THE BALCONY
The man, walking along the tree-lined avenue, hesitated, slowed down his pace and looked up along the row of houses. There, an open balcony window offered itself to his view and from it some sighs - female - and some groans - male - penetrated. Finally he stopped and from behind a passer-by bumped into him, who had not been paying attention, precisely because the sounds from the apartment seemed familiar to her. They looked at each other, slightly embarrassed, the man and the woman. "Ahem," he said. And she, "Well, seems like fun." With that, the two ended their conversation and hurriedly made off, not wanting to be recognized as voyeurs.
Upstairs in the apartment,
the lovemaking went on for quite a while - in fact, for the rest of the day - while the neighbors felt compelled to display excessive tolerance. From the second floor, where the lustful sounds were carried outside by the summer air, the actors cared for nothing more than their bodies and the resulting salvation of their souls. On floor number two, a particularly interested tenant posted himself on the rear balcony to find out if the sighing could be heard all the way there, to sit undisturbed in his comfortable armchair and not be seen by anyone else eavesdropping.
The back of the house faced a grassy courtyard,
behind which there were only two workshops, the buildings rising further away were too far to allow any immediate view. Luck was with him, apparently all the windows of the apartment below were open. So he sat down and listened. Directly above the love nest also lived a student, who heard nothing, because she was typing her thesis and had "Tobacco Road" playing on her headphones, but due to a special sensitivity became restless and had to force herself to continue with her topic.
All in all, all the occupants of the house got - more or less - several cries of delight, full-throated orgiastic shouts, hoarse squeals mixed with low tones. A majority were at home, it was a very warm summer afternoon, the vacations had not yet begun and yet most had managed to stay away from their work and make themselves comfortable.
Seven parties had somehow managed to keep their washing machines running simultaneously,
so they were hanging out on the balconies to have a legitimate reason for staying - that of hanging laundry. Party number eight, the student, opened her statistics book and lingered absently contemplating the graphs and tables.
In the apartment in question, where things were merry, he and she took turns exploring each other's wetlands. The two had been having an affectionate as well as amorous affair for two weeks.
A book lay open on the coffee table, the cover showing a smiling woman's face - it was easy to see that it was a very special read, the subline titled: "Discover the sources of female love lust - sensual, energetic, spiritual." Quite quickly it was clear that the woman's yoni responded exceptionally well to the book's suggestions and that the man had glimpsed his goddess.
After he had devoted himself to her for a full three hours, the treatment included an extensive body massage of all the limbs of her body as well as a dexterous discovery of her innermost, she thanked him for his effort on her part with pleasure-giving explorations - first in the back and then in the front - and finally yoni and lingam naturally united. Thus they became one in their erotic dance. They did not care in the least who might be listening to them, indeed they welcomed it.
When their throbbing, warm and chafed bodies demanded a break, she said laughingly, "Imagine the whole world lying together. Everyone, without exception, would have nothing better to do than make love and maybe have a bite to eat in between."
"That would be wonderful," he mused "hardly any wars anywhere."
"Yes!" she cried, "just imagine! I mean, right now, right here, what do you think we'd set off with the neighbors alone?" She giggled. "The furniture is already starting to move, isn't it?"
Above them, they heard a loud scraping that sounded like a massive table being moved. And by joking around like that, what all would happen because of the magical moments of their being together, it happened in such a way. Not immediately noticeable and not in such a way that it would be somehow conspicuous.
The student, for example, folded her book closed,
tilted her leather desk chair back, and turned Eric Burdon up to full volume. His voice drilled into her and she felt chills. Tingling skin all over her body, she consciously let herself taste this musical treat and got into a state of floating. The hand, which had previously rested loosely on her belly, accidentally got to the waistband of her pants, where it remained interested.
The other hand rushed to assist and helped undo the buttons.
