Belgian girls have such beautiful curvy figures

Belgian girls have such beautiful, curvy figures. I would love to do something with a Brussels girl. But all I ever meet of course are the floozies of Romania, Albania, Brazil, Bulgaria etc. Belgian girls have become something of a fantasy figure to me.
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In this hot blazing weather the curvy nubile young girls of Brussels are absolutely gobsmacking

In this hot blazing weather, the curvy nubile young girls of Brussels are absolutely gobsmacking. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again (my writing has been repeating itself for the past 10 years)—the men of Brussels don’t know how lucky they are. Honestly, if for any reason my company offered me a position in Brussels, I would take it like a shot. The girls of Brussels are so much more beautiful than any other city I’ve been to. Whether it’s the white Belgian girls of Brussels, or the black Congolese-descended girls of Brussels, or the olive skin Moroccan girls of Brussels. They are all extraordinary.

Now the voluptuous nubile girls of Brussels are really starting to show their faces (their buttocks)

Now the voluptuous nubile girls of Brussels are really starting to show their faces (their buttocks). Amazing. They are ALL so curvy. Full, voluptuous thighs & buttocks. They eat well here, these girls; they do not starve themselves to look like stick insects. Bravo madames. Mes jeunes filles.

The last leg of this journey from Koln back to Brussels feels ridiculously blissfully quick after all these long train journeys across Europe

The last leg of this journey from Koln back to Brussels feels ridiculously, blissfully quick after all these long train journeys across Europe. Just saw more sexy girls on the platform at Liege than I did in my entire stay in Berlin. I love Belgian girls. Three Belgian policemen just checked all our passports between Aachen and Liege.

I either stay here in L’Orient Express the whole time then go back to the station and get my train to Koln/Berlin or I leave here for a couple of beers in Le Coin

I either stay here in L’Orient Express the whole time then go back to the station and get my train to Koln/Berlin, or I leave here for a couple of beers in Le Coin then come back. Oh I would love to have one of these young, busty, nubile curvy Belgian girls one day. Frankly my chance has gone. Camilla’s “I’m 21” still haunts me. The great miracle of my life—I’ve never seen a traffic accident in Brussels. The most f—ked up traffic of any city I have ever been to, I cannot believe I have never seen a collision between vehicles. This ice cold Jupiler is slipping down ridiculously easily, I don’t think I will be going anywhere else. Pissed as a newt I’ll board the train for Berlin, and arrive like a pickled onion 8 hours from now.

I know I’ve said it before but it bears repeating: I would love to marry a Belgian girl one day, if she would have me, and didn’t mind the huge age difference

I know I’ve said it before but it bears repeating: I would love to marry a Belgian girl one day, if she would have me, and didn’t mind the huge age difference. Girls like older men, and they like taller men: I read it in the paper this morning. It is scientific fact. And I do agree, I only fancy shorter women. I have never found a tall woman attractive, even if she is still not as tall as me. Something very sexy about short women. Curvy, short women. Another reason why I despise women in high heels. Pointless! Pointless! Where did they get this bizarre idea that it makes them look sexier, more attractive to men? The opposite is true! When strippers take off their high heels, wait for their next turn in their flat little ballet pumps, they look so much more sexy. I know what I am talking about. I am an expert.

You see all these girls on the street

You see all these girls on the street, then you go to the strip clubs of Brussels and don’t see anything like them. Only skinny Eastern European bags of bones. If only the beautiful Belgian/Moroccan girls would dance. That would be the greatest strip club in the world, bar none. They don’t stop, from left to right, north to south, east to west; they come at me from every direction, like being slashed with razor blades.