I love all pretty girls. Petite or large, ass or tits or not much or either, flashy or plain, black or white (or brown or purple or green), Christian or Muslim or Jewish, 18 or 40, it doesn’t matter.
My feelings on woman, of any and all races, is best described by Al Pacino’s character Lt. Colonel Slade in Scent Of A Woman.
“Women! What can you say? Who made ‘em? God must have been a fuckin’ genius. The hair … They say the hair is everything, you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls … just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips… and when they touched yours were like… that first swallow of wine after you just crossed the desert. Tits. Hoo-ah! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at you, like secret searchlights. Mmm. Legs. I don’t care if they’re Greek columns … or secondhand Steinways. What’s between ‘em … passport to heaven. I need a drink. Yes, Mr Sims, there’s only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pussy. Hah! Are you listenin’ to me, son? I’m givin’ ya pearls here.”
Damn that just gave me a confidence boost. For real though women are beautiful. I can’t deny that when I see a beautiful woman, I shamelessly become homosexual, even if just for a second.