Jewish Cuckoldress & Husband Tim celebrate 10 years' wedding aniversay.

Thursday, 31 August, Year 9 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

For our tin aniversary we went with JCi to Pompodoro, the Italian Restaurant. Have you heard of it ? Everyone in Evansville knows it, the best damn Italian Restaurant in all of Indiana. Well, except for people from Indianapolis, which everyone in Indiana knows are assholes. Just like New Yorkers, you know ? You have to get reservations well in advance to even get in, but we had ours back in May so there was no problem.

As we were sitting at our luxurious table chatting after the delicious high quality pizza replete with delectable choices such as crispy pork sausage, bacon, ham, all kinds of things, and much more, a black man in a very elegant three piece blue suit vehemently approached our table. He had a sort of chalk pattern squarely everywhere, like old time taylor fitting if you know about that. This is very high class because it's what boxers wear. I understand a lot about black culture, I myself rapii, I have a studio in the garage and everything.

The man extended his hand to JC, saying, "Hi, my name is Joel". What a strange name! JC just giggled and said "Howdy, Joel!" This is very unlike her, I have never heard her say that before. But what came next surprised me even more, because the black man shook her hand and then said "I'm going to the toilet now, and I don't like to use toilet paper. Would you like to come with me and kiss it clean after I've peed ?"

It's a very strange thing to ask a woman in an upscale restaurant, I think you agree, and besides you have to get your reservations well in advance to even be there. But to my shocked surprise and rage JC simply said "Sure!" and stood up to follow this unknown black man to the gent's restroom! But before they left he said to her "leave your shoes", and she did! She pushed her red high heels that I bought for her right off her feet under the table and paddled behind him to the restrooms barefoot in her pantyhose only.

I was floored and flabbergasted! I didn't even know what to do. I always know what to do, I am even famous at work for it, "Ask Tim, he always knows what to do", but here I was drawing blanks. It might have been because I don't so often go to upscale Italian Restaurants, we usually eat at Applebee's or another good quality and value chain like that.

After a while the waiter came to ask me if I'd like something to drink, and I realised that what he meant was we should be getting the check. How could I ask for the check when JC wasn't even there ? So I had to have something to drink there was no way out of it although I normally don't drink and besides why buy drinks at a restaurant when you could just buy a bottle at the Walmart. So I told him "yes" but he wouldn't go away, instead he started telling me all the drinks he had which none make any sense (this was an Italian Restaurant). I ordered one of them Marparis whatever they are, a kind of Italian fortified wine. But then when JC still wasn't showing up almost three quarters of an hour later or more I had to order another one, and eventually after that there was no way out of it, I had to go use the restroom.

I thought about going into the ladies' instead, but to be honest I've never done that in my life, and besides it was on the other side of the restaurant, it would have made it too obvious. As I approached the restroom I could clearly hear JC grunting, and once I stepped in I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There was JC, completely naked, her left wrist in a handcuff the other end of which was tied to an exposed pipe by the urinals, almost completely naked, all her clothes in tatters, sucking some guy off! The original black guy was nowhere to be seen among the crowd of men crowding around her, and I noticed that every time she finished one he's tear a piece of her clothing, as if to take a memento for the occasion of our Tin aniversary!

She must have given that black guy one hell of a cleaning with her mouth, I thought! and then I felt faint. As I was resting against the wall to catch my breath I called for the manager!

"Yes, I'm right here", came the answer, from an older gentleman with round spectacles among the crowd. "What do you need ?"

  1. Yes I find the titulature hysterical. I understand what produced it, the keyword push is a thing in porn copywriting. Nevertheless, I noticed (as I've no doubt everyone paying attention's noticed) a significant relationship between sexuality and race awareness (and in fact you can't even produce an explanation for race outside of sexual preference and endo/exogamy trouble). Yet, most people males preoccupied with semites in a sexual sense tend to call the Rachel hussies jewesses rather than jewish. I dunno, it tickles better apparently. Perhaps because it's an exotic derivation mechanism to match their exotic big tits and imaginary red hair ? Except here it was interdicted by the absence of an alternative to decline cuckold, you can't very well say jewess cuckoldish, it makes no sense there. See how sadly limited English is, you're stuck using the -ish of things to denote the -(r)ess of women ? Tsk tsk.

    Anyway, I can almost see the author's tongue sticking out of his face as he's trying to muscularily push the suffix where he feels it belongs notwithstanding the requirements of syntax preclude the perceivedly correct arrangement. EEeeehhhnnnn! []

  2. By now you perhaps noticed this, like so many other Trilema pieces, is a reference bonanza disguised. I'll give you the third one for free. []
Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte
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2 Responses

  1. [...] who gives him a wet noodle for a son. That washcloth in turn marries some brownie masquerading as a jewess and, irony of ironies, sires the very WASP-ish Matthew B out of her wasted, shriveled up [...]

  2. [...] Yet we're not going to talk about that ; and we'll also let fall by the side aided rape, such as by that one and true mark of humanity -- the use of tools -- the iota and quantum of which would be the belt-around-ankles position. Have you ever wondered, by the way, why the belt buckle was such a major identificator of social standing in the days of the iron age, and why any serious Roman legionnaire had one just like any serious contemporary cuck has a smartphone ? It worked for them, see, just like it works for you now. The world has not retained the count of ripe teenagers sent to care for the family's goats that ran into a guy sent to care for the world's cunts and got introduced to the-facts-of-life-on-earth with a soldier's belt around the ankles ; and similarily it has not retained (nor will it retain) the count of ripe cucks similarily introduced for similar reasonsiii. [...]

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