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Admit to a minor transgression

I vape and watch youtube in the work bathroom sometimes up to 30 minutes at a time. And i get up and pee at least once an hour. Partially cuz i drink so much water, but also because its good to stretch your legs out when you been sitting so long. So technically by standing in the bathroom vaping and watching youtube, i am inadvertently saving my life.
 
As some of you may recall, I'd often stated that one of the rules I held to the utmost regard in matter of personal work ethics since a few years, is to never EVER accost any female coworker in a way that outright suggests filtration, courtship or any due form of intimate bonding that broke out the boundaries of deontological duty-- lest not being the one who accost first.

Although and far unwittingly, the ever-frictional compound between my ethical principles in employment one from hand, that are constantly clashing against whatever of these pulls or drawing power I am now more but ever increasingly exerting their lot to the other hand, doesn't help.

In spite acting any less but both passively and intently under the role of the one stuck on the receiving end of every sexual pursuit or suggestive enticement... the three-second long come-hithers meant to let the average person in doubt, or me having my body parts and derriere (and even groin) peeped at raunchily for a hour straight visual; their fingers roving for a very brieve moment onto my chest, upper back or biceps, a hand meandering upward on my thigh-- nay overt acts of gross sexual imposition, sexual harrassment and sexual misconduct; it always lead to nothing but trouble.
Whether I winded up becoming somewhat responsive to their advances pushed toward me, feigning to not realize anything about their vagaries, or passively rejecting them.

Heck, I get sexually harrassed, disparaged, attemptively sabotaged several times then ultimately fired within a half-month period from a side job, just because one of my white superiors at that workplace - some white Stacey who was really obssessed with black men, and made the same advances to other black coworkers and even further - was too entitled to take a L and deal with it, so she went full Becky on my ass.

I've been on another side job for now four months. It was meant to be one of two jobs, but well you already know the ol' song about how white folks likes to set us to fail. From the first week onward, I had another white Stacey on thay workplace hitting on me. Her attempted advances were so gullible and obvious that everyone knew it.

[Next...]
 
JohnSmithCAN said:
As some of you may recall, I'd often stated that one of the rules I held to the utmost regard in matter of personal work ethics since a few years, is to never EVER accost any female coworker in a way that outright suggests filtration, courtship or any due form of intimate bonding that broke out the boundaries of deontological duty-- lest not being the one who accost first.

Although and far unwittingly, the ever-frictional compound between my ethical principles in employment one from hand, that are constantly clashing against whatever of these pulls or drawing power I am now more but ever increasingly exerting their lot to the other hand, doesn't help.

In spite acting any less but both passively and intently under the role of the one stuck on the receiving end of every sexual pursuit or suggestive enticement... the three-second long come-hithers meant to let the average person in doubt, or me having my body parts and derriere (and even groin) peeped at raunchily for a hour straight visual; their fingers roving for a very brieve moment onto my chest, upper back or biceps, a hand meandering upward on my thigh-- nay overt acts of gross sexual imposition, sexual harrassment and sexual misconduct; it always lead to nothing but trouble.
Whether I winded up becoming somewhat responsive to their advances pushed toward me, feigning to not realize anything about their vagaries, or passively rejecting them.

Heck, I get sexually harrassed, disparaged, attemptively sabotaged several times then ultimately fired within a half-month period from a side job, just because one of my white superiors at that workplace - some white Stacey who was really obssessed with black men, and made the same advances to other black coworkers and even further - was too entitled to take a L and deal with it, so she went full Becky on my ass.

I've been on another side job for now four months. It was meant to be one of two jobs, but well you already know the ol' song about how white folks likes to set us to fail. From the first week onward, I had another white Stacey on thay workplace hitting on me. Her attempted advances were so gullible and obvious that everyone knew it.

[Next...]
Click to expand...

Maybe that a return to a stricter lockdown in Quebec late the year that precedes this one, coupled by her latest formative months in nursery and overstress had played a role into what followed next, but at some point like most young infatuated - or least, hardly interested - woman who ever either been working with, being served up as a customer by, or barely accosted me, she somehow figured out about some of my preferences (yea... that one), I don't know how-- maybe she went full Joe Goldberg on me like a few women I knew did, and investigated on whatever plausible pseudonym I may have online then found my social medias heavily charged in following lists of women of any freaking size and shape-- and by there I meant it. Or that she eavesdropped, like did (and still does) other female coworkers, a little chatting between male employees about our past conquests, the frequency of women who pursue/ed us, how they looked and how many times a white guy is going to tauntingly suggest that because I'm black I might forcibly like them chonky or heavy (which is indeed the case as y'all already know. But not exclusively) ... and the next thing I noted a little later on that, as so many who did this to fetch my attention beforehand, she forthright stopped to restrict her dietetic intake and abandoned her attempts to keep her waistline in check since a little after my hiring there, by gorging herself up on large quantities of fattening, calorie rich meals on a regular basis.

