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Planetoid
- Joined
- Jan 18, 2020
EDIT 12th Feb 2021:
Added a new prompt, Blacked in a Cabin
EDIT 26th Jan 2021:
Cleaned up the intro a bit, and added two new plays.
EDIT 10th December 2020:
My latest post/bump details a... theme I'm interested in.
Hello!
So, as you may have guessed from the very imaginative and subtle title, I am a white girl looking for a play with a heavy interracial focus. I'd say I prefer playing on here - though I am new to this platform I tend to find using an IM platform makes things a little... rushed, I'm flexible on this, though.
Anyway, a bit about me, I've been roleplaying for far too long, most of my roleplay experience has been on reddit. I tend to like slow, detailed plays with a decent amount of buildup and world/character building, and I pretty much exclusively play first person present. That said, one thing I want to emphasise is that I'm NOT GOOD at post a day style plays. This isn't to say I want something that's rushed with messages no longer than a paragraph, it's more that I'm not good at writing if my partner isn't around. To clarify, I generally play in 'sessions' so a couple of messages a day, back and forth. I find paragraph length requirements unhelpful, but I would say I spend 40 minutes to an hour writing each response, and probably max out at around 10 paragraphs. This of course, is not to say I expect you to be available every day, nor do I expect to be available every day, it's more like, hey if we're both around and have some time let's play, if not then oh well! If this is confusing to you, just lemme know and I can clarify!
I think it's worth noting some things before we get into the meat of this post. Firstly, these plays aren't set in stone, if you want to take an idea and make it your own, I'd be more than happy, likewise if you want to suggest a role of your own, please do! These are more... a sample of what I'm into, a taster for how I write, than an exhaustive list of what I'm willing to play. To say that in a more brief way, I much prefer to brainstorm! There aren't really any roles for women, but I'd be happy to play with them, just message me if this post interests you. Finally, I'm aware this post is very, very long. Don't feel like you need to read all of it! If something catches your eye please just let me know and we'll see what we can figure out, I'm basically always seeking new partners!
With that overly long intro out the way, let's get to the plays...
So, as you may have guessed from the prompt, the idea is that you and I end up getting trapped in a cabin together (hence the corny title). This is very much based off my theme post below, and is as much a character prompt as a play prompt, as in my character here could be applied to some of the other prompts. Anyway, the general idea is that my character and yours are acquaintances, perhaps we've never really got along but we're not enemies either. And if it's not clear enough from the prompt, basically my character would be someone who hesitantly fetishises black guys, not because she's racist, but because she's anti-racist, because she doesn't feel it's fair to define black men. And yet...
I've got some twists and turns in mind for this, and am interested to hear how you would like to play out your character too. Would you go for it from the off, make me say those filthy filthy things I've always wanted to say? Or would you be like me, hesitant, reluctant, unwilling to be fetishised. Until we both realise just how good the words I'll only fuck black men Daddy sound coming from my lips?
OK, so I'm sure you see where that ones going, sorta. The basic idea is that there's some dark room where people meet for kinky sex. I've gone there a couple times, I think I'm a dominatrix, I get matched with a black dude, I end up realising I'm submissive. Lots of fun with this one, our characters kinda... wrestling for control, with mine eventually losing out, obviously.
This one is new and exciting, perhaps more porny than what I usually play, but something I'm quite in the mood for.
So, this is probably more of a character idea than a play idea, but yeah, as the post says, I'm looking to play some kind of fetish cammer, opposite your character. Where it goes... well I'd prefer to brainstorm, but a couple ideas I had is perhaps you're a fellow adult performer and I get a request to finally do a boy/girl scene - with the offer of a lot of money. Or perhaps we're just two people who meet and your character ends up tangled in my web? I dunno, very open for brainstorming this!
The next one is written as perhaps more, hey I'm looking for an interracial play, rather than in-depth play/character ideas, but hey it's probably a good idea of how I generally write/play
One thing I'd like to make clear is that these plays don't necessarily have to have me playing as a hyper-sexualised bimbo. It's just a personal preference. Anyway as for the settings, well I'll just copy and paste those below:
OK, so I think the next two are bit... well more specific. Anyway without further ado
So, I suppose that one is a bit more... self explanatory, I've got a couple scene ideas in mind. Maybe you bring me up on stage at a club, everyone watching as we grind? Maybe we hook up at a party thin walls not enough to hide the filthy things I'm saying as you fuck me. Maybe you just cut out the middle man and fuck me in front of the whole party? Though that last one could be kind of hard to make believable.
And finally.
So, the specific play I really want to play with this character, is YC being MC's subordinate at work. We end up having to share a hotel room due to overbooking, and end up fucking. I'm desperate to keep quiet, but I just can't keep my whore mouth shut...
