Chinky-Eye-For-Black-Guys
Woman, 31y
31 years old, Woman
2.3k
~~~twisted realities~~~
V
V is for vain. I remember long ago I envied others. Envy and jealousy, jealous of their luscious locks and fit slender physique. Glaring at that nice swirling long blonde hair. I wondered to myself "how did they do it?" what was the trick to it? Was there a trick? So I began. Began to take some here and there. Began to take some. Some more and more and more. First I would sneak into their rooms late at night, then I would sneak in when no one was at home. Before a while I would just pop in by and just pull one of the shelf, off the drawer or off the night stand. It was easy. No pressure, no one watched. From time to time there would be questions here and there. Where did that go or where did I put it. Little did they know better because they had it all so they never thought deeper. Perhaps they never owned it or perhaps they had used all of it. Often I would just take them and hide them in my own drawer or under my bed. I didn't really use them, I didn't really know how. It was more a twisted sensation with taking. I was enjoying the thrills. It was a self-satisfaction that I could too own such nicely assorted coloured bottles. From bottles to accessories to even various other cards and whistles. It was great. I just wanted it for the sole reason of having it. My older cousins had it all, and I saw all the other girls at school have them. Why was I not getting them? As things changed they began getting other things. I again watched with envy. Friends, boyfriends, admirers and lovers. I was engrossed. Mad. Hated. They were all so successful. As I though I had their prized possessions they changed tact. I wanted more. It was decadent jealousy and I could only see that their tall pretty curvaceous bodies were all a mask for their insecurities. I would take that to them and show them. Their bodily materialism. My bodily hedonism. I began to learn how to channel my gifts into a springboard for decorating myself. My attraction needed to be enforced. The gold, red, blue, orange, pink, white to green bottles were useless unless I wore them. From dark halls I ventured, trying to build that attention. Further into the daylight, from vans to parks, to attics and bedrooms. I flourished. I was exiled from the sisterhood. I came to compete with those leggy white girls. They refused the competition. So I challenged them some more. I amassed my following, changing my physique and change my façade. My dresses became shorter, my shirts tinier, my skirts tighter and my body ever more open for scrutiny. I was a board of cosmetics and holes. A nice clean fragrant washing board. Boys would wash themselves on me. I was the little waif. The little rotten plaything. Snow falls across my shoulders. I lay there. I lay there still. Tug of my hair. A thump. A voice says "I'm done, your turn".
A
A is for asshole. This was a sort of mysterious place. It was not something you talk about much or look at. The butt was more of a tool. You use it when you feel tired, it's a cushion, a buffer. It can even hurt people too. But it seemed that, for some reason, this round thing was an area of admiration amongst the opposite gender. I did not understand. Mine was as you'd come to stereotype it from a little Chinese girl. It was flat. There isn't really much you can do about that too. You could get a butt job and you can't really put any cosmetics on it to make it bigger. They kept telling me too. Comparing me. I remember spending those long hours standing, mentally analysing, why was it so small, so slender when it shouldn't be slender. I frowned. Then I lay. Several times I lay or stood. It was an odd feeling. But that's where their hands would go first. So I always made a note to bend a little when I stood, to lean forward a bit, it's a trick you learn as a girl. A magical illusion females condition themselves to performing. Once I knew the show I knew the game. Then came a kiss and a peck. Why? Is it tasty down there? A few licks. Sweet? After that they began smothering their faces in it. Why go there? Did they not realise what came out? Or is it because a free meal is too good to pass? So they got their hands and dug deep, panning my inner thighs outwards and my butt cheeks out. It was small that was obvious. They say how pint-size it looked. Obvious it was small, it was true porcelain ass. It was my little ass. They stuck their tongues in. Twirling. What a squishy weird feeling. I squirmed. I did not really like the sensation, but it was ticklish. They went at it some more. They called it "eating" and laughed. Why? Was hard to believe my first few times. They weren't polite too. In the sun room, doors slide across shut. Was a very dark night, only torches lit. I didn't know why they had to hold me down, cushions everything. They held my arms out and legs out. Some bean bags under my tummy. I asked why and they just told me to shush like the little fortune cookie I was. Slip slap slop. I began to feel this slippery cool matter travel up my asshole. Cotton buds and Vaseline or cotton buds and chocolate sauce? I couldn't tell. It was fun. A little. But then came a less slippery warmth travelling up my anus. I frowned and looked up, I saw dark evil smiles starting at each other. Then I felt some yanking at my rear. I groaned and squirmed. "Shush!". I squirmed more as the size of the mysterious force being pushed up my ass was getting larger and larger every 2-3 minutes. They covered my mouth. They and the dozen of guys after too. Covered my mouth while making my asshole their guzzle pot. From those days onwards, I learnt that a girl could not just rely on her good looks, charming personality or Asian descent, she had to, some times, be an asshole too.
