John Piper; Maria's diary; 4 nights with Devil

* JOHN PIPER * MARIA'S DIARY * 4 NIGHTS WITH THE DEVIL

BOYFRIENDS AND GIRLFRIENDS

All modern students have lots of boyfriends and girlfriends to pass time with enjoyably outside their homes and hostels, thanks to wily HUMAN-LOOKING aliens who have always tried to ruin the human race. - G

Lots of SEX goes on among those who scream loudly and theatrically about "protection" not being provided but are not interested in studies but only in cheating on exams. Fucking alien chatterboxes should be violently beaten up by the cheated public. - G

JNU

The conceited students and unscholarly faculty of JNU are a bunch of worthless good-for-nothing illiterate "leftist" pseudo-intellectuals who are wasting public money. (However, highly respected internationally famous historian the charming ex JNU Professor Romila Thapar - she speaks beautiful English - was an outstanding exception.)

Kishalay Sinha [G]

JOHN PIPER

I was curious to know the name of the preacher in the video series DESIRING GOD on YouTube, who looks like a CLONE of My expired "dad" Krishna. At first, I was very upset to learn from Internet sources that the preacher's name is John Piper because nowadays I connect John, author of Revelation, with noble Dr. Wilfred Funk. I was relieved to learn on looking up further Internet sources that the full name of John Piper is John Stephen Piper. WHAT A RELIEF! By the following CHAIN of association: Stephen - "Steve" - hippy Y - Peter - Devil (because Peter is called the "Devil" by Jesus in the Bible New Testament) - Peter Funk - "swindler" ("Peter Funk" is a synonym of "swindler" in Merriam Webster Collegiate Thesaurus), I realized that the abbreviated name John Piper could be intended to FOOL Me into believing that John Piper is John or Dr. Wilfred Funk or a clone of Dr. Wilfred Funk whereas he is in fact a clone of Krishna. (Voltaire, Pope Leo X, and writer Nirad Chandra Chaudhuri all looked like Krishna.) Another alternative is that (the late?) Dr. Wilfred Funk/John/Adam and My recently expired late "dad" Krishna were TWINS (Dr. Wilfred Funk is/was [if late] an American, late Krishna was an Indian), just as Adam and the evil rapist anti-God Lucifer were perhaps both sons of God and were perhaps twins. However, I suspect that the actual truth is that John Piper or John Stephen Piper is NOT RELATED to John OR to Stephen BUT he is in fact A BACKUP CLONE OF late Krishna.

This is a world of deception and treachery. No name is as simple as it seems. No one should ever be taken for granted.

Kishalay Sinha [G]

MARIA'S DIARY

From Maria's diary:

I don't know what he [He] must have thought when he [He] opened the door that night and saw me standing there, carrying two suitcases. 'Don't worry,' I said, 'I'm not moving in.' He didn't say anything, just helped me in with my luggage. Then, without saying 'how lovely to see you', he [He] simply put his [His] arms about me and started kissing me and touching my body, my breasts, my crotch [v.], as if he [He] had been waiting for this a long time.

He pulled off my jacket and my dress, leaving me naked, and we made love for the first time. He lay me down on the floor and entered me. I liked it like that, because he [He] obviously understood that I was his [His] and that he [He] didn't need to ask permission. I wasn't there in order to prove that I was more sensitive or more passionate than other women, I was there to say yes, you're welcome [You're welcome], that I too had been waiting for this, that I was pleased about his [His] total disregard for the rules we had created between us and that he [He] was now demanding that we should be guided solely by our instincts, male and female. I wanted him [Him] inside me, because he [He] was the man [Man] I had never possessed and would never possess again. That is why I could love him [Him] with all my energy, and have, at least for one night, what I'd never had before and what I would possibly never have again.

We were in the most conventional of positions - me underneath him, with my legs spread, and him on top of me, moving in and out, while I looked at him, with no desire to pretend or to moan or to do anything, just wanting to keep my eyes open so that I could remember every second, watch his face changing, his hands grabbing my hair, his mouth kissing me. No preliminaries, no caresses, no preparations, no sophistication, just him inside me.

He came and went, quickening and slowing the rhythm, stopping sometimes to look at me too, but he didn't ask if I was enjoying it, because he knew that this was the only way our souls could communicate at that moment, and I knew that the eleven minutes were coming to an end, and I wanted them to last forever, because it was so good - ah, dear God, it was good - to be possessed and not to possess! And we seemed to move into a dimension in which I was the great mother, the universe, the beloved, the sacred prostitute of the ancient rituals that he had told me about. I saw that he was about to come, and his arms gripped mine, his movements increased in intensity... I felt immense pleasure, because this was how it had been since the beginning of time, when the first man met [and had sex with] the first woman and they made love for the first time.

Ah, you have no idea how much I love you. I think that perhaps we always fall in love the very first instant we see the man of our dreams. That happened on the night when I walked barefoot in the park, cold and in pain, but knowing how much you loved me.

Yes, I love you very much, as I have never loved another man... you are a man in the most beautiful, intense sense of the word. You've supported and helped me. I loved the cold floor, your warm body, the force with which you entered me.

I went to take back [return] my library books today, and the librarian asked if I talked to my partner about sex. I felt like saying: Which partner? What sort of sex do you mean?

