My books celebrate lady sex symbols, as I stand with them.
More than a dozen were put in Playboy just for me.
You can read more in my books.
They have more than seventy thousand downloads.
I write of the achievements of these awesome women—while I also describe their bodies, my fantasies, and the enemy’s attempts to use them—not to mention how the enemy strikes against us all, while some have become our martyrs.
You can read more in my first book, which you can download, for free, below.
You can read more in my second book, which you can download, for free, below.
You can read more in my third book, which you can download, for free, below.
There, I describe my experience at Phillips Academy, Andover, which, I am ashamed to say, for years, has admitted Bush Family Trash.
And I describe Jayne Mansfield, who although a millionaire, and a genius, in her own right, posed for Playboy.
As she was weaponized, Jayne was the mistress of both President and Senator Kennedy.
Like me, she connects to New Jersey.
And she connects to the satanic military.
So it’s no surprize to find her in the company of Bob Hope.
In my first book, I wrote about her picture, which took my imagination, at Andover.
At Quincy Market, near Faneuil Hall, I bought a single item: a post-card of Jayne Mansfield, kneeling on a light blue mattress, naked, on a brick patio, an unpainted wooden fence behind her, sunlight streaming through its planks, haloing her snowy hair. A scarlet towel covered the top of her leg, her navel, her womanhood, while her other leg lay bare, her soft round thigh, still muscly, culminating in the feminine curve of her hip. Jayne’s downy arms folded over her strong chest, barely concealing her rosy nipples, pushing up her magnificent tanlined breasts. Someone else might have envisioned her lying on the blue cushion of the chaise lounge, while he plundered her body, or upright on her strong square knees while she gave him the blowjob of his life; but I wanted her on my level, to raise her up, so we could be together. I dreamed of taking her hand, lifting the backyard goddess to stand, bare-chested, as her towel fell away. We stood, naked together, facing each other, softly breathing, my face caressing her neck, our arms downward, our fingers interlocked, while we made love.
Here’s the photo that inspired that little bit of literature.
Here she appears in what looks like an army base.
Before she joined the Church of Satan, Jayne’s husband worked for Army Signal Corps.
Army Signal Corps has morphed into Army Cyber Command, while this connects to Army Seventh Psychological Operations Group, and they work to control the platform on which you read this article—just as they controlled movies, magazines, and posters in the old days.
That connects to Air Force Intelligence, in Lackland, Langley, and Schriever.
You can read more in my books.
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Fighting Monarch 