Cho Seung-Hui like your typical perverted white kid in his semi-autobiographical account fapped guiltily under the covers of his little room, clouded in darkness. He hadn’t showered yesterday, so the mild, musky stink from his oily penis wafted up from his crotch and reached his nose. He sighed.
“What am I doing?” he thought. “What the FUCK am I doing? It smells like death…that is what man really fears.” He fapped harder. The demon idea filtered through his mind again, the same awful, but beauteous notion that popped up during his idle moments. The final solution.
“Heh. Like Hitler.” Cho smiled. His balls boiled fiercely, sweating more grease into his palm. It hit his nose again, demolishing his grin. It was too much. Too much like the stench of dead things and the sea that filled his mother’s cunt during his development. He never articulated it, no, but the rancid odor was embedded deep in his psyche and burst out again whenever he encountered sex. At least, his own sex scent, the only one he’d ever known.
“That fucking cunt!” he snarled. “I’ll kill her! I swear that I will!” He thought again about the woman in tight leather pants, dressed like a harlot in his eyes, who came trouncing into Creative Writing 3348 everyday and plopped down in front of him. His eyes bulged a little each time as he took fleeting glimpses at her silky, neon-green thong. He yanked his rod harder. It had finally arisen all the way, and pre-cum dribbled onto his forefinger, moistening his entire length with foamy stickiness.
“All of them…she is just one of the many. No woman will ever want this in them.” He stopped fapping, holding his manhood gently for a moment. “And why should they? I’m a goddamn failure. A fucking ‘question mark’ kid and a washed up writer.” His bloodshot eyes rolled aimlessly, enraged. “Not even as successful as my parents. At least they’ve got their own business. But fuck ‘em! They never should have brought me to this country in the first place. They knew what kind of child I was…” He resumed fapping, much harder this time.
“And what kind of people we were.. Immigrants. Gooks. Just as they couldn’t integrate into American society, I can never integrate into THEIR society. Nor do I want to.” Another fiery coil of rage crept up his spine. “Those sons of bitches! Fucking tree-trunked assholes! I nearly lost it today in the history seminar when I heard that fucking cocksucker in the flip-flops crying to his little fuckbuddy bitch again.” Cho
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