It’s easy to see why men are attracted to transsexual women — they’re gorgeous — but how do they cope with the presence of a penis, if she has one?
What is a transsexual woman?
First of all, when I use the term ‘transsexual woman’ I’m referring to a HomoSexual Transsexual, HSTS, otherwise known as a True Transsexual. This person will have had Childhood/Early Onset or Homosexual Gender Dysphoria. I am not referring to non-homosexual transitioners, who are ordinary men with an obsessive-compulsive delusion called Autogynephilia or AGP which they have let get out of hand. These individuals are Pseudo-Transsexual. They feel a different form of Dysphoria and are essentially high-performing (or not) transvestites.
Girls have dicks too
So how does it work? All boys, when they are little, believe that girls have a penis just like they do, although they may either forget this or lie about it in later life. This was first described by Sigmund Freud and led him to his theory of Castration Anxiety. Freud was not the only one to notice this and it has been well documented. Boys, if they see a naked girl, will assume she is hiding her penis; that she has ‘tucked it in’.
What is ‘sex tourism’? It’s a subject that generates a great deal of copy and little enlightenment. Is it just ‘mongering’, the practice of buying sex, but this time in foreign lands? And if it were, why would there be anything wrong with that?
Is it any sex abroad? Is having sex when you’re on holiday ‘sex tourism’? What about if you live abroad and occasionally have dalliances with the locals? Sex tourism? What about, in the same country, if you marry a local? Still ‘sex tourism’?
What does ‘sex tourism’ actually mean? Is it really a thing, or is it just another nasty epithet that the lowest of the low, rabidfems, use to try to shame men into behaving by the rules that they and other feminazis set, without ever getting a say in defining those rules? Can women be ‘guilty’ of ‘sex tourism’, or is that just holiday fucking?
The rules of a free sex market are simple. Women want money, so they fuck. If you have money, you get to fuck them. No money, no honey. Sex is the currency with which a woman earns tangible benefit; money is the tangible benefit needed to buy sex. It’s honest.
Walking Street, the pedestrianised area of Fields Avenue, is a delight to visit. There are many like it, from the original in Pattaya, to others across the planet. These are areas where a free sex market is in place.
Women go there to have sex and make money; men go there to spend money and have sex. Some just like to watch, all of life really being a fair in places like this, and alcohol lubricates the system.
Transtrender is a word that should be familiar to everyone in the West.
How things have changed; from a position, 15 years ago, when very few people knew what even transsexual meant and far less had actually thought about it, we have seen an explosion, first of ‘transgender’ and now, ‘transtrender’.
Suddenly we are faced, we are told, with thousands upon thousands of ‘trans’ people appearing all over society. While it is true that there is an uptick in genuine referrals to gender clinics, transtrenders rarely seek to actually transition; they seek instead the social status of a ‘trans’ label.
Because that is really all transtrender is: a label, a cultural fad, an Identity Politics membership card. It is no more real than Emo, New Romantics or Punk. But it might be a bellwether for much deeper social ills.
Well, not yet anyway. Only a few years ago, the MeToo movement burst onto the popular scene, threatening to complete the establishment of the gynocracy and the Helotisation of men. But MeToo didn’t quite work out as the covens of feminists, with their eye of newt and ear of bat (metaphorical, of course, what would PETA say) had hoped.
Thanks to MeToo every man in the West was soon losing sleep about all those drunken nights at Uni, worrying whether he had kissed some equally drunk girl who was well up for it anyway. Perhaps he’d let a hand slip onto her hip while dancing; enough now, to see a man crucified. Let’s be honest, there were a fair few nights I can’t even remember and I don’t think I’m alone.
Sexual transformation from boy to girl has always been hot. Enter the girly-boy: the transsexual or TS.
The oldest records we have prove the early existence of TS individuals, often priestesses or shamans. Their direct descendants are in the hijra of India, the kathoey of Thailand, the bekis and baklas of the Philippines, the travestis of the Americas, Blanchard HSTS and a host of transsexuals, trannies and shemales across the planet.
From the ‘Dancing Boys’ of Afghanistan to the kathoeys and baklas of Asia, from down-town Sao Paulo to Paris, in every culture, all through history, boys become girls in order to attract men. The beautiful girly-boy has always been with us, and she is not going away.
(Note: This is a light-hearted, humorous article. If you are a USican, a feminist or a Western Autogynephile, you might need a humour transplant before reading it. Just saying. Everyone in the pictures is over 18, thanks. Those capable of taking life with a pinch of salt, and wit, read on.)
This is a good interview, very enlightening, that shows how the misbegotten cult of Communists work. Their cult mindset underpins the social disaster that is overtaking the West today.
Characteristic of cults is that the followers do not think, they only follow the ideas of the leaders and parrot their soundbites. Anyone familiar with debating these people knows that it is like talking to an answering machine; they have not one single original thought in their heads.
The Weathermen, which was the cult this lady was in, was a violent, extremist, revolutionary cult made up mainly of disgruntled middle-class whites. It was established in the 60s, but the Communist cult mindset infected every political movement that developed from then on. It is replicated now in modern cults like transactivism, the BLM movement and many others.
Brian Macmaster is a journalist licking the wounds of a divorce in Paris where he hopes to recapture the flame of his writing passion. One night in the bar of the Hotel Pavillon, where he has rented a room on a monthly rate, he meets two women, Anna Maria Schiavetti and her friend, Rafaela Evangelista de Vargas.
Macmaster is immediately attracted to the newcomer. But there is a problem: she’s transgender.
Despite this, Macmaster finds himself falling for her and this leads him into a spider’s-web of intrigue, deception and extortion, finally culminating in a political scandal that overthrows the French government and also lands him in prison. This is a sexy, powerful, relentlessly paced novel that is not only a page-turner but explores one of the most fascinating subjects, not to mention taboos, of contemporary culture.
An action-packed tale of love and life, humour and romance, played out by an unforgettable cast of characters with genuine Scots voices, Poaching the River will make you laugh and cry out loud.
It’s a quiet afternoon in Auchpinkie, a tiny fishing village on the east coast of Scotland, and in her Corner Shop, Mae and her cronies are setting the world to rights.
Suddenly a furniture van draws up outside one of the houses along the street. A beautiful young woman is moving into Etta Swankie’s old house. But no-it can’t be-that’s Rae, Etta’s daughter, and Etta always swore she’d disinherit her!
Over the next few days the action races to its riotous climax, as Big Sye, Rae’s cousin, poaches the River Pinkie in a daring adventure, the village public convenience is destroyed by a freak explosion, and the parish minister is baffled by the sudden religious conversion of two formerly heathenish young lads.
Behind it all a spider’s web of intrigue is woven, as the villagers conspire to get Big Sye and Rae together. But there are things going on that none of them ken, and secrets that only Rae’s old friend Izzie knows…
Print ISBN: 978-0-9554535-0-2
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Here’s a wee Youtube video. Apparently Check In has residential rooms and a restaurant so you could just fly to BKK, take a taxi to Sukhumvit and then just have a different girl on your knee every night. Or two. Or three…Never need to set foot outside the door lol