The final part of this is just a theme I've been wanting to play with, I had it as it's own post in this thread but I'm just gonna include it here for visibility (though I dunno if it'll actually make it more or less visible...)
OK, so that was probably too long a post, but yeah, if anything in that interests you, then just let me know, and we'll work something out! Oh and if I've made any etiquette/formatting mistakes, please point them out!
Added a new prompt, Blacked in a Cabin
EDIT 26th Jan 2021:
Cleaned up the intro a bit, and added two new plays.
EDIT 10th December 2020:
My latest post/bump details a... theme I'm interested in.
Hello!
So, as you may have guessed from the very imaginative and subtle title, I am a white girl looking for a play with a heavy interracial focus. I'd say I prefer playing on here - though I am new to this platform I tend to find using an IM platform makes things a little... rushed, I'm flexible on this, though.
Anyway, a bit about me, I've been roleplaying for far too long, most of my roleplay experience has been on reddit. I tend to like slow, detailed plays with a decent amount of buildup and world/character building, and I pretty much exclusively play first person present. That said, one thing I want to emphasise is that I'm NOT GOOD at post a day style plays. This isn't to say I want something that's rushed with messages no longer than a paragraph, it's more that I'm not good at writing if my partner isn't around. To clarify, I generally play in 'sessions' so a couple of messages a day, back and forth. I find paragraph length requirements unhelpful, but I would say I spend 40 minutes to an hour writing each response, and probably max out at around 10 paragraphs. This of course, is not to say I expect you to be available every day, nor do I expect to be available every day, it's more like, hey if we're both around and have some time let's play, if not then oh well! If this is confusing to you, just lemme know and I can clarify!
I think it's worth noting some things before we get into the meat of this post. Firstly, these plays aren't set in stone, if you want to take an idea and make it your own, I'd be more than happy, likewise if you want to suggest a role of your own, please do! These are more... a sample of what I'm into, a taster for how I write, than an exhaustive list of what I'm willing to play. To say that in a more brief way, I much prefer to brainstorm! There aren't really any roles for women, but I'd be happy to play with them, just message me if this post interests you. Finally, I'm aware this post is very, very long. Don't feel like you need to read all of it! If something catches your eye please just let me know and we'll see what we can figure out, I'm basically always seeking new partners!
With that overly long intro out the way, let's get to the plays...
It was peaceful. Peaceful was good, peaceful was nice, peaceful was probably what I needed. But peaceful was dull. I'd been here for hours now, I'd bathed, I'd wandered round, I'd enjoyed the peace. And now it was dull.
I wanted to see my friends, I wanted to see Kelly and Micheal, I really wanted to see Brian, and hell I even wanted to see you - even if there was some... uncomfortableness between us. And not in that way.
Ok - maybe a little in that way, maybe in some unconscious bias, I wasn't claiming to be above it, wasn't claiming to not be... a little intimidated by a big black man, not be a little intimidated by you. I mean, you couldn't help how you felt, right? Even if you felt it for bad reasons, you still couldn't be blamed for it. It was just how one reacted to those feelings.
But it wasn't just that. If I was being totally honest with myself, it wasn't just that I found you a little intimidating it was that...
Well, I didn't really fancy people I didn't know. Which isn't to say, I didn't find them attractive, it's just that I didn't fancy them, I didn't want them.
I didn't know you, not really. And yet...
And yet I wanted you, yet I wanted you to be the man to fulfill all those sordid little fantasies, the things I wanted more than anything, the things I secretly wanted and was secretly ashamed of. Not because there was anything wrong with wanting a man like you. But there probably was something wrong with assuming, with deciding that all black men were hung, long lasting dominant lovers, with deciding that you were the man who could fulfill those fantasies.
And yet...
I check my phone for the eighth time in five minutes.
<ETA? Xx> The last text I sent to Brian reads.
I pause, contemplating whether to double text, my mind going through all the things he could be doing. Had he got lost? Was he out of signal? He could just be busy getting his bags and hadn't checked his phone. That's probably it.
<I'm boooorred xx> The swoosh of the message sent sound is interrupted by the door.
I turn around, greeting you with a neutral look that erred on the side of slight awkwardness
"Hey..."
"Good to see you" I add
"Have you... have you heard from the others?"
I wanted to see my friends, I wanted to see Kelly and Micheal, I really wanted to see Brian, and hell I even wanted to see you - even if there was some... uncomfortableness between us. And not in that way.
