As a petite, submissive Asian woman who’s always had inferiority complex in front of white men, I admit that there’s something irresistible about white men that gets under my skin in the most delicious way possible. It’s not just their looks, it’s not just about their handsome eyes and chiseled face, it’s their mere presence of being who they are. Their calm, commanding presence, their cool and arrogant smiles. It’s a man who knows exactly who he is: a man who has ruled and conquered the rest of the world for the last 500 years.

I crave white men so much and I need their cocks inside me and I want to be their whore.

You never need to feel insecure in front of a white man because you just know that a white man knows he is born to rule. A white man has been dominating the world for eons and so he never fumble or hesitate. He doesn’t perform or pretend. He doesn’t need to prove himself to me or to anyone else—he just is, because he is white, and he knows he is superior, and he is confident, dangerous, and ruthless in the best way possible.

You can feel the entire atmosphere change when a white man enters a room full of Asians. The energy suddenly changes, all the Asian girls become flustered and all the Asian boys become sullen. It’s like a lion has changed a sheepfold. The white man’s eyes will pierce through the fog and straight into the center of your soul. And when he speaks—low, measured, deliberate—I listen with every inch of my body.

Asian boys play games and are good at math. White men rule and change the world.

To put aside all racial reasons, with just me as a woman, even then, as I’m naturally drawn to men of authority, white men are still the most attractive because white men are almost always the ultimate authority. The way they can take control without needing to raise their voice. The way their hands move with certainty. The way they own you like they’ve studied you—like they’ve already taken hundreds of women like you to bed, humiliated them, subjugated them, and conquered them. It just feels right to kneel in front of a white man, and to look up and revere his power.

I feel a kind of unearthly reverie when a white man touches me. Not always soft—but always intentional. It’s not about rushing to the finish line. It’s about exploring every part of me like I’m a book he has wanted to read for years. Slowly. Carefully. Hungrily.

And when a white man lets you in, when he chooses you? You know it’s not a fluke. It’s not about fleeting attention or ego. It’s because he sees something in you that he wants to unravel, to claim, to keep.

I don’t just want sex. I want depth. I want intensity. I want to feel owned by someone who’s superior to myself in every way and who will be worthy of my submission to him.

And so yes, I’m drawn to white men, not necessarily because they are white, but because they hold the most power, and they are the ultimate symbol of success in this life. To become white, to be accepted into the white society, and to carry their seeds inside my womb, it’s the ultimate goal of every Asian woman.