Amandla

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I am fairly certain that it's not normal to become so caught up in the absurdity of the actual act of fellatio that you can't believe anyone would perform such an act voluntarily--while someone is doing exactly that

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I am fairly certain that it's not normal to become so caught up in the absurdity of the actual act of fellatio that you can't believe anyone would perform such an act voluntarily--while someone is doing exactly that.

And of course, Amandla and I had been performing said act upon each other and had derived a great deal of mutual satisfaction from it for months.

I enjoyed it that day, too. I mean, I came, copiously, and returned the favor gratefully and with equal enthusiasm, but...sometimes my mind just goes off in odd directions that way.

Thankfully, Ama (AH mah)—my pet name for her—was oblivious. And not because she was as clueless as all the other college kids I've told you about. Far from it.

She's a genius. Verified, if you accept the verdict of intelligence tests. A strong Black woman with an Einstein mind. It confuses the hell out of most men. Most people, period.

Yet another example of how we "see" people of color. Women. Too many things.

But her name, which means "Power" in the Nguni language of South Africa, was well chosen. She codes like a champ, she's a cosplay devotee, the only meat she eats is...well...what she'd just eaten so to speak, she got a perfect score on the SATs (I checked) and she listens to some of the strangest music I have ever heard in all my life. And I've traveled a great deal and heard some strange shit along the way.

I mean one of my favorite "bands" aside from British "grime" is is Le Mystere des Voix Bulgares which can only be likened to listening to Mass on mushrooms.

She adored them when I introduced her to them on YouTube. And got us some acid to drop together while we listened to them and fucked each other senseless from the sheer joy of it all.

That's kind of the whole point of our relationship. To fuck each other senseless. We weren't trying to be a couple or have a "relationship." Which...oddly enough drew us even closer. There's nothing we can't tell each other without shame or fear.

Nikki, the woman I told you about who felt I wasn't trying hard enough to "keep" her, had trouble comprehending that. Understandable, since Ama's also built like Megan Thee Stallion.

Even when she arrives in class wearing her very thick glasses, sweats and a pair of gigantic tiger foot house slippers, most of the men in class spend the entire hour hiding their hard ons. Even sweats can't hide that ass.

That's another reason a lot of the men on campus hate my fucking guts. They'd put it about that she was a lesbian—the pathetic last gasp of many repeatedly rejected males—because she had been virtually "impenetrable" before I arrived.

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