Ok - maybe a little in that way, maybe in some unconscious bias, I wasn't claiming to be above it, wasn't claiming to not be... a little intimidated by a big black man, not be a little intimidated by you. I mean, you couldn't help how you felt, right? Even if you felt it for bad reasons, you still couldn't be blamed for it. It was just how one reacted to those feelings.
But it wasn't just that. If I was being totally honest with myself, it wasn't just that I found you a little intimidating it was that...
Well, I didn't really fancy people I didn't know. Which isn't to say, I didn't find them attractive, it's just that I didn't fancy them, I didn't want them.
I didn't know you, not really. And yet...
And yet I wanted you, yet I wanted you to be the man to fulfill all those sordid little fantasies, the things I wanted more than anything, the things I secretly wanted and was secretly ashamed of. Not because there was anything wrong with wanting a man like you. But there probably was something wrong with assuming, with deciding that all black men were hung, long lasting dominant lovers, with deciding that you were the man who could fulfill those fantasies.
And yet...
I check my phone for the eighth time in five minutes.
<ETA? Xx> The last text I sent to Brian reads.
I pause, contemplating whether to double text, my mind going through all the things he could be doing. Had he got lost? Was he out of signal? He could just be busy getting his bags and hadn't checked his phone. That's probably it.
<I'm boooorred xx> The swoosh of the message sent sound is interrupted by the door.
I turn around, greeting you with a neutral look that erred on the side of slight awkwardness
"Hey..."
"Good to see you" I add
"Have you... have you heard from the others?"
So, as you may have guessed from the prompt, the idea is that you and I end up getting trapped in a cabin together (hence the corny title). This is very much based off my theme post below, and is as much a character prompt as a play prompt, as in my character here could be applied to some of the other prompts. Anyway, the general idea is that my character and yours are acquaintances, perhaps we've never really got along but we're not enemies either. And if it's not clear enough from the prompt, basically my character would be someone who hesitantly fetishises black guys, not because she's racist, but because she's anti-racist, because she doesn't feel it's fair to define black men. And yet...
I've got some twists and turns in mind for this, and am interested to hear how you would like to play out your character too. Would you go for it from the off, make me say those filthy filthy things I've always wanted to say? Or would you be like me, hesitant, reluctant, unwilling to be fetishised. Until we both realise just how good the words I'll only fuck black men Daddy sound coming from my lips?
This was my fourth time.
My fourth Thursday night slipping into a taxi, long tan coat lending a modicum of modesty to an otherwise entirely immodest outfit. My fourth Thursday night staring out the window, mind clouded with arousal as the driver silently whisks me to the plain building, the plain steps leading up to a plain door, plain windows dotted about the plain facade. If you didn't know it was there you'd probably miss it, and even if you took a glance, you'd have no idea of the decidedly un-plain deeds that took place inside.
Hidden in plain sight.
An ordinary hallway would lead to ordinary steps, an ordinary staircase leading down into a basement that was anything but ordinary. The doors were numbered, one to fourteen. Today I was assigned door nine. And that, is where the fun would begin.
Behind the door was a small changing room. I'd hesitate to call it plain, but it was definitely un-fancy. Tasteful, spacious enough, minimalistic, trendy. I didn't use it though, I preferred to come dressed, to be driven in my outfit, hiding it under this long coat. Long, unremarkable streets, the outfit against my skin a reminder, a hint at the pleasures to cum. Helping me get into the headspace, starting the slow process of arousal that would lead to an orgasmic peak.
On my first visit I'd worn a simple outfit, black lingerie, suspenders, lace. I wasn't sure what to expect, who would be in that room.
I'd never really been 'like this' so to speak, never really... been sexual. I mean sure, I'd enjoyed sex, it was nice, but I'd have never ever thought of doing something like this until recently. Even then I didn't really 'think' of doing it, it was more forced upon me, Sara had nagged and prodded encouraging me to 'get in touch with my sexuality'. She was right, of course, having only ever had three sexual partners, one of them a man I'd been with since I was sixteen, I was hardly 'in touch'.
But I didn't know how right she was until that first night. I didn't know how right she was when my lips pressed against his, nor when my hands trailed down his hairy chest, nails digging into his powerful muscles. I didn't know how right she was when I felt his member press into my buttcheek, I didn't realise when he gasped as I pulled his hair. It didn't twig when my teeth dug into his flesh, the penny didn't drop when his pastel pink 'switch' mark lit up - matching mine.
It took a while, it took further exploration, but as I plunged the big black dildo into him, as I grasped and tweaked his nipples, as I felt his powerful frame submitting to me, every muscle in his strong body not only under my control, but desperate for my control... well then, I knew just how right she was. And as he obediently ate my cunt, as my thighs crushed his face, my nails almost piercing his powerful chest as I dragged them along, as his submission brought me to the biggest orgasm I'd ever had... I realised I was sexual. I'd just never had it the way I'd needed it before. I needed to be in control, to own, to dominate.
