I'm a white guy who is an interracial obsessive - so much so that I no longer look at any adult material that isn't interracial, I no longer see a beautiful white woman without wondering what she might look like in the embrace of a powerful Black man - and I run a blog on both those subjects here: http://girlworshipper.blogspot.co.uk.
Like so many white guys, I first got into the interracial thing via a direct personal experience that, at the time, I struggled to deal with, understand and make sense of. Now, with perspective and hindsight, I understand the influence it had over me...
I was dating a stunning white girl called Jo. Jo had been a model as a teenager. She was working for a PR company in South London and we met at a party thrown by a mutual friend who worked in PR. As soon as I saw Jo I fell madly in love with her – she was stunning!
Jo was tall and willowy – about 5 foot 10, with a cascade of long flowing light brown hair and the biggest bright blue eyes. She had the most beautiful face and amazing skin – but best of all were her long long legs – the best legs I’d ever seen in fact, so perfectly shaped and so silky smooth to the touch! Yet the strange thing was that it seemed that Jo didn't understand just how gorgeous she was - she had a charming innocence about her. I fell for her totally.
It was summer and Jo and I began dating and she invited me to the flat she shared with a girlfriend in North London. It was then that I met her flat mate – an attractive, sexy, busty blonde, quite different to Jo in character, who, I soon discovered, was dating a big, dark-skinned Black guy.
It soon became clear that this girl had a real thing for Black guys – and to my surprise I found that every time I went round to their flat the boyfriend was hanging out there – sometimes with his friends, all of whom were also Black guys.
I found this a little difficult – partly because I felt "outnumbered" and out of place, mainly because Jo was so outstandingly and eye-catchingly beautiful and these guys always had their eyes on her and I felt they were always trying to chat her up. Knowing Jo she probably didn't even notice - she always greeted everyone openly and with a big smile. Perhaps I was a little paranoid, but looking back I think I was just struggling to deal with a situation I had simply never been in before.
I remember one Sunday afternoon that summer sitting in the front room with Jo and her flatmate and three of these big Black guys. I felt out of place and not at ease. Then, quite innocently, Jo got up to put a DVD in the player. She was wearing a short, light, silky mini-dress which rode right up – revealing as she bent over more and more of her bare and beautiful long legs, right to the very top.
Jo was totally unaware of it – as she always was - but it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen – the smooth milky white curve of the back of her long thigh, and the silky material of her skirt raised up to just cover her bottom - and as I looked out of the corner of my eye I could see all three of the Black guys taking in the view, looking at her legs and bottom raised in the air and then looking at each other and grinning. I felt threatened - but what on earth could I say in that situation?
The other problem emerged over a series of Friday and Saturday nights when I stayed over with Jo. Making love to her was an absolutely sublime experience - with her long, lithe, smooth body like a tall glass of water underneath me - but we were often interrupted by her flatmate who would be indulging in very long and very loud sex sessions with her Black boyfriend – they would go on for hours and she was so noisy it seemed like the whole house was trembling. Jo seemed to be totally used to this - she would lie next to me and smile about it – even fall asleep - but I couldn’t ignore it and would lie awake listening to it and imagining what was going down in the room down the corridor. Lord knows what the neighbours must have thought!
There were a couple of weekends when I met up with Jo in central London for afternoon drinks - and one occasion is seared into my memory. I was due to meet her at the Windsor Castle Pub in Notting Hill. It was mid-summer and there were tables set out front - and as I walked up the street I could see a group sat at one of these tables. There was Jo and her flat mate - and four big Black guys sat at the table with them. As always, Jo was looking gorgeous, relaxed and at ease, laughing as she talked with this group of guys, any of whom I knew would not hesitate to make a move if the moment was right. I joined them at the table, feeling completely outnumbered and out of place.
