A few nights ago it happened again. I was horny for BWC again. It was like a late night craving for pizza, something I knew was not good for me, the sudden onset of a hunger; presto, out of nowhere, a yearning, and a pang for love, romance, sex, adventure, a realization that I was wasting my time sitting at home doing nothing.
And so …
I opened my phone and started swiping. I noticed the hundreds of matches on my Tinder profile. Of all the men I could choose from. Some tall. Really tall. Like Barron Trump tall. And handsome. Ruggedly handsome with chiseled face, blonde hair and blue eyes. Some tanned, with beards and mustaches. So cute. An assortment of handsome white men of various tastes and genetic diversity.
“What if I had a baby with each one of them?” I texted one of my girlfriends and she joked back. “Let’s help diversify the homogenous Asian gene pool!”
L. O. L.
I picked the hot blonde-haired guy who was nearest to me and available that night. He was HOT. OVer 6 feet tall, photographed in a casual business suit in the background of the headquarters of the New York Times in Manhattan. He went to Princeton and was on an internship.
I feel so ashamed to admit but I was gushing for him and I almost had my fingers in my wet pussy already, imagining his balls slapping against me with each thrust. And he was so young, only 21, just barely old enough to drink and I’m … well … I’m in my late 30s now. I shouldn’t be dating and having sex with someone so young and so naive. That is wrong! Oh god, make me stop! I was screaming at myself, but I knew I couldn’t resist. Hot young white men make me feel young again, like I was sucking off the elixir of their youthful energy.
I’m always like this when I ovulate. I could wake up in the middle of the night drenched in my own wetness. My underwear would be moist from my arousal juice. I would have been dreaming about being gangbanged by a group of white men again, being kidnapped from my apartment, my body completely naked, my hands and feet tied behind my back, and a black duffel bag over my head.
We decided to meet up in a bar. I had originally planned to ask for delivery, let that juice white cock show up at my place, but my son had already gone to sleep. He had an early class the next morning. And I didn’t want to wake him up again in the middle of the night to the sound of his mommy getting pounded. So I dressed up and went out by myself.
I felt so sinful as I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a slutty Asian woman in her 20s releasing pheromones to her surroundings or a female cat in heat giving out mating calls.
I am ashamed but I was also proud, proud of the fact that I’m looking so young for my age. My Asian genes are working to my advantage. And just like any other Asian girl, I knew I wanted a white guy. Of course I do. We all do. White guys have the best genes. I felt slightly guilty for all the poor white girls who have to compete with us Asian girls for white guys. But it’s what it is. I didn’t write the rules for evolution.
We went into to the bar together and I could tell that he was as nervous as I was. Thankfully the alcohol helped. I made the move first, brushing my hand against tuffles of his blonde hair, and I said, I have a secret I want to tell you. I have always and only dated white guys. From there on the ice was officially broken. He knew. I knew.
We ordered more drinks and then he moved over to me, hugging me from behind and he had his hand wrapped around me. Caressing me. Feeling me. He put his hand next to my cheek and his thumb was on the edge of my face. I licked it.
A few minutes later I was sucking on his middle finger like it was his cock and everyone was looking at me and I knew they were all probably saying nasty stuff about me under their breath. At least that was what I had imagined. But in reality probably none of them ever cared.
So the guy I was “dating” felt even more emboldened because I was so easy and so after I sucked his middle finger, we went over the dark recess part of the bar where he lifted up my dress, pulled my panties down to my thighs and slipped the same middle finger (now coated with my own saliva) into my panties and rubbed my clit with it. The bartender (a blonde white girl) was rolling her eyes at me. Two other guys sitting next to me were all smiling from ear to ear and were watching me intently.
He ended up asking me to suck him off in the restroom and initially I was a bit scared.
“What if we get caught? It’s too risky.”
“Didn’t you say it was one of your fantasies?”
“I only do this if your dad is a billionaire.”
“Who said he’s not?”
My slut lizard brain overpowered me and I ended up letting him hold my hand and we walked into the men’s restroom like we were walking down the aisle in a wedding ceremony. I sucked his cock in the stall at the far end of the restroom and then he said we should bounce and go back to his place.
The next thing I remember I was sitting in the back of a uber and he was taking my panties off completely and he was so clumsy my panties were snagged over my high heels and I had to take off my shoes. He examined my panties in his hands and said: “Damn bitch you are so wet.” And I was thinking to myself, “God you sound so ghetto.”
I had imagined that someone from Princeton might have spoken like a British royalty but then again, I remembered, Cornell West teaches at Princeton.
Then he showed me the wet crotch of my panties and asked me to smell myself. My own panties were brought up to my face and I saw there was indeed a big wet splotch on them.
Afterward he rolled my panties into a ball and stuffed them in my mouth and then he made me spread my bare pussy for the taxi driver to see. I asked him, “Have you ever had an Asian woman who is so slutty like me?”
He smiled and didn’t answer. I rubbed my clit for him and I told him I wanted to feel his big white cock deep inside me.
I forgot what happened after that. It’s all a blur now. All I knew was the next morning I woke up with a throbbing pain in my pussy and ass. Both of my holes were completely gaped and there was cum leaking out of both.
And then, it happened again. I started to feel guilty again. I felt so bad about myself. I remembered how many times I’ve been saying to myself that I had to stop. I had tried to stop being a slut. I had tried to stop having sex with random strangers but I just can’t seem to control myself.
Sometimes I like when my ex tied me up or shoved me in cages because I felt it was good for me because that would prevent me from going out and being an inferior slut and doing stuff like this.
I feel so ashamed. I don’t even remember his name. I called him Barron because he looked like Barron Trump. But that’s probably not his real name.
