Bigtitsbitch1000x
Virgin
- Joined
- Jan 4, 2024
- Posts
- 2,764
This not a story. I hope it is not unacceptable on this site.
On 4 August 2024 at 1530 hrs Mama BTB was arrested.
She had blasted a deranged cis wannabe ho in the face with gel pepper spray
Further, she had bathed the equally impaired husband of said ho with the same substance.
Better than sex is the look on the face of a fascist when the hot sauce hits.
Better than discovering an unknown Leadbelly side is hearing the pained scream of an oppressor.
The wannabe claimant to my stro, with her Walgreens makeup, filthy old coat, and flip-flops, had harassed me for three years. Lately she had taken to yelling at me. I yelled back. With a bullhorn
She's nuts. Rilly.
I got tired of the bullshit. I told the cops I would now carry gel pepper spray. And that if she battered me, I would use it. If they wouldn't abate this public nuisance, I would.
Police are on permanent strike in my city.
I kept mace handy. My friend The Prince of Love, the greatest poetic mind of his generation, called it "going out armed." The Prince of Love also commented on the outrage of me having limited rights of movement in My City.
The Amateur Ho accosted me on Sunday afternoon.
Soon a cloud of tear gas rose above the battlefield like blood rising to the sky at Gettysburg.
The ho was nuts enough to come back three times fighting. Idiotically saying "it's oily." Taking a swing. I wasn't triggered. I pulled the trigger. Three times.
Hubby began ranting and throwing fruit at me. He got some. His performative shouts of pain were as this to me:
I broke away from the fray but the cops chased me down. We discussed fine points of Kit Smart's To His Cat Jeoffry in the patrol car.
Viz., https://beta.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45173/jubilate-agno
I was booked for felony assault on the hubs, and two misdemeanor charges based on the free Chemical Brothers Concert held in the face of my enemy.
The felony charge was reduced to a misdemeanor because the hub vic is known as a PES -- a Public Empty Skin.
Mama BTB spent 72 hours hanging out at her alumna lunch at Jail University. The world's greatest educational institution.
Now this is important.
Three miracles occurred.
First, though, let's discuss food and sex at Jail U. The food at the reunion was adequate.
The goyim don't know shit about prison sex.
Prison rape ended with HIV and the PREA program instituted by President G.W. Bush.
Nor do the flocks of North American Common Railbirds understand prison culture. My ex dedicated considerable energy and treasure to studying certain urgent matters.
BLACK AMERICA, PRISONS
AND RADICAL ISLAM
A REPORT
September 2008
Center for Islamic Pluralism
http://www.islamicpluralism.org/
I was assigned a place in a single cell designated for transfolk. My cellie was a cis man married to a transwoman.
The first miracle. My bunkie was euskera -- Basque to the goyim.
I'm a linguist. My ex taught me the discipline. I assisted him to learn Catalan and Albanian. With my beautiful boobies and sweet pussy.
I and my bunkie had a lot to discuss. I had participated in the Basque revolutionary movement in the US, Mexico, and Iberia.
My cellie and I sang this together:
And a true miracle occurred. My bunkie explained my truest name. When I was in clandestine work for the Basques my cover name (klichka) was Okasintié. I was told it meant "rebel." In reality it means Outsider. The mountain folk see me as I am.
It was days before I realized that I was sleeping in the same room with a cis man. I wasn't his bitch. It might have been better for me if I had been. Because I began to revert to the masc habits I would have maintained were we just men together.
I hate that.
I enjoy serving men. I respected my cellie and would have opened up my pussy for him in a hot second.
Just being quiet and letting him teach me. Just being pretty. Just being a toy. So good.
Sexually, I desire to be fucked by whole prisons full of cocks. But I cannot treat a comrade as sexual prey. And a Basque man -- a native speaker to boot -- is someone to love unselfishly.
If he wanted a bomb thrown against state power I would be that artefact.
I want men to fuck me however they wish. Smooth or rough. The sweeter and trashier the better.
I lay in the silence of the cell. Long legs. Beautiful boobs. Booty breathing. Pussy anxious.
My hands crept up and down.
Down to my clitty. Stroking it like the kitten it protects. Sweet silky pubes flecked with bits of dried cum and droplets from a golden shower. I would have given myself a blowjob but it was fine just to lie submissive next to a man.