I wasn't with Jo for long that summer. The final straw came one evening when she asked me to meet her at a basement nightclub on the Charing Cross Road in central London. All she told me was that a friend of her flatmates boyfriend was DJ-ing. I had some idea what to expect and so I was nervous about this - but the truth was I would have done anything to make Jo happy. When I arrived and descended the stairs into the basement club, it was even worse than I had thought. I was virtually the only white guy there.
The room was pumping hip hop and r n' b. And it was full of the most stunningly beautiful white girls all surrounded by big Black guys. This wasn't the first time - or the last - that I would find myself in a club like this in London, and I suppose my eyes were opening to the scene that was evolving in certain London clubs where the Black guys were creating and controlling their own scene - and the most beautiful white girls were providing the decoration.
As I scanned the place, it seemed like every girl my eyes fell upon was more beautiful than the last, like some sort of underground modelling convention. Then I saw Jo at the bar and just stopped and stared. It’s another sight seared into my memory that I will never forget.
Jo was stood facing the dance floor and either side of her stood two dark-skinned Black muscle-guys in designer clothing. Jo was looking absolutely stunning - wearing a cropped black t-shirt, tiny denim micro skirt that was more like an over-sized belt and knee-high black leather high heeled boots. Her long, creamy legs glistened in the lights from the dance floor. The three of them were talking and laughing. There was no denying it - these guys were clearly trying to chat her up. And there, as I looked harder, one of the guys had a muscular arm circled around Jo's waist, his dark skin contrasting the smooth pale skin of her exposed midriff.
I can't begin to explain the wave of emotions I felt in that moment - anger, jealousy, fear and yes, I confess, I was strangely turned on. These emotions were all new to me and being unable to process or cope with them, I pulled myself out of my trance, turned and walked away. As I did so, I had to go back around the dance floor and once again take in just how many beautiful white girls there were in this club full of Black guys, all of them seemingly more sexually open and at ease than in any white club. On my way out of the club I passed one of the most gorgeous blondes I’ve ever seen in the arms of a big Black guy locked in a passionate kiss. She was the last image I have of that night.
After that night, I never saw Jo again. There were a few text messages, but that was it - shut down. Ever since I have wondered about her and where she is now, still bewitched by her extraordinary unforgettable beauty.
Like so many white guys, I first got into the interracial thing via a direct personal experience that, at the time, I struggled to deal with, understand and make sense of. Now, with perspective and hindsight, I understand the influence it had over me...
I was dating a stunning white girl called Jo. Jo had been a model as a teenager. She was working for a PR company in South London and we met at a party thrown by a mutual friend who worked in PR. As soon as I saw Jo I fell madly in love with her – she was stunning!
Jo was tall and willowy – about 5 foot 10, with a cascade of long flowing light brown hair and the biggest bright blue eyes. She had the most beautiful face and amazing skin – but best of all were her long long legs – the best legs I’d ever seen in fact, so perfectly shaped and so silky smooth to the touch! Yet the strange thing was that it seemed that Jo didn't understand just how gorgeous she was - she had a charming innocence about her. I fell for her totally.
It was summer and Jo and I began dating and she invited me to the flat she shared with a girlfriend in North London. It was then that I met her flat mate – an attractive, sexy, busty blonde, quite different to Jo in character, who, I soon discovered, was dating a big, dark-skinned Black guy.
It soon became clear that this girl had a real thing for Black guys – and to my surprise I found that every time I went round to their flat the boyfriend was hanging out there – sometimes with his friends, all of whom were also Black guys.
I found this a little difficult – partly because I felt "outnumbered" and out of place, mainly because Jo was so outstandingly and eye-catchingly beautiful and these guys always had their eyes on her and I felt they were always trying to chat her up. Knowing Jo she probably didn't even notice - she always greeted everyone openly and with a big smile. Perhaps I was a little paranoid, but looking back I think I was just struggling to deal with a situation I had simply never been in before.
I remember one Sunday afternoon that summer sitting in the front room with Jo and her flatmate and three of these big Black guys. I felt out of place and not at ease. Then, quite innocently, Jo got up to put a DVD in the player. She was wearing a short, light, silky mini-dress which rode right up – revealing as she bent over more and more of her bare and beautiful long legs, right to the very top.
