hEy gUyZ!  sOrRy I hAvEn'T uPd8d iN s0 lOnG!

Just kidding bitches, I didn't really sprout a 13-year-old vagina overnight.  Although that would be nice... just kidding.  Maybe.

Anyway, a lot of you nosy bastards have been trying to dig into my past, asking me to write about the time I lost my virginity.  It's a very personal story, but shoot, I'll share it with you guys... as long as you let me floss between my ass cheeks with your pubes... 

I was about 11 years old when I first busted my nutz... to a live, breathing woman that is.  Her name was Mrs. Malone, and she was my fifth grade Special Ed teacher (don't laugh, niggaz... I was only put there 'cause I was special... at least, that's what my momz told me).  Mrs. Malone was a breathtaking woman - one of the hottest 95-year-old bitches ever.  She had kind, glazed eyes, a pair of old saggy double D's that hung to her knees (sometimes she'd tie them up in a knot and let us ride them like tire swings),
and an old puckered mouth that the average 70-year old man would kill for.  Here, I still have a picture of her...

My cherry-popping experience began during a lazy Friday afternoon.  Class had ended, and I had just rocked a U.S. Pimpology quiz.  As I started to clean off my desk and pack away my pencils/Glocks, Mrs. Malone called out my name.

"Daniel, I need to see you after class." 

Surprised, I replied, "'Scuse me?! Whatchu want, Nigga Malone?  Shiiit, son, I gotz to go home, make me some pizza rolls, and watch me some Looney Tunes.  Ya feel me, dawg?"

At my cool and collected response, Mrs. Malone blushed noticebly.  "I'm sorry, Daniel, I just wanted to speak to you about something."

By now, everybody had left the room.  Feigning innocence, I responded, "Nigga Malone, I swearz, it wasn’t me that wrote ‘Mrs. Malone has a penis’ in feces on the wall!” 

At this, Mrs. Malone's wrinkly face turned an even darker shade of red.  “No, Daniel, I wasn’t about to ask you about that…”

“Stop beatin’ around your hairy bush, you old trick!”  I exclaimed angrily.  “Ain't ya heard?  Bushes I don’t beat around; bushes I just eat ‘em out.”

“Well, Daniel… and please don’t think I’m strange for asking… but I was just wondering… have you ever been with an older woman?” 

For a few seconds, I was completely flabbergasted.  I had expected old Mrs. Malone to call me out for fingering my bunghole during class and picking my nose right after, or perhaps even standing up in the middle of class with a raging boner… yes, I was prepared for anything but this.  I said the only thing that came to mind: “Well, I done seen some old black tribal tits in one of dem National Geographic ‘zines, but I ain’t never fucked no old broad.  Holla!”

Mrs. Malone put a finger to her lips and walked up to me.  Her weathered hands glided effortlessly from my chest to the fly of my 22 x 34 FUBUs and unzipped it.  As she bent down to take my  8” dong (even at the tender age of 11 my shit was stacked) into her mouth, my eyes rolled up and I heaved a sigh of pleasure.  The bitch was old… but what she lacked in the teeth department, she made up for in experience.  These twenty-some bitches I gotz nowadays don’t even compare with her 9 and a half decades of slobbin’ the knob… word.

After a few minutes of deepthroating my French loaf, Mrs. Malone stood up (cracking most of her arthritis-stricken joints in the process).  She pulled down her granny suit, revealing a set of saggy tits and a medium-sized adult diaper.  Disregarding the shitty smell, I hungrily pulled down the diapers and entered into her varicose-vein covered punani. 

As I started to pump in and out, I suddenly heard the door creaking open, followed by a sharp gasp.  I turned toward the direction of the noise, only to see my principal, Mr. Ericson, standing at the doorway. 

Being the wily bastard that I am, I quickly screamed, “Help!  This bitch is tryna rape me!  She be tryna force me to rail her doggystyle, son!”  To this day, I still can’t believe the chain of events that followed.  Principle Ericson looked around him, stepped into the room, and quickly closed the door.  Cracking a perverted smile, he asked, “Mind if I join in?” 

Anyway, to make a long story short, we doubleteamed old Mrs. Malone, and I ended up busting a fat nut all over her dentures. 

The end. 

A Valentine's Day to Remember

It happened so long ago, but I still remember it like it was yesterday... my first Valentine's Day crush.

