My pussy is not a charity

 

Jamaicans  are quite unique. There is nothing that a Jamaican cannot  Jamaicanize, You name it; dancing, singing, running and or course, begging, we will put a Jamaican twist to it and run with it.When it comes to freeness, be it near or far,  wi a di fuss one inna di line. We like money , we like to spend other peoples’ money. So we always  have someone a foreign  to beg  a change  , a barrel, a blackberry, if it exists and in style we want it and we a go beg it (with the exception of a few Independent Jamaican like myself)So, it is no surprise  that Jamaican men believe that charity extends to every  aspect of life,especially when it comes on to the pussy.Simply, dem have rights to every woman pussy because it is free for all, so any and every somebody can come join di line fi di freeness.

I recently had several, (not one , not two but SEVERAL ) run ins with some of these men  that I begin to wonder if there was some kind of mark on my forehead that said ‘ Welcome, if you are in  need , I am the one indeed”.On one occasion , the minute I got home a sat in front of the mirror and thoroughly examine whether the look of desperation was plastered all over my face,  if I looked  horny or if I had simply just grown uglier  because I just couldn’t figure out why these men believe that familiarity automatically translates into them being in my league and having the right to invite themselves for  a helping of MY PUSSY.It is not the mere invitation that gets me angry but constant, blatant, non hesitant demand being thrust upon me without them even taking  any time to consider that maybe the ring on my finger and the protruding stomach  are signs that translates to “OFF LIMITS” and not “SAFE TO PROCEED”.

How dare they think that because I take public transportation, walk the public streets amongst the masses that I automatically hand them a license to harass me, preposterous!!.I have no problem with them saying Hi, How are you and bye but not Hi, How are you, Can I come over for a ride?

Why is that they think that the dick is a gift from God and that I need it? Why on earth do they insist that I want to  have sex with them , inviting themselves for breakfast, lunch and dinner? Isn’t the serious, don’t fuck with me disgruntled  bitchy look that I wear on my face any indication that I want nothing to do with them?Of Course not! Why should it ?.

Yet they don’t even ask me for my number and don’t even know my first name and they don’t even tell their names because clearly I must know it already  because they  think they are that important to me.  But why should they  even get to know me when obviously they  heard through the grapevine that I was running a charity where there is no need to exchange names or qualifications since there is no form of classification or elimination. Or is it  simply that It was never about me  but their satisfaction, their innate right to the freeness between my legs , so I should just spread and lay  still on the bed.

 But I have news for them, I don’t run a ramping shop, a charity shop or a sex shop between my legs. I am not a teenager with hormones I can’t control so I won’t just smile and enjoy the ride for the free taxi ride or a lunch money.

My pussy is NOT a charity so your cock  will not be getting anywhere  near it , in it  now  an d for ever more , as long as I live so help me God