She was nowhere conventionally slim thanks to her podgy, vacationing-from-workout-day looks; neither properly the cardboard athletically slim-thick social media babe when we first met... but after a couple of weeks, she chubbied up at an alarming rate.
Her face appeared more fuller and rounder at every passing workday. Her bust went a little bit heavier. The cheeks of her once-rather wide bubble bum were testing the limits of each pair of outgrown black leggings she wore in way that made her appear more provocative and flashy to the undiscreet eyes, her formerly medium size legs were brushing against each other, but more importantly her fairly overgrown polo shirt uniform was then clinging tighter and tighter against her upper frame.

Typical, I thought at the moment with a faint smile. She was not the first neither the last coworker to do this with for sole intent to earn my favors or outright turning me on. Heck, I had dozens of customers and even a married woman who all engaged into luring me or giving more weight (my apologies for the irony behind that unintended pun. I mean it proverbially) to their woos in such manner. And another dozens who didn't consciously meant it when they suddenly started to get smitten by some unexplainable, sudden food addiction crisis and pangs of trance-induced binging, halfway akin between bulimia, self-pleasuring and hypnotic limerence, but nonetheless ended up the same... all of that, without doing anything but simply cooking with ordinary, totally innocuous ingredients or actually proposing them foods and products I haven't cooked at all. A former employer I had and some of his regular clients had once, many years ago, jokingly suggested - in a very racially insensitive tone - that I might have a "green thumb for soul food" as there had no rational explanation about the how and why so many clients turned infatued by my cook-- and some of the women most particularly addicted (with one ominous case about one regular customer during my formative days up there who ballooned up a little after growing first addicted to my cook then to the whole canteen at the mall, a whooping little few pounds close from one hundred of pounds... within a three weeks period!) . 🙄


Had been the fairly younger me from three years ago, I would have made a half-step forward the flirtation by holding in memory this action as another tantamount evidence about the ambuiguity of her woos being indeed for what they were, intently ambiguous woos. Had been even the pre-lockdown me from twelve months ago, that I would have coyly played her up and the other playthings of the moment amid the clientele in their attempts to tie me down to their longing needs for attention and reward in my usual beguiling ways: playing both the aloof dark, handsome man and the nice, semi-coquettish saleswoman at once. Their cards combined with mine, with the resulting effects expected from any saleswoman: they overbought it while the scashier machine flow with more money... and them with more padding: except these were not padding clothes.

But I won't.

[Next...]
 
JohnSmithCAN said:
Maybe that a return to a stricter lockdown in Quebec late the year that precedes this one, coupled by her latest formative months in nursery and overstress had played a role into what followed next, but at some point like most young infatuated - or least, hardly interested - woman who ever either been working with, being served up as a customer by, or barely accosted me, she somehow figured out about some of my preferences (yea... that one), I don't know how-- maybe she went full Joe Goldberg on me like a few women I knew did, and investigated on whatever plausible pseudonym I may have online then found my social medias heavily charged in following lists of women of any freaking size and shape-- and by there I meant it. Or that she eavesdropped, like did (and still does) other female coworkers, a little chatting between male employees about our past conquests, the frequency of women who pursue/ed us, how they looked and how many times a white guy is going to tauntingly suggest that because I'm black I might forcibly like them chonky or heavy (which is indeed the case as y'all already know. But not exclusively) ... and the next thing I noted a little later on that, as so many who did this to fetch my attention beforehand, she forthright stopped to restrict her dietetic intake and abandoned her attempts to keep her waistline in check since a little after my hiring there, by gorging herself up on large quantities of fattening, calorie rich meals on a regular basis.

She was nowhere conventionally slim thanks to her podgy, vacationing-from-workout-day looks; neither properly the cardboard athletically slim-thick social media babe when we first met... but after a couple of weeks, she chubbied up at an alarming rate.
Her face appeared more fuller and rounder at every passing workday. Her bust went a little bit heavier. The cheeks of her once-rather wide bubble bum were testing the limits of each pair of outgrown black leggings she wore in way that made her appear more provocative and flashy to the undiscreet eyes, her formerly medium size legs were brushing against each other, but more importantly her fairly overgrown polo shirt uniform was then clinging tighter and tighter against her upper frame.

Typical, I thought at the moment with a faint smile. She was not the first neither the last coworker to do this with for sole intent to earn my favors or outright turning me on. Heck, I had dozens of customers and even a married woman who all engaged into luring me or giving more weight (my apologies for the irony behind that unintended pun. I mean it proverbially) to their woos in such manner. And another dozens who didn't consciously meant it when they suddenly started to get smitten by some unexplainable, sudden food addiction crisis and pangs of trance-induced binging, halfway akin between bulimia, self-pleasuring and hypnotic limerence, but nonetheless ended up the same... all of that, without doing anything but simply cooking with ordinary, totally innocuous ingredients or actually proposing them foods and products I haven't cooked at all. A former employer I had and some of his regular clients had once, many years ago, jokingly suggested - in a very racially insensitive tone - that I might have a "green thumb for soul food" as there had no rational explanation about the how and why so many clients turned infatued by my cook-- and some of the women most particularly addicted (with one ominous case about one regular customer during my formative days up there who ballooned up a little after growing first addicted to my cook then to the whole canteen at the mall, a whooping little few pounds close from one hundred of pounds... within a three weeks period!) . 🙄


Had been the fairly younger me from three years ago, I would have made a half-step forward the flirtation by holding in memory this action as another tantamount evidence about the ambuiguity of her woos being indeed for what they were, intently ambiguous woos. Had been even the pre-lockdown me from twelve months ago, that I would have coyly played her up and the other playthings of the moment amid the clientele in their attempts to tie me down to their longing needs for attention and reward in my usual beguiling ways: playing both the aloof dark, handsome man and the nice, semi-coquettish saleswoman at once. Their cards combined with mine, with the resulting effects expected from any saleswoman: they overbought it while the scashier machine flow with more money... and them with more padding: except these were not padding clothes.