I've really only had two partners: one [Satan/Snake/Kr.] who awoke the worst in me, because I let him and even begged him to. The other one, you [You], who made me feel part of the world again. I would like to be able to teach you [You] where to touch my body, how much pressure to apply, for how long, and I know you [You] would take this not as a criticism, but as another way to improve communication between our souls. The art of love is like your painting [word painting], it requires technique, patience, and, above all, practice by the couple. It requires boldness, the courage to go beyond what people conventionally call "making love".

The teacher in me was back but [He] knew how to take control of the situation. Instead of agreeing with me, he [He] said: '... we're going to make love again. And I'd like you to understand men better too.'

Understand men better? I spent every night with them, whites, blacks, Asians, Jews, Muslims, Catholics, Buddhists. Didn't [He] know that?

I felt lighter; I was so pleased that the conversation had shifted into being a discussion. At one point, I even considered asking God's forgiveness and breaking my promise.

'Yes, to understand men better,' said [He] again, seeing the doubtful look on my face. 'You talk about your female sexuality, about helping me [Me] to find my [My] way around your body, to be patient, to take time. I agree, but has it occurred to you that we're [I am] different, at least in matters of time [!!]? You should complain to God about that. When we met, I asked you to teach me [Me] about sex, to give the women I loved the same amount of pleasure they gave me [Me].'

I didn't like the sound of 'the women I loved', but I feigned indifference.

'Why is it that men only think about sex, instead of doing as you [You] did with me and finding out how I feel?'

'Who said we [I] only think about sex? Have you ever stopped to think about the feelings of the men you've been to bed with?'

'Yes, I have. They were all insecure. They were all afraid.'

'Worse than afraid, they were vulnerable. They didn't really know what they were doing, they only knew what society, friends and women themselves had told them was important. Sex, sex, sex, that's the basis of life, scream the advertisements, other people, films, books. No one knows what they're talking about... all they know is that it has to be done. And that's that.'

I drew him [Him] to me because life had taught me many things. In the beginning, everything was love and surrender. But then the serpent [Lucifef/Satan/Kr.] appeared and said to Eve: what you surrendered [the freedom to have extramarital sex], you will lose [the freedom to have extramarital sex]. That is how it was with me - I was driven out of paradise and ever since then, I have been trying to find a way of telling the serpent [Satan/Kr.] he was wrong, that living [living like the faithful wife Sita] was more important than keeping things to yourself [cheating on my husband and having extramarital sex with Another Guy and not telling my cheated husband about it].

I knelt down and gradually took off his [His] clothes, and I saw his penis, sleeping and unresponsive. I kissed the inner part of his legs. His penis slowly began to respond, and I touched it, then put in my mouth ... [My gosh. Unthinkable.]... He penetrated me slowly and unhurriedly this time. I felt him inside me, I was aware of his hand on my breasts, my buttocks, touching me [tenderly] as only a woman knows how. Then I knew that we were made for each other...

As he simultaneously penetrated and touched me, I felt that he was doing this not only to me, but to the whole universe. We had time, tenderness and mutual knowledge. I entered a place where everything seemed at peace. I knew God.

Then I felt him beginning to move inside me again, although his hand had still not stopped, and I said 'Oh God', and surrendered to whatever came next, Heaven or Hell.

It was Heaven. He was thrusting faster and faster now, he and I were one person. I allowed him to penetrate me for as long as it took; his nails were now digging [!!] into my buttocks, his breathing growing ever faster [!], my sex [v.] beating hard against his [p.], flesh against flesh. And I came at the same moment he came... It wasn't eleven minutes, it was an eternity, it was as if we had both left our bodies and were walking joyfully through the gardens of paradise.

(From Paulo Coelho's erotic novel "ELEVEN MINUTES", translated into English from the original Portuguese by Margaret Jull Costa.)

Peter Hockley: "THE MAN WHO MET THE DEVIL - TRUE STORY - FOUR NIGHTS WITH THE DEVIL" (YouTube)

Peter's "God"-loving wife told him that the Man he met and spent four nights with was the "Devil". Treachery is an INBORN characteristic of all female honeytrap spies and double agents like the "strip tease" prostitute Eve alias Mata Hari described in Paulo Coelho's novel "THE SPY" (a novel based on REAL events), translated from the Portuguese by Zoe Perry. I am sure that the strip tease dancer and double agent "Mata Hari" was NOT shot dead as reported - or if shot dead she must have been REVIVED in secret like Las Vegas mass murderer Stephen - "Mata Hari" changed herself into a baby girl   (as in the numerous repeated "reincarnations" of Eve over billions of years and into Margaret Elizabeth Noble into Sister Nivedita into ...) and then lived (perhaps as an adopted baby girl) and grew up in a family (perhaps the "American" family of chameleon NL/Sw. Viv.) which was aware (or maybe unaware but much more likely to have been aware) of her secret identity (cf. the Bengali bride-to-be "Sita" in the novel "CONFESSIONS OF AN INDIAN WOMAN EATER" by Sasthi Brata, author of "MY GOD DIED YOUNG"; both novels published by Penguin, with SCANDALOUS NUDE SKETCHES on the cover).

Kishalay Sinha [G]