You’re sick of all the guys who are only after sex on Tinder. You’ve been longing for a boyfriend for so long and you’re tired of being alone and feeling lonely. You saw his profile … and he was everything you ever wanted for in a boyfriend. White, tall, attractive, great smile, masculine, funny bio, and even common interests! You nervously swiped right.
All day, you kept checking your phone hoping for a match, and a few hours later … you matched! You’re over the moon. You sent an emoji and he quickly replied back.
He doesn’t talk about sex right away; you have funny conversations and get to know each other. And just like that, you have a crush on him. Hell, you think you might be in love. No White guy has ever been this nice to you, the ones that don’t ignore or block you on apps are just after quick sex, but he’s the first one that actually wants to talk to you. You ask him out on a date that night, and he agrees and you just can’t believe it.
A little later you meet up after work. You have some drinks before going to a nice dinner. He looks so dreamy wearing a nice long-sleeved shirt, chinos, and brown shoes. You can tell he works out and is very athletic. The night goes by so fast and you can’t help staring at his blue eyes. You’ve got butterflies in your stomach and every time he smiles or laughs at a joke you make, you feel your heart skip a beat.
You finish dinner and you have a nice romantic walk around the city. Nowhere in particular but just aimlessly walking around. He holds your hand. You talk about family, friends, careers, and just life. You pass by a lake and the street lights and moonlight just hit the water exactly right that there’s a twinkle in the air. He leans down and kisses you gently on the lips. He whispers, “I’ll walk you home.”
He takes you home and you kiss again, this time for longer, maybe a minute but it feels like an eternity. You ask him if he’d like to come up to your apartment. He says, “I thought you’d never ask.” And he flashes his smile again.
Both of you get on the bed and take off your clothes. You run your palms all over his large muscular body. He’s the first really fit white guy you’ve been with. He grabs and plays with your ass. You realize you two didn’t talk about sex the whole night and you quickly tell him, “I’m submissive.” He replies, “I know.”
He takes his underwear off and you see his cock for the first time. You’re speechless. It was bigger than you fantasied. Long, thick, and white. You quickly put your lips on it and feel how wide it stretches your mouth. He grabs your hair and guides your head up and down his massive shaft. You love how in charge he is, how even if he’s a nice guy, he’s instinctively dominant as well. He tells you he wants to fuck you. You nod and try to grab a condom from your bedside table but he stops you.
“No. I only like to fuck bareback.” he says.
You hesitate. You’ve never been fucked bareback before, you’re too scared of the risk. But you’re in lust and you don’t want to lose this chance with the man of your dreams. You ask, “Are you clean?”
He replied, “Yeah, don’t worry.” He smiles at you and you melt inside.
And just like that, you get back on the bed and bend over for him. “Do it,” you say.“But pull out when you cum, ok?”
“Sure,” he says.
He fucks you doggy and then on your back. He fucks you really hard. His massive cock fills you up so much and you’re moaning so loud. He’s strong and dominant, but then he goes tender and kisses on your lips. He whispers in your ear and tells you how good your pussy feels on his big cock. He keeps pounding and pounding and you feel him hitting your spot. He’s going really fast now and you’re just in a whirlwind of ecstasy. He tells you he’s close and that he wants to cum inside you. You feel too good to care and you just tell him to do it. You moan so loud and tell him to breed you. He grunts and kisses you hard while you feel his warm cum shooting up your cunt. You cum at the same time and both of you fall over in a slump on the bed. It was the best fuck you’ve had.
After, you guys cuddle and talk. He tells you he has to leave since he has an early day at work tomorrow. You ask him if he’d like to go out again at the end of the week and he agrees. You tell him that you really like him and you had fun tonight and he tells you he had fun too, smileing his perfect smile; and kisses you for the last time that night. And he leaves.
All night, you lay in bed and think about him. You fantasize about all the dates you’ll go on and eventually settling down with him. You’re in love. You message him good night before you go to bed and dream about him.
