I confess that I just hate these god-damn niggers running around. A few days ago I had to go to the bank to cash a check. It was a sizable amount so had to go inside instead of the drive-thru. I went in and stood in the long ling waiting for a teller while looking around. I haven't been in there since last month and the place looked like shit! The nice furniture they had before was replaced by some mauve upholstery and the nice shiny stone floor was replaced by this ugly tan carpeting!

When the line moved up, I got closer to the tellers. Three were humans and one was a big fat sheboon with corn rows and a gold front tooth. I thought it was a male at first but two saggy mountains were attached to its chest! I silently prayed that I would get one of the humans, 3/4 odds isn't bad odds. Finally, the lady in front of me was called up by a man and the nigger was the only one open. It hollered "Next?! C'mon up he-re Mista!". I pretended like I didn't notice since I wanted to wait for a human but they were busy with customers.

The idiot behind me tapped me on my shoulder and said "That lady on the left is open, sir." Then I just decided to go up to the sheboon as I was too considerate of others to hold up a line like a nigger would. I went up to the sheboon and presented my check to it.

"Is this real?" it asked me with an odd ball glance. I nodded silently but was thinking "of course it is you stupid ass nigger!" Then the sheboon typed into the computer and had me give my ID. I been a customer of this bank for 12 years and this was the first nigger who serviced me. I had given it a form so it would deposit most and I wanted two thousand eighty in cash. I was given a receipt that showed the money was now in my account.

The nigger started counting out the cash I was owed and when finished, gave me it. I counted it to myself because I didn't trust this nigger and sure enough I was about two hundred short! I axed the sheboon that it made a mistake and I needed two hundred more. "But Is counted it, mista!" it yelled out. I said "No, when I counted there was two hundred missing. Can I see the manager!" The nigger snarled and yelled back "You musta hid it in yours pocket! I counted the change right!"

All the commotion had alerted a security guard who came over and demanded to know what the problem was. I told him that this sheboon took $200 from me. She screamed that she counted it fairly and that I was hiding it. The manager finally came over from hearing the loud fuss the sheboon was making and asked what was going on. I filled him in while the sow began squealing that she counted it right. I gave him the money and he counted it. Sho nuff, there was $200 short. He told the sheboon so but she yelled "He musta hided it!" I said that the sheboon saw me count the money right in front of her and I had no time to hide anything. I said they could even look at the surveillance camera if they wanted.

After I brought up the camera, miraculously the sheboon put $200 on the counter saying it fell on the floor while she was counting. I didn't buy it at all because niggers are criminals. I don't know how this one got a job at the bank unless AA or a liberal was responsible. The manager apologized to me and gave me a free tote bag that they give out to those who open new accounts. I didn't accept and told him that I wanted to close my account. This one niggerfuxated experience was enough for me!

I then left the bank and got into my car. I then called a friend to tell him of what happened. Twenty minutes or so later, I started to pull out of the parking lot but then as I'm driving away I see that sheboon with two security guards outside the building! I think it got fired or arrested..or both . I won't be going to that bank again. If they are stupid enough to hire one nigger then more and more will come in eventually. My friend recommended his bank that doesn't have any nigger tellers at all and that's where I opened a new account that very day.

Anybody else ever have coon-tact with niggers, and it just ruins your day?

I just took the biggest dump in my life...and as soon as I was done my tranny friend lubed her cock up real good and I took all 8 thick inches...may not sound miraculous, but i have never had a cock in my ass b4....it felt SSSSSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOOO FUCKING good...now i craving more cock

This past Friday night, with my wife back East visiting relatives, I invited over a new friend for a sleepover. We'd met three months ago on a local dating site and had fucked before -- always at her place -- with two four-hour sessions to our credit. She's exactly half my age (35 to 70) and a bit on the chubby side, but her height (5-11) helps make up for the 160-plus pounds she carries, and twice-a-week Pilates keeps her firm. She's a natural blonde with 36D breasts, plus nipples that always seem to be fully erect.

I picked her up at her townhouse, and we headed to a Middle Eastern restaurant on my side of town for dinner. As usual, our conversation was a mixture of contemporary thought (she's an attorney; I'm a tech writer), politics (we're both quite liberal), and sexual teasing. With our meal completed, we hopped back into my car for the 10-minute drive back to my condo. Since the building only has a single elevator and everyone there knows me (I'm on the HOA board), I was relieved that we didn't see a single resident as we traveled between the underground garage and my front door.