Imagining sweetly falling into gently sleeping and being wakened delightfully, with his big cock in my pussy as if he would never let me do anything but let him fuck me.
To let men fuck me.
Hands moving up to my nipples.
My boobies and belly and booty are perfect now. But best when I am simply with a man.
Power is his. Powerlessness is delicious. .
And there it is. Since cock is cock bitches have every reason to treat men as human only because of their brains.
Men suck particular men and get fucked by specific nice Cumaseratis racing up their freeways.
I love cock the way I used to love a specific brand of... Cologne.
And thus I could let my cute AF hero bunkie use me as a sister or pretty neighbor chick rather than a possession of his scrotum. Ditto in my back forty.
But what he wants he has.
Jail U. didn't have good health facilities or very bright guards. Mama BTB had to tune asses.
The second miracle was named Zeynab. A gorgeous young Muslim nurse in hijab. Mama wanted a Bible or Qur'an al-qerim.
Mama recited the first surah... And asked herself if she wants to remain Muslim. The issue has been posed.
Kuffar, look up lady Zeynab. She is the epitome of the struggle for justice.
The process of processing was slow. My period began. The jail med and psych services failed to operate appropriately. Tylenol n ibuprofen weren't enough. Librium was promised and the promise forgotten.
I wanted to sing this but had no access to it:
I began to feel weak. My cellie suggested making a protest.
But I wanted to stay on the spiritual Path of The Transwoman.
I called the Prince of Love and asked him to recite this with me:
We read the text -- sacred in all three faults including Islam.
I collapsed.
A nurse appeared. She argued with me about my condition. I was distraught.
And then a fiery angel, a Pilipino bailiff, appeared, with a golden sword -- I was taken to a public defender and then before a judge who praised my works.
I demanded and was assured of a jury trial. I will use this agony to show off my boobies, flaunt my makeup, and challenge the bourgeoisie.
But today I learned that a fascist element in the local police wants me out of the way.
Yet...
I waited my whole life for this moment.
https://youtu.be/iyI9r0CCu74?si=3VsjYBnz1YTnbPoA
( O )( O )
On 4 August 2024 at 1530 hrs Mama BTB was arrested.
She had blasted a deranged cis wannabe ho in the face with gel pepper spray
Further, she had bathed the equally impaired husband of said ho with the same substance.
Better than sex is the look on the face of a fascist when the hot sauce hits.
Better than discovering an unknown Leadbelly side is hearing the pained scream of an oppressor.
The wannabe claimant to my stro, with her Walgreens makeup, filthy old coat, and flip-flops, had harassed me for three years. Lately she had taken to yelling at me. I yelled back. With a bullhorn
She's nuts. Rilly.
I got tired of the bullshit. I told the cops I would now carry gel pepper spray. And that if she battered me, I would use it. If they wouldn't abate this public nuisance, I would.
Police are on permanent strike in my city.
I kept mace handy. My friend The Prince of Love, the greatest poetic mind of his generation, called it "going out armed." The Prince of Love also commented on the outrage of me having limited rights of movement in My City.
The Amateur Ho accosted me on Sunday afternoon.
Soon a cloud of tear gas rose above the battlefield like blood rising to the sky at Gettysburg.
The ho was nuts enough to come back three times fighting. Idiotically saying "it's oily." Taking a swing. I wasn't triggered. I pulled the trigger. Three times.
Hubby began ranting and throwing fruit at me. He got some. His performative shouts of pain were as this to me:
I broke away from the fray but the cops chased me down. We discussed fine points of Kit Smart's To His Cat Jeoffry in the patrol car.
Viz., https://beta.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45173/jubilate-agno
I was booked for felony assault on the hubs, and two misdemeanor charges based on the free Chemical Brothers Concert held in the face of my enemy.
The felony charge was reduced to a misdemeanor because the hub vic is known as a PES -- a Public Empty Skin.
Mama BTB spent 72 hours hanging out at her alumna lunch at Jail University. The world's greatest educational institution.
Now this is important.
Three miracles occurred.
First, though, let's discuss food and sex at Jail U. The food at the reunion was adequate.
