One time I banged a red-head milf in Paris so hard that I lost my mind, or atleast my memory.
I couldn’t remember her name anymore after 2 days and 2 nights of straight fucking mate.
That wasn’t the problem, the problem was she noticed, and called me out on it. Just before I got out the door. Almost got away scott-free, got caught anyway.
Still fond memories, she lived right on the Montmatre and I banged her already, but this time we were fucking the whole weekend straight, we only got out in the morning to catch breakfast on a terras, some fresh air and than went straight to bed, sofa, table and the floor again. It was like we were in a 70’s porno-movie, and we were the pro’s.
But my ordinary life is hysterical to other people. The hotel where I was living and doing my internship, went completely bonkers when I didn’t get home the first night, let alone the second day and night. They were right because they were responsible for me, but I had no cares, and no battery. But they know Im pretty wild/ the hardcore, so they all thought the worse, made calls to police etc.
So these people were jumping and stressing out for 2 days straight, when I came home in the evening. Completely empty, left everything on the Montmatre, but content.
I saw the hysterical and curious energy in their faces, couldn’t and didn’t want to deal with it.
Raised my hand to stop their questioning and raised my voice like I was employing them. I was just too tired to fake intrest in their imaginary problems.
I spoke before anybody else could speak and told them.
Never worry about me, I’m fine. I was just banging a broad and I’d like to keep that private and to myself.
Kept walking to the stairs and left all of the staff, reception and management looking at their shoes.
I wasn’t even trying but went Alpha af mate. Showed everybody there how it’s done.
Good timez, good timez man.
Het wordt nog mooier dit verhaal, het gaat nog veel verder. De afsluiting, de conclusie van dit verhaal, is het begin.
En wanneer we dat einde bereikt hebben, dan is het nog niet afgelopen.
Er zijn diepere conclusies en openbaringen onderdeel in dit verhaal. Nieuwe en onbekende zaken. En Zaken die je al weet, wat ik al medegedeeld heb, maar die je toch nog zullen verbazen. So,
Never doubt me when I speak
We never sleep, and when we roll homey, we roll Deep!
Dont think I´m talking bad about this girl when just telling the truth. You think of it what you want. Good or bad, you decide.
But know that I hold her, and our shared history, very dear and very special.
You don´t know her, by just one story/ side of her. And this is as much a personal memory, as it is a cautionary tale.
To never judge a book, or person, by it´s cover.
That little information you get from that, the exterior, tells you nothing about the value/worth of that person.
Whatever you thought. She gave me unknowingly, one of the best days of my life, and it had nothing to do with the sex.
There can be events or days in your life that are just legend, amazing, or just absolute Wins.
That woman gave me one of those days.
It doesnt happen in anybody´s life that often, that you feel (reluctantly) the need to label a specific day, as one of the most impressive, profound and memorable in your life. I don´t do labels, but was forced to. No doubt.
When it happened I knew right away this was one of the most impressive and magical days in my life. The real understanding, and deepened appreciation for that day came a bit later. By than, we´d allready lost touch, so I never got to tell her.
And still 20 or 25 years later, there aren´t many episodes in my life, or women that
I´ve met, that mesmerised me more profound than she did, when we just walked through the Montmatre.
And mind you, I´ve witnessed the Sun crash onto the goddenged Earth itself when I was visiting Mexico.
And thus, after the decades have passed, and her name´s still a forgotten memory. The gratitude is still alive, and very real. I´m still very thankfull to her.
There is a of lot history in between us, that she herself doesnt know. Eventhough she was the reason, catalyst and inspiration for everything that happened that eventfull and amazing day.
I´d might have lost my brains, and her name on that pussy and tattas of her, but not her memory nor her legacy. Because in the beginning when we just started hanging out, she took me to another dimension, now pay close attention.
She was tour-guide as a proffession for a country in South/America and vice versa, for South-Americans to Paris. One time she wanted to give me a limited tour around the Montmatre.
And it turned out to be consciously, one of the best days in my life. Paris (and reality) is in someways very magical.
It was a normal day in the afternoon, pretty sunny but not summer if I recall correct. And we started walking over the Mountain, the Basilique there always looked out of place and like a slagroom-taart. It has nothing to do with the story, but thought I mention it because I now Know why, (its not built by the French).