But I won't.

[Next...]
Click to expand...

This man's very aura turning women into BBWs LOL.
 
JohnSmithCAN said:
Maybe that a return to a stricter lockdown in Quebec late the year that precedes this one, coupled by her latest formative months in nursery and overstress had played a role into what followed next, but at some point like most young infatuated - or least, hardly interested - woman who ever either been working with, being served up as a customer by, or barely accosted me, she somehow figured out about some of my preferences (yea... that one), I don't know how-- maybe she went full Joe Goldberg on me like a few women I knew did, and investigated on whatever plausible pseudonym I may have online then found my social medias heavily charged in following lists of women of any freaking size and shape-- and by there I meant it. Or that she eavesdropped, like did (and still does) other female coworkers, a little chatting between male employees about our past conquests, the frequency of women who pursue/ed us, how they looked and how many times a white guy is going to tauntingly suggest that because I'm black I might forcibly like them chonky or heavy (which is indeed the case as y'all already know. But not exclusively) ... and the next thing I noted a little later on that, as so many who did this to fetch my attention beforehand, she forthright stopped to restrict her dietetic intake and abandoned her attempts to keep her waistline in check since a little after my hiring there, by gorging herself up on large quantities of fattening, calorie rich meals on a regular basis.

She was nowhere conventionally slim thanks to her podgy, vacationing-from-workout-day looks; neither properly the cardboard athletically slim-thick social media babe when we first met... but after a couple of weeks, she chubbied up at an alarming rate.
Her face appeared more fuller and rounder at every passing workday. Her bust went a little bit heavier. The cheeks of her once-rather wide bubble bum were testing the limits of each pair of outgrown black leggings she wore in way that made her appear more provocative and flashy to the undiscreet eyes, her formerly medium size legs were brushing against each other, but more importantly her fairly overgrown polo shirt uniform was then clinging tighter and tighter against her upper frame.

Typical, I thought at the moment with a faint smile. She was not the first neither the last coworker to do this with for sole intent to earn my favors or outright turning me on. Heck, I had dozens of customers and even a married woman who all engaged into luring me or giving more weight (my apologies for the irony behind that unintended pun. I mean it proverbially) to their woos in such manner. And another dozens who didn't consciously meant it when they suddenly started to get smitten by some unexplainable, sudden food addiction crisis and pangs of trance-induced binging, halfway akin between bulimia, self-pleasuring and hypnotic limerence, but nonetheless ended up the same... all of that, without doing anything but simply cooking with ordinary, totally innocuous ingredients or actually proposing them foods and products I haven't cooked at all. A former employer I had and some of his regular clients had once, many years ago, jokingly suggested - in a very racially insensitive tone - that I might have a "green thumb for soul food" as there had no rational explanation about the how and why so many clients turned infatued by my cook-- and some of the women most particularly addicted (with one ominous case about one regular customer during my formative days up there who ballooned up a little after growing first addicted to my cook then to the whole canteen at the mall, a whooping little few pounds close from one hundred of pounds... within a three weeks period!) . 🙄


Had been the fairly younger me from three years ago, I would have made a half-step forward the flirtation by holding in memory this action as another tantamount evidence about the ambuiguity of her woos being indeed for what they were, intently ambiguous woos. Had been even the pre-lockdown me from twelve months ago, that I would have coyly played her up and the other playthings of the moment amid the clientele in their attempts to tie me down to their longing needs for attention and reward in my usual beguiling ways: playing both the aloof dark, handsome man and the nice, semi-coquettish saleswoman at once. Their cards combined with mine, with the resulting effects expected from any saleswoman: they overbought it while the scashier machine flow with more money... and them with more padding: except these were not padding clothes.

But I won't.

[Next...]
Click to expand...

Fast fowarding a month after my hiring at the said job and a few days after her creeping up into downright mildly chubby territory, I've been acquaitancing myself with another veteran white female coworker at the workplace-- and this is how the real story begins.

Tall (the other one was too, btw) . Alluring... gracile, small-breasted and lean yet a tad softer end of the spectrum. Likely column-silhouetted, judging by both her rule-like upper frame and back coupled by her full B cupped bust and rather broad shoulders; although uncommonly a little bit edging on the bottom heavy side, given the manner her both her hips and small bubble bum clung gently against the fabric of her professional trousers. A nose piercing on her left nostril. Maybe around 120 pounds or less.