The next time I was dressed more appropriately. An outfit that proclaimed my new found, self-given status. I was a domme. So I dressed like one.
The second man was similar, in build to the first. Big, strong.
But it didn't work. I was too eager, I didn't earn my dominance, I jumped in too eagerly, attempted to lay down my power immediately, and as the light came on, my dark blue lipstick - the mark of a dominant - glowed near his pastel pink mark. He apologised and left.
The next time I was more prepared, my outfit more neutral, my lipstick a pale pastel pink, I was ready, to build him up, to tease, to hint more subtly but not reveal until the lights came on.
But it didn't work.
Well, not really. As... skilled as he was in certain areas, they'd sent me a child, a boy. A boy who knelt - figuratively and literally as the door had opened. And it was no fun. There was no fight, no struggle for control. I didn't win anything, I just dominated him. Once the lights came on I stayed, but it just wasn't... well it wasn't anything more than fine.
But this time, this time I knew I'd win, I knew what I'd do, this time I knew I'd tease, I'd build up, I'd slowly assert my dominance until he'd be begging me to put that big black dildo in his ass. Because it was the only way I knew how to enjoy sex.
My fourth Thursday night slipping into a taxi, long tan coat lending a modicum of modesty to an otherwise entirely immodest outfit. My fourth Thursday night staring out the window, mind clouded with arousal as the driver silently whisks me to the plain building, the plain steps leading up to a plain door, plain windows dotted about the plain facade. If you didn't know it was there you'd probably miss it, and even if you took a glance, you'd have no idea of the decidedly un-plain deeds that took place inside.
Hidden in plain sight.
An ordinary hallway would lead to ordinary steps, an ordinary staircase leading down into a basement that was anything but ordinary. The doors were numbered, one to fourteen. Today I was assigned door nine. And that, is where the fun would begin.
Behind the door was a small changing room. I'd hesitate to call it plain, but it was definitely un-fancy. Tasteful, spacious enough, minimalistic, trendy. I didn't use it though, I preferred to come dressed, to be driven in my outfit, hiding it under this long coat. Long, unremarkable streets, the outfit against my skin a reminder, a hint at the pleasures to cum. Helping me get into the headspace, starting the slow process of arousal that would lead to an orgasmic peak.
On my first visit I'd worn a simple outfit, black lingerie, suspenders, lace. I wasn't sure what to expect, who would be in that room.
I'd never really been 'like this' so to speak, never really... been sexual. I mean sure, I'd enjoyed sex, it was nice, but I'd have never ever thought of doing something like this until recently. Even then I didn't really 'think' of doing it, it was more forced upon me, Sara had nagged and prodded encouraging me to 'get in touch with my sexuality'. She was right, of course, having only ever had three sexual partners, one of them a man I'd been with since I was sixteen, I was hardly 'in touch'.
But I didn't know how right she was until that first night. I didn't know how right she was when my lips pressed against his, nor when my hands trailed down his hairy chest, nails digging into his powerful muscles. I didn't know how right she was when I felt his member press into my buttcheek, I didn't realise when he gasped as I pulled his hair. It didn't twig when my teeth dug into his flesh, the penny didn't drop when his pastel pink 'switch' mark lit up - matching mine.
It took a while, it took further exploration, but as I plunged the big black dildo into him, as I grasped and tweaked his nipples, as I felt his powerful frame submitting to me, every muscle in his strong body not only under my control, but desperate for my control... well then, I knew just how right she was. And as he obediently ate my cunt, as my thighs crushed his face, my nails almost piercing his powerful chest as I dragged them along, as his submission brought me to the biggest orgasm I'd ever had... I realised I was sexual. I'd just never had it the way I'd needed it before. I needed to be in control, to own, to dominate.
The next time I was dressed more appropriately. An outfit that proclaimed my new found, self-given status. I was a domme. So I dressed like one.
The second man was similar, in build to the first. Big, strong.
But it didn't work. I was too eager, I didn't earn my dominance, I jumped in too eagerly, attempted to lay down my power immediately, and as the light came on, my dark blue lipstick - the mark of a dominant - glowed near his pastel pink mark. He apologised and left.
The next time I was more prepared, my outfit more neutral, my lipstick a pale pastel pink, I was ready, to build him up, to tease, to hint more subtly but not reveal until the lights came on.
But it didn't work.
