Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
The humour of the gods, sometimes truly sexy, arranged that a letter from Soror Neferusobek — one of those confidantes I wish upon everyone who loves truly hyper-beautiful confidantes — was delivered to me this evening precisely as I finished adoring Tum!
The Sistah informed me, in essence, that the previous night she had had a rather traumatizing dream:
She saw herself hosting a grand elegant dinner in her duplex in the Sixteenth Arrondissement, to which I had brought none other than Kim Kardashian herself, but by ruse:
Kim’s actual mission was to take Neferusobek’s father-in-law — a big fan of KUWTK — on a tour of Paris, so that I might have free rein to ravish N.’s MOTHER (who is the archetype of the Irresistible MILF — you know Bela Bajaria, the Netflix boss? — Well! Exactly the same, but with bigger breasts!)
N. confides that at the end of her dream, Kim suddenly burst back from her “walk,” outraged by the father-in-law’s pathetic advances, and lectured him thus: “Don’t talk nonsense, Hubert! Your wife is very fine! She has an ass that doesn’t go unnoticed!”
At that precise moment, I was in the process of unloading into the aforementioned wife, bent over the table — which made Kim laugh, as she added, for Hubert’s benefit: “My David doesn’t make that mistake!”
N. notes that my “growl” at the moment of orgasm “sounded like a bellowing,” and says that I then turned to her unfortunate father-in-law — who was (I quote) “pale and petrified” — and declared, by way of apology: “Sorry, Hubert… One doesn’t always control one’s baser instincts…”
“After which,” writes N., “Kim and you left laughing… I add that you had ejaculated at least a litre into Mum and that it was dripping from her onto my pretty tablecloth, and also that Kim K. said to you as you left: ‘You must be happy! All this time she’s been making you hard, that one!’”
Crikey! What a subconscious!
“I FORBID you to creampie Mum on the dining-room table!” concludes Soror Neferusobek, who insists that I subject this dream to an exhaustive analysis following the strict modalities of the PaRDèS system of qabalistic exegesis.
It may be a touch too much to improvise tonight, in the context of my Bahamas holiday… All I can say for now, on the level of Pshat — apart, once again, from “Crikey! What a subconscious indeed!” — is that this dream nostalgically sends me back to a multitude of personal anecdotes, real-life events and autobiographical incidents to which, curiously, it makes me think…
No one is unaware, for example, that my very first awareness of the Divine came precisely through the intercession of an ‘Irresistible MILF’ — the mother of my girlfriend at the time (I was 15):
I had spent the night in the very beautiful home of her parents — a provincial doctor and a housewife of the big-breasted mature beauty type — and, attempting at dawn to slip away (since the parents were unaware of my presence in their daughter’s room), I was intercepted by the aforementioned mature beauty — who, after a half-serious, half-playful reprimand, insisted on proving she was still “in the race” by sucking me off right in the living room (her husband was sleeping just above): at the instant when my virility, rendered furiously turgid by the situation, was taken in mouth by this woman, I murmured, in an astonished breath: “There is a God…”
Also well known, alas! to most of the Paris social register of the early 2000s is the scandalous misadventure that earned me, for a time, the nickname “Hands-Free” — when, during an elegant soirée, I was suddenly seized by premature ejaculation and exploded in my white trousers at the mere sight of Mariah Carey’s ‘Loverboy’ music video playing on a giant screen, under the (perplexed) gaze of my girlfriend at the time AND my rival for her, who burst out laughing: “Wow! Your guy! Hands-free!!!!!”
Perhaps it is less known, however, that I made love to my wife nine times in a row after watching, for the first time, Fergie’s ‘MILF’ music video (which also features Kim Kardashian, by the way) — but the vibe is the same: the passion unleashed by the MILF and her devastating impact on the trajectory of anyone who suffers its consequences!
In Soror Neferusobek’s dream, the collateral victim of this passion is, of course, the unfortunate Hubert.
In the first autobiographical anecdote reported above, it is me — since I make it my First Mystical Crisis — the spiritual trigger that will ultimately make me the ‘helluvah holy guru’ that is known and, therefore, lead me to prison!
In the second anecdote, the victim is my Social Persona (“Ah! Ah! Ah! How ridiculous!” was the only comment from my cousin Abigaïl when she was told of the incident.)
In the third anecdote, finally, the victim is the cervix of my wife, forced to endure endless furious assaults to extinguish the fire that another had lit.
See? All victims of oedipal fury, that is to say: all sacrificed on the Altar of Babalon.
Meditate upon this, dear friends, and go your gorgeous ways under the protection of that spiritual sphere whose centre is everywhere and circumference nowhere, and which we call GOD.
Warm kisses from the Bahamas.
Love is the law, love under will.
— ☉ in 15° ♑︎ : ☽ in 21° ♌︎ : ☽ : Vxi.
