why we use human pheromones

Infidelity is part of the human experience and this why we use human pheromones. But the word “infidelity” implies something bad—“in” meaning “not” and “fidelity” meaning “faithful.”

Am I not faithful to a woman whom I love if I love her and her alone? So language is used to define the problem contains a hidden biases. Let’s not call it infidelity any longer—a new word, sexual freedom is more accurate. “Sexual pheromones freedom” is truthful. If I said “sexual freedom is part of the human experience,” few people would cringe. Learn more at http://pheromones-work.weebly.com/home/long-range-pheromone-mating-orientationandhttp://sundowndivers.org/?p=82This sexual reedom, engrained in each man, arouses suspicion and distrust within the confines of a relationship with true pheromones. This suspicion and distrust can be conquered, but not by forcing men to act against their nature. Not by crippling the fabric of masculine instincts, drives and motivations. Learn more athttps://www.rebelmouse.com/bestpheromones/pheromones-for-men-896923685.htmlHuman design pushes me towards sexual freedom It’s the universal obligation keeping hominids from extinction, and the world must catch up with this fact.

My primal impulses do not originate in the conscious mind or heart, but from a place embedded inside; it is the universe acting through me by increasing pheromone odors.

These sex pheromone compulsions, often repressed, gather strength. No man can say “no” to these urges. Only “later,” when the sun falls and the conscious mind fades and weakens the sex urge rears up again.

I awake from a lusty dream Night has fallen—it is dark in my room, pitch black, but I know the woman sleeping softly next to me has not roused. I do not take notice of her. There is a yearning, a deep-seated, diffiised quiver rolling inside of me, directing me to the secrets of the night. It is insatiable, this lust, and as the door shuts and I am into the night it is clear to me before asking what my aim is: an unknown, engorged clitoris. The bite and suckling on a stranger’s silk skin. It overtakes me in waves as I move, pursuing prey in heat, my mind static but for one urge.

The trajectory I follow is different every time. I follow fragrances without a scent. I seek to find someone; who, I know not. I crave ripe eggs begging for sperm I spirit along roads without a map and travel unknown pathways in the darkness. I navigate unmarked thoroughfares, sail across uncharted oceans. And I always find the target. It’s always there, because this is how evolution works. For an A, there is a B. And for my cock, for my need to plunge into a tight, soft slit there is a woman pleading to be hit; a celestial bull’s-eye beseeches me. I always take it long, hard, and deep. It is never soft. It is deliberate and complete. Once completed, I’m driven toward a second, a third and more encounters, sometimes in the same night, until I am spent.

All my bio-rhythrns peak at their maximum levels simultaneously igniting the sex-hunger revving my engine into a searing, greased, pounding machine, hitting on all cylinders. I feel a touch, or snag a look, and the mystery desire asserts its predominance.