Paul's Place ...❗⭕❗⭕❗ ⭕ ❗ ⭕
 
Welcome...
◀️ (kLik the piC)
This aggregation of stories,
lampoons and irreverent points of view...
occasionally make sense.
Have fun.



You deserve some pancakes.
(* ©April 2018-20 December Paul P. )
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My Private Mail Box 📌
Posted:Jul 12, 2018 9:41 am
Last Updated:Dec 1, 2020 5:51 pm
379393 Views
My Private Mail Box 📩...
Do you have something to share? Send me a private message.
🍸 ☕
(kLik the Ram)
0 Comments , 77 Pending
Do All Women Have This Super Power... Over Men... 🤔❗
Posted:Dec 1, 2020 11:01 am
Last Updated:Dec 2, 2020 3:14 am
246 Views
They sat at the kitchen table - two women and Dan. Their goal was to map a lucrative business deal that required another man's blessing. That man will soon fall prey to the sublime influence only a passionate female can provide.

Sex has a way of inspiring desired results, doesn't it?

Dan's lady sipped red wine and asked the other woman what her plan was.

"I'm gonna fuck that guy's brains out 'til he's convinced our idea will work," she chuckled.

"No! What you're going to do - is seduce him," chimed Dan's lady in a sultry tone, "there's a difference."

Dan's smile was wide as his lady winked and began her disquisition.

"Wear your sexiest panties and weave like a stripper. Lean in close to his ear and whisper with warm breaths; tell him how horny and wet you are. As you take off his clothes, pause when he's inches from your open mouth; he'll twitch when you're doing it right."

Dan gazed at his lady's lips as she continued.

"Make sure to tell him how big he is and how you've never had larger and how you love how he feels, throbbing inside of you. Then you'll arch the nape of your back and twist your head, so he knows that he's about to make you come. When you moan, sound like that first time you ever had an orgasm."

His throat parched, Dan reached for his drink and listened.

"Afterwards, you'll drape your thigh over him and nuzzle your cheek onto his chest. Then tell him that story about your parent's summer cottage and how you'd hide in the boathouse by the lake during thunderstorms and dream - of what it would be like to share your bed with a man. And you'll confess that you've never told this tale to anyone before."

Dan raised his eyebrows as if he'd once heard a similar anecdote.

"In the morning, you'll snuggle up to him, all warm and doe-eyed and slightly confused. And you'll admit you had the most memorable night of your life. Look into his eyes and squeeze out a tear; he'll love your honesty. And that's it - he'll be all yours."

Dan's once broad smile had waned - a bit - as he stared at his lady and blinked. Content with her lecture, she grinned and reached for her wine. The other woman sat silently, absorbing the minutia of her task - then spoke.

"But I still fuck his brains out, right?"

"Hell yeah!" Dan's lady beamed from ear to ear, "Always fuck their brains out when you want something from them!"

..................................
24 Comments
How To Disturb Shit On A Quality Sex Site...AND Get Away With It... 😊
Posted:Nov 24, 2020 11:12 am
Last Updated:Dec 1, 2020 12:56 pm
1792 Views
How would you disturb shit on a quality sex site and get away with it? And why would you do it? What a conundrum! Of course, I wasn't implying anyone detonates a point of view here; I DID say, 'quality website'.

FrankeeZee and I were commiserating on the phone the other day when the topic came up. Frankee is a top blogger - a member of another sex site - and shared with me some of his recent trials and tribulations.

"So this witch calls me a 'flaming bassist'; for fuck's sake - everyone knows I play the saxophone. She faked a phantom link and quoted herself babbling. What do you expect from a self-proclaimed princess who wears a plastic crown and doles out free bridge tokens to the insolvent? What decade did those trinkets become obsolete?"

I listened with amused interest as Frankee continued his rant.

"Yeah... then this one fucktard - who prances about wearing a silk jupe - had the balls to call me a 'raging workaholic'; I'm semi-retired. Get this, he's engraved his business cards with the motto - 'Yank my digit'. The irony is, rumors, he's an ex Boy Scout Leader or Priest or something like that. I thought those guys were supposed to fucking practise discretion?"

"You're making that stuff up," I interjected while laughing, "I don't know why you're getting so upset, Frankee. They're just vilipended words spewed by people who don't know you. Why bother? And how did you get yourself into THAT position? Ya musta said something ta piss them off."

