Take it, baby

A friend of mine invited me to a happy hour hosted by the
gaggle of women who write, edit and design a major psychological journal.  There have been many jokes and comments about
why the staff for this journal is 100% female, but I know the truth.  I know that they’re a cult of bloodthirsty
witches like in Suspiria.  So when the invite came down, my first
reaction was somewhat negative.

But my friend scored a date with one of these witches (one
of the finer ones, I might add), and he wanted another guy along so he wasn’t
outnumbered by whatever it is women talk about when they get together.  Phases of the moon and long black cocks.

Besides that, he also said it’d be good for me to socialize
with women because I needed to get a girl, settle down, stop filling the criteria
of a serial killer – 30-something, white, anti-social, sitting in the girl’s
bathroom stall wearing a skin mask and wielding a knife.  That’s fine, and I thanked him for such
thoughts, as long as I could fuck the girl he was dating, but then it came.  The old saw – “just be yourself Nacho.”  Okay, but that’s followed by, don’t act
crazy, don’t say crazy things, just be your usual nice self.

Once again, friendship demanded that I smile and cross my
hands and join in with all of the prayers.
I do it, too.  That’s what kills
me.  I do it almost subconsciously.  A desperate, automatic response, fighting
against every thought that comes to mind, every comment I want to make, every
radical reply to the stupid, petty, mewling comments made by the half-witted,
uninformed, culturally stunted people around me.

Which gets me back to long, black cock.

Lately, I’ve been downloading lots of porn.  In excess of a gig a day.  I’m doing this to supply my now constant
masturbation exercises.  Having become intimately
acquainted with the girls currently circulating in the industry I do, of
course, have favorites.  So I seek them
out and download their scenes into folders lovingly titled with their
names.  After my nightly meditation
session, where I have four vodka tonics and seriously wonder if I have a
malignant tumor, I then select which of my girlfriends will get an anal
creampie that night.

Every once in a while, though, one of my girls has a scene
with a black man, and that creates a personal crisis.  I’m seriously put off.  I don’t like to see my darling porn girls get
fucked by black men. There’s an almost primal reaction.  A wave of disapproval and the brief thought –
they’re stealing our women.  They’re
running away with our daughters!  On the
flipside, it’s okay for us to fuck black women because we, then, can even the
score.  But my grandfather says that they
don’t value their daughters as much as we value ours.  Of course, he thinks women should still dress
up like we’re in Victorian England (“Except without underwear – heh, heh,
heh…”).

This concerns me because I’ve prided myself on the fact
that I’ve evolved and moved beyond the racist trappings of my family.  I have come to accept the lesser, mongrel
races, unlike my grandparents.  After
all, we must live together, even if one of us was meant to serve the
other.  Okay, okay!  Just kidding.
I’m channeling my mother.
Seriously, and ironically, having been raised in a twisted, evil, broken
and dysfunctional household has helped me escape the burned-into-your-brain
racism that plagues so many families.

And I do thank my twisted, hateful upbringing.  The racism of my grandparents was tempered because
my mom believed that my grandfather was the devil and hid from him.  Now it doesn’t bother me because they’re old
and I don’t take anything they say or do seriously.  My mom, who was racist in her final days, was
never around, so I was raised by the TV, which loves all races.  Especially after the Cosby Show started making money.
And there was the black girl on Facts
of Life who turned me on something terrible.  Everybody loved her, right?  Deep crush.
Really, there’s nothing like being a latchkey kid, sitting in a house
all alone, eating Celeste pizzas, talking to myself, and rubbing myself
whenever that Facts of Life black
girl took up her second fiddle and suffered through the jokes of the main
stars.  She was also Arnold’s girlfriend in Diff’rent Strokes, right?

I advocate having latchkey kids so they don’t grow up as
fucked up as you are, you foul cunts.
Oh, no, don’t shake your heads.  I
know your secrets.  I know everything
about you.  The OG latchkey kids are all
in their 30’s now.  We’re going to rule
you one day soon and if you can’t hum both versions of the Magnum PI theme song, you’ll be first against the wall.  Quick!
Name the first generation Transformers.
QUICK!

Anyway, after believing that I am not racist, why does a
black man pounding away at one of my favored porn girls upset me so much?  In an attempt to provide some justification,
it’s an interesting fact that many porn stars usually avoid interracial scenes
because it cuts down on the real money they earn on the dancing circuit.  They’ll lose their southern fans if they have
too many interracial scenes under their belts.
That’s why lots of the 90’s girls rarely took on black men.  But, today, it’s becoming more common…which
might be a good thing.  The blacks have
broken through in porn after a 30 year struggle to do so.  They’re still a minority, and there are still
serious acceptance problems, but the whole worry about making money on the
dance circuit through the racist south has faded for the current generation of
girls.

Maybe I’m a holdover.
I’ve been conditioned to see white on white porn, or white on black
pussy!  Mmm… But the deeper concern that
I have some ball of racism hiding within my soul haunts me.

In response, I’ve been asking some serious questions.  Would I double team a girl with a black
man?  Would I fuck her in the ass while
he drilled her out and risk crossing the Great Boundary – touching a male
sexual organ while making a woman “airtight.”

Some of my nightly meditation sessions are not followed by
porn.  They focus on women I’ve met
during the day.  I’ve found it easier if
I use them to create such scenarios as above and I have successfully brought
myself to climax.  Therefore the answer –
and this is in theory – is that I would not have a problem.  The solution is simple, then.  I must download some good old ebony porn and
recondition myself.

I began with some of Aurora Snow’s work.  Aurora Snow is a 5 and a half foot, 115 pound
gonzo lunatic.  Her real name hints
towards good upbringing – Rebecca Claire Kensington – but one look at her
animal-like eyes confirms that she’s sold her soul to crack, pornography and
anal fisting.  Starring in well over 300
films since 2001, she’s one of those girls you know will be a ruined shell when
you meet her at the Wal-Mart checkout counter in 2018.  But you can reassure yourself that she has an
asshole the size of Spain.

Aurora
has done some wonderful scenes with black actors, and I settled in for a few
nights of watching that crazy little bitch take on giant, black cock.  I selected Aurora because her work is less arousing than
it is mesmerizing.  Most of her early
works makes you wonder if they had to take her to the hospital when the scene
was done. I’m able to watch hours of Aurora
without the traditional happy ending after 15 or 20 minutes, where I lie on my
back in bed and watch the floaters in my eyes move back and forth (which is one
of my favorite pastimes these days).

I believe I have made some progress towards overcoming my
porn racism.  As with all things, I will need
to continue my efforts to let go of these racist thoughts.  In the end, I shall overcome.