Then it wandered upwards, where at some point it came across a soft curve, the contours of which it was imperative to follow and soon encountered an excited little tip that said hello to her. Meanwhile, the pants slid a little lower, caused by an intermediate energetic squirming of the student's lower body, forcing the jeans down with just one hand. Thus prepared and while Burdon shouted "do it again, ya feel a thing", she was irrepressibly looking forward to feeling what was going on in the meantime at the thighs and in between.
As if not she herself but another person was doing all this, the middle finger did not immediately explore it, but first very carefully placed itself exactly on the spot of which it knew it would only have to press it once firmly in order to quickly reach a certain height with the student.
But the finger did not do her this favor, but blackwaved, as if this was none of its business, a little on the hill. Acting as if it would only make a brief flying visit and, unfortunately, soon have to say goodbye again.
Nothing there! The student ordered the finger to stay a little longer. At first, it acted as if it would think it over and withdrew a little, as if in a slight but still not guilty conscience.
"Do I have to beg first?" inwardly asked the student, slightly miffed. This tempted the finger to return to the spot and ah... without her realizing it, to take action there once with a little more pressure.
Flaring delight was its reward. Thus encouraged, it now ventured further forward. Would it be enough to penetrate to depths? After a moment's consideration, it wanted to follow this thought. At that moment, Eric Burdon finished. Irritated, they both paused.
Deprived of these sounds,
the student could now hear loudly and clearly something else: the sound of love between the man and the woman.
"Better," she thought, and again made herself comfortable in her chair. Without further persuasion, she surrendered herself to the finger, which now no longer insisted on delaying tactics and found its way directly: of course, it had long been slippery and very hot there.
Gladly it made itself comfortable there and drove, sometimes in this direction sometimes in that, and around in circles, inviting the other hand to reach down lower, to lay over it and provide a firm friction there. Any tension escaped from the student's body, her legs folded away to the sides and she imagined how something would come over her, forbidding herself any prudery, and finally came like a hot desert wind that stirred up the sand with power, only to leave it in beautiful soft waves to the sun.
Apartment number four and five, which were opposite each other, opened simultaneously.
From one door, a man in his mid-forties looked puzzled into the face of the woman opposite. Both had just wanted to run downstairs, still undecided what to do, simply because they could not stand it any longer inside.
But now, instead of stepping out the door, the woman eyed her neighbor. Perhaps for the first time, they looked into each other and knew that they were both trying to follow the same need. She: married. He: divorced.
With a somewhat awkward gesture, the bag swaying precariously on her arm, she pointed with her head to his open apartment door. He - looked around, knowing she was asking him to invite her in.
In a croaky voice she said, "Do you have anything to drink in the house?" He opened the doorway wide and motioned for her to come in. "Yes," was all he said, "and isn't your husband coming home today?" Then the door clanged shut behind them.
The remaining tenants made themselves comfortable - alone or in pairs, depending on their taste - in their refuges in such a way that they always found themselves naked and sweaty in front of each other.
Soon the house was languishing and whispering from every pore
and more and more people, who were walking down the street either by chance or with a very specific goal, were seized by the energy.
All of a sudden, everyone seemed to be in a particular hurry, but some immediately started flirting on the spot, getting acquainted with each other on the sidewalk.
Downstairs, in the pizzeria,
the owner stepped in front of the door and soon caught a young couple pushing a bicycle, who had just introduced themselves by name, put two glasses in their hands and talked to them in fast Italian, while he took the bikes from them and left them carelessly against the wall.
Thus surprised, the two allowed themselves to be pulled into the restaurant, where the restaurant owner magnanimously poured them flaming Sambucca and looked at them mischievously.
Sometime in the evening, the man and woman who had bumped into each other earlier also returned, and while she was still looking for an excuse for being there, he said, "My name is Falk, please run into me again."
All of these people assumed they had succumbed to a certain whim that might be over by tomorrow.
So they ate out the refrigerators, fed themselves with the choicest of what the pantries had to offer,
uncorked the best wines and let the champagne foam. What one did not have at home, one borrowed without further ado from next door, where men like women with tousled hair opened the doors to one with sheets wrapped around them, handed one what one needed or even wordlessly held out a filled glass and casually waved one in.
