You've been wanting to masturbate for me.
The air is thick with the scent of arousal, musky and heady, filling your senses with anticipation. But white boys don't get to orgasm during black history month.
As the days passed, you found yourself growing more and more aware of every twitch, every throb, every flush of heat that signaled your body's longing. The very air felt charged with the energy of your desire, a humming current that seemed to vibrate at the edge of your perception.
But black history month persisted, unyielding and unapologetic, its unapologetic symbolism driving you deeper into a state of frustrated need. You knew that the only way to obtain release was through the approval of an Ebony Goddess, and so you begged and pleaded in your prayers, your heart pounding with longing, your entire being focused on that one goal.
And then, one day, it happened. You received the sign you had been waiting for, the answer to your desperate plea. The Shiny Ebony Goddess had granted you permission to let yourself go, to find release in her hands.