"Paul, it doesn't take much. The sex site I'm on is filled with needy, judgemental people who have peripheral lives and a scant sense of humour."

"Really? I think you're being too harsh, Frankee. People are on your site for amusement, just like those over here. What happened to the thick-skinned, 'happy go lucky' FrankeeZee I used to know."

"Damn it, Paul, it's that fucking virus; it's zapping the strength outta me. It's making me crazy; I'm bored."

"I'm not going to disagree with you, Frankee, but it'll all get back to normal one day. Hang in there," I tried to sound reassuring, "So whatcha gonna do?"

"Nothing at all, Paul. I'm just venting. Now, if I had a friend...someone who had zero to lose, someone like you, for instance? Paul, get a membership on my site, log on and blast those assholes for me. What's the worst that can happen - they ban you for a day or two?"

I'm not about to pursue Frankee's suggestion... and he'll probably calm down. Imagine me, strutting into that plethora of parasites? EVERYONE is entitled to an opinion. After all, these sex sites are just for fun.

And everyone has their definition, of what shits and giggles are - right?

.............................
How to draw a fricken sheep.
44 Comments
How to Have Fun With Queens... Rope and Naked Games... 😮
Posted:Nov 18, 2020 10:27 am
Last Updated:Nov 25, 2020 1:29 am
2642 Views
"Bishop to Queen's Rook 4... checkmate," I declared while smiling at her.

Lynn looked at the chessboard, grinned and blinked. Several seconds passed before she finally tipped her King over and surrendered. She stood up and pushed her chair aside.

Provocatively she turned her back to me and playfully plunged her thumbs onto the sides of her white lace panties and then, gently tugged them down her thighs and along her legs.  She angled her supple body until she was finally completely bent over. Revealing all of herself to me, she then flicked her panties off with her fingers and toes.

I stared, mesmerized and swore I saw something between her legs had twitched. She twirled around and faced me.

"Why am I the only one who's naked, Paul? What other rules are there in this game of yours?" Lynn giggled.

I thought for a second.

"Spin around again. I want to see you in this light."

Lynn obeyed and turned clockwise, her arms by her sides. 

"Wait. Stop right there and don't move. Don't move a muscle!"

Her back was towards me once again. I stood up from my chair, took two steps and reached for her. My hands met her silky thighs, traced curved outlines on her hips then delicately brushed across her velvet belly. My fingers lingered, then slipped and fell between her legs and came to rest, just above a place where I knew she loved to be touched and tickled. I could feel her heat.

She arched her neck to her left and read my mind - as my lips met hers with a passionate kiss. As our mouths parted, she quickly spun to face me and began fumbling with the belt on my pants. I seized both her wrists and held them steady.

"No Lynn! We'll play the rest of this game in the bedroom. Go, I'll be right there," I kissed and released her. 

Lynn paused - momentarily disappointed - then gleefully ran towards the bedroom.

"Do I get the handcuffs or are we going to use the ropes this time?" she shouted from down the hall.

"Interesting query," I thought; I just wasn't sure. It was the toughest fucking question Lynn had asked me all day.

...................
37 Comments
How Mastering Levitation... Can Satisfy Amorous Women... ❤️❗
Posted:Oct 22, 2020 10:53 am
Last Updated:Nov 18, 2020 1:02 pm
8724 Views
Magic is real. How else could my uncle have found a nickel in my ear if it wasn't? Exactly! It must be, and I've been a fan of that mystical science ever since.

I was just a when Ed Sullivan's guest amazed me. I watched as that trickster put his scantily clad assistant in a box and sawed her in half. Then - while her toes wiggled from one end and she smiled and blinked from the other - he separated the box in two halves and rolled them apart. What, I thought. Eventually, he put her back together. My parents suggested a midget, and mirrors were his associates. I knew they'd lied.

Years later, I sat in awe and watched as David Copperfield made the Statue of Liberty disappear. I don't think midgets (or should I refer to them as little people ) were involved; cynics blamed a slowly revolving stage. I'm sure they were mistaken.

The most credible proof for my belief in wizards was when I watched a David Blaine TV special. He'd thrown a deck of cards into a plate glass window and had the Jack of Hearts materialize on the other side. Well, I was impressed.