I
I is for isolation. Raining, rainy, wet days gone by. I perched on my window sill and watched as the water drops fell and the constant trickling sounds. I stared into the grey sky, wondering pointlessly, looking pointlessly into the darkness. It was a beautiful day. The floor creaked, no footsteps. Just the wooden floors crackling. The rain ended. I looked about. Silver linings. Metal desks. Stainless steel. Was I dreaming? The rain has stopped and now just arid coldness. It was now all quiet, speechless, not a sound in the atmosphere. Just a chill in the room. This room was bright. Tiles across the floor. Sterile cabinets lined up everywhere, one next to another. No dust. Zero dust. It was a blank room. Nobody could hear you and nobody can see you. You are locked inside and unable to do anything. I was now trembling. frost began building up on the edges of my brows and my lashes. light sparkling ice particles. I was trembling in my skin. Now the room was filled with the tackling of my knee bones. I huddled and cupped my hands in front of my mouth and blew into them, seeing the light mist. I moved over to one of the silver benches, moving aside to get away from the disgusting produce hanging upside down and trying not to look at the other slabs of dead animals hanging upside down in rows and rows behind one another. Would it be possible to warm up if I hugged them? Stupid. I approached the steel cabinet and touched it. Freezing. I began running my backside against the cabinet, hoping some friction would create warmth but instead I felt coldness. Deep painful coldness. I slip. Everything turns black. As I came to I looked around, seeing no bright lights this time. Just darkness amongst darkness. The ground was a black tiling. I looked around. Again, quiet. Amidst the darkness I saw figures, many figures here and there everywhere. Little cars, little ducks and little ships. Beyond those scattered figures were some other tall cases, different cartoons and drawings etched on them, splashes of colours all over. Beyond that, up high, a scoreboard of old scores. Written with chalk maybe. Some bars lined up fencing off a little desk. To the right was rows and rows of machines, each identical to the other. Stools in front of each, identical to one another. Further to the right a large field appears. Thick black rope strung up to hip height across this indoor field. The floor there was smooth. A smooth arena. Packed in one corner is a bunch of little cars. Old. Worn. I walked to the side, I jiggled on the glass door. Locked. Why was I locked here? I became nervous, the world began spinning, spinning so much that the darkness began to shake, I felt dizzy. My eyes focused. There I was. Looking through my window. The rain continues to fall. I sit up. What was that? I reminisce of my past. I enquire as to my self-worth. What were these images? Memory? I saw this cell, I saw this basement, I saw this caravan, I saw endless mountains and ridges amongst fallen tree bodies, and I even saw the piles and piles of tombstones. Hallways of descent. What were these?