I took a quick shower while she made herself comfortable in my bedroom. Knowing her proclivity for squirting, I'd taken the time earlier that day to strip my bed down to its fitted sheet, under which I'd laid several bath towels. It proved to be a worthwhile exercise in caution.

As I emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of red silk boxers, I saw her playing with my cat while she had on only a bra and panties. "Orange isn't exactly your color," I said half-playfully. "Well, you'll just have to take them off, then," was her reply. Since I'm only an inch taller than her, kissing is a very delightful and simple process, and we lip-locked probably a hundred times over the ensuing 14-plus hours. She beat me to the punch and unhooked her bra, to which I voiced a mild objection. "I'm very mechanically minded," I said. "Besides, I was unhooking bras long before you were born." She laughed and shrugged her shoulders, which caused her bra to fall to the floor. "Oops," she squealed." "I guess you'll have to pick that up, Mister Mechanically Minded."

We made out for a bit while standing up, her tugging on my erect, silk-covered cock, while I cupped her breasts and sucked insistently on each of her nipples. She reached down to rearrange her panties and let me know they were of the crotchless variety. I soon ran my fingers up and down her rapidly moistening slit before tugging them off entirely. She climbed onto the bed, and I kicked off my shorts before joining her. Hands went immediately to each partner's genitals, and we French-kissed furiously while tugging and stroking.

After a few minutes of that, I flipped her onto her back. She knew what was next and opened her legs invitingly. I dove down between her pale, creamy thighs and began to slurp long, extended licks from the base of her pussy to her little pearl-sized clit. "I brought my trimmer, if that's too hairy for you," she offered. Her pubic area boasted a neat triangle of dark-blonde stubble, but it was hardly bush-like. "Hey," I countered. "I grew up in the '60s, when no one ever heard of a shaved crotch." Then I really went to work on her.

I've been fortunate to have had sex with a few multi-orgasmic women in my time, but she is clearly the queen of that realm. In our previous two encounters, I'm guessing she came dozens of times in a four-hour span. It's hard to keep track, though, because she crests from one peak to another in such a seamless way that's it's closer to one giant, rolling orgasm. I alternated between one finger inside and thrusting, two fingers inside and mashing up against her g-spot, and three fingers inside and twisting. As for attending to her clit, I alternately flicked it with my tongue, sucked it hard between my lips, nibbled on it gently with my teeth, brushed it back and forth with the fingers of my other hand, and pressed it hard against her pubic bone with my thumb.

After a good 20-30 minutes of pussy attention -- and a request by her for me to take a break -- I rolled onto my back and she proceeded to give me a very thorough blow job. I'm not terribly large (5.75 inches long and circumcised), so it's not difficult for her to take me entirely into her mouth. She calls that her "disappearing dick trick," and she accompanies the oral action with some digital ball-sack manipulation. Then she decided it was time to fuck, so she climbed on top of me and rode me to three pussy-grinding orgasms. Given my lack of length, her enthusiastic back-and-forth rocking caused me to fall out a couple of times. I was about to apologize (for the second time) about being a bit short when she railed against that.

"Don't you dare say 'sorry' again," she said. "You're nice and thick, and I don't know a single woman who would prefer a long skinny dick to a wide one like yours that fills her up." Secretly I doubted her statement, but I was enjoying the situation way too much to object. After her third orgasm, and sensing I wasn't quite ready to come, she climbed off and went down on my cock again, expressing her love for tasting her pussy juice on my dick. After a bit of that, I tugged on her hair and she slid up the bed so we could lie side by side. She used her left hand to firmly stroke my erection while I reached down with my left hand and played with her clit.

One of the things we enjoy during our sessions is telling each other naughty stories about previous encounters with others. Her initial "bedtime story" that night involved relating a visit she'd made to a friend of hers who was in Dallas on business. She flew down there at his invitation for a one-nighter, but realized upon showing up at his hotel that she'd forgotten to bring any condoms. [I've been vasectomized, and we're both very careful to "play safe" with others -- not that I've had any action other than with her for quite a while -- so she and I bareback it with each other, but she employs condoms with all other partners.] It was a Sunday night, and the local CVS had closed early due to a worker shortage. "So, we stuck to oral for a while," she related to me. "And then he fucked my ass, which seemed like the best option at the time." It was that last bit that put me over the top, and cum shot out of my dick and cascaded down across her hand like a lava flow. She was quite fastidious in cleaning it up with her tongue, sucking on her fingers in dramatic fashion as the final drops disappeared into her beautiful mouth.