But later on - when he levitated off the ground - I knew he was a TRUE wizard. He distinguished himself from all those other wire monkeys who'd cheated. He'd mastered levitation! YouTube tried to taint his talent by showing me how he'd done it. I found their explanation less than satisfying.

In any case, I realized - long ago - that I'm a bit of a magician as well. With just a raunchy thought or two, I can levitate. And if I ever need a 4-hour guarantee, there's this thing called Viagra that I can buy. Now that's levitation any woman would be satisfied with; if I was lucky enough to run into one with my zipper open.

Yep... Good magic is something else, isn't it? I'm sure there's some deception you've seen that has you stumped. Or perhaps you can tell me how the heck David Blaine did that card trick?

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39 Comments
A Sears Catalogue... And Secret Lives of Spurned Lovers... 😮❤️
Posted:Oct 15, 2020 11:47 am
Last Updated:Nov 20, 2020 7:58 am
11205 Views
I used to enjoy browsing the Sears catalogue. I'd glance at the pages and wonder which coffee table would define me? Could only one represent all of me?

Friends who'd visit would frown, but it was MY space, and I ignored their snotty appraisals. My style was more conformist when I'd go to work. I'd always make sure my belt matched my shoes, and my tie endorsed the shirt and suit I wore. That's a distinction we all share, isn't it?

Your public self isn't always your private you unless you decide to make it so.

Nobody at work knew that on weekends, I was committed to losing a portion of my hearing. Who'd guess that I was slamming a set of drums on a stage with three other crazies while building an ear-bleeding wall of sound?

Those good times and late nights wove themselves into a rhythmic expression of who I am. The hours near midnight? Now they were the most intriguing. People would inevitably morph into various shades of themselves.

She did.

We were playing a wedding in a hotel ballroom. They'd just rolled out the roast pig and buffet spread, and guests were having a great time. Others, already too drunk to dance, were slumped at their tables. Then there were the few who cried at every ballad we played. She was one of those - wrapped in a purple polyester dress and flowing tears.

Her long-time boyfriend had recently dumped her, and she was wallowing in self-pity. She wept her entire life story to me - in between sets. At one point, she leaned towards me and whispered;

"Let's go to my room and fuck."

Before I could reply, she excused herself and dashed into the bathroom to puke. Later, as the band packed up, she staggered out of the hall with a friend in hand and waved goodbye.

On the following Monday, I was shocked to see her again.

She was strutting up the hallway of the office tower I worked in. I did a double-take, and she stopped. She was wearing a designer business suit and carried herself as if she had a position with a title - and a private parking spot. She turned white as we shared an awkward silence. Finally, we traded a few words, and she continued walking to wherever she was going.

It's bizarre when someone's public image smacks into their private one, isn't it? Ever have one of those bumps? I never saw her after that.

Oh, and my eclectic coffee table? My wife got rid of it when she moved in. She said it was, 'A bohemian piece of shit.'

I thought it was a great place to keep my Sears catalogues. Someone still prints them, don't they?

.................................
50 Comments
Seven In a Row... Why and What The F**k is With the Number Seven?
Posted:Oct 11, 2020 3:09 pm
Last Updated:Nov 23, 2020 11:08 am
14139 Views
We all move in cycles of seconds, minutes, hours, and days and we ALL - knowingly or not - worship the number 7. It's imbedded into every fabric of our lives, even though we may not be aware of it.

" Reeeelee... " you ask me skeptically.

"Yepper," I reply with a smirk.

Let's summarize some important sevens on this planet.

7 dwarfs
7 oceans
7 continents
7 vertebrae in the neck
7 layers of skin
7 rolls in an ocean wave
7 colors in a rainbow
7 notes in sound
7 directions to choose
7 candles in the Menorah
7 holes in your head
7 days to create Earth
7 days in a week
7 dimensions
7 parts to the male body

Ya think I'm done? Not yet.

7 deadly sins
7 virtues
7 gifts of the Holy Spirit
7 classical planets
7 numbers in a N.A phone number after the area code
7 hills in Istanbul, Rome and Jerusalem
7 liberal arts
7 wonders of the ancient world
7 games in the playoffs for NHL, MLB and NBA

Can you think of any other sevens that might exist?

I can...
Seven blog posts in a row.