Well, not really. As... skilled as he was in certain areas, they'd sent me a child, a boy. A boy who knelt - figuratively and literally as the door had opened. And it was no fun. There was no fight, no struggle for control. I didn't win anything, I just dominated him. Once the lights came on I stayed, but it just wasn't... well it wasn't anything more than fine.
But this time, this time I knew I'd win, I knew what I'd do, this time I knew I'd tease, I'd build up, I'd slowly assert my dominance until he'd be begging me to put that big black dildo in his ass. Because it was the only way I knew how to enjoy sex.
OK, so I'm sure you see where that ones going, sorta. The basic idea is that there's some dark room where people meet for kinky sex. I've gone there a couple times, I think I'm a dominatrix, I get matched with a black dude, I end up realising I'm submissive. Lots of fun with this one, our characters kinda... wrestling for control, with mine eventually losing out, obviously.
This one is new and exciting, perhaps more porny than what I usually play, but something I'm quite in the mood for.
It was the perfect ass. The perfect, phat white ass the perfect peach shape, the perfect roundness, the perfect jiggle, the perfection that had you, had my subs debating whether it was fake.
But the jiggle, no way a fake ass jiggles like that
Bro I don't know what to tell you, but there is no way a real ass could be that big.
And it deserved it, it deserved the debate, it deserved worship. Because like I said, it was perfect. An ass that seemed designed with only one purpose, an ass that begged you to cum in, two thick creamy white cheeks that stuck out past the wild swing of my hips, acres of creamy white flesh blemished by only one thing.
A black spade with a 'Q' in the middle. And a dainty white hand coming down on it, a dainty white hand spanking my ass.
"But that's the thing, isn't it?"
I say to the camera, redness growing on my cheek as I slowly squat, as I flaunt, as I swing my hips, as I twerk, little white covering now just visible between my cheeks.
"You'll never know..."
My ass drops to the floor in a sudden movement, working it for the camera, for my viewers.
"Never know just how good this cunt feels."
I flick my blonde hair over my shoulder, turning for face the camera, thick lips, fake lips pouting, sticking out from my beautiful white face.
"Never know just how good this ass looks bouncing on a cock." I whine my voice teasing, my voice mocking.
"Because only black men deserve this pussy." Definitive. Declarative, the absolute truth, my absolute truth.
Another spank, my left cheek this time, free hand on the wall for support.
"And that's why you subscribe, isn't it?" I say standing now, slowly gyrating
"Because you know..."
"You'll always be inferior."
I turn around and face the camera, my upper body hidden by a thin white one piece, big white tits bursting out, big white tits almost visible as I grasp them, as I chuckle.
"You might pay my bills..."
"But you'll never even get to see these..."
But the jiggle, no way a fake ass jiggles like that
Bro I don't know what to tell you, but there is no way a real ass could be that big.
And it deserved it, it deserved the debate, it deserved worship. Because like I said, it was perfect. An ass that seemed designed with only one purpose, an ass that begged you to cum in, two thick creamy white cheeks that stuck out past the wild swing of my hips, acres of creamy white flesh blemished by only one thing.
A black spade with a 'Q' in the middle. And a dainty white hand coming down on it, a dainty white hand spanking my ass.
"But that's the thing, isn't it?"
I say to the camera, redness growing on my cheek as I slowly squat, as I flaunt, as I swing my hips, as I twerk, little white covering now just visible between my cheeks.
"You'll never know..."
My ass drops to the floor in a sudden movement, working it for the camera, for my viewers.
"Never know just how good this cunt feels."
I flick my blonde hair over my shoulder, turning for face the camera, thick lips, fake lips pouting, sticking out from my beautiful white face.
"Never know just how good this ass looks bouncing on a cock." I whine my voice teasing, my voice mocking.
"Because only black men deserve this pussy." Definitive. Declarative, the absolute truth, my absolute truth.
Another spank, my left cheek this time, free hand on the wall for support.
"And that's why you subscribe, isn't it?" I say standing now, slowly gyrating
"Because you know..."
"You'll always be inferior."
I turn around and face the camera, my upper body hidden by a thin white one piece, big white tits bursting out, big white tits almost visible as I grasp them, as I chuckle.
"You might pay my bills..."
"But you'll never even get to see these..."
So, this is probably more of a character idea than a play idea, but yeah, as the post says, I'm looking to play some kind of fetish cammer, opposite your character. Where it goes... well I'd prefer to brainstorm, but a couple ideas I had is perhaps you're a fellow adult performer and I get a request to finally do a boy/girl scene - with the offer of a lot of money. Or perhaps we're just two people who meet and your character ends up tangled in my web? I dunno, very open for brainstorming this!
