“If you hang up this fucking phone I am going to kill myself. Go ahead. Try and hanG up and I will be dead!” 

When I first heard a woman say that to me, my heart sanked into my stomach. It felt like I was being chased by Michael Myers while he held a jar of bees in one hand, and a jar of memories from my pass I tried to black out with weed in another hand that was shook up like a can of Pepsi ready to explode back in my brain. I had no idea what to do when she said that shit but wait. Wait until she was okay no matter how long it took for her to settle down. What was I going to do? If I hung up I would have a dead white girl on my hand. Being black with dead white around never ends up well for David Sterling’s favorite race. I didn’t want her to be dead either due to crazy pussy at the time being a fan favorite. A REAL fan favorite for me on the same level as pasta, red lobster cheddar biscuits, and any time the WWF announced there was going to be a Bra and panties during their TV-MA era of TV. Something about crazy pussy just makes my Dick tingle and nipples twitch as if I found out Burger King would start to deliver food. For a big bastard as myself, this news would be better than that time my mother found out my father got another woman pregnant and slam dunked my-would-be-sister in the trash like he was doing a modern update version of “Brenda’s got a baby”. Bottom line is, I stayed on that phone and relationship for my cock, and the fact that hiding dead white girl’s bodies inside the back of my brain would take up too much room for my spank bank later. 

I felt trapped inside of a endless pink maze on top of pussy mountain without any GPS around to guide me back to the concrete, dirt, grass, and logical reality I was once living in filled with video games, books, wrestling, and just basically anything that was my interests before the great white shark in a pink dress came floating towards me smelling blood and fear mixed with testosterone inside of me. She knew this and tightly held onto my leash while her other hand played “Find the nut” with my penis wrapped around her little black fingernail polished hand. Her words were laced with poison inside of a ice cream cone filled with chocolate, vanilla, nuts and whip cream. A regular healthy diet was dead and buried six feet deep as my mouth and stomach replaced it with colorful sugar laced treats that could leave teeth comparing, or even worse surpassing Chris Rock from his 90’s movie role in  “New Jack City”. My penis was basally fucking a apple pie doing its best to finish the job that Jason Biggs started. The pie crust felt like I was floating on a waterbed made of thick Hershey chocolate that could match the skin tone of  Lupita Nyong. I was 12 years a slave whipped off this vanilla milkshake as my eardrums where sprinkled in glitter and sprayed in graffiti marks from past memories of some of the most vile, disgusting, nasty, and just plain and simple downright blue flame Lisa Lopez burning hot words she used to say during phone sex that I can never forget from her. Her moves in the bedroom had my mind acting as Netflix before there was a Netflix. Many options and movies I had left to finish or start invaded my brain to the point porn came second, until the led from pencil and ink from my blue pen became obliterated to dust from checking each box off my sexual bucket list from this human cocaine in the flesh woman. I was on a roller coaster to the deepest depths of hell high off pussy crack without any ounce of will power and strength to look back and stop the ride. 

Yes, this is how she made me feel. I wish I was smart enough back then to see what she was doing. It wasn’t about me it was about HER. HER only. It had nothing to do with REALLY pleasing me. I was the only person around that would put up with her fuckery at that time. Or, at least the only one that stayed after her mouth was babysitting another man’s kids inside until he throat became a fun slide at Six Flags. Yes, years later I found out this bitch was cheating on me while I was doing my best to make her happy. I was a damn fool to stay around but again, I was hooked to the chaos. She was one of the first crazy chicks that pushed the limitations of what I knew back then. I wasn’t “Red pill” as I am now so, the type of chicks I sought out were always the ones that basically gave me a chance. So when I got what her, I seen what else was out there and it blew my mind. It started I remember with a chick that wanted to pretend her father was walking in on us as we fucked. She wanted me to emasculate her pops as I continued fucking her like the little random cum swirler she was. She wanted me to make her dad seem like he had a bare pink pretty pussy, while his daughter was getting plowed by the evil alpha male. I, at first thought this was highly bizarre yet, my cock felt like it could Ray Rice a female Robocop with just one hit ad turn the bitch into scarp metal. Fast forward, and this chick I am talking about now was crazy 24/7. Not just with pussy but mind as well. Her manipulation game was on point and hard to shake. I was a rookie and thought this toxic relationship would never end. 

Fast forward again years later with much more wisdom, knowledge, experience, and very little patience for bullshit, I am quick to tell a broad to simply “Fuck off” and “kill yourself”. I am not about to deal with the same fuckery anymore as I use to do. I simply refuse to anymore. I could spot the signs a mile away and refuse to travel down that road forever. I say “forever” because, I will gladly stick my cock inside of a brain dead goofy loony tune bitch until her head spun around like a young Linda Blair to make my cock explode, and maybe fall off from the magical straight jacket pussy powers around my nut filled human Snicker bar. I will gladly have her mouth try its best to suck the skin of my cock until my toes broke from curling so much, until I leave a cum stain so big on her forehead it looks like I am staring at a human fingernail when it comes to white girl’s head. I will have sex with the bitch but, I am not about to play the blame game anymore as I was once would. If I hear a bitch say “I will kill myself” I would gladly tell her “What time will the funeral be? Let me know so I can squeeze you in before I bust a nut to one of your best friend’s Facebook photos”. I will not play the “I am a victim!” game anymore. Its a waste of time for me and my health. I now know that people that are REALLY suicidal aren’t going to constantly use it as a weapon for attention. Real people with issues as that will just say it once and do it. Not use it to keep a man or woman on string to have him chained to a pool full of pins and diseased filled needles just to watch him or her swim and suffer in pain JUST to have them around. Screw that noise.  

Whether you are a man or woman, if you feel like your boyfriend or girlfriend is doing this just for attention, its time to get the fuck out of dodge and tell that person to seek help or else it will just continue forever. I have been the dumbass that stayed around just to make sure I didn’t have a dead body on their hands. DON’T be that person. You will be able to tell if it is real or not after a certain point. If you and that person have history you will KNOW when they REALLY need help. If its not and its just a cry for attention and ego fulfillment, its time for you to get the fuck up and move on. Don’t waste your life on a punching bag that refuses to move themselves off that hook and stop being a plaything for life. One life to live. Don’t let it be dragged down slower by a person in a wheelchair with perfectly useful legs, unlike the Daryl Mitchell currently from the first “House Party” movie back in the day. He won’t be bumping into a table any time soon anymore. Don’t let a person in your life that still can act like they are trapped in that seat forever. 

Kill yourself. 


Categories: Motivation, Personal

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