Koupe Fanm, Boule Kay!

Translation: "Fuck their women, burn their houses!"
-Jean-Jacques Dessalines, 1804

Underneath the false veneer of our societies there is an inevitable fact of life, and of our experience, that intercourse, to put it clinically, is the normal use of a female. A female has a hole between her legs that men must, do enter. Call me shocking, but I simply recognize that the use and abuse of it is, for manhood, an illuminated height of duty. Now let me be truthful and admit that I enjoy, ultimately, being the object of the physical, or carnal, and dare I say, mystic pleasures of men. Make no mistake that by this I do not mean "making love" or any other such euphemistic silliness.

How exactly does one "make love" anyway? Does one mix up a batch of it, like a bowl of mayonnaise? No, I like the fuck! I crave it!

For sexual partners I steadfastly avoid the milquetoast losers hungering for some kind of surrogate mommy. I like a man to act like a man and do it to me like he wants to do it to me, and for that matter, any other bitch that might cross his path; break me down and make me take the dick! The fuck is the true sex act. The fuck is nature. The fuck is deep, dark and dirty. "Making love," or whatever you want to call the waste of time and energy that fits the description of that sort of activity, is something a man shares with a female, or more likely, pretends to share, with a female. The fuck is something a man does to a female (or more bluntly does to a bitch).

The fuck is dark, dirty and degrading, and ultimately, the fuck is entirely for a mans pleasure, since as we all know--pleasure is something that is best reserved to ones self. The fuck is the natural use of a female; and the fuck enforces the status of a female, and the status of a female, is, for lack of a better way to describe this philosophy of nature, is ultimately a hole. Most men understand this by sheer instinct. They know what they enjoy, even if they are forced by our phony societies to keep the truth to themselves in secret, or in smuggled whispers amongst themselves.

Call me shocking, but I like a man to be a man, and to never, ever, be a "gentleman." I like nature as nature planned it.