Young Sexy Girls

Kary B. Mullis, who won the Nobel Prize for chemistry in 1993, once said that a woman's the most desirable when she's 10,000 days old. For those of us on planet earth who measure age in the conventional way, that's equivalent to about 27 years. Mullis argued that women of that age are at the apex of their sexual appeal.

I don't necessarily disagree with Mullis but I'm hardly as discriminatory. Indeed, I have a little bubble of hot Testosterone in my loins for attractive women in just about any age group. I can tell you, though, that for most men, the cruelest age for a woman is between 15 and 18.

This is when many women, or rather girls, have the bodies of mature females. They've only recently become aware of their sexuality and they're often interested in flaunting it by wearing outfits that if worn by an adult female would cause you to slap down 50 bucks and unzip your fly, a handful of moist towelletes at the ready.

Sure, they wear baby-tees with little silken wisps of bras underneath that do little to conceal erect nipples. They wear little-boy boxer shorts that cause your heart to skip a beat—boxer shorts that are nothing like the poopy ones that I saw Tim Patterson wearing in the Biotest locker room! They wear shoes with impossibly high platforms! Platforms that raise their pert little asses right up to the sightline of the one-eyed demon that lives in our pants!

It's almost as if they were daring you to take off your pants and run down the street impaling them from behind like so many bits of tasty beef being slid onto a shish kabob stick!

And the way they walk on these towering shoes.... Their long slender legs, covered with downy blonde fuzz, taking tiny uncertain coltish steps as if the smallest irregularity on the pavement could cause them to fall on the ground, their tiny skirts being rudely cast aside by their stumble to reveal carnival-bright colored thong panties with...with happy faces on them!

Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy.

We try to fool ourselves into thinking that they're too young and that we're not attracted to them by thinking up piss-poor arguments. Sure, their skin is just too soft and their breasts are just too damn perky, but that's usually when we break down and sob uncontrollably.

The bodies of these creatures indicate that they're women and their style of clothing demands that you notice it. Even your frustrated penis begs you to acknowledge what it can so clearly see?even turning its whiny head backwards to look at you with plaintive eye, but of course the laws of man strongly prohibit that you do anything but notice, and even that's discouraged.

Abstaining from these tasty morsels is also a moral law, but how then do we explain how some countries, even some states, recognize a young female as being a card-carrying member of adult womanhood when she attains the age of 16 instead of 18?

What the hell is that all about? What we can freely lust over in freakin' England is taboo in most of the states?  Who the hell came up with that?

Of course, attempting to define female adulthood?however arbitrary this definition is?was never really attempted until fairly recently. Case in point, writers and musicians in the past often had extremely young women as muses or even lovers. Dante fell in love with his Beatrice when she was 9.  Petrarch fell in love with his Laureen when she was 12. Even proto-rocker Jerry Lee Lewis, his great balls obviously on fire, married a 14 year old.

But it's wrong. We know it's wrong. But that's why nature is so damn cruel. It's as if God had a mean streak in him. It's as if he created a world covered with mounds of the most delicious ice cream imaginable, ice cream that's as poisonous as it is delicious.

Thanks a bunch, God. Are you having a good laugh? Well are ya, huh?

Because we know it's wrong, most of us feel tremendous guilt about it. A good friend of mine owns a coffee shop where women abound—women with many of the attributes we superficial males hold so damn dear. Recently, though, a gorgeous mammal that surpassed all others showed up at his counter. She was the Michael Jordan of bootie, the Smarty Jones of assdom...or maybe, because of her apparent youth, we should say she was the LeBron James of ass. And she looked exactly like former child ass-prodigy Amanda Bynes, wearing of course, those little molecule thin, excruciatingly short, boy-boxer shorts.

He got goose bumps on his shaven head. His breath shortened. His slumbering penis started thrashing around like a weasel in a gunnysack. But then her mother came in and mentioned they'd just come from a swim meet at her junior high school. Junior high school! The girl wasn't even 15 yet!

O death, where is thy sting?

Those of you who have attractive daughters must live in a special kind of hell. You can't relax, not even for a moment. The men who eye her are like dogs. They know you have a pretty poodle in your pen. The dogs that are her age want her and will do anything to get her. The older dogs, more respectful of laws of man and nature, won't attempt to get her but that doesn't mean they're not fantasizing about her when they're humping that rheumy-eyed cocker spaniel down the street that's just a surrogate for your tasty little morsel in a baby-tee.

And just think, she'll only get more desirable day by day!  Can you hear a horrifying laugh that sounds like the late Vincent Price?

You poor, poor bastard.

You might think I'm a pig for even discussing these...these nymphets, but it's just another painful reality of life. There was even a Seinfeld episode that addressed the same topic when an angry father catches Costanza eyeballing his 15-year-old daughter's cleavage.

"It's like looking at the sun!" admonishes Jerry. "You're supposed to just take a peek and then look away!"

If I had my druthers, there wouldn't be any 15-year-old cleavage to eyeball. I'd dress them up like they were housing a wounded Harrison Ford in the attic. No budding breasts straining against gossamer thin fabric, no down covered half-moons of buttock staring provocatively out at the world, and definitely no velvety smooth bellies and no tantalizing peeks at the pubic hinterland.

Cover it up; cover it all up so we can rest!!

Cover it up until their 18th birthday when they can unveil all that glorious flesh for our approval and, if we're lucky, our conquest.

Semi-crazy former candidate for the Russian presidency, Vladimir Zhirinovsky, even had a plan for this sexual coming of age. He once wrote that every virgin should have sex with an experienced man. "The man should then give her a silver ring bought from the state as a 'sexual certificate' on which his name is inscribed."

I don't know if this would work in a capitalist society. Case in point, one 19-year-old once told me, matter-of-factly, that she "doesn't fuck fossils for free." Apparently, she thought anyone over the age of 30 was a fossil, but regardless, I don't think a silver ring would exactly do the job for her unless it was affixed to some ice. I guess that's one point you can chalk up for Socialism.

There is, however, one thing that saves us. Maybe God, in his wisdom, did give us a defense mechanism, a hormonal governor, so to speak. Comedian Richard Pryor, during one of his monologues, started talking about the physical charms of his 15-year-old daughter's friends.

In other words, once Pryor heard these squeaky, immature voices and their inane conversation, his big head and his little head nodded in agreement and went back to reading the paper, at last able to rest.

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