The next one is written as perhaps more, hey I'm looking for an interracial play, rather than in-depth play/character ideas, but hey it's probably a good idea of how I generally write/play
I let the towel fall to the floor, smirking as I catch a glance of my perfect bimbo body. Sensually I begin to stroke my pale arms, glistening from the water as I enjoy the feel of my smooth skin my hands finding my chest, ridiculously large fake tits bolted on to my slender frame an almost absurd demonstration of my sexuality. My hands slide further down, finding my toned stomach, the top of my crotch, almost grasping my clit....
No Angie, best to wait, I scald myself. You're going to get some big black dick tonight...
Why was it I loved black guys so much? I ponder. Was it the size? Nah, I mean that was nice, and sure the smallest black guy you'd been with was bigger than the biggest white or asian guy
I twirl in front of the mirror, enjoying the view from behind, my long platinum blonde hair falling to the small of my perfectly toned back, thick bubble butt jutting out perfectly. It took years of work to get a body this good. Well years of work and a few thousand dollars.
I mean the size was great and all... But...
Slowly I walk across the room, pulling on a pair of white fishnet stockings and suspender belt, suspenders hugging my ass, making it looked trapped, like the thin silky fabric could burst any moment, setting my thick ass free.
Was it the taboo? I mean I was fairly progressive I had progressive parents, but the town I came from...
I turn around, jiggling my ass slightly, loving the way it went from standing to attention to fat jiggly white ass.
The town I came from was racist as fuck, no two ways about it. Slurs thrown at the black kids, endless complaints about thugs, and a proud confederate history
Pulling on a white lace half cup bra, I admire my tits. They hadn't been small before, but now they were almost absurd. Slight teardrop shape, slightly wider than my frame and with small perky pink nipples poking out
I smirk. An old, possibly formative memory floats by. Stacy, a girl two years above me, saying you'd "have to be such a dirty slut to fuck a n****r". Well, I was a dirty slut... But still there's definitely more
I pull on white lace half cup bra, constraining my tits, leaving the creamy skin almost spilling out the top, only just hiding my pert pink nipples. Underwire holding my tits up and pushing them together, absurd cleavage on display.
The contrast. The way black skin looked on white. The way black men were so unlike me. From their bulging muscles to their massive dark dicks, they were pretty much the opposite of me.
I look at my pretty face, coated in makeup, pink dick sucking lips shining in the light. I pull on a diamond choker, SLUT emblazoned on it.
They were the yin to my yang. And I guess that was probably the biggest factor. I was the most outlandish version of femininity, and to me, they were the most outlandish version of masculinity. The bimbo and her black stud.
No Angie, best to wait, I scald myself. You're going to get some big black dick tonight...
Why was it I loved black guys so much? I ponder. Was it the size? Nah, I mean that was nice, and sure the smallest black guy you'd been with was bigger than the biggest white or asian guy
I twirl in front of the mirror, enjoying the view from behind, my long platinum blonde hair falling to the small of my perfectly toned back, thick bubble butt jutting out perfectly. It took years of work to get a body this good. Well years of work and a few thousand dollars.
I mean the size was great and all... But...
Slowly I walk across the room, pulling on a pair of white fishnet stockings and suspender belt, suspenders hugging my ass, making it looked trapped, like the thin silky fabric could burst any moment, setting my thick ass free.
Was it the taboo? I mean I was fairly progressive I had progressive parents, but the town I came from...
I turn around, jiggling my ass slightly, loving the way it went from standing to attention to fat jiggly white ass.
The town I came from was racist as fuck, no two ways about it. Slurs thrown at the black kids, endless complaints about thugs, and a proud confederate history
Pulling on a white lace half cup bra, I admire my tits. They hadn't been small before, but now they were almost absurd. Slight teardrop shape, slightly wider than my frame and with small perky pink nipples poking out
I smirk. An old, possibly formative memory floats by. Stacy, a girl two years above me, saying you'd "have to be such a dirty slut to fuck a n****r". Well, I was a dirty slut... But still there's definitely more
I pull on white lace half cup bra, constraining my tits, leaving the creamy skin almost spilling out the top, only just hiding my pert pink nipples. Underwire holding my tits up and pushing them together, absurd cleavage on display.
The contrast. The way black skin looked on white. The way black men were so unlike me. From their bulging muscles to their massive dark dicks, they were pretty much the opposite of me.
I look at my pretty face, coated in makeup, pink dick sucking lips shining in the light. I pull on a diamond choker, SLUT emblazoned on it.
They were the yin to my yang. And I guess that was probably the biggest factor. I was the most outlandish version of femininity, and to me, they were the most outlandish version of masculinity. The bimbo and her black stud.