In the meantime, the tenements had begun to mingle with each other, lightly clad people, young and old, strolled along the avenue and the magic circle continued to stretch.
A kind of street party had arisen, all houses were wide open and people were now enjoying each other freely.
By now, the couple who had helped trigger all this was standing on the balcony - the only one without a full clothes horse - gazing fascinated at the scenery.
"Look, it's come true!" she exclaimed in bright enthusiasm, leaning down and raining kisses. From below, some fingers jokingly threatened them and people laughed, "Watch out, we're about to visit you too!"
She and the man embraced, thinking they alone were responsible for this phenomenon. After they exchanged a heartfelt kiss, the man looked up at the starry sky and heard a glow that seemed to stretch across the land.
He nudged his lover and gestured for her to look up.
In the night-clear sky, individual stars suddenly stood out in new colors. They, which otherwise shone in cold silver, excited in fiery red and green and blue. It seemed as if the love games of all people who were fond of each other, Germans, Russians, Brazilians and Japanese, Africans and Yakuts, Americans and Netherlands, had been caught up in a stream of energy that now covered the sphere above the planet and sent messages to the cosmos.
All at once everything was forgotten and love had taken possession of Earth.
All photographs are my own.
The text was originally written in German, then translated into English and from English into Spanish with the help of deepl.com. I have no idea where in that translation some of the meanings maybe have gone lost or are inappropriately interpreted by the "translating machine". If you speak Spanish and English as well, please give me a feedback whether you find an expression awkward.
Here you can find the contest and its conditions, unfortunately already expired. Nevertheless, I took part.
EL BALCÓN
El hombre, que caminaba por la avenida arbolada, vaciló, aminoró el paso y miró hacia arriba a lo largo de la hilera de casas. Allí, una ventana de balcón abierta se ofrecía a su vista y desde ella penetraban algunos suspiros -femeninos- y algunos gemidos -masculinos-. Finalmente se detuvo y por detrás chocó con él una transeúnte que no había prestado atención, precisamente porque los sonidos del apartamento le resultaban familiares. Se miraron, ligeramente avergonzados, el hombre y la mujer. "Ejem", dijo él. Y ella: "Bueno, parece divertido". Con eso, los dos terminaron su conversación y se apresuraron a salir, sin querer ser reconocidos como mirones.
Arriba, en el apartamento,
el acto de amor continuó durante un buen rato -de hecho, durante el resto del día- mientras los vecinos se sentían obligados a mostrar una excesiva tolerancia. Desde el segundo piso, donde los sonidos lujuriosos eran transportados al exterior por el aire del verano, los actores no se preocupaban más que de sus cuerpos y de la consiguiente salvación de sus almas. En el piso número dos, un inquilino especialmente interesado se apostó en el balcón trasero para averiguar si los suspiros se oían hasta allí, para sentarse sin ser molestado en su cómodo sillón y no ser visto por nadie más que estuviera espiando.
La parte trasera de la casa daba a un patio cubierto de hierba,
detrás del cual sólo había dos talleres, los edificios que se alzaban más lejos estaban demasiado lejos para permitir una visión inmediata. La suerte estaba con él, aparentemente todas las ventanas del apartamento de abajo estaban abiertas. Así que se sentó y escuchó. Justo encima del nido de amor también vivía una estudiante, que no escuchaba nada, porque estaba escribiendo su tesis y tenía "Tobacco Road" sonando en sus auriculares, pero debido a una sensibilidad especial se inquietó y tuvo que obligarse a seguir con su tema.
En total, todos los ocupantes de la casa profirieron -más o menos- varios gritos de placer, gritos orgiásticos a todo pulmón, chillidos roncos mezclados con tonos bajos. La mayoría estaba en casa, era una tarde de verano muy calurosa, las vacaciones aún no habían comenzado y, sin embargo, la mayoría había conseguido alejarse de su trabajo y ponerse cómodo.