I wasn't anywhere near finished with her, however, and she spent the next half hour or so submitting to my various efforts. It usually takes her a while to work her way up to a squirting orgasm, but I was determined to bring her to that level before we called it a night. As it turned out, it only took about three minutes of highly focused finger-fucking for her to spurt forth, and she managed two additional squirts over the ensuing 10 minutes, the last of which she induced herself with two of her fingers pile-driving into her pussy while I rubbed her clit with such speed that my hand was nearly a blur.

At that point we figured we'd reached a good stopping point. It was after 11 pm, and we were both fairly worn out. While she headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and pee, I grabbed the rest of the bed covers (a top sheet plus a down comforter) and got the bed ready for the night. We both decided to sleep in the nude -- "In case one of us gets horny in the dark," she said with a wink -- and snuggled for a bit before rolling onto our respective sides in preparation for sleep. My bed is only a double, so it's pretty narrow for two people. We drifted off to sleep naked-butt-to-naked-butt.

For some reason, I woke up just before two a.m. While asleep we'd ended up facing each other, and as I awoke I decided to "test the waters" and see if she was game for a late-night fuck. As soon as I slid my hand between her tucked-together thighs, she leaned into me and said, "It's about time you woke up." "What do you mean?" I asked somewhat stupidly. "Well," she went on, "I've been playing with my clit for the past 10 minutes and waiting for you to notice that the mattress was rocking." I was hard almost instantly, which for a guy my age, is nothing short of miraculous. It only took me a moment, however, to seize the situation. In a flash (which, for a 70-year-old guy, is probably measurable in minutes), I threw off the covers and got on top of her. She pushed me away just long enough to draw her legs up toward her chest, and then she guided my cock into her pussy. It didn't take me long to pound away, although I was only able to keep up the thrusting for a couple of minutes before my arms got tired of holding the rest of my body up above hers. Sensing my dilemma, and clearly not willing to have me stop, she pulled me down so I was lying fully on top of her, and after another few minutes of enthusiastic fucking, I came hard inside her pussy.

At that point I was breathing pretty hard, but I had the presence of mind to roll off her (I weigh around 230 pounds) and catch my breath while lying on my own side of the bed. She reached up with one hand and pressed her fingertips against my neck, physically taking note of my pulse rate. "I guess you'll live through the night," she said in a humorous tone. "Besides, my CPR training has lapsed." "Ha-ha," was about all I could manage in reply.

We fell back asleep but woke up almost simultaneously around eight o'clock. A quick trip to the bathroom for each of us, and we were back at it. Our morning session only lasted about 90 minutes, but she got in a good dozen orgasms and I made sure she got a good taste of her cum-filled pussy as I dipped my fingers into her snatch and coated them with a mixture of our respective juices before shoving them into her mouth. After a short rest, we climbed into the shower together and did a pretty good job of cleaning each other off. She admitted to being a bit sore from all the attention her pussy had received, so I avoided doing anything sexual to her as the water cascaded down around us, but she gave me a very nice soap-covered hand job as a reward of sorts.

After getting dressed and making sure she'd packed up all her stuff, we went to a nearby deli for brunch, and then I dropped her off at home. I'm not sure when we'll meet next -- we each have busy work schedules, and she has a couple of business trips set for the next month -- but I know the next time we're together it'll be more of the same. I'm already looking forward to it!

I used to be a model. Met my husband after one of my shows - a rich man with a taste for beautiful women. Started dating him, thinking nothing of it.

We would fuck, with his friends present in the other room, with the door open. I sucked him off on the back seat of a car, with two of them in the front. After one party, he fucked me on his bed, with his friend sitting next to me, jerking off. Friend came on my tits, while he was fucking me, and he approved.

Eventually, they would spit roast me, from time to time, but none of them never fucked me, they were always on the other end. We have done this with five of his friends, on many separate occasions. Again, I thought nothing of it, since being in the modeling world, I have seen and done a few things, so I was just taking advantage of him and his money, and there was plenty of it.

