I said in a recent post that I consider my lust empowering.
As a corollary to that, there is my objective to raise the funds necessary to send 8000 of my offspring to college at $400,000 each, or $3,200,000,000.
8000 offspring is roughly one child per day with 8000 different girls. They would be drawn more or less randomly from an audience culled for health--no overweight girls, for example. The order of the acts would be from the ugliest to the prettiest, except that the most pretty would be first. It would take about 22 years, without a break. If demand warranted, I would allow some girls each day to have sex with me without me having an orgasm, that being saved for the one girl chosen as mother for that day. At the start of the 22 years I figure I might be able to accommodate 25 extra girls a day this way, and this would drop of linearly to no extra girls at the end of 22 years. the total number of acts would be about 100,000.
This is what I would do with fame and fortune. Happiness would be a formula for lust.
Showing posts with label lust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lust. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The New Haven girl who laughed.
I experienced for a moment with a New Haven girl the power over women that a Yale Man has. We went to East Rock Park. I doubt she would have gone with me if I had not been a Yale Man.
The moment was generated by the sensation I had taking her in my arms. It was the first time I ever felt lust with a woman. I had had the feeling of lust when I was cross dressing in secret and had my first orgasm. But with this woman I felt lust equal to that and was equally stymied by unsuitability of it. My first instinct was to say to her, "I love to feel you!" hoping she would open herself to equal lust herself. She didn't. She was struck by my virginity as if it was laughable, and that's just what she did. She laughed almost uproariously. It wasn't true virginity as I had copulated before, but once it was without attraction to the girl and the other time it was phobic to intercourse, for the sake of nominal virginity. This New Haven girl, of course, knew nothing of my history, but what was laughable about my behavior I cannot fathom. She probably was not aroused at all and my expression of feelings plainly declared that I was, and this inequality she took as some bizarre type of social advantage, and used that advantage to exult over my gullibility that she would be responsive. The words I said stand as a monument to the cruelty of people, for though her expression of advantage seems to me bizarre, to her it bespoke totally a presumption of due ridicule. She was laughing into her crowd, her social circle, while I spoke into the history books, for such is the nature of my published writings. My lust is empowering, and I never make excuses for it. If Yale taught me anything, it is that social circles are best left behind one as he sets out on a quest for eternal significance. Let the circles feel the effects in peculiar or distant ways, as is their need. I have a sense of the beautiful, or I would never have gotten this far, and it serves as a light on my products, hinting at the existence of some or other place where others, not just myself, will welcome them. It is not the complete product, but it counts. I think there is something beautiful in the story of the New Haven girl who laughed. It didn't lessen my lust. It served notice that lust for me is always close at hand, at which there will always be those who laugh. It could be worse, and in fact, in places it is. Other stories append there. Read the autobiography. The name of the New Haven girl of this story is Cindy Koval.
The moment was generated by the sensation I had taking her in my arms. It was the first time I ever felt lust with a woman. I had had the feeling of lust when I was cross dressing in secret and had my first orgasm. But with this woman I felt lust equal to that and was equally stymied by unsuitability of it. My first instinct was to say to her, "I love to feel you!" hoping she would open herself to equal lust herself. She didn't. She was struck by my virginity as if it was laughable, and that's just what she did. She laughed almost uproariously. It wasn't true virginity as I had copulated before, but once it was without attraction to the girl and the other time it was phobic to intercourse, for the sake of nominal virginity. This New Haven girl, of course, knew nothing of my history, but what was laughable about my behavior I cannot fathom. She probably was not aroused at all and my expression of feelings plainly declared that I was, and this inequality she took as some bizarre type of social advantage, and used that advantage to exult over my gullibility that she would be responsive. The words I said stand as a monument to the cruelty of people, for though her expression of advantage seems to me bizarre, to her it bespoke totally a presumption of due ridicule. She was laughing into her crowd, her social circle, while I spoke into the history books, for such is the nature of my published writings. My lust is empowering, and I never make excuses for it. If Yale taught me anything, it is that social circles are best left behind one as he sets out on a quest for eternal significance. Let the circles feel the effects in peculiar or distant ways, as is their need. I have a sense of the beautiful, or I would never have gotten this far, and it serves as a light on my products, hinting at the existence of some or other place where others, not just myself, will welcome them. It is not the complete product, but it counts. I think there is something beautiful in the story of the New Haven girl who laughed. It didn't lessen my lust. It served notice that lust for me is always close at hand, at which there will always be those who laugh. It could be worse, and in fact, in places it is. Other stories append there. Read the autobiography. The name of the New Haven girl of this story is Cindy Koval.
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