CH: How would you game this smokin’-hot babe? The Cindy Crawford-ish mole is an added turn-on. Since it appears we are now actually on the Titanic, why not enjoy the final few minutes? I prefer your witty lust to Greg Eliot’s disgust.
First, I wouldn’t call her smokin’-hot. Sure, she’s better than the average brownlady, but that’s not saying much. Generously, she’s a 6 (or an age-adjusted 7). Would I bang? Yeah, probably. Just for the exotic notch. And maybe for the secret crusader-pillager thrill.
Apparently, she’s Germany’s Alexandria Occasional-Cortex, with a bigger White-whittling demographic impact:
Sawsan Chebli from Palestine, twelve siblings, father illiterate, he doesn’t speak German, raised kids on welfare. She even looks like Ocasio-Cortez. Always insecure, highly strung, and peevish.
Insecure, high-strung, peevish? Sounds like the typical Semite woman. Race genetics rules!
Siegfried’s face palm in the first shot may as well be on Germany’s flag, because the whole country is face-palmable. Way to go, krauts, you really atoned for the world wars by surrendering your nation to the xerxes hordes. Such dedication to zee craft!
I’d game this bristly brownly semi-babe by opening her with, “I still call it the Wailing Wall” *wink*.
If she smiles knowingly, I’d segue into the Comfort Stage with florid talk of occupation, oppression, and redemption in the arms of an intoxicating infidel open to exploring the possibility of a romantic WEEE-had. On the walk back to my pad, I’d pick up a rock and pretend to throw it at an imaginary soldier, then stay my hand and place the rock in her palm, telling her to “keep the fire burning”. Sex would be a rocket-propelled attack and pre-orgasmic shouts of me bragging that i’d fill her with twelve outbred siblings. Finally, I’d escort her to her home….1,500 miles away.