N
N is for nymph. I wouldn't really know where to begin with this. It wasn't planned and there was no script. Things just happened and away we went. It's sort of the young nubile little cutie who got sucked into this vortex of life, the black hole of no return. It started with, I guess boredom and envy. The isolation drove me deeper perhaps. One fatal afternoon as I was strolling back home alone as usual afterschool I stumbled across two boys trying to chat up a blonde chic. she didn't seem interested and kept walking on. They kept following and pestering her, telling her that she needed to let her pussy out. I was confused. A cat out of where? Why did they ask her, of all things, about a house pet? She walked on. This was now 5pm and the sun was setting illuminating a pale orange sky. The green trees were swaying as the gusts blew westerly. A nice dry breeze in the air. The park was largely silent. That girl was in my music class. She took off as she went across the open pitch disappearing behind the gazebo. It may have been sheer loneliness or stupidity, but I piped up, turning to them and asked "Why do you want her pussy?" They chuckled of course and I looked dumbfounded. They whispered to one another as I stood about feeling even more stupid, the awkward silence of not knowing something that I should, I think. I was stepping away, they called me back. "You wanna find out what to do with a pussy?" With a lot of courage, I nodded, not knowing if I really wanted to know. I went along. We went further into the park, where the trees grew tall. Walking by the flowing stream, dirty dark waters. I walked slowly in front, as if I was leading. They murmured behind me. Then they signalled me to stop and took me to the side, off the track and next to the stream. They laid me down. "Close your eyes and hold still and we will show you what a pussy is used for". What is inevitable about all of this is that I knew nothing about what was happening and what was being done. Even when it ended I had no clue what happened. They just got up and left. I lay their still under the tree-covered sky. From that point on I became uninhibited. Perhaps I though it was the only way I could get noticed, perhaps I someone enjoyed the fleeting attention, or maybe because deep down I really enjoyed this sort of degradation. This was how it all started, me being all confused and all, walking home in a slightly torn skirt to realise some patches of glistening fluid down my inner thighs. This was how it started. About 10days later I would see those two boys again on my way home. Them and another two friends, older friends, just smoking at the stairs and having a chat. I had to pass them. it was my shortest way home. What else could I have done? So I walked up. Quiet lipped. As I walked past the crowd, I felt the eyes staring and the voice beaming "ni hao ma?"
Val
~~~A Man's Perspective~~~
Skinny in a boyish way, she compensates her waifishness with submissive fervor, and eager obedience. Her tits are her best asset, so Valerie practices posture like statues. Shoulders back, tits forward, she keeps her tits pointed at a man's eyes. With little ass to speak of, heels, spanks, and a little curve in her back make her tiny buns pop. You gotta know its all on the menu. Doe-eyed, she plays up the chinky damsel in distress look. Val is quick to pout girlishly if she doesn't get her way, but it doesn't matter. She never gets her way. Miami couldn't hold her, she's made for LA, Val's a paper doll and an attention whore who's pretty in pictures and projected on media in whatever image you require; for consumption by the masses. A girl born to be exploited.
She's just a fucktoy. A plaything. We all know what playthings are for, right? They are to be used and discarded for the next, newer, tighter toy. She is a novelty of the moment. A cheap, passing entertainment for men, holding our interest, and complete attention until we climax--preferably in one of her cock-shaped holes, then quickly forgotten until the next hard on. She is a walking, talking, kneeling, bending fetish. Like schoolgirls? She's that, but a poor student needing lots of discipline. Like pets? She's a domestic animal in need of training so she doesn't pee on the floor--unless you command her to. In essence, she is whatever you require her to be. Lacking identity, her self is composed of the bits and pieces men pour into her. Like water, she is the shape of her container; the shape her master demands for the current function he requires. Can you handle such a responsibility?
