Another member asked me this question today. I thought it was a great insightful question, so I thought I'd pose it to the whole community.
What are your very early influenses? What was the thing that lead you down the path to admire black men? Or conversely, if you're a black man..(yummy and sexy), what lead you to being attracted to white women? Add to this, what do you think made you dominant or submissive?
For me I trace it back to a time when my folks were together, was probably 10-11yrs old. We were on vacation in europe, france in particular. There was a construction worker pulling on a rope hauling bricks up on a pulley. He had a tank top on and had the blackest skin i'd ever seen. I remember back then there were plenty of Nigerians in Paris. I was in the back seat looking out the window as he was pullng, I distinctly remember his glistening skin and muscles, and my mom gasping.
Then later that same trip, when we visited the Eiffel tower there were street vendors all over, again mostly Nigerians. They were right in your face trying to sell you souvenirs. Very dark faces surrounding us and pushing trinkets and little plastic Eiffel towers, speaking in bad english, or accented bad french. White teeth weird smells. I found it all kinda scary, but all i could think of was that construction worker and those arms and that skin. I wonder what their arms like that must feel like.
What's your story?
What are your very early influenses? What was the thing that lead you down the path to admire black men? Or conversely, if you're a black man..(yummy and sexy), what lead you to being attracted to white women? Add to this, what do you think made you dominant or submissive?
For me I trace it back to a time when my folks were together, was probably 10-11yrs old. We were on vacation in europe, france in particular. There was a construction worker pulling on a rope hauling bricks up on a pulley. He had a tank top on and had the blackest skin i'd ever seen. I remember back then there were plenty of Nigerians in Paris. I was in the back seat looking out the window as he was pullng, I distinctly remember his glistening skin and muscles, and my mom gasping.
Then later that same trip, when we visited the Eiffel tower there were street vendors all over, again mostly Nigerians. They were right in your face trying to sell you souvenirs. Very dark faces surrounding us and pushing trinkets and little plastic Eiffel towers, speaking in bad english, or accented bad french. White teeth weird smells. I found it all kinda scary, but all i could think of was that construction worker and those arms and that skin. I wonder what their arms like that must feel like.
What's your story?
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