Jo was totally unaware of it – as she always was - but it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen – the smooth milky white curve of the back of her long thigh, and the silky material of her skirt raised up to just cover her bottom - and as I looked out of the corner of my eye I could see all three of the Black guys taking in the view, looking at her legs and bottom raised in the air and then looking at each other and grinning. I felt threatened - but what on earth could I say in that situation?
The other problem emerged over a series of Friday and Saturday nights when I stayed over with Jo. Making love to her was an absolutely sublime experience - with her long, lithe, smooth body like a tall glass of water underneath me - but we were often interrupted by her flatmate who would be indulging in very long and very loud sex sessions with her Black boyfriend – they would go on for hours and she was so noisy it seemed like the whole house was trembling. Jo seemed to be totally used to this - she would lie next to me and smile about it – even fall asleep - but I couldn’t ignore it and would lie awake listening to it and imagining what was going down in the room down the corridor. Lord knows what the neighbours must have thought!
There were a couple of weekends when I met up with Jo in central London for afternoon drinks - and one occasion is seared into my memory. I was due to meet her at the Windsor Castle Pub in Notting Hill. It was mid-summer and there were tables set out front - and as I walked up the street I could see a group sat at one of these tables. There was Jo and her flat mate - and four big Black guys sat at the table with them. As always, Jo was looking gorgeous, relaxed and at ease, laughing as she talked with this group of guys, any of whom I knew would not hesitate to make a move if the moment was right. I joined them at the table, feeling completely outnumbered and out of place.
I wasn't with Jo for long that summer. The final straw came one evening when she asked me to meet her at a basement nightclub on the Charing Cross Road in central London. All she told me was that a friend of her flatmates boyfriend was DJ-ing. I had some idea what to expect and so I was nervous about this - but the truth was I would have done anything to make Jo happy. When I arrived and descended the stairs into the basement club, it was even worse than I had thought. I was virtually the only white guy there.
The room was pumping hip hop and r n' b. And it was full of the most stunningly beautiful white girls all surrounded by big Black guys. This wasn't the first time - or the last - that I would find myself in a club like this in London, and I suppose my eyes were opening to the scene that was evolving in certain London clubs where the Black guys were creating and controlling their own scene - and the most beautiful white girls were providing the decoration.
As I scanned the place, it seemed like every girl my eyes fell upon was more beautiful than the last, like some sort of underground modelling convention. Then I saw Jo at the bar and just stopped and stared. It’s another sight seared into my memory that I will never forget.
Jo was stood facing the dance floor and either side of her stood two dark-skinned Black muscle-guys in designer clothing. Jo was looking absolutely stunning - wearing a cropped black t-shirt, tiny denim micro skirt that was more like an over-sized belt and knee-high black leather high heeled boots. Her long, creamy legs glistened in the lights from the dance floor. The three of them were talking and laughing. There was no denying it - these guys were clearly trying to chat her up. And there, as I looked harder, one of the guys had a muscular arm circled around Jo's waist, his dark skin contrasting the smooth pale skin of her exposed midriff.
I can't begin to explain the wave of emotions I felt in that moment - anger, jealousy, fear and yes, I confess, I was strangely turned on. These emotions were all new to me and being unable to process or cope with them, I pulled myself out of my trance, turned and walked away. As I did so, I had to go back around the dance floor and once again take in just how many beautiful white girls there were in this club full of Black guys, all of them seemingly more sexually open and at ease than in any white club. On my way out of the club I passed one of the most gorgeous blondes I’ve ever seen in the arms of a big Black guy locked in a passionate kiss. She was the last image I have of that night.
After that night, I never saw Jo again. There were a few text messages, but that was it - shut down. Ever since I have wondered about her and where she is now, still bewitched by her extraordinary unforgettable beauty.
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