Until I got pregnant. The last thing I expected is for him to marry me, but funny enough, he did, and 20 years have passed since then, and miraculously I got myself a good and caring husband, and a wonderful father to our children.

But, even today, when we, rarely, meet some of his old friends, they give me this cheeky look. I think hubby feels it, and isnt very pleased about it. He apologized to me, many times, for the way he treated me in the beginning.

He has nothing to apologize, I got much more than I ever dreamed I could out of it, and in the end, it was the best sex I ever had.

This is my confession:
I was an international race car driver. One day, a baby carriage rolled out onto the tracks, so I swerved into the retaining wall to avoid it. The car burst into flames, but the baby miraculously survived....I was that baby!

I just want to share a story with you guys. Everything, every little detail outlined in the following story is ABSOLUTELY TRUE. It is a story of the trials and tribulations of a former U.S. spy, the rise and downfall of a former U.S. Army Intelligence Soldier named Eric Sykes. The story of Eric Sykes is broken down into multiple parts, about three or four. His story is that of not only a man who lost an internal battle with himself, but a harrowing story of betrayal that highlights the state of the United States as a whole, the lack of integrity and downright sleaziness possessed by U.S. senior leadership as a whole, on the Executive level. I may or may not be that soldier described. I will provide documentation proving of the soldier's existence. The stories will be broken down into about three or four parts. I would like to begin the series with a story that highlights Eric Sykes's rise as a US Army Intelligence Soldier. The following story was written by a colleague of his describing Eric Sykes's heroic actions will training in the US Army Intelligence training school:

"I was fortunate enough to have been there on his first day at AIT (Army Job Training). I remember him looking around nervously to see if he could find a friendly face at his first AIT physical training session. He excelled at physical training, that fact became apparent from this very first day. He performed better than the majority of us, drill sergeants were quick to point that out. We were the students on holding status, having just gotten in to Fort Huachuca, Arizona, and waiting to be assigned to a class. Some of us were here, unfortunately, from disciplinary reasons, expelled from our classes. It wasn't long before the drill sergeants assigned this very athletic soldier the position of squad leader. We were all jealous, we disliked him, I'm pretty positive that he could sense that, probably why he always remained quiet, always remained to himself. Admittedly, though, some of us disliked him simply because he was black and that he had been given a position of authority above us. But the fact remained that he was the best soldier for the position from what the drill sergeants could see, and the only medium they had was how we performed at physical training (not to mention whether or not we had some disciplinary problems). About as soon as he was given the position, he had secured a slot in a class and had to move to another squad to join the rest of the soldiers who had gotten a class.

From the very start of class, we could tell that he was a very smart young man. He was very inquisitive and he always asked relevant questions that related to the big picture. Not to mention that he would score pretty well on tests. It wasn't long before he would earn our deepest respect, some of our respect was due to the fact that he was a quiet guy, you gotta respect quiet people. Mostly, though, our respect towards him is due to four near-miraculous, selfless acts of integrity.

His first act of integrity amazed us, but really wasn't surprising because we were all submerged, from basic training, in Army values. Every soldier was expected to live and exemplify the seven Army values - Loyalty, Duty, Respect, Selfless Service, Honor, Integrity, and Personal Courage. What had happened, in this case, was that he had gotten back his test that had a perfect score in the header, he had scored a 100%. Everyone else in the class were given back their tests and the Army instructors proceeded to go over the answers to the test. During our going over the answers to the tests, our soldier noticed that the instructor had marked an answer right which he really had gotten wrong. Our soldier wasted no time in raising his hand and rising from his seat to respectfully inform the instructor that his grade should be reduced because he had gotten one of his answers wrong. The instructor called our soldier to the front of the class to see his test. He recognized that a mistake had, in fact, been made. The instructor took his test and marked it down from a 100%.

Later, our soldier was called into a private meeting with the Army instructor where he was duly commended, in the form of formal counseling, for his amazing show of integrity in class.

Our soldier's second act of courageous integrity occurred in exactly the same manner as the first. He, again, noticed that the instructor has miss-marked his test. Again, our soldier wasted no time in informing the instructor of his mistake.