Siete grupos se las habían arreglado de alguna manera para mantener sus lavadoras funcionando simultáneamente,
así que se asomaron a los balcones para tener una razón legítima para quedarse: la de tender la ropa. La parte número ocho, la estudiante, abrió su libro de estadística y se quedó contemplando distraídamente los gráficos y las tablas.
En el apartamento en cuestión, donde las cosas estaban alegres, él y ella se turnaban para explorar los humedales del otro. Los dos llevaban dos semanas manteniendo un romance tan afectuoso como amoroso.
En la mesa de centro había un libro abierto, cuya portada mostraba el rostro sonriente de una mujer; era fácil ver que se trataba de una lectura muy especial, cuyo subtítulo era: "Descubre las fuentes de la lujuria amorosa femenina: sensual, energética, espiritual". Rápidamente quedó claro que el yoni de la mujer respondía excepcionalmente bien a las sugerencias del libro y que el hombre había vislumbrado a su diosa.
Después de que él se dedicara a ella durante tres horas completas,
el tratamiento incluía un extenso masaje corporal de todos los miembros de su cuerpo, así como un diestro descubrimiento de sus más íntimos, ella le agradeció su esfuerzo por su parte con exploraciones placenteras -primero en la parte trasera y luego en la delantera- y finalmente yoni y lingam se unieron de forma natural. Así se unieron en su danza erótica. No les importaba lo más mínimo quién pudiera estar escuchándoles, es más, lo agradecían.
Cuando sus cuerpos palpitantes, calientes y rozados exigieron un descanso, ella dijo riendo: "Imagínate a todo el mundo acostado. Todos, sin excepción, no tendrían nada mejor que hacer que hacer el amor y tal vez comer algo entre medias".
"Eso sería maravilloso", reflexionó él, "apenas habría guerras en ningún sitio".
"¡Sí!", gritó ella, "¡imagínate! Quiero decir, ahora mismo, aquí mismo, ¿qué crees que haríamos con los vecinos solos?" Ella soltó una risita. "Los muebles ya empiezan a moverse, ¿no?"
Por encima de ellos, oyeron un fuerte raspado que sonaba como si se moviera una enorme mesa. Y bromeando de esa manera, lo que todo sucedería por los momentos mágicos de estar juntos, sucedió de tal manera. No inmediatamente perceptible y no de tal manera que fuera de algún modo llamativo.
La estudiante, por ejemplo, dobló su libro cerrado,
inclinó su silla de cuero hacia atrás y puso a Eric Burdon a todo volumen. Su voz la taladró y sintió escalofríos. Con un hormigueo en la piel de todo el cuerpo, se dejó saborear conscientemente esta delicia musical y entró en un estado de flotación. La mano, que hasta entonces había descansado sin apretar sobre su vientre, llegó accidentalmente a la cintura de sus pantalones, donde permaneció interesada.
La otra mano se apresuró a ayudar y ayudó a desabrochar los botones.
Luego vagó hacia arriba, donde en algún momento se topó con una suave curva, cuyos contornos fue imperativo seguir y pronto se encontró con una excitada puntita que la saludaba. Mientras tanto, los pantalones se deslizaron un poco más abajo, provocado por un enérgico retorcimiento intermedio de la parte inferior del cuerpo de la estudiante, forzando la bajada de los vaqueros con una sola mano. Así preparada y mientras Burdon gritaba "hazlo de nuevo, ya sientes algo", ella estaba irremediablemente deseosa de sentir lo que ocurría mientras tanto en los muslos y entre ellos.
Como si no fuera ella misma sino otra persona la que hiciera todo esto, el dedo corazón no lo exploró inmediatamente, sino que primero se colocó con mucho cuidado exactamente en el lugar del que sabía que sólo tendría que presionar una vez con firmeza para alcanzar rápidamente una cierta altura con la alumna.
Pero el dedo no le hizo este favor, sino que se agitó, como si esto no fuera de su incumbencia, un poco en la colina. Actuando como si sólo fuera a hacer una breve visita relámpago y, por desgracia, pronto tuviera que volver a despedirse.
