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5 Ego Trip Break In contradiction to the existence of these pages,
I was never the type to run tell the friends.
There were times I thought it immoral,
other times vainly arrogant,
but by now I don't even call this type of bragging frustrating,
just useless for the Ego, so why bother.
Its just a waste of valuable Tantra joy time.

The greatest joy, in this respect,
is to have a life long repeating
story of the next wife coming home one day,
telling you with pride how she told off all her girl friends.

The shear numbers are so insanely unreal,
that I don't even need to hear any details to
have my ego being shot to the sky.
I already know the story from the previous copies,
and competition is simply non-existent.

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6 The Stringless Guitar I met him in the army.

The most I remember of him is one piss we took together in the wild.

He was eating a sandwich.
At half size he let it fall off his hand right through the stream.
He was heavy duty into Punk Music and Zappa logic at the time.
How can one not fall for such purity. I was helpless.

I later went to TAU to study math on the Hill of Anemones.

During those times we had a comeback.

I didn't do much of the guitar myself.
I just cut and glued the wood, he did all the painting.

We later took possession turns, about a year or two a turn.

So I came to his place that day to continue with the guitar thing,
not quite aware that Nitty had just turned eighteen.

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7 Nitty Nitty was fourteen when she first wanted to do me.
It was during army days.
I was nineteen and change, shortly before my first do,
still instinctless, I had no clue what had been going on.

She was his protected younger sister, and the three of us
had great times touring the country together.
While I was asleep one day in a bus,
she dared caressing my hair.
The most uninnocent innocence.
My brain would have been fried even better,
had I not been asleep at the time.

Sixteen years later she told me, after she did me.
Not like she was resting for those sixteen years.
She was practicing the whole time, in body,
thought, and some other bodies,
taking trial shots whenever opportunity knocked.
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8 The Doors Open That night with the Guitar still white with the base coat
at his place, I called Nitty up to wish her happy birthday.
We hadn't spoken since she was fifteen.

So hop over.

I lowered the phone just a bit, and asked him if he
would like to hop over to his sister's.
I don't think I was conscious of my wanting to know
her response to my query.
Obviously, I had no intention for him to come with.
Its just that my intentions were not clear to me.

Hey, she said, I am just passed eighteen and don't
need the guardian.
Come alone.
I was too young and too stupid to resist.

In her room, she turned on the red light
bulb she had colored
herself, and turned off all the other lights.

She went to the stereo and put on Light My Fire.
At least I think it was.
Could have been Riders in the Storm or L.A. woman
for that matter.
The Doors were not open enough in my
mind at the time to notice the difference.
Neither were my hormones.

As if that was not enough,
she started dancing to the faint red light in the dark.

I was sitting there on the couch, watching the show,
when she pulled the topological bra trick on me.

So on the Matcho side, I was having condescending
thoughts of how cool she probably thinks it is
to show me this old brown shoe trick,
which couldn't have possibly impressed me,
being a math student, and a fan
of topology since I was eight or so.

Luckily or not, my stupid Matcho ego was
helpless against the upper hand.

On the other side, all my hormones could be aware of,
is the fact that she is now bra-less,
and how close she is to the touch,
and how Matcho ego building this experience is,
given I had done, at least to my knowledge,
less then nothing to get there.

So I asked her to just sit down by my side
and relax so that we can talk.

And I did. I started doing the talk thing,
and her brain was frying.
In five minutes she totally collapsed and said:
Talk is tensing, will you just do something already.
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