A man shouldn’t be a virgin on his wedding day

Mr. Gregarian wanted Simon to go to church and to learn that pre-marital sex was wrong, and he wanted Simon to believe in all that stuff. But he wanted Simon to fuck a broad.

“But uh, you gotta — you gotta find a female, ya daddy want you to have a girlfriend,” Buck said.
Simon stopped with Buck’s dong throbbing on his face. He looked up at Buck. “What about them? Kendra and Caroline. They’re my friends,” he said.
“Yeah, but they’s rank bitches. They ain’t Armenian. You don’t fuck ’em-“
“I’m not married to them! I’m not supposed to fuck them,” Simon said, blushing. “That’s a sin! I go to church!”

“I know, but…” Buck couldn’t think of how to explain it. Mr. Gregarian wanted Simon to go to church and to learn that pre-marital sex was wrong, and he wanted Simon to believe in all that stuff.
But he wanted Simon to fuck a broad. A man shouldn’t be a virgin on his wedding day. He should be ashamed of himself for it, but he shouldn’t be a virgin anyway.

From Simon and the Bouncers

A man oughta choose his own way

“Don’t let ya woman control you. She ain’t even ya woman, Smooches. You gettin’ distracted by potential skirt.”

Buck shrugged. “A man oughta choose his own way,” he said. “Don’t let ya woman control you. She ain’t even ya woman, Smooches. You gettin’ distracted by potential skirt.” Buck chuckled. Buck swung his hips left and right to make his foot-long slab slap against his thighs. He laughed like a kid at the slappity-thwack sound it made.

From Buck the Conservative

One craves the vitality of man

It is that fact that feels raw and acute in women of a certain age.

Women could only provide so much company before one craved the vitality of man.
Family is the agencement that catches communities and saves souls, and it is that fact that feels raw and acute in women of a certain age.

From Sasha & the Filthy Alphas of Texas

Lace-fried fluff

Must everything be castrated down to parasitic orchids, soft edges and understated wallpaper?

He had no desire for a wife. They were bugles of demands and desires, like mosquitoes with envy, interested only in trifles and bêtises, lace-fried fluff and delicate whispers of sotto voce gossip. Must everything be castrated down to parasitic orchids, soft edges and understated wallpaper?

From Sasha & the Filthy Alphas of Texas

Youthful men froth forth

Young ladies immanently shrink from the freedom of the future, while youthful men froth forth with the vigors of the eternal now, yet elder women tendrilously transcend their present and old men are bound by their pasts.

Once a woman reaches a respectable age, she craves the witness of one more betrothal, one more marriage, one more childbirth, just one more. She stops at nothing to make it happen, always desperate for one more, then just one additional one, then another, and one more. Her grasping claws seek to fill her own ailing mind with extrapolative imaginings of une belle famille nouvelle. Juste une plus.
Or if, he were to be more charitable, which is a difficult attitude to embody towards one’s own mother, but if he were, he would posit that a woman aging appreciates anew the knots of family life knitting people into populus and proving the value of her oeuvre. Family is the agencement that catches communities and saves souls, and it is that fact that feels raw and acute in women of a certain age.
Young ladies immanently shrink from the freedom of the future, while youthful men froth forth with the vigors of the eternal now, yet elder women tendrilously transcend their present and old men are bound by their pasts.
Sasha’s prospects for near-future matrimony were weakly barren, and perhaps Sasha appreciated, even enjoyed, that. Like a desert craves not a marsh, he had no desire for a wife. They were bugles of demands and desires, like mosquitoes with envy. Interested only in trifles and bêtises, lace-fried fluff and delicate whispers of sotto voce gossip. Must everything be castrated down to parasitic orchids, soft edges and understated wallpaper?

From Sasha & the Filthy Alphas of Texas

constituates

A wife constituates half the puzzle men is commanded to complete.

Brother Reno agreed to take a cold shower next time he lusted up in his heart. Malcolm weren’t sure if he believed Brother Reno was gonna follow through on that plan, but he believed Brother Reno believed in it. He was on the road to satisfaction.


He need a wife, Malcolm thought. A man without a wife gonna end up in sin, nine times outta ten. A wife constituates half the puzzle men is commanded to complete.

From Malcolm Don’t Take No for an Answer

Gender in Incumbent Sociocultural Systems 101

Content

That feeling he could not quite name was camaraderie

He enjoyed playing in those days. It might have been better, he thought, if there was no pay. As it was, it felt like the team was an argument about money more than it was about the rugby.

He enjoyed playing in those days. It might have been better, he thought, if there was no pay. As it was, it felt like the team was an argument about money more than it was about the rugby — Alison wanted money; the league, the coaches, the players, the venues, the concessions, the owners. Everyone thought there should be major money, and that it should be theirs.
“I just want-ed to play rugby,” Poahi said what felt like a million times. It was his mantra back then.
But the feeling he was chasing did not come just from playing rugby or even mainly from rugby. That feeling he could not quite name was camaraderie. He enjoyed the camaraderie, and he was willing to play as much rugby as it took to feel it.

From Poahi the Lackey

Nobody heard that symphony but him

They lifted with a rhythm, he thought, and without even trying, they formed a percussive symphony.

Poahi liked the sense of brotherhood that came from working out together. He lifted weights wordlessly. The other bouncers did the same. Poahi liked that. They lifted with a rhythm, he thought, and without even trying, they formed a percussive symphony.
By the time he finished his reps, Poahi was jazzed up, and he jumped to his feet off the bench press. The percussive chorus of clacking weights and heaving grunts continued without him. His big round face was crestfallen that nobody paid attention. Nobody felt the same way he did. Nobody heard that symphony but him.

From Poahi the Lackey