She had a green-hazel eyed stare that would pierces through your soul and some sunny, bubbly yet keen personality. At times, some coworkers and close friends of her were teasingly shouting up about her somewhat gullible, dizzy, airheaded blonde-like demeanors but she's truly one of the most interesting, literate, both intellectually and spiritually curious beyond-high average I.Q. women I ever had to meet in years.

I should have been more careful. Be noticing the first red flags at our first real encounter after she went from appearing stunned and a little bit uneased when I first started to entice her into a talk, to look amused, to sooner gawk at me for a couple of seconds like a bashful lover-- even asking me if we ever met before, given that she was born and raised at the same borough than mine and that she was thoroughly persuaded having seen me somewhere.

Quite unlikely so. She was into her early twenties, quite a half-decade younger than me and not the type to involve herself into my circles. I could read through her at out first chat she was from a good family of middle class, likely very religious. My former circles were far from being bad, but still: we obviously belonged from two totally different worlds in spite being native from the exact same district. Difference never bothered me, though and I rapidly dispatched in mind the mixed signals she gave to me, as well as the impressions of deja-vu I had about her. Assuming she was simply but too friendly and easygoing, and that perhaps we randomly crossed a longtime ago the same street, location or park: when she was obviously but still a baby or a kid; then me an older kid, teenage boy or young man in his high teens.

Next few days has rapidly proven me wrong. I lucked once again the devil himself. Never dismiss your hunch about somebody...

[Next...]
 
JohnSmithCAN said:
Fast fowarding a month after my hiring at the said job and a few days after her creeping up into downright mildly chubby territory, I've been acquaitancing myself with another veteran white female coworker at the workplace-- and this is how the real story begins.

Tall (the other one was too, btw) . Alluring... gracile, small-breasted and lean yet a tad softer end of the spectrum. Likely column-silhouetted, judging by both her rule-like upper frame and back coupled by her full B cupped bust and rather broad shoulders; although uncommonly a little bit edging on the bottom heavy side, given the manner her both her hips and small bubble bum clung gently against the fabric of her professional trousers. A nose piercing on her left nostril. Maybe around 120 pounds or less.

She had a green-hazel eyed stare that would pierces through your soul and some sunny, bubbly yet keen personality. At times, some coworkers and close friends of her were teasingly shouting up about her somewhat gullible, dizzy, airheaded blonde-like demeanors but she's truly one of the most interesting, literate, both intellectually and spiritually curious beyond-high average I.Q. women I ever had to meet in years.

I should have been more careful. Be noticing the first red flags at our first real encounter after she went from appearing stunned and a little bit uneased when I first started to entice her into a talk, to look amused, to sooner gawk at me for a couple of seconds like a bashful lover-- even asking me if we ever met before, given that she was born and raised at the same borough than mine and that she was thoroughly persuaded having seen me somewhere.

Quite unlikely so. She was into her early twenties, quite a half-decade younger than me and not the type to involve herself into my circles. I could read through her at out first chat she was from a good family of middle class, likely very religious. My former circles were far from being bad, but still: we obviously belonged from two totally different worlds in spite being native from the exact same district. Difference never bothered me, though and I rapidly dispatched in mind the mixed signals she gave to me, as well as the impressions of deja-vu I had about her. Assuming she was simply but too friendly and easygoing, and that perhaps we randomly crossed a longtime ago the same street, location or park: when she was obviously but still a baby or a kid; then me an older kid, teenage boy or young man in his high teens.

Next few days has rapidly proven me wrong. I lucked once again the devil himself. Never dismiss your hunch about somebody...

[Next...]
Click to expand...

After having soon not one, but two women feigning the littlest excuse to stalk and gawk contemplatively at both my quaterback hump and other body parts at work, I realized that once ever again, another casuality fell prey of my yet idly-concealed drawing power and now aspired to swoon both my heart and my pelvic region over their integral persons.

But after a few incidents I wasn't responsible coupled my repeated passive rejections of her would-be attempts at being subtle, the white nurse-in-becoming ended up doing what I foretell about every French Canadian woman feeling scorned by some attractive highly melanated brother (and the reason why I can't stand these people) : they reveal their true faces as some vindictive, rude, petty, vengeful, entitled grudheholders.
I was both fortunate and hypervigileant enough for having these said grudgeful revanches being limited only to her who no longer served me coffee, or even adressed a word. Not the tomfoolery that Stacy at the other job employment made me forgoes, a few weeks back.

Regardless, she continued to pork up and, the last month later spent working there for a last time, her polo uniform was now gloving her upper frame like a tight-fitting shirt.

This is how the plumpening Stacey episode had at last turned out to be. An one-way crush on the newbie in the block. Many Ls given and another angry Becky on my blacklist who feels entitled to assume some sense of ownership over both my sentiments-- or lack thereof, sexual self-restraint and manhood. The End.


Sadly for me, the thinner blonde was a tenacious and perseverant opponent. She was bred differently. A little European-ish in her mannerisms and mentality... maybe her minor paternal mainland French heritage, as I would later found out lately.