The next morning, you check your phone but he hasn’t replied. You message him good morning and ask what his plans after work would be. A few hours later, he still hasn’t replied. You go check OKCupid and you discover you can’t see his profile or messages anymore …. now you try calling his number and all you get is a busy tone. You’ve been blocked and you’re in shock. You can’t help it and you burst into tears. You feel sick inside and you go home in a daze. You thought he was the one, that you’ve finally found a White Man who would love and care for you, but now you realize, he was just being nice to you so he could fuck and breed you. You don’t know how long you cried and sobbed that night.
A few weeks later, you’re walking around the city. Then you see him. Across the street like a mirage. He still looks as perfect as the night you first saw him. You feel your heart skip a beat. You hurriedly try to walk towards him and confront him. Ask him what you did wrong. Then you notice who he’s with, it’s another young asian woman like yourself. They’re on a date. You realize you were never special, you were just one of the many asian sluts he seduces and throws away after sex.
You stop in your tracks and see them getting on a taxi. As he enters the back seat, he looks up and your eyes lock.
I have been a very confused—some might say very conflicted—girl ever since I can remember and I have always lived in a fantasy world of my own making.
I was born in Japan, my mother is Chinese and my father is Japanese, and my father's mother or my grandmother was German Dutch, and I came to the United States as a teenager and lived and went to school in Maryland, and worked in New York.
I lived in fantasy worlds since I was a teenager and I have always done so, sometimes so deep in my own fantasy I forgot my own identity. I no longer knew who I am. Physically I look more European than asian. My father is of mixed heritage—he has white blond hair, but he also has some distinctly Japanese features. On the other hand my features mostly resembled my grandmother, who was a full blooded European woman. Which was not something that really bothered me. Actually most modern Japanese look very European compared to the rest of asians.
My father was a sadist, and my mother, on the other hand, was, in my opinion, a masochist with no self respect. Growing up, seeing my father beating my mother was almost as frequent as having dinner, and when not beating her, she was constantly being humiliated and degraded, like having to serve dinner to him naked on her knees or being tied to an utility pole only in her panties during the winter. At first I believed my mother was a victim, a unfortunate human being in the hands of a cruel evil man, but as I grew older I realized that it was my mother who enjoyed being treated this way. The initial realization made me feel she was a disgusting, perverted, sick person, but as I grew older I began to have the almost identical sexual fantasies that my mother lived and experienced through. I began to think that my mother was the luckiest woman on earth since apparently she had found a man who understood her desires and could give them to her.
My dad studied and worked in America before, and during that period he desperately wanted to marry a white woman, and vehemently pursued several white women, but was unsuccessful. At the same time Japanese women were unwilling to marry him. Maybe because just like him they were looking to marry into the white race, or maybe because he had sadistic tendencies. Out of options he settled to look for a Chinese woman. Statistically, marriages between Chinese women and Japanese men have been quite common, and I personally knew quite a few couples just like my mother and father. Even here in America I knew several Chinese women who had Japanese boyfriends and those women were actually quite proud of having superior Japanese men as boyfriends. Japanese in general look much more European compared to other asians and I suspect it was the putative European appearance that attracts other asian women. Of course Japanese are not Europeans, no matter how much we try to become European, just as Jews will never be fully accepted as White Christians. I think Jews and Japanese have a lot in common. We were both persecuted by Europeans, the Jews by Germans, and Japanese by Americans, yet we both come to love our white Masters. Jews weren't officially considered white until very recently, and I think as time progresses eventually Japanese will be categorized as white in the future, though Jews and Japanese will always know that they are still inferior to their Nordic Masters. But as always the Jews will be Masters over the Arabs and the Japanese will be Masters over the rest of Asia. There is no other meaning to life, other than the degree of domination.