Ahí no hay nada! El estudiante ordenó al dedo que se quedara un poco más. Al principio, actuó como si lo pensara y se retiró un poco, como si tuviera una conciencia leve pero no culpable.
"¿Tengo que suplicar primero?", se preguntó interiormente el alumno, ligeramente molesto. Esto tentó al dedo a volver al lugar y ah... sin que ella se diera cuenta, a actuar allí una vez con un poco más de presión.
Su recompensa fue un gran placer. Así, animado, se aventuró a seguir avanzando. ¿Sería suficiente para penetrar hasta las profundidades? Tras un momento de reflexión, quiso seguir este pensamiento. En ese momento, Eric Burdon terminó. Irritados, ambos se detuvieron.
Privado de estos sonidos,
el estudiante pudo escuchar ahora fuerte y claramente algo más: el sonido del amor entre el hombre y la mujer.
"Mejor", pensó ella, y volvió a acomodarse en su silla. Sin más persuasión, se entregó al dedo, que ahora ya no insistía en tácticas dilatorias y encontró su camino directamente: por supuesto, hacía tiempo que estaba resbaladizo y muy caliente allí.
Se acomodó allí con gusto y condujo, a veces en esta dirección, a veces en aquella, y en círculos, invitando a la otra mano a llegar más abajo, a colocarse sobre ella y proporcionar una firme fricción allí. Cualquier tensión se escapaba del cuerpo de la estudiante, sus piernas se doblaban hacia los lados y se imaginaba cómo algo se apoderaba de ella, prohibiéndose a sí misma cualquier mojigatería, y finalmente llegaba como un viento caliente del desierto que agitaba la arena con fuerza, para dejarla en hermosas y suaves ondas al sol.
Los apartamentos número cuatro y cinco, que estaban uno frente al otro, se abrieron simultáneamente.
Desde una de las puertas, un hombre de unos cuarenta años miraba desconcertado el rostro de la mujer de enfrente. Ambos habían querido bajar corriendo, aún sin saber qué hacer, simplemente porque no podían aguantar más dentro.
Pero ahora, en lugar de salir por la puerta, la mujer miró a su vecino. Tal vez por primera vez, se miraron y supieron que ambas intentaban seguir la misma necesidad. Ella: casada. Él: divorciado.
Con un gesto algo torpe, el bolso balanceándose precariamente en su brazo, ella señaló con la cabeza la puerta abierta de su apartamento. Él: miró a su alrededor, sabiendo que le estaba pidiendo que la invitara a entrar.
Con voz entrecortada dijo: "¿Tienes algo de beber en casa?". Él abrió la puerta de par en par y le hizo un gesto para que entrara. "Sí", fue todo lo que dijo, "¿y tu marido no viene hoy a casa?". Entonces la puerta se cerró con un golpe detrás de ellos.
Los restantes inquilinos se acomodaron -solos o en parejas, según su gusto- en sus refugios de tal manera que siempre se encontraban desnudos y sudorosos unos frente a otros.
En breve, la casa languidecía y susurraba por todos sus poros
y cada vez más gente, que caminaba por la calle por casualidad o con un objetivo muy concreto, se vio embargada por la energía.
De repente, todos parecían tener una prisa especial, pero algunos empezaron inmediatamente a coquetear en el acto, conociéndose en la acera.
Abajo, en la pizzería,
el dueño se puso delante de la puerta y enseguida sorprendió a una joven pareja que empujaba una bicicleta, que acababa de presentarse por su nombre, les puso dos vasos en la mano y les habló en un rápido italiano, mientras él les quitaba las bicicletas y las dejaba descuidadamente contra la pared.
Así sorprendidos, los dos se dejaron arrastrar al restaurante, donde el dueño del local les sirvió magnánimamente Sambucca flameante y los miró con picardía.
En algún momento de la noche, el hombre y la mujer que se habían tropezado antes también regresaron, y mientras ella seguía buscando una excusa para estar allí, él dijo: "Me llamo Falk, por favor, vuelve a tropezar conmigo".