One thing I'd like to make clear is that these plays don't necessarily have to have me playing as a hyper-sexualised bimbo. It's just a personal preference. Anyway as for the settings, well I'll just copy and paste those below:
We could be on a cruise, I could bet he mayor's wife at a fancy event. We could be a couple paired together at a masked ball, two strippers getting off in front of a crowd. Maybe I'm in the club looking to get revenge on my racist boyfriend? I could be the head cheerleader and you the rival quarterback. A princess in a cabin and her big lumberjack, the wife with a dark secret that's resulting in her husband getting bullied at work, the dominatrix who has the tables turned, or maybe, we could just meet in a club? Two people getting off on each others bodies in public. Then when you take me home the real fun begins....
OK, so I think the next two are bit... well more specific. Anyway without further ado
"I mean, aren't you curious?" Dani asks.
I pause. Curious was an understatement. I was dying to know, desperate to find out, consumed by my thirst for knowledge. But I couldn't let her know that. I couldn't let anyone know it. "I mean, sure but..."
"Very curious?" She interrupts my pause with a grin on her face.
I roll my eyes, hiding my smirk below an affected glower. "Yes, OK, but..."
"But?"
"I dunno..." despite the noise of our surroundings silence fills the air around us. "Like, I just don't want people to know?" her brow furrows at my response. "I mean, like I know that's bad, but y'know.... I guess, I just feel like there's a lot of baggage...?"
She doesn't respond, clearly waiting for me to incriminate myself further. "Like, I feel people make a lot of assumptions about white girls who sleep with black guys."
She smiles. "To be honest, Angie, I think it's hot"
"What?" I lean in.
"I dunno, it's just like... I guess I like the idea of everyone knowing I like black men." She pauses for a second, my eyes fixed on hers intently. "Like I like the idea of everyone making those assumptions about me because I go out with black guys.". The world around us closing in, despite the noise my attention on her 100%.
"I like the idea of everyone looking at me in a club, guys knowing they could never have me, some people disgusted, some envious."
"But everyone thinking about it."
"Everyone watching me leave and knowing that, very soon, I'd be full of big black cock."
"You get it?"
"I guess". A lie. I totally got it. More than I'd ever 'got' anything.
I pause. Curious was an understatement. I was dying to know, desperate to find out, consumed by my thirst for knowledge. But I couldn't let her know that. I couldn't let anyone know it. "I mean, sure but..."
"Very curious?" She interrupts my pause with a grin on her face.
I roll my eyes, hiding my smirk below an affected glower. "Yes, OK, but..."
"But?"
"I dunno..." despite the noise of our surroundings silence fills the air around us. "Like, I just don't want people to know?" her brow furrows at my response. "I mean, like I know that's bad, but y'know.... I guess, I just feel like there's a lot of baggage...?"
She doesn't respond, clearly waiting for me to incriminate myself further. "Like, I feel people make a lot of assumptions about white girls who sleep with black guys."
She smiles. "To be honest, Angie, I think it's hot"
"What?" I lean in.
"I dunno, it's just like... I guess I like the idea of everyone knowing I like black men." She pauses for a second, my eyes fixed on hers intently. "Like I like the idea of everyone making those assumptions about me because I go out with black guys.". The world around us closing in, despite the noise my attention on her 100%.
"I like the idea of everyone looking at me in a club, guys knowing they could never have me, some people disgusted, some envious."
"But everyone thinking about it."
"Everyone watching me leave and knowing that, very soon, I'd be full of big black cock."
"You get it?"
"I guess". A lie. I totally got it. More than I'd ever 'got' anything.
So, I suppose that one is a bit more... self explanatory, I've got a couple scene ideas in mind. Maybe you bring me up on stage at a club, everyone watching as we grind? Maybe we hook up at a party thin walls not enough to hide the filthy things I'm saying as you fuck me. Maybe you just cut out the middle man and fuck me in front of the whole party? Though that last one could be kind of hard to make believable.
And finally.
It was hard, being a 'powerful woman'. It was strange too, ascribing that title to myself. But it was a title that had, whether I'd intended it or not, been bestowed upon me. This hadn't been my plan, I'd always been smart, talented, hard working. All that shit. But I'd never been entirely motivated by money, unlike most of my colleagues.
And I suppose, my success wasn't without an element of white privilege, I suppose a certain liberal 'hire more female prison guards' feminism had helped me reach the heights I had. I was good at my job. I did work hard. But I didn't want to end up here, I just kinda... had. And I'm sure the fact I was a pretty white woman had a lot to do with that.
