Have you ever heard of Slutwalks? You gotta try it out man, especially if you like being around fat white sluts like I do. These dimes won’t admit it, but the truth is that Slutwalks are really just Fat-Acceptance
opportunities spectacles disguised as feminist activism. But hey, you know I’m super down with that. They’ll try to say specifically that they’re protesting against this whole notion that provocative dress invites RAPISTS. When they talk, I just nod my head, “okay whatever baby, that makes sense.” Seriously, It isn’t like walking around in the hood with stacks of money hangin’ out your pocket invites muggers, cause that’s way different.
Believe it or not I’ve attended a few of these Slutwalk marches because I
love fat sluts sympathize with the core principle of their movement: Overweight white women shouldn’t feel ashamed of looking and acting like fat sluts, they should flaunt it! They should feel encouraged and empowered to let their beefy muffin-tops and cottage cheese asses sag freely and openly. That’s why they got my fucking support. Amen.
Not too long ago I was in Toronto for a SlutWalk march, and boy was I surprised at the sheer size, density, and thickness of all the fat Slutwalker buffalo-bitches stampeding through the city. I couldn’t wait to join the crowd.
Luckily I brought my sunglasses with me, because I recognized many of the BBWs from Craigslist personal ads I had responded to in the past. Many of them were past bangs, and I didn’t want them to recognize me; damn It really is a small world after all. Anyway, as the march went on, the women started chanting and yelling louder and louder. All of the sudden the crowd of thick, sweaty bodies started to clump together all around me, squeezing me in. With all that these thick walls of soft flesh around, my boner got more and more stiff, which subsequently became harder to conceal. One BBW felt the tip of my junk on her trunk and turned around to see what it was, but I played it cool, pretending my hand was in my pocket.
It didn’t help that I kept bumping into her ass with my stiff cock: the jig was up. She gave me a funny look. I tried apologizing to her, “Baby, excuse me” but she snarled at me and turned away, releasing a rancid angry-fart out of spite. My boner got even harder. That’s when I knew I had to improvise a way to prevent another accidental bump with my junk, or else the whole crowd of Slutwalkers would turn on me. So I took the sign I had and held it over my crotch as a barrier. Then I unzipped my pants and let my cock hang loose while I stroked it like a ninja, or just some Secret Negro Agent 007 shit. Ultimately masturbating helped reduce my boner so I could act more normal. Despite having so many fat white bitches up close, squishing me in, I was busting all kinds of nuts with maximum stealth. Dozens in truth. It was a long march.
As the march was coming to a close, I left early and headed for my food truck, then drove it up to the horde of hungry Slutwalkers. A long line of fine looking sluts formed at the side of my truck, with their eyes were lit. All the sudden I went from being a random black dude in a white-feminist-march to feeling like a hiphop star with white groupies. I was killing two birds with one stone. As I say, “Make some dough, bang some dough.” That’s my motto. I even had a special offer for big sluts that signed up for my free dessert membership plan — which was actually just a cleverly disguised sexual-consent form. Shout out to my lawyer!
In conclusion, when it comes to RAPE, BBWs secretly love rapists and stalkers. On top of that, since when does any woman consent with a “yes” for a pussy pounding? She can’t even say “yes” or “no”, just “mmmm mmmm” when she’s got that whole 9 inches of Nigel’s snicker bar rammed down her turkey-necked throat.
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