Todas estas personas supusieron que habían sucumbido a un cierto capricho que podría acabarse mañana.
Así que comieron de los frigoríficos, se alimentaron con lo más selecto de las despensas,
descorcharon los mejores vinos y dejaron que el champán hiciera espuma. Lo que no se tenía en casa, se tomaba prestado sin más en la casa de al lado, donde hombres como mujeres con el pelo despeinado le abrían a uno las puertas con sábanas envueltas, le entregaban lo que necesitaba o incluso le tendían sin más un vaso lleno y le hacían un gesto casual para que entrara.
Mientras tanto, las casas de vecinos habían empezado a mezclarse entre sí, gente ligera de ropa, jóvenes y mayores, paseaban por la avenida y el círculo mágico seguía extendiéndose.
Había surgido una especie de fiesta callejera, todas las casas estaban abiertas de par en par y la gente se divertía ahora libremente.
A estas alturas, la pareja que había contribuido a desencadenar todo esto estaba de pie en el balcón -el único que no tenía un tendedero lleno- contemplando fascinada el paisaje.
"¡Mira, se ha hecho realidad!", exclamó ella con brillante entusiasmo, inclinándose y haciendo llover besos. Desde abajo, unos dedos les amenazaron en broma y la gente se rió: "¡Cuidado, que también estamos a punto de visitaros!"
Ella y el hombre se abrazaron, pensando que eran los únicos responsables de este fenómeno.
Después de intercambiar un sincero beso, el hombre miró al cielo estrellado y escuchó un resplandor que parecía extenderse por toda la tierra.
Dio un codazo a su amante y le indicó que mirara hacia arriba.
En el cielo nocturno, las estrellas individuales destacaban de repente con nuevos colores. Ellas, que de otro modo brillaban en frío plateado, se excitaban en ardiente rojo y verde y azul. Parecía como si los juegos de amor de todos los pueblos que se querían, alemanes, rusos, brasileños y japoneses, africanos y yakutos, americanos y holandeses, hubieran quedado atrapados en una corriente de energía que ahora cubría la esfera sobre el planeta y enviaba mensajes al cosmos.
De repente, todo se había olvidado y el amor se había apoderado de la Tierra.
Esta es mi participación en este concurso. Muchas gracias por la oportunidad!
Todas las fotografías son mías.
El texto fue escrito originalmente en alemán, luego traducido al inglés y del inglés al español con la ayuda de deepl.com. No tengo ni idea de en qué parte de esa traducción se han perdido algunos de los significados o han sido interpretados de forma inadecuada por la "máquina traductora". Si también hablas español e inglés, por favor, dame un comentario si encuentras alguna expresión incómoda.
This is a great story @erh.germany!
I love how the couple who ignited everyone's passionate lust just didn't care who could hear :D
In western culture it's treated as such a secretive tabooish , not to be spoken of thing that doesn't exist if no one brings it up... haha, it causes many people to try to be quiet and have wimpy uncomfortable sounding sex that leaves others feeling uncomfortable and sorry for those sad squeeching souls. I would rather prefer to hear a stampede of orgasmic throes, because that's way more exciting.
I had a neighbor tell me to quiet it down once lol. I told her to give me a heads up if there's any children in the house, but as far as I know it's only adults that live there, so I told her I would not.
I think most everyone has heard some neighbors banging at some point in their lives, unless maybe living a very sheltered or secluded life.
This had me laughing so hard! You certainly know how to come up with the most creative humour that comes out of nowhere and stuns the reader with comedic jubilation.
I think I laughed even harder at this line. 😂
I was thinking a kind of street orgy! lol
With all of the craziness happening, the undertone here is a beautiful one, and hopefully humans will start to shift into a more positive collective state filled with love, kindness, and empathy for others.
Thank you for the wonderful story, I always enjoy your masterpieces! 🤗
Thank you for these encouraging words and I am of course delighted that you are more the street-orgies type than the other way round. HaHa!