It was during recess in gradeschool when I finally worked up the courage to ask the hottest bitch in the 2nd grade to be my Valentine.  Amanda Wang was her name, and she was the finest 9-year-old slut that the Tupac. A. Shakur GradeSchool for the Mentally-Impaired ever saw.  Shit, did I say mentally-impaired? I meant "mentally-gifted" ......and um, "extraordinarily-endowed."  Anyways, I digress.

This bitch was fine...standing at a model-like 3 foot 11, her long, illustrious, flowing black hair reflected the sunlight beautifully in my direction as she was playing by the swingset.  I think she was even beginning to grow some titties. Even as a young lad, Dan Chang had game overflowing out of his rectum.  Shit, I had fuckin 4th graders all over deez nuts and one time even the substitute teacher wanted to ride the cock... but like a virgin waiting until she got married,  I held out for Ms.Wang.

I was at the monkeybars when I decided to limp over in her direction.  I told my posse of 6th and 7th graders to stay back.  "Dis is strictly 2nd grade business, my niggaz.  I gotta roll like dat. Dun hate." I put away my AK and my fat sack of chronic because I figured a little bitch-girl might be afraid of such manly-gangsta things.  I headed on over.

"Yo slut. You's obviously da finest thing walkin around here without a dick.  And Im obviously the finest thing walking around here with a dick. So how about you be my Valentine and we make our way to the slide and maybe make some babies?"

She was confused..."Ummm....what's a dick?"

I responded accordingly. "Bitch, what you say?! THIS is a dick!" I yelled angrily as I unzipped my Sean John's and whipped out mini-Chang.  I thought I heard some white kids in the background making fun of the fact that I was uncircumsized. "Ewwww... it's hooded."

"Hey honkeys, quiet the fuck down while I make my move on the ladies, capiche?" I retorted, loading up my 12-gauge shotgun.  The white kids got the point and quickly dispersed amongst themselves.  Anyways, back to the matter at hand.

Amanda thought for a moment and replied. "So you want me to be your Valentine? Aren't you supposed to bring me chocolates? Yummy, I like chocolates!"  Her face was glowing with happiness, and she looked like she was definitely ready to take it up the ass.

I grinned slyly.  "Yeah, bitch...I gots your chocolate." I quickly dug my hand down my pants, in the back by my ass.  I slid my hand between my crack (I never wiped), and pulled it out to reveal a set of sticky, brown fingers. I quickly rubbed the shit in her eyes and backed away.

Amanda stood there for a moment. Her face contorted, and she started crying uncontrollably.  She bawled..... I balled. 

There's nothing that gets me more upset than seeing a pretty girl in distress and being so helpess trying to comfort her.  So many things I wanted to share with her, so many things I wanted to say...but I was at a loss for words.  I would have given up the world for her at the moment, to get her to stop crying, to see her radiant smile and to hear her charming laugh.. "Please...don't cry." I whispered.

She ran back to homeroom and got the Principal to come out to berate me.  Needless to say I served like a month in detention.  Stupid bitch ratted me out. 

Just a quick update to vent on my sexual frustration...

Lately, I've been getting blue balls when it comes to hot bitches.  It's been so bad, I've resorted to boning porkers lately... you know, fat chicks, and that's DEFINITELY not fat with a PH.  I think my last 5 fucks had enough combined weight that they formed their own gravitational field, whereby they pulled in unsuspecting young and handsome Asian men, like yours truly, to satisfy their insatiable need for the cock.

I've been wondering where to find a fit chick for quite some time now; scratch that...I meant, "I've been wondering where to find a fit chick that'll do anal for quite some time now."  It's anal or bust, and that's how Nigga Chang rolls.

So I decided to join this Yoga/Cardio exercise class nearby.  I had seen a commercial a few days before:  all the shorties in their tight spandex doing their stretches and shit... I had a hard-on watching the commerical and nearly took out my left eye when my man-dong decided to spring upwards.