I had an older sister who looked fully asian, as opposed to me who looked much more European. And ever since childhood I have always known for a fact that I was treated better by everyone else because of my distinctly European appearance. In school classmates would be hesitant to tease me because they always thought my father might be an American or an European man even though they knew my mother was Chinese but somehow they still were afraid of me solely because of my European appearance. The thing was that in Japanese naming system, my mother's last name automatically gets attached to mine, so for example, my name in Japanese would actually be "Suzuki Liu Jennifer", because my mother's maiden name is Liu; this way everyone would instantly know my mother is Chinese. On the other hand my sister was bullied almost everyday by upper classmates because she looked very Chinese. They made fun of her hair and clothes and told her that she looked like a Chinese pig and I had seen boys pulling down her pants and laughing at her for having a "Chinese vagina". I was a very young girl back then and I felt ashamed of having her as a sister so in school I didn't talk to her at all. When I was 12 years old, she committed suicide by hanging herself in her closet. I know this because I was the one who discovered her body. My parents would have never told me about her death if I did not saw her dead body by myself. And ever since her death a dark cloud formed over my head and throughout my teenager years I was constantly harrowed by thoughts of suicide. It was not until I was much older that I learned suicide is infectious and that had been why I was constantly thinking about suicide. The realization made me try not to think too much about death, but no matter how much I try I can never get her image out of my head. Sometimes I feel she still haunts me because I didn't talk to her in school.
My parents divorced when I was 14 and I went to live with my mom in China for two years. Contrary to popular beliefs, I had never experienced any form of racism or discrimination against me when I was living in China. Most people assumed that I was an European girl and the aura of being European seemed to make me inapproachable, like the shield of Athena covering me from head to toe. Even when I was in school, when classmates would know my father was Japanese because of my last name, I had never really felt any discrimination, though I did feel they were kind of afraid of me. I had never realized how much being White meant until I was in America: the symbol of power, domination, and superiority that being White implies. Being White is being the entelechy of all that is beautiful, good and righteous. Which is strange because my nationality still is, in actuality, Japanese and as I grew older I started to look more asian. My hair has gotten completely dark and my looks started to resemble my mother's. I used to have very light-colored hair, but I just felt fortunate that I do not look fully asian like my sister was.
When I saw this image [of a naked asian woman kneeling next to a black furred dog] in a Japanese SM magazine a few days ago, all of a sudden I remembered seeing my mother in a similar position when I was maybe just 5 or 6 years old. It was not a pleasant experience; it was an extremely scary and traumatic experience, and growing up I heard constant moaning and muffled screams coming from my parents' bedroom. Every evening was a nightmare to fall asleep. But knowing that many asian women were treated the same way as my mother had been treated somehow made me feel better about my own family. At least my parents were not as weird as they seemed, and while growing up I had gradually come to realize that many asian girls have the same masochistic tendencies as I do, but many were just very shy and wouldn't admit their secrets. So it seems there are many masochistic asian women out there who thrives on been humiliated and degraded just like the girl in this image; I don't know why but this image made me feel kind of normal. I have lived in the States for nearly ten years now and I have not talked to my parents, who had divorced, for several years, especially to my mother whom I had some very severe arguments with over the years, especially when she remarried after she went back to China. I was more fond of my father though I haven't really talked to him that much either because he too had remarried. Despite all the mean things I had said about my dad, he was always very gentle with me and never beat me. He beat my sister and my mother but never me and I suspect he was much more gentle with me because of my more European looks. I felt their divorce was a punishment for me, as if they had abandoned me and I never felt comfortable with either of them or their new spouses, whether it be in China or in Japan. My mother's new husband was a very cruel and domineering white man living in China and he never treated me with the same special treatment I received from my dad. And I remember one time when I went out with him people on the street mistook me for his wife and I felt so disgusted I never wanted to go out with him again and then he would yell at me and yell at my mom. I am glad to have gotten out of there. And my dad ... well let's just say I couldn't bear to coexist with his new wife either. The last time we talked was already 3 years ago. This image had brought back so many long forgotten yearnings.
I miss my sister and my parents.