For the first time of my life, a white woman was pursuing me both the same way than any French Canadian woman does and almost the same way the way a nonwhite woman does: unrelenting, adaptative, predatory, stubborn, entitled, oblivious, full of presomptions and increasingly awkward... yet lacking any of its usually chaotic pattern, as a keen mind would discern something close from a tinge of solipistically seductive sophistication, a rythmical pace, a groove, a better sense of semi-premeditation.

This woman was perhaps familiar with the arcanes of hunting. And I was the deer who just badly guestemed how many more arrows she had yet to draw out of her quiver...

[Next...]
 
JohnSmithCAN said:
After having soon not one, but two women feigning the littlest excuse to stalk and gawk contemplatively at both my quaterback hump and other body parts at work, I realized that once ever again, another casuality fell prey of my yet idly-concealed drawing power and now aspired to swoon both my heart and my pelvic region over their integral persons.

But after a few incidents I wasn't responsible coupled my repeated passive rejections of her would-be attempts at being subtle, the white nurse-in-becoming ended up doing what I foretell about every French Canadian woman feeling scorned by some attractive highly melanated brother (and the reason why I can't stand these people) : they reveal their true faces as some vindictive, rude, petty, vengeful, entitled grudheholders.
I was both fortunate and hypervigileant enough for having these said grudgeful revanches being limited only to her who no longer served me coffee, or even adressed a word. Not the tomfoolery that Stacy at the other job employment made me forgoes, a few weeks back.

Regardless, she continued to pork up and, the last month later spent working there for a last time, her polo uniform was now gloving her upper frame like a tight-fitting shirt.

This is how the plumpening Stacey episode had at last turned out to be. An one-way crush on the newbie in the block. Many Ls given and another angry Becky on my blacklist who feels entitled to assume some sense of ownership over both my sentiments-- or lack thereof, sexual self-restraint and manhood. The End.


Sadly for me, the thinner blonde was a tenacious and perseverant opponent. She was bred differently. A little European-ish in her mannerisms and mentality... maybe her minor paternal mainland French heritage, as I would later found out lately.

For the first time of my life, a white woman was pursuing me both the same way than any French Canadian woman does and almost the same way the way a nonwhite woman does: unrelenting, adaptative, predatory, stubborn, entitled, oblivious, full of presomptions and increasingly awkward... yet lacking any of its usually chaotic pattern, as a keen mind would discern something close from a tinge of solipistically seductive sophistication, a rythmical pace, a groove, a better sense of semi-premeditation.

This woman was perhaps familiar with the arcanes of hunting. And I was the deer who just badly guestemed how many more arrows she had yet to draw out of her quiver...

[Next...]
Click to expand...

If our little shadowy pursuit-and-rejection game had to be likened more to a chess play than a two-player beer pong tournament, she clearly was the one with the white pieces.

On the third day, it first goes about with the semi-amorous contentment she had to see me and shortly exchanging the casual pleasantries of a greeting before politely minding at our respective businesses. The playful twinkle from the intense stares she laid toward me as our paths and gazes crossed each other. My faint amusement as I mindabsentedly gave back that stare, a little perplexed. The same pheromonal electricity that was sparkling from her for a second at the first day.

At the fifth day and at every weekend onward for two more weeks, she amped up her game: scarlet red lipsticks on ivory beige complexion and either matching chic thigh lenght waist-quilted buttoned vest coat or stylish form-fitting tawny beige white fur-sheated wintercoat ti highlight her thin curves and waistline, rosy mascara onto her gently gaunt cheeks, no mask, the almost undiscernable outline of a push-up bra beneath her red polo shirt uniform, a pair of black skinny trousers that were highlighting a little more conspicuously both her butt and comely hips while spousing her long, statuesque legs. An aura of feigned amusement transpired from her appeased visage, as everyone stared down at her, a little disquieted.

"That is not into her habits" , had finally mused out loud her male friend and coworker, a white man in his late thirties.

"She never came around dressed like this?" I politely queried. But I already knew in advance the answer, as well as how he's going to react and what it implies.

"Never. He faintly chuckled. She must have been in a date with her sister and wanted to look pretty" as he suggestively side-stared at me for a split second. Even with a sanitary mask on, I could tell judging y the familiarity I'd already acquired about his facial expressions that he holded back from drawing out a cunning smile. "She's onto something-- or rather somebody" was most definitively what I could hear between the words. He used to be somewhat acquaitanced with my late older brother and a few of my male cousins, when I was little: the reputation of my blood kinship and most especially my brother as some very notorious, unnaturally charismatic women magnets preceded my first pelvic hair, let alone all of our respective births. My "mojo" as I like to sometime qualify, runs true through the family line: accounts about my father spoke about him as some serial womanizer and man of influence, bred by a family of men of influence. My mother, too biased and modest, hardly gloats about her prime years as some chaste femme fatale whose presence alone stirred up any random stranger in awe and loathsome cruelty, and marital disputes worth a civil war. My late maternal grandmother was equally beautiful and admired with the Word who flows strong in her mouth at her youth. Whom to my late maternal grandfather? He sounded like some sort of godlike figure from what I've been told. Needless to tell you lot I am not going to specify any more details about my family background: I like discretionary web-surfing.