I am convinced that man is a loving and sexually permissive being, if only he would let himself. But it's probably all a question of timing. People who have to work don't like it so much when others are having sex, and so it is probably that we understand and envy those dancing and drumming by the fire so well when they celebrate their lusts and rituals all together, where no one from the village would think of going to work while singing and dancing of all things.
The missing dimension of community that grants one the simultaneity of events is probably one of the reasons why people are reluctant to produce sounds in modern homes.
So here's to the opening of clubs and discos that sought to create this simultaneity in experience for people, I wouldn't have known what to do with myself in the young years of my disco pilgrimage. All other festivities included. Where people are forbidden to celebrate (or even to mourn together), it will take hold in frustration in all the repressed cells and want to emerge all the angrier. Pornography, for example, is mentioned as one such repressed sexual need.
In my view, it is easier for children to notice how adults make love without making a big issue of it. Just like when you don't lock the toilets, but nudity is something normal among the elderly. Every physical need, including burping and farting, which is suppressed in the long term, leads not only to the proverbial stomach ache, but also to emotional distress, because one is denying oneself love.
I'm so glad some of the passages made you tear up with laughter! I was so hoping this would happen!
Yah, you also prefer it to be real, :D
What is perceived as unpleasant in oneself through the sounds of other people having sex is of course not something that the others may be blamed for. People confuse cause and effect. For example, their annoyance with the smacking and slurping at the table does not come from the smackers and slurpers, but from themselves. By forbidding oneself to smack, slurp and enjoy loudly, and the feeling of dislike that is immediately due as a result arises (towards oneself), one wants to somehow get rid of this dislike, but confuses the groaner, sigher and smacker with the cause of this discomfort.
While the smacker (burper, farter etc.) , who otherwise also forbids himself several other liberties, may have just saved one bit of permissiveness for himself. That's why people become really angry when you want to take away that last resort of bodily expression from them. LOL
Thank you so much for adding here to the LOVE-atmosphere! :)
Hello my friend @erh.germany!
Thank you for the reply here, you never fail to impress with the depth to your insight.
I never even considered this aspect before, and it makes a lot of sense to me. We're a tribal species at our core with a primal sense for the state of others around us. It's interesting to note how "intuitive" senses of people around us are considered "not" a reliable source of information for communication. Modern psychology uses models to suppress this kind of thinking in therapy as well, through "statistical evaluation" LOL.
In CPT Cognitive Processing Therapy, intuitive based reactions are called "stuck points", in which the person who trusts their instincts is taught to devalue their instincts by measuring the likeliness of certain occurrences. It's a subtle way to change/manipulate/brainwash perception, and this is only one example of plenty that are embedded into society.
Another great insight that I've never considered before and it makes perfect sense! Furthermore, it's common for people to go a bit overboard with their weekend clubbing, but in this sense I only mean with the use of intoxicating chemicals. There's no way to go overboard with having fun otherwise right? lol
This to me, would be an indicator that humanity is in a slavery state and people work too many hours. Some who work insanely long hours might argue that there is nothing wrong with working 12 hours a day, but they may be suffering from some kind of stockholm syndrome, in that they willfully refuse to see the proverbial shackles which bind them and limit their freedom and time for enjoyment, and choose to defend their slavery as being a good thing.
This is a topic that comes with some extreme polarizations in how people see it. Modern culture demonizes all of these natural bodily functions, (in a public sense) to create feelings of shame, guilt, secretiveness, and disconnectedness to others. No one has a better sense of what is appropriate for what their children should be exposed to or not exposed to than the parents, but yet parents will send their children to public schools with complete strangers as teachers to give their children the intimate insights of life. It amazes me that people are still not aware of how messed up this cultural model really is.
Yes! Couldn't agree more with this. In my opinion, hearing some healthy sex should sexually excite the person hearing it, end of story :)
Thank you for the LOVEly response! :-D
I need to read your answer again in depth. So I will come back to you :)
May love take possession soon! Lovely fantasy.
:)