Still feeling uneasy that evening, I decide to text him goodnight instead of calling as we usually do. Despite my text, as soon as I lay down my phone... rings and it’s him. “Hey beautiful, what happened to you at the gym today? You left without saying goodbye.” I know I should tell him what’s on my mind, but all I can get out is, “I, uh….wasn’t feeling well.” Again I can’t seem to admit the truth, and guilt begins to swell inside of me. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” “I’m fine... just tired.” I bite. .not even bother with guys faces orbodies...my eyes are to be always looking at cock. Even when black guys pass meon the street, I am to look at the lumps in their pants and imagine how bigand tasty their dicks are. I have learned that there aremany different tastes to black guys' pricks. This has taken lots of practice.Iam not allowed any music or tv or ordinary books or magazines. I am instructed to watch four hours of fuck videos each day, and Tyrone has me read books like.Black Master's. We were feeling hot and longing for the cool of the water, but when it first splashed over our ankles, we squealed with the cold! We kept going though and were soon over the first shock. I watched as Mum dived into another large breaker, emerging gasping from the other side. Then she was swimming off out to sea into the calmer water beyond the waves. Both she and Dad were good swimmers and we'd often seen them swim quite a distance from the beach before returning.I felt invigorated with the. I was in my early twenties and while working in a store at the local mall there was one girl that stood out...I couldn't help myself. I found myself watching her from across the way as she worked in the store across from me. She'd come over once in a while and ask to borrow random items. Turns out she came in one day to confess that she in fact was just making excuses to come in to talk to me. She was a beautiful brunette with hair that just passed her shoulders. She had Beautiful, big.