Kal
https://www.xvideos.com/profiles/kal-el-kryptonsfinest/
Gender: Woman
Age: 31 years old
Country: USA
Profile hits: 32,317
Subscribers: 2,272
Region: Arizona
Languages: English
Personal information: Display
Roleplay: Slave
Seeking: Man, Transsexual, Master
Relationship: Open
Kids: No but do not want any
Education: Some high school
Religion: Agnostic
Smoking: Regularly
Drinking: Regularly
Webcam: No
Signed up: May 16, 2015 (3,261 days ago)
Contact: Chat with Chinky-Eye-For-Black-Guys
Physical Information: Display
Ethnicity: Asian
Body: Slim
Height: 61 in
Weight: 41 kg
Hair length: Long
Hair color: Black
Eyes color: Brown
About me:
Love my friends! Pics are set to friends only, thumbs up for Friendship! Luv horror movies@@@~~~
~~~twisted realities~~~
V
V is for vain. I remember long ago I envied others. Envy and jealousy, jealous of their luscious locks and fit slender physique. Glaring at that nice swirling long blonde hair. I wondered to myself "how did they do it?" what was the trick to it? Was there a trick? So I began. Began to take some here and there. Began to take some. Some more and more and more. First I would sneak into their rooms late at night, then I would sneak in when no one was at home. Before a while I would just pop in by and just pull one of the shelf, off the drawer or off the night stand. It was easy. No pressure, no one watched. From time to time there would be questions here and there. Where did that go or where did I put it. Little did they know better because they had it all so they never thought deeper. Perhaps they never owned it or perhaps they had used all of it. Often I would just take them and hide them in my own drawer or under my bed. I didn't really use them, I didn't really know how. It was more a twisted sensation with taking. I was enjoying the thrills. It was a self-satisfaction that I could too own such nicely assorted coloured bottles. From bottles to accessories to even various other cards and whistles. It was great. I just wanted it for the sole reason of having it. My older cousins had it all, and I saw all the other girls at school have them. Why was I not getting them? As things changed they began getting other things. I again watched with envy. Friends, boyfriends, admirers and lovers. I was engrossed. Mad. Hated. They were all so successful. As I though I had their prized possessions they changed tact. I wanted more. It was decadent jealousy and I could only see that their tall pretty curvaceous bodies were all a mask for their insecurities. I would take that to them and show them. Their bodily materialism. My bodily hedonism. I began to learn how to channel my gifts into a springboard for decorating myself. My attraction needed to be enforced. The gold, red, blue, orange, pink, white to green bottles were useless unless I wore them. From dark halls I ventured, trying to build that attention. Further into the daylight, from vans to parks, to attics and bedrooms. I flourished. I was exiled from the sisterhood. I came to compete with those leggy white girls. They refused the competition. So I challenged them some more. I amassed my following, changing my physique and change my façade. My dresses became shorter, my shirts tinier, my skirts tighter and my body ever more open for scrutiny. I was a board of cosmetics and holes. A nice clean fragrant washing board. Boys would wash themselves on me. I was the little waif. The little rotten plaything. Snow falls across my shoulders. I lay there. I lay there still. Tug of my hair. A thump. A voice says "I'm done, your turn".
