Bigtitsbitch1000x
Virgin
- Joined
- Jan 4, 2024
- Posts
- 852
Let's see if this IRL post provides ammo for my dear haters.
There seems to be a great deal of anxiety in the Lit community over traffic stops.
I'd like to add some input on the police, issues around law enforcement, and the future of same, from the perspective of an out trans sex worker in an urban environment.
1. A Hate Incident. On Saturday, March 16, at about 1430 hrs, I visited a phone shop on a main street in my City. It was St. Patrick's Day.
When I had finished my business in the phone shop, I called a taxi. Few were available, because of a St. Patrick's Day parade.
I called the taxi dispatchers repeatedly, and was told cabs had been ordered for me, but none showed up. I waited in an outside vestibule connected to a premises next to the phone shop.
It was windy. I huddled in the vestibule, protected by my black leather trenchcoat. Waiting.
Suddenly a white male, about 25 years old, burst out of the premises next to the phone shop. He ordered me out of the vestibule and off the sidewalk, showering me with gross insults and high-pitched threats, delivered in a Slavic accent.
I was frightened. I have been assaulted frequently and repeatedly. I carry bear spray for self defense.
Employees of the phone shop backed me up. They told the aggressor to leave me alone, but that merely incited him. Based on what police told me, he was probably on meth.
His attitude was clearly whorophobic. I dress as a high-end hooker, but I hardly expected to pick up trade in the doorway of a smartphone shop.
The aggressor was so agitated and foul-mouthed I told him I would call the cops. He went off about that for a while, and with the support of the shop workers I called 911. Three times. I also called the local police precinct, Company E, where I am known, twice.
After an hour two officers arrived. They knew me as a community activist, and as a reporter who defends the right of the police to go on strike. They examined the situation. The aggressor had run back into his location. I had assumed he was a scab construction worker, but the officers informed me the place has been occupied by squatters.
Cutting to the chase: the officers drove me to the area I intended to go to. When I got out of the vehicle, cleavage and booty cheeks on display, with lips painted in Cocksucker Red, a crone from the hood commented, "how cute."
Indeed.
Do I enjoy privilege in dealing with cops? Obviously. I am "white," and attended the same Old Boy high school as many of them. Am I wrong to take advantage of this advantage? I don't think so.
2. The b.f.
His name is Jesús. He's a tapatío -- from the Big City of Guad.
Not my Guadalajara:
I met him in a park. We had sex immediately, in my alley bedroom.
He was nice but drunk when he picked me up. He talked a lot of bullshit about my beauty, a dream about me, and, of course, my boobs. All the boys and plenty of girly girls are obsessed with my rack. Almost as much as me.
I scouted out the nearest alley and told him how to take a walk to it.
I met him and walked with him along the alley. I was cock drunk, shivering with anticipation, as I always am on a date. I knew he fucked plenty of girly girls. I wanted his cock fresh from their slits, with the divine perfume of their pussy juice on his meat. I wanted a threeway with him and a cis bitch.
He stopped. I kissed his mouth, then pushed him against a stone wall, and opened his zipper. His cock jumped into my mouth. I fondled his junk with my tongue. He didn't cum, which didn't surprise. He undoubtedly was using meth.
But he was excited.
He shoved my bra down and pulled my boobies out, squeezing them, pulling on my nipples. I started crying with joy, as I always do when my boobies are handled. His fingers were rivulets pulling my little boats into the stream of pleasure.
I was dreamy. In my own fuckiverse.
He asked, "do you want me to fuck you?"
Oh yes I did.
"Pull my panties down," I sang loudly. I held on to a light pole.
He was condomed. Obviously he did a lot of work in holes.
He stuck it in deep, from behind, with my booty rising into the crisp air. His hands used my boobies to leverage himself deeper. I felt him cum into the rubber sac. He relaxed. I cried, thanking him.
Then he asked for bus change. Nothing new there.
He became my main boy for a while. He gave me gifts, and we had sex dates. I taught him how to do missionary, with my legs over his shoulders, his cock ramming me, and his hands playing my boobies like a concertina. But he was always drunk.
Then he disappeared.
I worried. We had been catcalled on the street. One lout yelled, "You got fucked in the ass by a Mexican!" I replied, "it's only because he's Mexican that you object." There were some gangsters around.
I heard he had been beaten up and was in a coma. Then that he died. I confirmed that he is alive. In a wheelchair, tended by his mom.
I plan to go and see him. I was consumed by guilt, remembering the catcalls and fearing he had been attacked nearly fatally on account of my tranny ass.
I asked a couple of cops how to proceed on this matter, and whether they would help me. They shrugged. Rescuing a tranny ho from a hate crime is free and good politics. Investigating an attack on the ho's fancy man isn't either.
3. Political options.
In 2020 I ran for office.
https://ballotpedia.org/Lulu_Schwartz
My platform included organizing an informal network of officers committed to reform.
A radical approach:
Lenin
https://youtu.be/BT6DGCxGcxQ?si=m-lC5xNOCCe_rRnB
https://www.marxists.org/archive/lenin/works/1917/apr/04.htm
"Abolition of the police, the army and the bureaucracy."
Another side of police power in America:
https://youtu.be/a2XTXHKcUPY?si=SNlnxSbFISqcABxm
And another:
https://youtu.be/O_UjHdXKPjU?si=lvm4uuha2V48vKBs
Plus this:
https://youtu.be/1yQkbrgKOsg?si=8SX3GqV4BMnefMzG
21:24
Where cop hatred ends up:
https://youtu.be/jq32TlYSgLM?si=4OGZHYjR9-Lj5OBf
https://www.latimes.com/local/lanow/la-me-ln-furry-potato-lawsuit-20190313-story.html
Police are not your friends. They are your neighbors. Some are good. Some are bad. Just like hos, tricks, and Litsters.
