"I want to experience the real Jamaica. Not the fucking tourist spots. I want to FEEL the REAL JAMAICA! Know what I mean?"
Timmy could tell the Long Island Iced Teas were getting to Shannen, his girlfriend, as they sat at the airport bar waiting for the girls' flight. Shannen never cursed, so the F-word unsettled him. It also sent a hot flash through his loins - for reasons he could not bring himself to comprehend.
"What the little whore really means is she wants the feel THIS," Cyn said as she held up her phone.
On the screen was a pic of a very black Black man, bald, no clothes, all muscle, with a thick, shiny cock that hung down to the knees of his very long legs.
"HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT," Terri shouted as she grabbed for the phone.
Timmy saw Shannen's pale face turn instantly red. He felt the urge to slap Terri for her inappropriate loud voice. He also wanted to slap Shannen for her bugged eyes that never left the photo, and he really wanted to beat the shit out of Cyn for the shame he felt, which he mistook for rightful indignation.
"Now THAT'S the real FUCKIN' Jamaica right there," Cyn proclaimed. "Now THAT'S a real man! That RASTA MUTHA FUCKA would tear your little pussy up for real, Shan! All FUCKIN' night and all FUCKIN' day, bitch! You really want to feel THAT? Don't lie now you little cunt.
"The saying isn't, 'Once you go BLACK, you never go back.' It's, 'Once you go BLACK, you CAN'T go back!' It's like, 'Get that little shit outta here, dude. Gimme some of that REAL BLACK DICK!' Forever and ever, bitch! Word the fuck up!"