At first yes, but gosh black guys just do it for me...
Real Experience - My first time
- Thread starter Samantha P
- Start date
At first yes, but gosh black guys just do it for me...
Why do blks do it for u?
@Samantha P i think there may be an East Coast/West Coast thing too...because there are a lot of non-black guys here in NY and Boston that are just as aggressive, hung and demanding of their sluts
but yes, id assume in Cali that black men tend to be aggressive because of the societal issues
but yes, id assume in Cali that black men tend to be aggressive because of the societal issues
I have no doubt these types of men exist in every color.... Just like the darkest ones personally
Thought I'd finish this off with a few finally words...
I'm thinking about sharing the immediate aftermath of what happened.
I'm thinking about sharing the immediate aftermath of what happened.
The flight home was easy, I slept the whole way and woke thinking maybe that was a dream, then realized how very very sore i was. Everything ached, my jaw, pussy, butt, breasts, my scalp, I had bruising everywhere even on my wrists from handcuffs. I couldn't think of sex for a couple of months after that. I had mixed emotions, got depressed, got medicated, dealt with it...and I'm here today changed. Better or worse I don't know. But I'm wiser, more experienced.
When I was 13 I fell and twisted my ankle in ballet while on stage at a school dance recital. I had practiced for months and was humiliated and embarrassed. Mom told me time heals most things and she's right. After a while my bruises faded, and the memory of DC seemed distant. Like it could have happened to someone else. I'd not replied to any of J's text messages, after 2 tries he just stopped anyway. Why would he bother? I was simply another conquest. But I had an itch, it was building into a bad one that needed scratching. What the heck was wrong with me? I had broken up with scott. Not like he had a chance of reaching that itch for me anyway.
Late one night my old habit returned, I found myself back in the same chat room just lurking quietly. Never engaging with those weirdos and losers with lame attempts to chat with me. I wondered if J would show and how I'd react if he did. A few nights later he turned up.
"You got my number girl....Why you shy? I know you addicted to that dark dick, nigg@s still talking about how you took all the fucking we handed out." I wanted to ignore him, and hated that I couldn't. I was kinda angry at how things went down. I reluctantly began chatting with him again, then pictures appeared.
In a private message he began showing me image. Harsh light, a familiar room, sweat glistening off dark skin, the blurred faces of men, tattoos that looked familiar and beneath it all a couple of pale legs sticking out. My pale legs. My ******* went cold.
He's never used those pics to threaten me, he never needed to. Come Spring Break I was practically begging him to fly me out, but he had other plans. He was coming to LA. But that's another story.
When I was 13 I fell and twisted my ankle in ballet while on stage at a school dance recital. I had practiced for months and was humiliated and embarrassed. Mom told me time heals most things and she's right. After a while my bruises faded, and the memory of DC seemed distant. Like it could have happened to someone else. I'd not replied to any of J's text messages, after 2 tries he just stopped anyway. Why would he bother? I was simply another conquest. But I had an itch, it was building into a bad one that needed scratching. What the heck was wrong with me? I had broken up with scott. Not like he had a chance of reaching that itch for me anyway.
Late one night my old habit returned, I found myself back in the same chat room just lurking quietly. Never engaging with those weirdos and losers with lame attempts to chat with me. I wondered if J would show and how I'd react if he did. A few nights later he turned up.
"You got my number girl....Why you shy? I know you addicted to that dark dick, nigg@s still talking about how you took all the fucking we handed out." I wanted to ignore him, and hated that I couldn't. I was kinda angry at how things went down. I reluctantly began chatting with him again, then pictures appeared.
In a private message he began showing me image. Harsh light, a familiar room, sweat glistening off dark skin, the blurred faces of men, tattoos that looked familiar and beneath it all a couple of pale legs sticking out. My pale legs. My ******* went cold.
He's never used those pics to threaten me, he never needed to. Come Spring Break I was practically begging him to fly me out, but he had other plans. He was coming to LA. But that's another story.
I was just kidding......
We good?Oh yeah we good.. I could feel better if you were with me right now...I was just kidding......
I'm gonna get carpal tunnel trying to make you guys happy...
@Samantha P I just want to say that you love the attention you are getting, but I need comment as a member of the Writers Guild of America, you know how to write a compelling and dramatic story. So stop the bellyaching, you know you are a good storyteller and just reveal the riveting conclusion to this epic tale.
If you were ever interested in turning this into a real publishable script or story, id be very interested to help.
If you were ever interested in turning this into a real publishable script or story, id be very interested to help.
You're fucking with me aren't you?
@Samantha P no im not. why do you think I am? you can PM me if you want.
Similar threads