The goyim don't know shit about prison sex.
Prison rape ended with HIV and the PREA program instituted by President G.W. Bush.
Nor do the flocks of North American Common Railbirds understand prison culture. My ex dedicated considerable energy and treasure to studying certain urgent matters.
BLACK AMERICA, PRISONS
AND RADICAL ISLAM
A REPORT
September 2008
Center for Islamic Pluralism
http://www.islamicpluralism.org/
I was assigned a place in a single cell designated for transfolk. My cellie was a cis man married to a transwoman.
The first miracle. My bunkie was euskera -- Basque to the goyim.
I'm a linguist. My ex taught me the discipline. I assisted him to learn Catalan and Albanian. With my beautiful boobies and sweet pussy.
I and my bunkie had a lot to discuss. I had participated in the Basque revolutionary movement in the US, Mexico, and Iberia.
My cellie and I sang this together:
And a true miracle occurred. My bunkie explained my truest name. When I was in clandestine work for the Basques my cover name (klichka) was Okasintié. I was told it meant "rebel." In reality it means Outsider. The mountain folk see me as I am.
It was days before I realized that I was sleeping in the same room with a cis man. I wasn't his bitch. It might have been better for me if I had been. Because I began to revert to the masc habits I would have maintained were we just men together.
I hate that.
I enjoy serving men. I respected my cellie and would have opened up my pussy for him in a hot second.
Just being quiet and letting him teach me. Just being pretty. Just being a toy. So good.
Sexually, I desire to be fucked by whole prisons full of cocks. But I cannot treat a comrade as sexual prey. And a Basque man -- a native speaker to boot -- is someone to love unselfishly.
If he wanted a bomb thrown against state power I would be that artefact.
I want men to fuck me however they wish. Smooth or rough. The sweeter and trashier the better.
I lay in the silence of the cell. Long legs. Beautiful boobs. Booty breathing. Pussy anxious.
My hands crept up and down.
Down to my clitty. Stroking it like the kitten it protects. Sweet silky pubes flecked with bits of dried cum and droplets from a golden shower. I would have given myself a blowjob but it was fine just to lie submissive next to a man.
Imagining sweetly falling into gently sleeping and being wakened delightfully, with his big cock in my pussy as if he would never let me do anything but let him fuck me.
To let men fuck me.
Hands moving up to my nipples.
My boobies and belly and booty are perfect now. But best when I am simply with a man.
Power is his. Powerlessness is delicious. .
And there it is. Since cock is cock bitches have every reason to treat men as human only because of their brains.
Men suck particular men and get fucked by specific nice Cumaseratis racing up their freeways.
I love cock the way I used to love a specific brand of... Cologne.
And thus I could let my cute AF hero bunkie use me as a sister or pretty neighbor chick rather than a possession of his scrotum. Ditto in my back forty.
But what he wants he has.
Jail U. didn't have good health facilities or very bright guards. Mama BTB had to tune asses.
The second miracle was named Zeynab. A gorgeous young Muslim nurse in hijab. Mama wanted a Bible or Qur'an al-qerim.
Mama recited the first surah... And asked herself if she wants to remain Muslim. The issue has been posed.
Kuffar, look up lady Zeynab. She is the epitome of the struggle for justice.
The process of processing was slow. My period began. The jail med and psych services failed to operate appropriately. Tylenol n ibuprofen weren't enough. Librium was promised and the promise forgotten.
I wanted to sing this but had no access to it:
I began to feel weak. My cellie suggested making a protest.
But I wanted to stay on the spiritual Path of The Transwoman.
I called the Prince of Love and asked him to recite this with me:
We read the text -- sacred in all three faults including Islam.
I collapsed.
A nurse appeared. She argued with me about my condition. I was distraught.
And then a fiery angel, a Pilipino bailiff, appeared, with a golden sword -- I was taken to a public defender and then before a judge who praised my works.
I demanded and was assured of a jury trial. I will use this agony to show off my boobies, flaunt my makeup, and challenge the bourgeoisie.
But today I learned that a fascist element in the local police wants me out of the way.
Yet...
I waited my whole life for this moment.
https://youtu.be/iyI9r0CCu74?si=3VsjYBnz1YTnbPoA
( O )( O )
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