Or maybe not.
I'm cumming just looking at it. No. Seriously. My dick has skipped the filling up phase and moved straight to pre cum. If I think hard enough about this little slut in the cotton field with her stupid slut friend with all that Marge Simpsony colored skin calling me a nigg... Sorry. I got carried away.
Let's get right to it before you call the ACLU on me. Don't bother with the NAACP. My Black card was revoked years ago.
Why I Jerked To This
1. She's Cute: This isn't a duh moment. We jerk to anything that's cute. However, a large part of what I explain next is centered around this.
2. Innocence/Youth: At 20 this bitch isn't really that innocent but she's close enough. Her age is that of exploration, nonsense, and a lack of accountability. A woman at 30 has more than likely seen every MLK documentary produced and is not apt to say ridiculous things without thinking of the possibility of consequence.
Not these young hoes. They just stopped watching Seseame Street yesterday and their edgelord is itching to get out. That makes my dick extremely hard.
An older, more experienced woman calling me a nigger better know what it means and mean it when she says it with vile and vitriol so that when I choke the fuck out of her we both know why.
3. Contrast: Why points one and two matter all come from her saying the most racist thing she could think of at the time. She didn't say it to be mean. She, in all her stupid innocence, just wanted to be edgy and press the boundaries not unlike a child reaching for fire.
Let me give you a little backstory. Not on this cute Mexican cunt but on my kink. Working at a restaurant as a busboy I heard one of the other black guys messing the with waitstaff. One of the girls was a small, mouselike creature who barely spoke but often smoked. As he continued his commentary she had had enough and said...
"STOP BEING A NIGGER," then walked into the dining area. Every one stopped. I went. Straight to the bathroom. Because my erection betrayed my race. I could show no one. I spent about two minutes panting internally and splashing water in my face before I went back out. It took me years to figure out why this moment made me so hard. In fact it was the second event in my life that asked of me a big question that I had to take time to unravel.
This is why this blog exists. For you. Understanding why you do what you do, who you are and what makes you tick is a freedom afforded to few. Let this be you. There is something to be said about ignorance being bliss. Knowing what I know of myself now increases the amount of time I do things that I want to do and having the reasons behind them. I am happy there are places that accept this.
Unfortunately bitchassness will always prevail. My friend Andrew Hill asked what snitching was today. This faggotry...
...does NOT make me want to jerk off.
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