She and I take a little walk around the Mountain Martre, I had been there before, found it sympathic enough but not that special. Like anybody else I visited a lot of touristic places in Paris. Walked many a time passed all the grandeur without noticing it.
But the fact is: in any city in the world, you look at the things but you can´t really see the importance (in time/reality) of that particular building, arch, statue or fountain, without some background and explanation. Then you can value the object in it´s place in history or society, it´s importance, it´s weight and value for your life/culture and our existence.
(architechts hide the glory of churches and cathedrals in your city by building at eye-hight offices and reclame-borden and put square officeblocks in front of line-of-sight. People in a city are destroyed and walk around looking down at the ground, so even when they raise their head, they only see the neon-advertising and facade of low-grade offices while they walk every day past miracles and wonders of buildings and constructions.
They did it very good and in every city in the world the same. You do not see the grandeur when you walk on trottoir/ side-walks. You need to step back and look at cathedrals from 100, 200 mtrs away. Then you´re able to see the wonders.)
With the explanation behind an object you get depth in awareness/vision. You get dimensions in sight, when you understand and know what the object is all about.
Now I tell you, maybe it´s the Montmatre but I think it´s the whole of Paris, that is litterally covered in historical events, buildings, glory and wonderous spaces. On the Montmatre, when you walk there, there is litterally every 5 meters an object with a historical importantcy or a marvelous and mindblowing backstory.
It was like walking through a different world and reality. All these overglanced miracles all around you, she lit them up and made it real, made it alive. It was like I stepped back through time and reality. There was so much in every detail there, that I didn´t know of. And wasn´t able to See before, was it not for her pleasant willfullness, her tone of voice and agreable demanour. Every statue, every bench or brick in a wall had a story, better then a fairytale.
It was more then going back in time, I went further, it went to a different state of being, of existing. The objects and I, became more then 3-dimensional. All surrounding, envelopping and vibrant, alive, but not in a dated time-frame. It was not old or new, just all. The depth/ in sights, her historical information brought to all these lifeless and gone objects, made them so real and actual again. It was other-world, a delight.
If nobody is telling you where to look and how to look at it, you miss 95% of all the important stuff.
That event made me very aware that we go blind through life. And that we need tranquillo and knowledge/Info to really See. You See with the mind, you only glance at things when you just use your eyes.
That day she gave me, opened my Mind´s Eye, that Jewel and part of the Heavens in every Man/ Woman. That Kristal inside (your brain), that gives you the Sight to See.
In so far it was she, a woman, I just met, that gave me that gift of the god(s), True Sight.
And I thank the Heavens, Existence, and her still to this day for that marvelous and wonderfull day!
For reality, tha Real, is truly wonderfull. An oase of beauty, deserved grandeur, miracles and nourishing wonders. It is Paradise for Man.
Not. The. End.
We go into a different layer on this story, beyonder.
We roll deep, we never sleep…
there is another dimension to all of the above. It will turn everything uspside down, and then still fall in line, with my already proclaimed Word.
It proves the exactness and the Truth of the words you already know.
Cause I tell you, that day, was realer then most, if not everything I´d experienced before. And it stays that way, eventhough now, I Know better.
It still was real as matter. For I experienced it, lived it.
But everything she told me,
was a Lie.
It wasn´t her intention or fault,
She wasn´t lying to me, but what she told me, was not the truth.
It was The Lie.
Our history, everything of it. Is just a made-up story, a non-sensical fairytale that crumbles under scrutiny, chronology and plane logicks.
None of it happened like they say it happened and teach in our schools.
This knowledge, the Truth, does not diminish one bit of everything I felt and experienced that day.
It is still one of my most profound and memorable days, I entered reality through a web of well-arranged lies. Because she had a story, a history behind litterally everything you looked at. It was all (and not) related to eachother, the Wars, the battles, Triumphs, colours, culture and a lot of background-info on historical figures. Everything was explained with a grandiose story. It shows you how methodically they went to work, to have a false explanation on almost everything you look at.
To keep you looking at reality, but never seeing it.
For if you don´t look or listen to the things and events with your brain, you can never see, and you will never hear.
So all the luck to you, peace of mind.
And have a nice and amazing day,