Once, I have seen my brother teaching the vagaries of seduction by simply staring down at a random white woman sat on a bench at the subway train without saying a word, the gaze of a snake and the bearing of a lion: she started to get fully aroused within seconds, crossing her legs with uncomfort and blushing, enticing him into some strongly suggestive chat while her boyfriend was just sitting next to her, uneased, barely able to reckon who was that perfect stranger coddled against his arm, and offended but too afraid to do anything against an intimidating black man of almost twice his weight and built like a Hollywood action movie star from the 1980s. I thought been umable of such natural talent until I found out throughout the years the same mix of anxiety, discontentment, anger and jealousy from other men and even later the people I thought being my homies, when I soon realized that their girlfriends and wives were ogling at and hitting on me with the same intensity.

Except that this time, it was not a woman's boyfriend who was reacting with shock, but rather somewhat of a relative and his respective younger brother of coworker who both seems to be amused at the happenstance. As I indeed discovered that the blonde was still commited... to their middle brother!

[Next...]
 
JohnSmithCAN said:
If our little shadowy pursuit-and-rejection game had to be likened more to a chess play than a two-player beer pong tournament, she clearly was the one with the white pieces.

On the third day, it first goes about with the semi-amorous contentment she had to see me and shortly exchanging the casual pleasantries of a greeting before politely minding at our respective businesses. The playful twinkle from the intense stares she laid toward me as our paths and gazes crossed each other. My faint amusement as I mindabsentedly gave back that stare, a little perplexed. The same pheromonal electricity that was sparkling from her for a second at the first day.

At the fifth day and at every weekend onward for two more weeks, she amped up her game: scarlet red lipsticks on ivory beige complexion and either matching chic thigh lenght waist-quilted buttoned vest coat or stylish form-fitting tawny beige white fur-sheated wintercoat ti highlight her thin curves and waistline, rosy mascara onto her gently gaunt cheeks, no mask, the almost undiscernable outline of a push-up bra beneath her red polo shirt uniform, a pair of black skinny trousers that were highlighting a little more conspicuously both her butt and comely hips while spousing her long, statuesque legs. An aura of feigned amusement transpired from her appeased visage, as everyone stared down at her, a little disquieted.

"That is not into her habits" , had finally mused out loud her male friend and coworker, a white man in his late thirties.

"She never came around dressed like this?" I politely queried. But I already knew in advance the answer, as well as how he's going to react and what it implies.

"Never. He faintly chuckled. She must have been in a date with her sister and wanted to look pretty" as he suggestively side-stared at me for a split second. Even with a sanitary mask on, I could tell judging y the familiarity I'd already acquired about his facial expressions that he holded back from drawing out a cunning smile. "She's onto something-- or rather somebody" was most definitively what I could hear between the words. He used to be somewhat acquaitanced with my late older brother and a few of my male cousins, when I was little: the reputation of my blood kinship and most especially my brother as some very notorious, unnaturally charismatic women magnets preceded my first pelvic hair, let alone all of our respective births. My "mojo" as I like to sometime qualify, runs true through the family line: accounts about my father spoke about him as some serial womanizer and man of influence, bred by a family of men of influence. My mother, too biased and modest, hardly gloats about her prime years as some chaste femme fatale whose presence alone stirred up any random stranger in awe and loathsome cruelty, and marital disputes worth a civil war. My late maternal grandmother was equally beautiful and admired with the Word who flows strong in her mouth at her youth. Whom to my late maternal grandfather? He sounded like some sort of godlike figure from what I've been told. Needless to tell you lot I am not going to specify any more details about my family background: I like discretionary web-surfing.

Once, I have seen my brother teaching the vagaries of seduction by simply staring down at a random white woman sat on a bench at the subway train without saying a word, the gaze of a snake and the bearing of a lion: she started to get fully aroused within seconds, crossing her legs with uncomfort and blushing, enticing him into some strongly suggestive chat while her boyfriend was just sitting next to her, uneased, barely able to reckon who was that perfect stranger coddled against his arm, and offended but too afraid to do anything against an intimidating black man of almost twice his weight and built like a Hollywood action movie star from the 1980s. I thought been umable of such natural talent until I found out throughout the years the same mix of anxiety, discontentment, anger and jealousy from other men and even later the people I thought being my homies, when I soon realized that their girlfriends and wives were ogling at and hitting on me with the same intensity.

Except that this time, it was not a woman's boyfriend who was reacting with shock, but rather somewhat of a relative and his respective younger brother of coworker who both seems to be amused at the happenstance. As I indeed discovered that the blonde was still commited... to their middle brother!

[Next...]
Click to expand...

We were now approaching the end of January when the brotherly tandem attempted at each turn to trap both I and my pursuer to multiple casual attempts to made us spill the beans about what they believed is happening between us, using double entendre and quidproquos. Difficult to hid anything to them when the eldest brother's twenty years old daughter had been hired since a little while and that she saw her "aunt" , her uncle's longtime girlfriend for almost five years feigning from "inadvertently" overstepping onto a male employee's intimate zone, peering at him for a second and coddling him up a little too long to the chest and the coil under pretext he mistakenly put his polo shirt upside down, then giving him the thirstiest come-hither ever seen when he backed up and said he will borrow the nearby closet in order to change himself up...

