and built a home for myself in her pubes, and come to develop a new primitive society that worships the mother ground as holy and sacred, and live off the dead bits of skin above and around her vagina, and pray to the Mother that few of my villagers will be wiped away next month during the great red flooding. I will be a high chieftain of this tribe and live out my days in happiness and service to her.

I took a shit yesterday. I turn round to have a look. It reminded me of a woman, for it was soft and warm and full of delicious corn. Yes.

I think she has a pretty face and beautiful eyes.

what a load of wank.

You should stop watching after s1. It goes to shit after that.

I've watched a few episodes of s2, and it does seem to be getting pretty bad. The flashback episode with eva and the witch was awful.

>tfw don't know that feel

lust isn't innate, its a pustulent boil that you should lance. sexual fantasy is a place between despair and distraction, and *good* sex is predicated on something other than lust. its hard to say exactly what that is - people say "love" but love has too much hackneyed baggage. phenomenologically its like a vault of warm air in the center of your chest that forms a loop with the sensation of breath at the tip of your nose

Those bombastic babes and barely, scantily, bodaciously clad busts call to mind a litany of either love or denial.
You could, if you might have the might, look straight into their eyes, past their souls like a soldiers gaze goes far
beyond what they're looking at, if only for to forestall the inevitable glance downwards, into the carnacious chasm
that exists betwixt two bosoms, for if your gaze glazes over they too will notice you're not looking at them.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't, but rather I'd be a gentleman than a scoundrel, though the latter fulfills his
desires more often than I.

you fuckers sure like flowery prose

When I woke up this morning I wasn't sure what to do with my time. I mean, I was awake, I couldn't go back to sleep, but that was all I could say: what was. I got out of bed, mechanically, knowingly arbitrarily, and walked to my door. I turned back and looked at my window on the other side of the room. A faint orange haze from the street lamp outside gleamed through the cracks of the shades.

What should I do with my time? I stared at that window for about a minute, having no way to evaluate the question. I eventually decided to get some chocolate milk because people like to eat in the mornings and I'm a person too. Eventually I got to my computer and started watching a YouTube video I hadn't finished the night before. I promptly forgot about my quandary and went about my day; although still numb.

Later in the day it got worse. I realized the reason why I couldn't answer the question, and life felt meaningless and empty was because I was a coward. If I just took responsibility for my actions, life would be full of meaning. By sheer opportunity cost I am a mass murderer, I could do so much good with my time. Life is suffering. My parents, friends, heroes, children, will all die. I'll have to watch them. I'll toil for a few moments of lucidity until I meet the same fate. I'm afraid to take responsibility, I'm afraid to live. I don't want to suffer. I want to die.

You don't mean that I thought. I imagined a man coming into my room with an axe. He cut me down, and I felt nothing. Maybe I did mean it. I'm not sure. Eventually I started doing something else and stopped thinking about it.

Later that day I was browsing this website, as I am prone to do. There was a picture of an Asian girl on one of the threads. She was unremarkable, but cute; cute enough to drag my thoughts through a maelstrom of sin. I saw her crawling on the floor ass up to me, legs up in stockings, lace, heels, but she was quickly replaced by another and another and. I smelled pussy, I needed it in my mouth. Not just any pussy, it had to be 'milf pussy,' I was using that word specifically. A day unwashed at least, I wanted the smell. I wanted her legs around my face as I choked on her hole. I pull back a little to breathe and go back in. I want her head off the edge of the bed so I can fuck her mouth. I reach for my pants and start rubbing my cock through the denim. Pushing on the base feels great, I can cum just from doing that.

I remember I'm trying not to masturbate. I pull my hand away, slowly, with much resistance. I want to fuck. I want the unremarkable Asian girl I saw on the form. I even stoop so low as to want my girlfriend.

The day before we spent hours having sex. I had pretended to be mad at her, at least madder than I was, that morning just to stir up some fun. Sure enough, she felt the need to prove herself to me. By the time she left I was exhausted but unsatisfied.

What should I do with my time?

Driven by a force beyond his understanding, man searches for a void, into which he might belch his fibrous seed.

Her dirtiness needs cleaning. Her cleanliness demands to be messed up.

The turbulent nature of male-female relationships has been discussed, debated and bemoaned since Adam and Eve. Long may it continue, for there is no love without the tussle, the tumbling over each other in the pursuit of personal ecstasy. If woman exists as a chaotic disruptive force, it is because man wants it so. Because man needs it so. A stable relationship free of strife is a sterile desert for man's creative nature, less a completed portrait than an empty canvas that the artist has abandoned.

Even now I see her, in a green sweater, folds of fabric where my hands had grasped earlier. She proudly dresses without concern for outward appearance in seeming appreciation of our bond. That's not how it works, sweetie. Societal conventions must've been established by the whores of old; why else would women doll themselves up for company and make us an audience of one for their unkempt selves? No one ever bought a ticket to stay backstage.

"The new fashion center is opening soon, you want to take a look?"

She doesn't even react, turning the page of her Reader's Digest, "I don't need anything right now."

In that instant, I see impending decades. The comfortable slide into monotonous mediocrity. Unprovoked un-inspiration. The bitch thinks she's got me already.

On the TV an ice skater twirls, her form, costume and physique honed over years of practice to entice the senses. All that daring and discipline, precision sensuality, just to be judged as cattle. Beautiful.

"You never watched figure skating before." I hadn't noticed 20 mins had gone by.

"A man starts to appreciate the finer things as time goes by." It was delivered flippantly, but an arctic breeze descended as my barb found its target. She grew quiet, observing with me the allure better women were capable of. And when night fell, the seed of inadequacy still lain in her mind.

And that's quite alright. I'm only in her for myself, anyway.

this challenge i am for writing
it's me "girls' lover yuri"

for girls, they are like comparing
a flower, or a fancy car, just wonderful things
the similarities is basic

also they are having lips, it's good
but even without can still be some beautiful
(not so much!)
everything is just okay with a pretty girl
on a motorbike or a horse,
some sexing under the moon
and take a picture

we travel around, see things, ok
but, I think, it's like a heaven
to fly in the sky,
it's a dream now, wow