A
A is for asshole. This was a sort of mysterious place. It was not something you talk about much or look at. The butt was more of a tool. You use it when you feel tired, it's a cushion, a buffer. It can even hurt people too. But it seemed that, for some reason, this round thing was an area of admiration amongst the opposite gender. I did not understand. Mine was as you'd come to stereotype it from a little Chinese girl. It was flat. There isn't really much you can do about that too. You could get a butt job and you can't really put any cosmetics on it to make it bigger. They kept telling me too. Comparing me. I remember spending those long hours standing, mentally analysing, why was it so small, so slender when it shouldn't be slender. I frowned. Then I lay. Several times I lay or stood. It was an odd feeling. But that's where their hands would go first. So I always made a note to bend a little when I stood, to lean forward a bit, it's a trick you learn as a girl. A magical illusion females condition themselves to performing. Once I knew the show I knew the game. Then came a kiss and a peck. Why? Is it tasty down there? A few licks. Sweet? After that they began smothering their faces in it. Why go there? Did they not realise what came out? Or is it because a free meal is too good to pass? So they got their hands and dug deep, panning my inner thighs outwards and my butt cheeks out. It was small that was obvious. They say how pint-size it looked. Obvious it was small, it was true porcelain ass. It was my little ass. They stuck their tongues in. Twirling. What a squishy weird feeling. I squirmed. I did not really like the sensation, but it was ticklish. They went at it some more. They called it "eating" and laughed. Why? Was hard to believe my first few times. They weren't polite too. In the sun room, doors slide across shut. Was a very dark night, only torches lit. I didn't know why they had to hold me down, cushions everything. They held my arms out and legs out. Some bean bags under my tummy. I asked why and they just told me to shush like the little fortune cookie I was. Slip slap slop. I began to feel this slippery cool matter travel up my asshole. Cotton buds and Vaseline or cotton buds and chocolate sauce? I couldn't tell. It was fun. A little. But then came a less slippery warmth travelling up my anus. I frowned and looked up, I saw dark evil smiles starting at each other. Then I felt some yanking at my rear. I groaned and squirmed. "Shush!". I squirmed more as the size of the mysterious force being pushed up my ass was getting larger and larger every 2-3 minutes. They covered my mouth. They and the dozen of guys after too. Covered my mouth while making my asshole their guzzle pot. From those days onwards, I learnt that a girl could not just rely on her good looks, charming personality or Asian descent, she had to, some times, be an asshole too.
I
I is for isolation. Raining, rainy, wet days gone by. I perched on my window sill and watched as the water drops fell and the constant trickling sounds. I stared into the grey sky, wondering pointlessly, looking pointlessly into the darkness. It was a beautiful day. The floor creaked, no footsteps. Just the wooden floors crackling. The rain ended. I looked about. Silver linings. Metal desks. Stainless steel. Was I dreaming? The rain has stopped and now just arid coldness. It was now all quiet, speechless, not a sound in the atmosphere. Just a chill in the room. This room was bright. Tiles across the floor. Sterile cabinets lined up everywhere, one next to another. No dust. Zero dust. It was a blank room. Nobody could hear you and nobody can see you. You are locked inside and unable to do anything. I was now trembling. frost began building up on the edges of my brows and my lashes. light sparkling ice particles. I was trembling in my skin. Now the room was filled with the tackling of my knee bones. I huddled and cupped my hands in front of my mouth and blew into them, seeing the light mist. I moved over to one of the silver benches, moving aside to get away from the disgusting produce hanging upside down and trying not to look at the other slabs of dead animals hanging upside down in rows and rows behind one another. Would it be possible to warm up if I hugged them? Stupid. I approached the steel cabinet and touched it. Freezing. I began running my backside against the cabinet, hoping some friction would create warmth but instead I felt coldness. Deep painful coldness. I slip. Everything turns black. As I came to I looked around, seeing no bright lights this time. Just darkness amongst darkness. The ground was a black tiling. I looked around. Again, quiet. Amidst the darkness I saw figures, many figures here and there everywhere. Little cars, little ducks and little ships. Beyond those scattered figures were some other tall cases, different cartoons and drawings etched on them, splashes of colours all over. Beyond that, up high, a scoreboard of old scores. Written with chalk maybe. Some bars lined up fencing off a little desk. To the right was rows and rows of machines, each identical to the other. Stools in front of each, identical to one another. Further to the right a large field appears. Thick black rope strung up to hip height across this indoor field. The floor there was smooth. A smooth arena. Packed in one corner is a bunch of little cars. Old. Worn. I walked to the side, I jiggled on the glass door. Locked. Why was I locked here? I became nervous, the world began spinning, spinning so much that the darkness began to shake, I felt dizzy. My eyes focused. There I was. Looking through my window. The rain continues to fall. I sit up. What was that? I reminisce of my past. I enquire as to my self-worth. What were these images? Memory? I saw this cell, I saw this basement, I saw this caravan, I saw endless mountains and ridges amongst fallen tree bodies, and I even saw the piles and piles of tombstones. Hallways of descent. What were these?
