stevek173
BANNED
- Since
- Jan 30, 2010
- Messages
- 13,376
- Score
- 2
- Tokens
- 0
GAME JUST HAPPENED 

Can I touch you long dark hair?
Run my fingers over your body without care.
Can I stroke your long lean thighs?
Get lost in those soulful big brown eyes.
Can I caress your beautiful pedicured feet?
After a night walking the cold lonely street.
Can I massage you soft ample breast?
Give you my heart, my love and all my best.
I want to embrace, hold you tight and show how much I care.
And it all starts when I touch your long dark hair.
Can I touch you long dark hair?
Run my fingers over your body without care.
Can I stroke your long lean thighs?
Get lost in those soulful big brown eyes.
Can I caress your beautiful pedicured feet?
After a night walking the cold lonely street.
Can I massage you soft ample breast?
Give you my heart, my love and all my best.
I want to embrace, hold you tight and show how much I care.
And it all starts when I touch your long dark hair.
How many white girls in the ’60s grew up praying for fat thighs? I know I did. I asked God to give me big thighs like my dancing teacher, Diane. There was no way I wanted to look like Twiggy, the white model whose boy-like build was the dream of white girls. Not with Joe Tex ringing in my ears.
Another friend, a woman of color who is a tenured professor, told me that her husband, also a tenured professor and of color, begged her not to lose “the sugar down below” when she embarked on a weight-loss program.