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C|Suite is a men's magazine founded by Frank Cervi. It combines urban/office life-style articles with soft-core pornographic pictorials. In recent years, C-Suite introduced the 'letters' column in which readers send in borderline ridiculous sexcapades, resulting often in explicit and unnecessary detail.
Dear C|Suite,
I never thought that this would happen, but here I am in the midst of a global pandemic. Turning 21-years of age just last month, who would've thought that being a young woman like myself could get any worse in this day & age?
Panic sex is in the air here in New York city, I can smell it.
It smells just like my dorm room did earlier this morning.
The thought and prospect of being in 'lock down' for 2-weeks alone makes me contemplate suicide. My vagina is indeed, depressed.
The fleshy mound between my legs rules my world; she makes all the decisions for me. I feel for her, she does the same for moi. We are connected like kindred spirits.
The thought of not being able to mount 3-5 guys a week with whom I just matched on Tinder, is apocalyptic to me. Even as thousands are dying alone in hospitals or in their own beds, my world is now closing in.
I can feel it, coming for me. Not death, though.
I fear not the Boomer remover virus but most, I fear the loss of missed validation.
My mind is rampant with thoughts, bouncing off the walls like a thousand ping-pong balls travelling in all directions; a woman's brain.
I need to fuck something, anything.
I need to show the world that I am still, alive.
I need the citizens of our global community not to forget about little 'ol me during this crisis.
How could they, though, I have 4,329 followers on Instagram now! A lot more than that fucking slut, Becky, from my old high school.
The need to be slutty is tickling my loins; I want to be virtuous.
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Yesterday, there was a Chinese man in his forties strolling down the sidewalk on 4th and 5th by the corner market. I had just skimmed a news article that fucking slut Becky posted on her Facebook wall, about all the racism attributed to this Chinese virus: People in Italy were embracing Chinese people in the street with hugs in a tear-jerking show of solidarity.
I looked at the Chinese man standing, idling on the corner. He looked glum. His face, scrunchy; eyes so squinty, it looked like he was either about to cry or had just bit into a lemon.
Thoughts of bondage with an Asian clouded my feminine brain: Could I just use dental floss as a blindfold?
I couldn't really tell if he was sad, had dirt in his eye or if he had stomach pain.
I was too busy trying to read the article that Becky the skank had posted about those greasy whops giving out free hugs to Chinese people.
Giving Chinese people hugs to show that you aren't racist?
I thought to myself, "People, we can do better than this..."
There I was, a 21-year old American woman who was about to show the world what 'going for glory' actually looks like.
This is America.
I am a woman.
I am amazing.
Everything I do is Golden globe worthy.
Go big or go home.
Walking up to the middle-aged Chinese man, I opened the Facebook app on my smart phone and started to broadcast 'Live' to all of my followers. Set the stream to 'Public'.
Good thing I bought a 'selfie stick' before I had spent the rest of my student loan money on toilet paper, wine and a new Hitachi wand!
He looked confused as I stood beside him, pointing the camera in a selfie-esq fashion while proceeding into a short monologue that would surely captivate my viewers.
"Hey guys! I just wanted to say that racism during this time of crisis is sooo not lit...like its terrible...that is why I stand here today with Italy in showing our solidarity. However, I am going to do them one better...hugging is not enough!"
After this amazing speech, I kissed him[The Chinaman] right smack on his thin, chinky lips.
He was sooo cute!
Then, to his surprise, I began to massage his cock through his poorly tailored pants while aiming the selfie stick at a good angle to catch all the action.
"Oh...ah-ha....me riiiky...me riiiky a-rought," he said in an aroused manner.
Then, with one hand (years of experience), I unzipped his fly and let his half-chinky-chub flop out into the brisk open air of New York city.
Proceeding to squat down in front of him, still holding the selfie stick in my other hand, a masterful POV 'Live' shot was in progress for all to see: Horns were honking from vehicles passing by; other people on the sidewalk were gawking; everyone was in totally disbelief at the charity, tolerance and solidarity that I was performing in real time.
The attention I was receiving was seriously arousing to me.
In order to move the show along and to get the Chinaman's bashful boner to an acceptable state before insertion (as hard as a chopstick), I lifted the front part of my mini-skirt up so he could see me play with myself.
My pussy was wet. It glistened like the beef teriyaki he most likely ate that day for lunch at Jing Fong, which is NYC's largest Chinese restaurant. In doing this, I could see his little chub grow to an impressive state for an Asian man: 4 inches, hard.
By this point the 'likes' were pouring in; the views to the stream were as astronomical as the deaths in China...
Taking his cock in one hand, I slowly inserted it into my young, tender mouth. I swallowed whole like I would do with a Spring roll, at Jing Fong.
In and out. In and out. In and out. IN AND OUT.
Sucking, twisting my experienced tongue around that filthy chink's dink. Pausing for a few moments in between to grip and stroke it for a minute or two before reverting back to the relentless torment as it were.
Looking back up to my phone on the stick, giving the audience a gaze of lust with the whites of my eyes exposed, I felt like I was changing the world for the better. With every twist of the tongue, flick and lick, we were moving closer to an ideal world. A world soaked in harmony; emptying the toxic stew of white hot racist tears.
Suddenly, I saw a change in the Chinese man's face; he was about to turn Japanese.
Having only mere seconds to take his shrimp dick out from the warm wet walls of my womanhood, I quickly aimed it at my face, opened wider than the Brooklyn tunnel; flattened out my tongue before he roped on it; still jerking it to a slimy finish.
Just how I learned from my sorority sistas, you never want to quit before the finish line...always go hard until the end.
And just like a Canadian curler, I did just that: Hurried hard, finished it off.
The only sounds I could hear were the pitter-patter of cum bouncing off my cheeks and hitting the pavement; the tired sound of an Asia man's ecstasy; two sharp bursts from a police siren.
I could see red and white strobes bounce quickly off the finished Chinese man's face.
Time was of the essence.
I quickly stood up, and grabbed a tissue out of my purse to wipe the cum off my face; licked around the edges of my mouth; I shot smiles for the camera.
Sidling beside the dazed and relieved Chinese man, I gave a closing monologue to my viewers whilst motioning to the said exhausted, drained Chinese man to take the selfie-stick and hold it for me, knowing that cuffs were about to be a new accessory to my wardrobe that day.
Looking desperately into the camera, the following was said:
"Follow me on Insta, Snap and give a 'like' here on Facebook...I just did my part and now I challenge all of you! I challenge you'all in fighting racism. Racism against people like this little sweet and sour cutie beside me. Nominate one of your girlfriends today! Take up this challenge I am calling, 'Blow A Beijing'er'.
Let's fight this thing, together!"
As soon as those last words escaped my pleading mouth to the masses, two police officers slapped a pair of oppression rings onto my wrists. Wrists that were already sore from trying to hold a selfie stick, steady, for 5 minutes; another wrist from having to stroke that Chinaman's pecker off whilst applying lip service.
These cops were racist. They couldn't tolerate my display of solidarity by blowing-off that Chinaman's cock into the next Lunar New Year.
For the next two weeks thereafter, I was in lockdown....behind bars before getting bailed out like a Jew banker in 2008.
Developing a slight cough and tickle in my throat as I write this letter to all of you, I feel I have sacrificed a piece of my womanhood for the greater good.
Chinese semen must be more acidic than what us American women are used to.
I miss Chad. I miss Tyrone and all their friends. The smooth buttery cum, American made.
The good news is, I am going viral!
Yours truly horny,
Ms. Viral