On the first day of class, I strolled in and stared down the fine-ass honeys (whom I definitely wanted to give anal to) and immediately tried my moves.  There was only one way to approach them: by serenading them with the ill lyrical skills that Biggie helped me to develop back in the day when he was still alive. I busted out a little Warren G:

Whoa!
Hey, now ya know, inhale, exhale with my flow.
One for the money, two for the btiches
Three to get ready, and four to hit the switches
In my chevy, six-fo’ rad to be exact
With bitches on my side, and bitches on my back
So back up bitch cuz I’m strugglin, so get
On your knees and then start jugglin
These motherfuckin nuts in your mouth
It’s me, Nigga Chang, the playa with the clout.

Much to my chagrin, the reaction I got was mostly blank stares. "What the fuck, bitches?! Don't you know when the King of Ballaz has just graced you with his PHAT rhymes?!"  I was angry, but the instructor calmed me down.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to tone down on the profanities or we'll be forced to escort you out of the building," as she turned her head towards two big black security officers hanging out in the front lobby.  I had no choice but to comply.  We finished the session by doing some gay-ass yoga shit; I was so dissappointed that no one appreciated my rapping that I hardly paid attention to the bitches there, and my dick was like a limp noodle in chicken broth.

On the bright side, though, the instructor lady, although a little older, was fit and toned and wasn't wearing a bra so I could see some nipplage peeping out from her workout tank-top-thing. I was getting mildly aroused while watching her do the exercises. I think I'll wear a cup next time to give the illusion of big genitalia and to hide any possible boner poppage that might happen.

Looking forward to 2nd day of my Yoga class...I'll keep you guys updated.

Dayum.  It's been a long time since I've updated this thing. Trying to juggle 6 bitches, hustlin' drugs, and keeping your Herpes in check is a full-time job - ain't no room for bustas in this game.  Xanga has, how shall I put it, taken a backseat to the trials and tribulations of real life.
Too much has happened since I last posted, so I'll just update you guys on what has happened recently in my life.  (I promise more stories from the Holiday Season later.)

So a few days ago was Martin Luther King Day, and being THE Nigga Chang, I had to celebrate with my brothaz. On Monday, I joined a large contingent of students, headed by the Black Students Association, in front of the Grad Library, celebrating MLK and protesting inequalities against African-Americans.  I had my "Go Black" shirt on, a hair-pick in my Fro, and my platinum grille so when I smiled at the ladies, they knew I was blingin' from the get-go. 

The crowd was boisterous - niggaz yelling, screaming, waving their arms in the air (like they just don't care), and generally "blacking" it up - you know how we do. I'm pondering to myself "Damnnnn...Dr. King must be rollin in his grave if he knew he fought for the right for niggaz to be disprespctin and actin all crazy and shit."

Observing the blatant lack of disrespect for this great civil rights leader, I stormed to the front podium. I felt as if the spirit of MLK, himself, overcame me, and I became entranced with his vision of peace and equality.  I poured out my heart and soul... I quivered nervously before opening my mouth to utter the following words:                              

"Homies, Homettes, Young niggas of all shades of brown - from Hazel Chestnut to Dark Dingleberry Chocolate... Please quiet down, if you will.  Let us together, as people of color, celebrate Dr. Martin Luther King and remember him not as a great black man, but as simply, a great man... a man of determination, a man of peace....

I have a dream...."

Now at this point, the crowd started rioting. I heard the curses:    "Kill that yellow commie bastard!!!"   "Chop off his tiny penis!!!" "Bust a CAP in that JAP!!!" I was truly confused because as far as I was concerned, I was as black as they were and benefitted as much, if not more, from the hard work of MLK.  Why could I not have my say?  They started throwing shit at me and some of them started charging towards the stage. "Shit, I done fucked up now," I thought to myself. I did the only thing I could do.

"LOOK BEHIND YOU! It's JAY-Z and the ROCKAFELLA CREW, and they's about to battle it out with G-G-G-G-UNIT!! and DAYUM! Beyonce's there, showin off dat fine black booty, and dikin' it out with Mary J. Blige.  Gee Willikers, you don't say!!!"

The large brown sea of humanity turned around in waves, trying to catch a glimpse of a brawl, or a quick peak at Beyonce's punani...but alas, they did so in vain.

I exited the premises amidst the confusion.  What a close call... I had just cheated certain death....those wack negroes would have eaten me up like a serving of Peking Duck at a Chinese Buffet. 

It's generally difficult to teach black folks a thing or two, but by now, they should have learned: it's hella hard to keep Nigga Chang down.