Cuck sighting: the train station

This was a truly amazing sighting I witnessed just this weekend at the Greenwich DLR train station where I was waiting to meet a friend. It's a large, open waiting area at the top of the escalators that carry passengers up from the train platforms. As I was waiting my eye was immediately caught by a couple who entered the station.

The guy was a Black guy, probably in his early thirties, very dark-skinned, tall and very well-built, with a shaved head and gold ear-rings. He was wearing expensive designer clothes - a black leather jacket, blue jeans and boots.

With him was a very tall, model-esque white girl who I guessed to be in her early twenties. I would guess she was about 5 foot 9 or 5 foot 10, with long, straight browny-blonde hair and a gorgeously sexy face. It did cross my mind that she might be foreign - European possibly. She was wearing a short, fitted black leather jacket, and the tiniest, tightest pair of denim "Daisy Duke" shorts I think it would be possible to wear out in public.

My eyes literally popped out of my head as I drunk in this gorgeous sight - and by the looks of things I wasn't the only guy there who was knocked out! She was wearing straw laced sandals with a small heel on them and she had the longest, smoothest, tan legs I think I've ever seen - you know the kind - so smooth that they glisten when they catch the light!

As subtly as I could I walked around behind them so I could check out this stunning girl from behind - and I was rewarded by a glimpse of the most beautiful ass encased in tight denim that you could ever imagine. Oh my god! I couldn't get over the fact that this stunning white girl, dressed so incredibly sexily, belonged to this Black guy!

The Black guy was clearly in a heated conversation on his cell phone, and the white girl just waited patiently next to him while he continued his conversation, seemingly oblivious to all the attention she and her Black boyfriend were drawing.

I hung around watching the two of them for as long as I could, drinking in the view of interracial perfection there before me. Finally the Black guy finished his cell phone conversation. He took the white girl by the hand and led her off down to the trains. I think I would have followed them if it hadn't have been that I was late to meet my friend. As I left the train station I couldn't helping thinking that these days it really is a Black man's world.

Cuck thoughts: why am I doing this?

I hope this blog achieves two things: the first is to celebrate the beauty and sheer unadulterated sexy-ness of white women. (There are other forums for celebrating women of colour whom it goes without saying we respect equally).

The second is to celebrate, promote and encourage the interracial attraction (specifically between Black men and white women) which is the fastest growing trend in Europe and the US.

As a white guy I have always worshipped and adored white women. They make life worth living in every way. Yes I have a "type" like most people, but this is by no means exclusive. My type is tall, healthy, blonde, brunette, redhead. I like long legs and big boobs, preferably all natural. Does this mean I don't find other women attractive of all ethnic backgrounds, ages, shapes and sizes? Of course not - but my type is my type - and if my type is not your type then I am sure there are plenty of other sites that will cater for you!

At the same time over the years my fascination with interracial has grown and intensified, so much so that it is now the central aspect of all my sexual fantasies and fascinations. I have gone from feeling threatened by it, to learning to accept it, to now actively encouraging and promoting it. I will be completely honest: I am now at the stage where whenever I see a beautiful white woman or girl, wherever I may be, my first reaction is to wonder what she would look like on the arm of a powerful dark-skinned Black man before I think of anything else. All my fantasies revolve around interracial, whether they be about an imagined girlfriend or wife or daughter, or about a celebrity, or even about something I've seen whilst out and about living my life.

I have wondered why. Does this make me a "cuckold"? The answer must be yes. But I look at some of the material that pops up under the term "cuckold" and that's definitely not me: I have no interest in being abused or humiliated or told I'm a piece of shit. In fact, that really turns me off. What turns me on is the thrill, the taboo, the glamour - yes, the glamour - of Black male, white female interracial. I love the electric eroticism. I love the tease and the frisson. That's what does it for me!

Why is this? Because in my view - interracial is more intense. White women seem more sexual and more sexualised when they are with Black men. More open, more relaxed, more sexy. Black men can connect with white women on a level that it seems to me most - no, not all, but most - white men simply can't reach. I don't know why - but the connection is there, it is powerful and it is undeniable. And I think this is becoming clear in the fact that white women are increasingly chosing non-white men as partners. Is this something that as a white guy I should fear or get angry about? Once upon a time I did. I felt threatened and powerless. But now, no. It's something I have learned to vicariously love - and it suits my own deeply voyeuristic sexuality perfectly.

So getting back to that question "what is it that I want?" Well the answer is this. To promote the positive celebration and adoration of white women. To carry on promoting the glamorous intensity of interracial. And if I am lucky, to find myself a beautiful white woman who accepts this and enjoys it as much as I do. Are you out there? 

Cuck thoughts: Jo C - and how I got my interracial obsession...

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 this blog on both those subjects.

Like so many white guys, I first got into the interracial thing via a direct personal experience that, at the time, I really struggled to deal with, understand and make sense of. Now, with perspective and hindsight, I understand the immense influence it had over me.

I was dating a stunning white girl called Jo. Jo had been a model as a teenager. Now, in her early 20s, she was working for a PR company in Victoria, South London and we met at a party thrown by a mutual friend, Fiona, who worked in PR. As soon as I saw Jo I fell madly in love with her – she was stunning!

Jo was tall and model-like – 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 Willesden, North London. 

It was then that I met her flat mate – an attractive, sexy, busty blonde, quite different to Jo in look and character, who, I soon discovered, was dating a big, dark-skinned Black guy in his 30s.

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 big 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.

I genuinely believe that Jo was 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 or above me - those long legs and her remarkable puffy-pink nipples, almost saucer-wide and super sensitive.

At night, 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 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 along 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 still think about it now. 

I was due to meet Jo 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 at least six 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 Black 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 moving to the capital, my eyes were opening to the scene that was evolving in the 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 white 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 circling gradually around Jo's waist, his dark skin contrasting the smooth pale skin of her smooth 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 completely new to me and overwhelming and being unable to process or cope with them, I pulled myself out of my trance, turned and fled. 

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 searing image I have of that night.

After that night, I never saw Jo again. There were a few text messages, but that was it - I was shut down. 

Ever since I have wondered about Jo and where she is now, still bewitched by her extraordinary unforgettable beauty. Jo - and the personal evolution that I went through during our short time together - is still completely dominant in my fantasies, right up to the present day.