At that moment, the chess play became a poker match. Each brother had an idea about my tactic which consisted about simply sporting my way out any woman's woos, starting with the one who sported on me. Furthermore, I insinuayed being fully aware of each one's plots and gave some humorous shades about each of them, at the great displeasure of the woman who could recognize an obvious nod at each move she made that another woman already did to me, how I see this coming from afar, the fact that I am not fond of being sexually harassed and that I used to be somewhat of a womanizer prior the lockdown, even that I had never been in couple-- and thus wouldn't fit that role anytime soon.
That was so dunny to see the way she was staring at me, afraid, silently yelling at me to shut up and stop from snitching her shenanigans at the brothers. 😂🤣
I effortlessly Neo dodged all the bullets fired at my intent.

The blonde's tactic was none: she was this time completely oblivious and unaware about the trap set onto her and as soon she get their insinuations, she simply quiproquo-ed being into a stage in her life she doesn't perceive yet her boyfriend as the one, and lives a spiritual crisis since she departed from her strong Catholic upbringing: similarily she's drawn nto amything of exotic, enigmatic, spiritual, stimulating on various levels, of non-Christian... oh my God, I thought. She's projecting both her identitary tourism and spiritual crisis on me!

Whom to the brothers, their common play was the same: they totally believe me about the sexual harrassment, me being an unrepenting human magnet that unwillingly drives even some of the most seemingly decent women's dark pulses to the edge of temptation, the diss track, all the song: but they absolutely don't believe my claim about me being totally indifferent to their brother's girlfriends charms and thay deep inside, I somehow enjoy in a twisted way the pattern of abuse and edge from every woman who ever preyed on me, like so many men as well, because this is one if the fewer way I could express my culturally embedded polygynic/polygamist traits in an otherwise increasingly hypocrite society. At last, they want me to admit it and get caught reciprocating at last the advances made by their quasi-steprelative: because deep inside down, I am the one who always sported.

And perhaps they were right: within six weeks, the self-unassumed seduceress had packed on a pretty notable additional weight. Perhaps about less 20 more pounds from her initial less-of-120-pounds body. Still very thin given her tall built, but could tell that her pairs of trousers were a little less roomy than they used to be back in November-December, thanks to her slightly fuller legs, barely wider hips and a rather more visible outline of her rear against the bottom fabric.

Some part of me wanted to rationalize about that being due to a ordinary post-Holiday gain. But once again, that was both lying to myself and ignoring my hunch that was alarming me once again about another woman "smitten" by it.

Perhaps I haven't pried enough of her, like my relatives suggests. Time to take back the offensive lead.

[Next...]
 
JohnSmithCAN said:
We were now approaching the end of January when the brotherly tandem attempted at each turn to trap both I and my pursuer to multiple casual attempts to made us spill the beans about what they believed is happening between us, using double entendre and quidproquos. Difficult to hid anything to them when the eldest brother's twenty years old daughter had been hired since a little while and that she saw her "aunt" , her uncle's longtime girlfriend for almost five years feigning from "inadvertently" overstepping onto a male employee's intimate zone, peering at him for a second and coddling him up a little too long to the chest and the coil under pretext he mistakenly put his polo shirt upside down, then giving him the thirstiest come-hither ever seen when he backed up and said he will borrow the nearby closet in order to change himself up...

At that moment, the chess play became a poker match. Each brother had an idea about my tactic which consisted about simply sporting my way out any woman's woos, starting with the one who sported on me. Furthermore, I insinuayed being fully aware of each one's plots and gave some humorous shades about each of them, at the great displeasure of the woman who could recognize an obvious nod at each move she made that another woman already did to me, how I see this coming from afar, the fact that I am not fond of being sexually harassed and that I used to be somewhat of a womanizer prior the lockdown, even that I had never been in couple-- and thus wouldn't fit that role anytime soon.
That was so dunny to see the way she was staring at me, afraid, silently yelling at me to shut up and stop from snitching her shenanigans at the brothers. 😂🤣
I effortlessly Neo dodged all the bullets fired at my intent.

The blonde's tactic was none: she was this time completely oblivious and unaware about the trap set onto her and as soon she get their insinuations, she simply quiproquo-ed being into a stage in her life she doesn't perceive yet her boyfriend as the one, and lives a spiritual crisis since she departed from her strong Catholic upbringing: similarily she's drawn nto amything of exotic, enigmatic, spiritual, stimulating on various levels, of non-Christian... oh my God, I thought. She's projecting both her identitary tourism and spiritual crisis on me!

Whom to the brothers, their common play was the same: they totally believe me about the sexual harrassment, me being an unrepenting human magnet that unwillingly drives even some of the most seemingly decent women's dark pulses to the edge of temptation, the diss track, all the song: but they absolutely don't believe my claim about me being totally indifferent to their brother's girlfriends charms and thay deep inside, I somehow enjoy in a twisted way the pattern of abuse and edge from every woman who ever preyed on me, like so many men as well, because this is one if the fewer way I could express my culturally embedded polygynic/polygamist traits in an otherwise increasingly hypocrite society. At last, they want me to admit it and get caught reciprocating at last the advances made by their quasi-steprelative: because deep inside down, I am the one who always sported.