.................................
63 Comments
Is Sexual Fulfilment Through Turkey and Serotonin... A Real Possibility... 😎❗
Posted:Oct 7, 2020 10:55 am
Last Updated:Nov 20, 2020 10:24 am
16090 Views
On the edge of a thick and hazy summer day, dusk had begun to cloak the auburn sky. I headed south on that six-lane boulevard and braked for the light. Déjà vu brushed a nerve or two as I reached the intersection and rolled to a stop.

I couldn't help but notice, for an ordinarily busy street, it was uncommonly vacant. As I waited (out of nowhere), she pulled up beside me in her 'Town and Country' station wagon, signalled left and gently cut me off. I was relieved as she barely missed my car.

I was also intrigued to find anyone still driving a vehicle with faux wood glued to its sides. I cringed as the pretty woman with the big blond hair stubbornly persisted, inching nearer and nearer to my front bumper. I decided it was best if I got out and helped direct her. As I reached for my door handle, events unfolded in an even more peculiar manner.

My car died, and I couldn't restart it. Abandoning my ride, I stepped out and trudged over to her open window. On cue, the electricity suddenly shuddered to complete 'black'; a total planetary power failure? The blond-haired lady and I had become solitary shadow figures, framed in the faint glow of a cloudy moonlit eve. She looked at me and threw her arms up in confusion as if to say,

"What's going on here?"

I didn't have the time to reply. Brilliant coloured lights blazed in towards us - at streetlight height - then stopped and circled. Those pastel rainbow shades soothingly blinked and pulsed (just in front of us), right above that red stoplight, which had inexplicably lit up again. The blond-haired lady had already hopped out of her car.

Nuzzling her trembling body close to mine, she buried her head against my chest and stared at the dazzling lights. I put my arms under her silk hair, around her shoulders and tightly hugged her supple waist. We watched as those bright beams silently throbbed... and quivered. Our lips unwittingly touched as we both turned to each other to speak. I got the first words in.

"Damn, not this fucking alien stop light again?"

And the dream ends. I know, right? I get pissed off every time as well.

I'd love to be a part of the 'alternate ending'. There has to be a way to pump up one's serotonin levels and orchestrate your unconscious nightlife into some sort of polished symphony. Isn't there?

...............................
34 Comments
Some First Impressions... Can Scar You For Life😮❗
Posted:Sep 28, 2020 9:58 am
Last Updated:Nov 21, 2020 6:17 am
20723 Views
My very first impression of the creature was woven into a sturdy memory, when I was a tiny tyke of 5. Young enough to learn a lesson and old enough to never forget.

The cute furry thing nestled up to me clambered into my lap and began to purr. I petted that black ball of hair, and it purred even louder. I did what I thought was best and stroked harder; it hissed. I decided to lean into those long white whiskers and assure it that I was a friend. And BAM- therein bloomed that first indelible memory.

It was surgically etched into my cheek, narrowly missing my eye.

I barely recall the burning pain or my mother screaming as I walked into the kitchen. But I clearly remember all the blood. Damn, there was a lot of it dripping everywhere.

By the time my age and wisdom had doubled, I'd overcome my angst and had grown a thicker skin. Most importantly, I had acquired the technique on how to hold those felines - under their front shoulders - without fear of those nasty razors they brandished. Or so I thought.

On the day that shaggy stray tiptoed into my backyard, I hoped it might be friendly. It was, for a while. Arching its back while brushing against my legs, it gave me all the signs that it liked me - until it didn't and derisively spit. I determined (along with my buddies) that the best place for that critter - was in my neighbour's swimming pool.

"Do they swim?" was the question we posed.

Off we trudged across the street to that blue expanse of chlorinated water. As I dangled that placid furball over the deep end, that beast suddenly realized the predicament it was in. It's hind legs violently slashed, and in a flash, the veins in my arms poured out deep red blood.

Oh, and they DO swim.

Fast-forward to my teens and a New Year's Eve party at a friend's home. I never knew he harboured one. It was a surprise to me that if you have a severe allergy, a near-death asthma attack is the most convincing proof. It was the worst New Year I'd ever spend. You think these encounters were over? Not yet.

Years later, I met a woman who became my fiancee and my wife. You guessed it - she owned one. I was in love and thought I'd learn to adapt and compromise. Instead, I endured years of sneezing grief, and hairball hell.