Don't LITter.
( . )( . )
There seems to be a great deal of anxiety in the Lit community over traffic stops.
I'd like to add some input on the police, issues around law enforcement, and the future of same, from the perspective of an out trans sex worker in an urban environment.
1. A Hate Incident. On Saturday, March 16, at about 1430 hrs, I visited a phone shop on a main street in my City. It was St. Patrick's Day.
When I had finished my business in the phone shop, I called a taxi. Few were available, because of a St. Patrick's Day parade.
I called the taxi dispatchers repeatedly, and was told cabs had been ordered for me, but none showed up. I waited in an outside vestibule connected to a premises next to the phone shop.
It was windy. I huddled in the vestibule, protected by my black leather trenchcoat. Waiting.
Suddenly a white male, about 25 years old, burst out of the premises next to the phone shop. He ordered me out of the vestibule and off the sidewalk, showering me with gross insults and high-pitched threats, delivered in a Slavic accent.
I was frightened. I have been assaulted frequently and repeatedly. I carry bear spray for self defense.
Employees of the phone shop backed me up. They told the aggressor to leave me alone, but that merely incited him. Based on what police told me, he was probably on meth.
His attitude was clearly whorophobic. I dress as a high-end hooker, but I hardly expected to pick up trade in the doorway of a smartphone shop.
The aggressor was so agitated and foul-mouthed I told him I would call the cops. He went off about that for a while, and with the support of the shop workers I called 911. Three times. I also called the local police precinct, Company E, where I am known, twice.
After an hour two officers arrived. They knew me as a community activist, and as a reporter who defends the right of the police to go on strike. They examined the situation. The aggressor had run back into his location. I had assumed he was a scab construction worker, but the officers informed me the place has been occupied by squatters.
Cutting to the chase: the officers drove me to the area I intended to go to. When I got out of the vehicle, cleavage and booty cheeks on display, with lips painted in Cocksucker Red, a crone from the hood commented, "how cute."
Indeed.
Do I enjoy privilege in dealing with cops? Obviously. I am "white," and attended the same Old Boy high school as many of them. Am I wrong to take advantage of this advantage? I don't think so.
2. The b.f.
His name is Jesús. He's a tapatío -- from the Big City of Guad.
Not my Guadalajara:
I met him in a park. We had sex immediately, in my alley bedroom.
He was nice but drunk when he picked me up. He talked a lot of bullshit about my beauty, a dream about me, and, of course, my boobs. All the boys and plenty of girly girls are obsessed with my rack. Almost as much as me.
I scouted out the nearest alley and told him how to take a walk to it.
I met him and walked with him along the alley. I was cock drunk, shivering with anticipation, as I always am on a date. I knew he fucked plenty of girly girls. I wanted his cock fresh from their slits, with the divine perfume of their pussy juice on his meat. I wanted a threeway with him and a cis bitch.
He stopped. I kissed his mouth, then pushed him against a stone wall, and opened his zipper. His cock jumped into my mouth. I fondled his junk with my tongue. He didn't cum, which didn't surprise. He undoubtedly was using meth.
But he was excited.
He shoved my bra down and pulled my boobies out, squeezing them, pulling on my nipples. I started crying with joy, as I always do when my boobies are handled. His fingers were rivulets pulling my little boats into the stream of pleasure.
I was dreamy. In my own fuckiverse.
He asked, "do you want me to fuck you?"
Oh yes I did.
"Pull my panties down," I sang loudly. I held on to a light pole.
He was condomed. Obviously he did a lot of work in holes.
He stuck it in deep, from behind, with my booty rising into the crisp air. His hands used my boobies to leverage himself deeper. I felt him cum into the rubber sac. He relaxed. I cried, thanking him.
Then he asked for bus change. Nothing new there.
He became my main boy for a while. He gave me gifts, and we had sex dates. I taught him how to do missionary, with my legs over his shoulders, his cock ramming me, and his hands playing my boobies like a concertina. But he was always drunk.
Then he disappeared.
I worried. We had been catcalled on the street. One lout yelled, "You got fucked in the ass by a Mexican!" I replied, "it's only because he's Mexican that you object." There were some gangsters around.
I heard he had been beaten up and was in a coma. Then that he died. I confirmed that he is alive. In a wheelchair, tended by his mom.
I plan to go and see him. I was consumed by guilt, remembering the catcalls and fearing he had been attacked nearly fatally on account of my tranny ass.
I asked a couple of cops how to proceed on this matter, and whether they would help me. They shrugged. Rescuing a tranny ho from a hate crime is free and good politics. Investigating an attack on the ho's fancy man isn't either.
3. Political options.
In 2020 I ran for office.
https://ballotpedia.org/Lulu_Schwartz
My platform included organizing an informal network of officers committed to reform.
A radical approach:
Lenin
https://youtu.be/BT6DGCxGcxQ?si=m-lC5xNOCCe_rRnB
https://www.marxists.org/archive/lenin/works/1917/apr/04.htm
"Abolition of the police, the army and the bureaucracy."
Another side of police power in America:
https://youtu.be/a2XTXHKcUPY?si=SNlnxSbFISqcABxm
And another:
https://youtu.be/O_UjHdXKPjU?si=lvm4uuha2V48vKBs
Plus this:
https://youtu.be/1yQkbrgKOsg?si=8SX3GqV4BMnefMzG
21:24
Where cop hatred ends up:
https://youtu.be/jq32TlYSgLM?si=4OGZHYjR9-Lj5OBf
https://www.latimes.com/local/lanow/la-me-ln-furry-potato-lawsuit-20190313-story.html
Police are not your friends. They are your neighbors. Some are good. Some are bad. Just like hos, tricks, and Litsters.
Don't LITter.
( . )( . )
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