The memory of my sister and my parents started to fade away, like wavering forms they passed before my clouded sight; their images have become a blur rise about me out of mist and cloud; their faces, and their figures have become shades of phantoms; I wanted to hold you close to me in that blessed fleeting moment when you reappeared to me in my dreams. If only I possessed the strength to draw you near. I wanted to forever remember you—you bear the images of happy days; your airy smiles still stir youthful tremors in my breast—but my memory faltered. It would have been simpler if I were already dead. I would never be seized again by those long forgotten yearnings. I shuddered at those thoughts; and a tear draws other tears.
Crying is my only form of release; through crying I am channeled to the solemn and silent world of spirits; crying is my whispered prayer that lingers in a vagrant tone. I have no one to talk to. I live in solitary confinement. I have been driven to madness even though physically I stay put.
My life—full of dolor, pain and suffering. Sometimes I wish I could end it. The only reason I continue to live is for otherwise I lack the courage to carry out that final act, to take me beyond and step into the unknown. It is so much better to have been never born at all, or at least to die an immediate death. How sweet and wonderful death would be. My dear Aya, I am so very sorry! A vast space of nothingness in the empty universe fills my heart. Everyday of my life I live in terror because of you.
A family dog
Growing up, I always felt lonely. My family dog was my only companion. He was a slightly larger than a medium sized dog, with grey and dark fur, and a nozzle that resembled a wolf. He was so cute, so adorable, and he was my only friend. I often played with him in my desperate attempts to communicate with another living being, like Madame Bovary sitting by her fire place in a melancholic longing for escape. I want out!, out of this nonchalant prison of thoughts, out of this cruel alienated society, out of these mind forged manacles whose clanking I hear like looming madness; the marks of domestication on their faces, marks of psychological slavery, marks of intellectual death; they are mere automatons, inanimate objects, so lifeless like straw men, hollow men, stuffed men. I can't bare to look at those miserable beings' faces. In a domesticated dog I see more humanity than the entire humanity. If only my family dog can take me away! And I will elope with him to a happy place, where there is no more sorrow, no more dread, no more cold metallic prison walls of the mind.
My family dog was my only friend, and he was my only confidante. To him I entrusted all my deepest secrets. Sometimes I wished I was a dog: no more worries, no more sadness, no more consciousness, no more thoughts, just the need to satisfy my most basic instincts, lying by my owner's feet, worshiping him and completely dependent on him.
Sometimes I wish I could have another dog just like the family dog I used to have in Japan. And he will be my husband. I will belong to him. I will be his bitch. I will obey him, crawl under his belly, gently caress his furs with my soft hands, and please him like I would please my husband. And he will be my beast and I will be his beauty. Albeit he will be a gentle beast, always so obedient to me, and yet always so much more aggressive, and animalistic; he will protect me from harm, with his sharp fangs and naturally endowed muscles for chasing down his prey; and yet he will honor me and obey me like a lover would. He will never be jealous, never be angry, as long as he is fed and watered. He will be my best friend.
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9 thoughts on “Love”
Stop making us white guys look like we are some disrespectful arsehole. No wonder Asian girls are avoiding us these days.
Thats the point. It is reverse racism via propaganda. There’s plenty of blogs online, and msm media attempting to destroy western white men.
However, if asian women are actually fixated with being owned by white men. The ones claiming they arent are actual deniers. Some get angry claiming white men have asian fever, theyre the ones who’re more angry at their bwc lusts. I have met many, eventually they give in to their base lust for bwc and submit quiet easily. Usually willfully engaging in the most perverted acts too.
Te reverse racism towards whites, in general especially white men, does exist BIG TIME. It’s all over in the media.
Stop being so sensitive. Nobody is going to actually think white men are assholes after reading this.
They aren’t. You just aren’t as good as you used to be.
Jennifer, what are your thoughts on
Vietnamese women? Where do they rank?
What this article says is true？i love white man and I really want to be a sub for white man but it makes me feel not good..
Is it true..？i love white man but this makes me a little nervous..
Loved this article because it perfectly described how i met my wife in the beginning and quickly trained her. To this day I have never once used a condom on her right Taiwanese pussy and she loves getting off to our raceplay bedroom dirty talk. But all kink and fantasy for us 🙂