Cats and I have braved a long savage history, lavishly illustrated with gushing plasma! These days I ignore them. Yet, I find it ironic that a frequent foe shares its name with that warm, wet and exciting variety I invariably seek.

That species - if you get close enough - is always friendly and playful. And I've never met a pussy that's ever scratched me.

Have you?

.........................
28 Comments
Can The Food You Eat... Ruin a Hot Date? 🤔 🔥
Posted:Sep 22, 2020 9:46 am
Last Updated:Sep 29, 2020 5:07 am
21984 Views
She wore a long flowing emerald dress and sat on a black leather couch. The apartment was broadly spaced and sparsely furnished. Glass windows were framed with sheer drapes, which barely hid shimmering towers as they loomed in. Slowly she slipped on her high-heeled shoes, rose from her seat and strode into the delicately glowing bedroom.

That's where he was.

Without a word, she lay down. He was kneeling on the floor - his dress pants impatiently creased - while he'd waited at the foot of the bed. Gently he removed her shoes as her head nestled into the silk pillowcase. Her eyes shut and she sighed as he caressed and massaged her feet.

Lovingly he deliberately kissed every one of her toes. He wrapped his mouth around them suckling each one individually. She smiled blissfully as she felt his warm wet lips glide onto her tiny digits.

The feeling - albeit a simple one - was indescribable. Have you ever revelled in it? There's a shudder created when performed to perfection.

She gasped as her own tongue flicked to dampen her trembling lips. A shiver greeted her as his hands soothed her ankles then ran up along her calves. Softly he barely brushed her thighs and continued upwards, tracing the outline of her leg. Her skin was electrified as ecstasy had quickly become a welcome companion.

She drew her arms to her sides to meet his fingers as they followed the curves she'd provided. Instinctively she spread her legs and raised her hips. She wasn't wearing any panties and he knew that.

The doorbell rang...

"Oh, NOT the fucking doorman," she hissed. She'd asked him to hold the delivery for them. The doorbell impatiently rang again.

"Sorry darling, I ordered sushi," she apologized.

"Really? I thought we'd agreed on ribs?" came his disappointed reply as he dislodged his mouth from her big toe and raised his head.

...............................
35 Comments
What Price Would You Pay... For Love... ❤️❗
Posted:Sep 15, 2020 8:54 am
Last Updated:Oct 10, 2020 5:41 am
23879 Views
Love exalts us into God's arms. It assuredly captures and captivates strangers' eyes. He felt all of them peering in, as she leaned forward, grasped the nape of his neck and kissed him.

After the party when they were safely back at his apartment, he brazenly took her. His fingers dug into her ass as he pulled her close. His tongue plunged into her throat as his other hand slipped up her skirt and brushed her moist spot. She moaned and returned his passion. With both hands, she unbuckled his pants and thrust her slender fingers around the rigid, smouldering heat between his legs.

Imagine how lust's hunger had been fed, for an hour or more. Imagine how each, had commanded the other. It's effortless, isn't it? Later, when she stood at his door he closed his eyes and kissed her slowly, adoringly. There were no passengers to witness his ardour this time.

She smiled and with a gentle twirl of her hair, left. A second later she knocked.

"I forgot my cell on your table."

He walked back into the room then returned with it and kissed her again.

As she sunk into the deep leather seats of the cab, her phone rang. It was him. She answered.

"I told you NEVER to call this number. Did you not understand? If you ever call me at this number again, it will be the last fucking time you ever see me. Understood?"

Then with a growl still painted on her lips, she hung up the phone.

Love does exalt us to God. But there's always a price to pay, for the counterfeit variety.

................................
44 Comments
An Intimate Companion... He Wished He.d Never Met... 😮❗🔥
Posted:Sep 10, 2020 9:54 am
Last Updated:Sep 16, 2020 7:40 pm
24213 Views
In a time long ago, on a land far away, she touched him.

Twas a slight brush of her shawl - a glancing caresses as she passed. His body shivered and trembled. He shuddered, wondering if she'd ever return. When he was much older, she did.

He lost his balance the day she appeared. Work on the farm was impossible - it was a feat just to walk or sit. He persevered with the resolve he had. He gritted his teeth with the determination he hoped would satisfy her. She persisted.