N
N is for nymph. I wouldn't really know where to begin with this. It wasn't planned and there was no script. Things just happened and away we went. It's sort of the young nubile little cutie who got sucked into this vortex of life, the black hole of no return. It started with, I guess boredom and envy. The isolation drove me deeper perhaps. One fatal afternoon as I was strolling back home alone as usual afterschool I stumbled across two boys trying to chat up a blonde chic. she didn't seem interested and kept walking on. They kept following and pestering her, telling her that she needed to let her pussy out. I was confused. A cat out of where? Why did they ask her, of all things, about a house pet? She walked on. This was now 5pm and the sun was setting illuminating a pale orange sky. The green trees were swaying as the gusts blew westerly. A nice dry breeze in the air. The park was largely silent. That girl was in my music class. She took off as she went across the open pitch disappearing behind the gazebo. It may have been sheer loneliness or stupidity, but I piped up, turning to them and asked "Why do you want her pussy?" They chuckled of course and I looked dumbfounded. They whispered to one another as I stood about feeling even more stupid, the awkward silence of not knowing something that I should, I think. I was stepping away, they called me back. "You wanna find out what to do with a pussy?" With a lot of courage, I nodded, not knowing if I really wanted to know. I went along. We went further into the park, where the trees grew tall. Walking by the flowing stream, dirty dark waters. I walked slowly in front, as if I was leading. They murmured behind me. Then they signalled me to stop and took me to the side, off the track and next to the stream. They laid me down. "Close your eyes and hold still and we will show you what a pussy is used for". What is inevitable about all of this is that I knew nothing about what was happening and what was being done. Even when it ended I had no clue what happened. They just got up and left. I lay their still under the tree-covered sky. From that point on I became uninhibited. Perhaps I though it was the only way I could get noticed, perhaps I someone enjoyed the fleeting attention, or maybe because deep down I really enjoyed this sort of degradation. This was how it all started, me being all confused and all, walking home in a slightly torn skirt to realise some patches of glistening fluid down my inner thighs. This was how it started. About 10days later I would see those two boys again on my way home. Them and another two friends, older friends, just smoking at the stairs and having a chat. I had to pass them. it was my shortest way home. What else could I have done? So I walked up. Quiet lipped. As I walked past the crowd, I felt the eyes staring and the voice beaming "ni hao ma?"
Val
~~~A Man's Perspective~~~
Skinny in a boyish way, she compensates her waifishness with submissive fervor, and eager obedience. Her tits are her best asset, so Valerie practices posture like statues. Shoulders back, tits forward, she keeps her tits pointed at a man's eyes. With little ass to speak of, heels, spanks, and a little curve in her back make her tiny buns pop. You gotta know its all on the menu. Doe-eyed, she plays up the chinky damsel in distress look. Val is quick to pout girlishly if she doesn't get her way, but it doesn't matter. She never gets her way. Miami couldn't hold her, she's made for LA, Val's a paper doll and an attention whore who's pretty in pictures and projected on media in whatever image you require; for consumption by the masses. A girl born to be exploited.
She's just a fucktoy. A plaything. We all know what playthings are for, right? They are to be used and discarded for the next, newer, tighter toy. She is a novelty of the moment. A cheap, passing entertainment for men, holding our interest, and complete attention until we climax--preferably in one of her cock-shaped holes, then quickly forgotten until the next hard on. She is a walking, talking, kneeling, bending fetish. Like schoolgirls? She's that, but a poor student needing lots of discipline. Like pets? She's a domestic animal in need of training so she doesn't pee on the floor--unless you command her to. In essence, she is whatever you require her to be. Lacking identity, her self is composed of the bits and pieces men pour into her. Like water, she is the shape of her container; the shape her master demands for the current function he requires. Can you handle such a responsibility?
Kal
https://www.xvideos.com/profiles/kal-el-kryptonsfinest/Show more