there was a vixen i use to know.
how we became cool was actually a funny story.
so we met at a retail job i worked at couple years ago…
ive asked a few vixens how they feel when wolves holla at them on the street.
“i hate it.”
“i don’t stop for these pineapples.”
“what do i look like stopping for a pineapple in a car? a prostitute?”
i often wondered if i was a vixen,
would i like the attention?
in my head,
if the wolf was fine,
i mos def would stop and get his number.
most of the times,
as vixens put it,
the fine wolves don’t ask them for their numbers on the street.
well the following youtube video is a about a vixen,
with a fat ass,
walking the streets of new yawk for 10 hours.
now you all know how i feel about september.
oh you dunno who that is?
thats what i like to call august alsina’s ratchet alter ego.
september decided to bring some vixens on stage the other night in alabama.
they are currently on the testimony live tour.
august was going to seduce them with vocals.
well as august was singing,
september decided to give a vixen something pretty interesting…
i’ll be honest with you.
back in the day,
dealing with the loneliness of being a fox aka bottom,
i would imagine myself as ^that vixen.
well not that vixen per say,
but something in that package.
long wet ‘n’ wavy hair.
a fat ass.
i would say:
i’d have that fine ass wolf over there!
i’d get him to buy me dis!
take me here!
i’d use my pussy to get the pineapples i wanted!
i’d have every sexy wolf i’d see!”
i would see a chick like that and get so jealous.
she would be getting all the wolves i wanted.
it would make me feel that those same wolves i liked were only “straight”.
when i say instant depression?
well lately i have stepped outside my insecurities.
hanging out and working with the straights teaches me a lot.
sometimes when a wolf is hungry,
with a body like that,
he can pretty much get anything on the menu.
sausage stuffed squash.
well this wolf was in the mood for asian takeout.
judging from the way he went at it…
(this is 18^ and nsfw)…
what is “damn he tore my shit up” mean to people?
ever so often,
we meet a wolf who is cocky in the bed.
we beggin for mercy and can’t stop moaning.
the neighbors know his first,
and parent’s name.
HE PUTS IT THE FUCK DOWN.
what would you think of a wolf if had someone hollering like this…
and a link that isn’t for straight eyes)…
if he was yo cousin in law,
would you let him smash?
you may have to ignore the wedding rings and vows and stuff.
well this vixen didn’t and well…
(this is 18^ and nsfw)…
you know what i realized today?
i get my energy off people who have made it.
now not these social media attentionistos,
but people i meet who are content in their lives.
they know their financial limits,
but they are able to afford nice things and go interesting places.
those kind of people inspire me.
they make me aspire for greater.
tonight was pretty interesting in realizing that…
this is why i thank god we can’t have kids.
i couldn’t deal.
so i was talking to one of the f-bi last night and they were filling me in on a wolf i’ve featured.
i would have said “an attention whore”,
but you know that gets folks all riled up.
the queen vs the aggressive vixen.
two hood rats; one bus.