This time, our soldier was commended verbally, in the form of informal counseling, for his actions. It was at this end that our soldier had earned the hearts and respect of other soldiers, his fellow classmates - even to the extent where the soldier was referred to, by some of his classmates, as being their "M.I. Hero". Our soldier found himself being aggressively targeted by female soldiers in his class. Two of his female classmates even expressed, many times in class, that they wished to participate in a threesome with our soldier.

The third incidence of a selfless act of integrity was, no doubt, the hardest test for our soldier. What happened was one day, while all the students were exiting the class in order to go home, to the dormitories, for the evening, the entire schoolhouse was subjected to a surprise shakedown of all take-home school materials for classified information. All of the Army instructors in the schoolhouse participated in the event. How the event was set up was that the students were sequestered within a particular area of the schoolhouse waiting to be seen by a large group of instructors. Once they were called, the students were taken into a room, where the instructors were, where their things were torn through in an attempt to locate any classified materials in their things. Once the soldier is cleared, no classified information found within their things, they are sent to a cleared room to wait for the others to finish getting their things checked. The whole experience, to the unseasoned soldier new to the community that they were striving to become a part of, is quite an intimidating and disorientating experience.

Our soldier was shaken down and given a "Go" due to the instructors not finding any classified information among his things. Our soldier was sent to the cleared room with other soldiers having been identified as not having any classified information among their things.

While in the cleared room, our soldier was putting his things back into his backpack and arranging the things in his backpack into their normal positions when he found a piece of classified information among his things. Dejected and knowing the seriousness of what he had done, our soldier left the cleared room back into the shakedown area to inform the instructors that he had, in fact, had compartmented information among his things and respectfully informed them that they had been mistaken.

To have been faced with such odds, to have been subjected to the intimidating, near-violent experience of having been shaken down by instructors and his heading back into the fray to inform them that they had made a mistake and that he was at fault was, no doubt, an amazing act of gumption and integrity - especially when he could have easily hidden the fact from the instructors and gotten away with it.

The fourth incident of his having shown a tremendous, highly admirable display of all seven of the Army values happened in close relation to the third. The next day, an Army instructor sat down with our soldier in a private meeting to discuss what had happened the previous day and to discuss the possible ramifications of what he had done. The instructor sat down with our soldier and asked him, specifically, if he had, in fact, taken home the compartmented information. Reflecting back on the previous days events, it could not be proven if our soldier had really taken home the information, after all, the students were intercepted while on their way out of the schoolhouse, not outside of the schoolhouse. The instructor proceeded to pressure our soldier, cajole him to admit whether or not he had taken the compartmented information home. If our soldier had attested, at that point to the instructor, to have not taken the information home, it would serve as to remedy the situation, to some extent, that he was now facing, it would serve to rid him of a lion's share of the guilt of having compartmented information in his take-home materials.

Our soldier, upon contemplation of whether or not he had really taken home the information, admitted to having taken the compartmented information home the day prior to the day of the shakedown. The instructor then asked if he was absolutely sure that he had taken home the information. Again, our soldier admitted to taking home the compartmented information.

Even though the Army instructors never showed it out in the open, they could not help to be, behind closed doors, in awe and admiration over our soldier. Nevertheless, what was done was done, our soldier had to be punished for what he did. It was decided that our soldier was to be "rolled-back" to another class. He would have to be sent back to a class that had started much after his class had begun. Nevertheless, our soldier remained completely composed throughout this ordeal. He wasn't at all angry with the decision, rather, he remained apologetic about what he had done, he acknowledged that what was happening to him was the direct result of his actions.

Our soldier went to his newly assigned class and performed well. He graduated and moved on from the AIT environment to his very first duty station - which consisted of a highly coveted special assignment normally reserved for higher ranking U.S. Army Intelligence soldiers, most definitely not for soldiers fresh from AIT, still wet behind the ears. Did the ordeals that happened during his AIT have anything to do with our soldier being given such a specialized assignment? We all will never know.

Again, I must say that I am both fortunate and privileged to have witnessed such noble and heroic acts of such an amazing soldier. Even though these accounts are those of a soldier who goes on to be unknown, I feel that it is only right that the audience should know who this soldier was, so I am going to go ahead and subvert any mystery or ambiguity that could be derived from this story by stating that the soldier's name was Sykes."