The Muslim Girl, Beauty Number Two

I want to bite her a*s. She’s a light-skinned muslim girl. Her a*s is bitable and biblical. I want to bite it! If a white boy like me can’t bite it, I don’t know who can. It needs to get bit. I’d chew the f**k out of her a*s. It looks like cake.

“You’re an idiot,” she said. “I don’t know how white people survive. European idiots!”

“We bite the asses of cute girls and then marry them. We call it colonialism.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“But you want me to bite your a*s, yes?”

“Yes.”

“So white philosophy works.”

“But it’s stupid!”

“I’m not saying I’m smart, I’m saying I will bite your a*s and love you.”

She composed herself. She really wanted me to bite her a*s. I hid in the bulrushes. That muslim a*s was gonna get bit! I want to chew on it! Cutie thingy! I’d suck on it! I was hunting. Princess. Arab girls are the hottest women on the planet, second only to persian girls. Don’t tell arab girls that! They’ll cut your head off. They’re crazier than mexican girls. 

“I will bite your a*s,” I said. “Jump up on me. On my face!”

“Okay! But Travis, one thing!”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Gross.”

“If you don’t love me I’ll kill you.”

“Then I f*****g love you!”

“Good!”

She loves me. It’s crazy. I’m afraid. Muslim girls are the best. Holy f**k.

“Christian boys love my a*s,” she said. “You’re my fav.”

“What!?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Shouldn’t I ask?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, are we married now? I don’t understand!”

“We’re married now.”

“F**k.”

“Yes, tonight.”

“F**k.”