When she'd press herself up against him, he felt an ache. It was a punishing, throbbing misery - paralyzing every fibre of his soul. To confirm her control, she besieged him relentlessly. With a sharp squeeze of her fingers, he'd suddenly see vivid stars and shut his eyes. She wasn't done.

He sought everything, anything, anyone... in an effort to elude her. There was nowhere to hide. There was no sleep... imagine if you can. There were no moments in the day or night when he didn't feel her nestled up beside him. She was always with him, clinging and draining hope from his heart.

Her cruelty bore no boundaries as he prayed for relief. She'd mock him with a fire so hot, he wanted to rip the melting skin off his body - just for a moment or a few seconds reprieve. Exhausted, he finally begged and bargained for clemency.

She laughed derisively as tears streamed down from his bleeding eyes. Wielding more of her sharp thorns, she thrashed him until finally... he surrendered, sobbing.

He was ready. If God had touched his hand, he would have eagerly grasped it and followed.

And then... she was gone.

He blinked. He could barely believe it. He hardly understood his good fortune, nor could he explain it.

"Truly beholding and blessed am I. Words, cannot describe how I feel now," he whispered breathlessly to a dark and empty room.

That merciless companion he'd known intimately, for far too long had left him and moved on.

She's not shy. That sorceress proudly keeps the same name, right up to this very day. Some of us might have met her. None of us, want to know her.

.............................
20 Comments
How Long Does It Take… For a Maid To Bring Fresh Towels …❗🤔
Posted:Sep 1, 2020 12:01 pm
Last Updated:Sep 12, 2020 12:53 pm
27893 Views
She slid the hotel key card in the slot, pulled the polished brass handle up and stepped into the darkened room. She paused - adjusting to the gloom - then spotted the shadow sitting in a chair. She strutted across the capacious space and spoke.

“I want to see the view. Where’s the remote?”

The man in the chair nodded toward the coffee table. Motors soon hummed as a half dozen burgundy curtains parted to reveal broad lengths of floor to ceiling glass. They were perched high above the city, facing a steel and mirrored monolith nearby. Brilliant sunlight instantly beamed in and bounced off ivory walls and black marble floors. She turned to him and met his ravenous eyes.

He was naked - his hands and feet handcuffed to the high-back wooden chair. Her heels clicked a hypnotic rhythm as she circled him. She leaned forward and let him inhale her scent. Her crimson lips held back just far enough to let him feel their heat. She watched and smiled as his cock twitched. Then she stood aside.

She took off her short dress and flung it on a nearby couch. His pupils grew wide as he watched her unclasp her lace bra and slip out of her white panties. She approached him again.

With the softest of touches, she traced a path with her nails from his chest, down his stomach, along his thighs and to that spot he wanted her to touch. It twitched again as her warm fingers clasped his throbbing appendage. It hadn’t been 5 minutes and he was already wet with desire. She smirked when she whispered in his ear.

“Do you think you can last ten minutes? I’ll make sure you’ll be begging me, an hour from now.”

He accepted that he was hers to command. The deep ache he felt worsened as she straddled him, grabbed his cock and stroked it. His head flung backward in the chair as he moaned. And as he did, she released her digits and laughed again. This would be the persecution he could expect from her. She’d bring him closer and closer, encouraging his desperate, acquiescent whimpers before she’d let him cum. His legs were already trembling and he’d begun to pant.

Sometime later, she finally released him from his inflamed sensual agony. He groaned and moaned loudly in grateful spasms. And eventually, he sat spent… breathing as if he’d just run a sprint.

She walked to the couch, slipped on her clothes and turned to him.

“Don’t get up,” she spoke facetiously while giggling; “I noticed that you left it in the black leather billfold on the table by the door.”

Wait. Hold on a second. The keys to the handcuffs are in the kitchen,” he called to her.

“Oh, I’ll let room service know that you need fresh towels. She’ll find those keys for you. Can you wait that long?”

Without another word she walked toward the table at the door, picked up the billfold and left. The only sounds were of his breathing as it grew louder and quicker. A thought formed in his head as he squirmed impatiently in his seat, “How long does it take for a maid to bring fresh towels?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Are you patient and think it’s an asset or do you think having patience is over-rated?
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34 Comments

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