And perhaps they were right: within six weeks, the self-unassumed seduceress had packed on a pretty notable additional weight. Perhaps about less 20 more pounds from her initial less-of-120-pounds body. Still very thin given her tall built, but could tell that her pairs of trousers were a little less roomy than they used to be back in November-December, thanks to her slightly fuller legs, barely wider hips and a rather more visible outline of her rear against the bottom fabric.

Some part of me wanted to rationalize about that being due to a ordinary post-Holiday gain. But once again, that was both lying to myself and ignoring my hunch that was alarming me once again about another woman "smitten" by it.

Perhaps I haven't pried enough of her, like my relatives suggests. Time to take back the offensive lead.

[Next...]
Click to expand...

Someday later on that week, I found myself working the younger brother of the tandem, another white man, the blonde and the sole coworker I totally vented about what was going on between I, the Stacey who was gone, the brothers and the other woman since I get hired. I engaged a conversation whom everybody happily set into, and as I predicted, the brother couldn't help but mischieviously pulling back on track the trapping strategy.

Everything comes as I see fit, I cockily mused. Being ten steps ahead of everyone and every possible move to make on the chess board was a natural benefit I have, had once told me a fellow college friend mamy years ago. At default to not win, I will block every move until the opponent wore off and either offers both his queen and king on a silver plate, or forfeits. I
was not a deer in distress: I was the spirit of the surrounding forest that lures you into choosing how you wamt to get finished.

And so happened. At some point in mid-conversation, I successfully slided in and evoked every single move made by the blonde toward me through the medium of similar situations, anecdotes and a redubdantly echoing morality: that from one hand, women can be needy or creepy too but from a greater perspective, human beings are simply but complex social animals, endowed indeed by greater cognitive and cultural perspective, but regardless fundamentally hypergamic and bound to their desires and instincts. Hence why sometimes, it is important to stop being creepy and sometimes either give up our darkest phantasms or departing from the contrive hypocrisy of our own standards or a balance in-between.
The brother chuckled out loud. "Brilliant" would have been the word he might have thought.

But the blonde was not amused. In fact, for the first time in nearly two and half months working at this place, I vexed her.

"Nooooo! 😅😁😂🥰 , she told me with a faint disapproval in her enthusiatic, high pitched voice. Sometimes, you don't have to antagonize what people does to you.☺"

I was a little confused. Does she meant there the part where I told about a coworker who coddled her breasts against my back repeatively, started to pile on weight firs after asking me if I found her well with her newfound few extra pounds then blew oit after hearing out about a hookup of mine who gained several pounds while we were freauenting each other, and so in and forth? Or the other part I said my niece's babymomma who kmew me since I was little was now hitting on me since my adolecence and even made some awkward advances toward me when we were burying the father of her daughter??
I'm gonna just pretend this is not about both...

- I have to, if this meant to be lured into trouble. As both a man and a black person, we does not have the luxury to be responsive to the advances made by another female coworker at a workplace. Besides, that is not ethical nor sane for anyone who does accost somebody else this way in whatever context.

- Sometimes, she bluntly said while a little edging on being upset, you may perhaps assume things that are not there."

Ouch. The "you-are-imagining-things" card? In such a blurry context?? It hitted me hard. I knew that all women loves gaslighting men, but that was way too cleverly well-put. She has never been the dizzy babe in the woods that her boyfriend's brothers likes to portray. And tell my older siblings were pulling pressure/p***y-shaming onto me to not bluntly appeal my manager about the woman's pushed advances!! She would have get me fired and accused of being a creepy mythomaniacal liar in a bat of the eye.

- Another white man: Hey, mayhe I should present you to my lady cousins!!

I'd spent the few later minutes politely declining the man's apbrupt attempts at making me his next stepcousin. "I have a bad story with French Quebecois women" , I ended up admitting.

Blonde: Why?

Me: Let's say they are entitled, oblivious, emasculating, totally possessive and perceives their black boyfriends like more of an ownership and a reward, rather than an emotional human being. Besides, they have very toxic ways to handle rejection..."

After I enumerated every single French Canadian woman who fooled me or a black acquaitance, the three other men bursted in laughs. "It's true they act a little awkwardly when they date black men" , admitted ome of them.

"Don't be so prejudical" she chuckled up, while serving herself a second chicken soup treat. I was too reveling in the misleading idea that I gave her far too many blunt hints of rejection beyond any forgiving, to note at the moment her increasing appetite.

[Next...]
 
Fam....

@JohnSmithCAN

You are the WORST poster in the history of online forums.

I tried to give you some friendly advice in the past, but you straight don’t give a fuck.

So be it.

I officially give up!!!!




tumblr_inline_p6uodo6TLe1umoyx4_540.gifv
 
When I use the bathroom at work I flush the wipes even though the packaging says not to. When I'm at home I throw them away.
 
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