I suppose that... lack of motivation came from a similar place. My family weren't super rich, we weren't 1%ers, but I never went hungry, I never had that... threat hanging over my head. My parents had always told me to be happy, and was I? If a friend asked me that when I was sober I'd answer yes. Definitively. I'd think of my big bed, my five bedrooms, the second house in the hills, the body, the clothes, and the power this job afforded me.
And if a friend asked when I was drunk?
The cracks would show. I'd lament how empty that big bed was, how pointless having this body was without sharing it, how... fucking frustrating wielding the power I had felt. Sure I could command people, affect the stock market, set trends. That was what they wanted me to do, but it wasn't me. I'd always been principled, always wanted to - as cheesy as it sounds - change the world for the better. And I did, often.
We lived in the society we did, and as much as it irked me, as much as I wished it weren't the case, the best way to get something done was with a bunch of money. And we had a boatload of it.
And I'd worked fucking hard to ensure that money was being spent well, I'd ensured we'd divested from fossil fuels, I'd ensured we'd moved money into investing in clean energy, and I'd transformed the company in a leader in the fight against the climate crisis. And no, not just by banning plastic straws in the many offices. I'd ensured our investments were on the cutting edge, going not just on clean energy, not just on things that should have been made priority 35 years ago when our current CEO was installed. But were on reversing the affects, on reversing the problems we had created, not just a band-aid on a flesh wound but a prosthetic, not a stop gap but a solution.
But sometimes it was just so... tiring, sometimes it just felt so fucking pointless, sometimes it just felt like there was so much resistance to even attempting something good.
And then I'd lament on how much control the old white men I constantly fought with had over my personal life, look hot, but not too hot, be seen with the right people, flirt but don't fuck. I'd gush about how much I missed my College days, where I was free to do what I wanted, dress like I wanted, fuck who I wanted. And I don't need to tell you what kind of man I fucked exclusively by my Sophomore year.
And even that, had stopped being an option recently. A client had recognised me in a club, and seen me leaving with a black man. I mean, to be fair, no one in that club was in any doubt about what was going to happen later that night.
Colin had called me into his office the next Monday.
Angie, we've had a complaint...
You just can't be seen with men like him...
You have to... uphold the company image.
Bullshit.
They didn't care that he had a law degree from Harvard, they didn't care that he had a Chicago penthouse. They cared that he was black. And they cared that he fucked me all night long.
Not only did they find it disgusting, a Black man with a white woman, to them it made me unavailable. They felt they could never shape up, that even if they plied me with enough Dom Pérignon to drown an elephant, they'd never have me, they'd never shape up.
And they were probably right.
And I suppose, my success wasn't without an element of white privilege, I suppose a certain liberal 'hire more female prison guards' feminism had helped me reach the heights I had. I was good at my job. I did work hard. But I didn't want to end up here, I just kinda... had. And I'm sure the fact I was a pretty white woman had a lot to do with that.
I suppose that... lack of motivation came from a similar place. My family weren't super rich, we weren't 1%ers, but I never went hungry, I never had that... threat hanging over my head. My parents had always told me to be happy, and was I? If a friend asked me that when I was sober I'd answer yes. Definitively. I'd think of my big bed, my five bedrooms, the second house in the hills, the body, the clothes, and the power this job afforded me.
And if a friend asked when I was drunk?
The cracks would show. I'd lament how empty that big bed was, how pointless having this body was without sharing it, how... fucking frustrating wielding the power I had felt. Sure I could command people, affect the stock market, set trends. That was what they wanted me to do, but it wasn't me. I'd always been principled, always wanted to - as cheesy as it sounds - change the world for the better. And I did, often.
We lived in the society we did, and as much as it irked me, as much as I wished it weren't the case, the best way to get something done was with a bunch of money. And we had a boatload of it.
And I'd worked fucking hard to ensure that money was being spent well, I'd ensured we'd divested from fossil fuels, I'd ensured we'd moved money into investing in clean energy, and I'd transformed the company in a leader in the fight against the climate crisis. And no, not just by banning plastic straws in the many offices. I'd ensured our investments were on the cutting edge, going not just on clean energy, not just on things that should have been made priority 35 years ago when our current CEO was installed. But were on reversing the affects, on reversing the problems we had created, not just a band-aid on a flesh wound but a prosthetic, not a stop gap but a solution.
But sometimes it was just so... tiring, sometimes it just felt so fucking pointless, sometimes it just felt like there was so much resistance to even attempting something good.
And then I'd lament on how much control the old white men I constantly fought with had over my personal life, look hot, but not too hot, be seen with the right people, flirt but don't fuck. I'd gush about how much I missed my College days, where I was free to do what I wanted, dress like I wanted, fuck who I wanted. And I don't need to tell you what kind of man I fucked exclusively by my Sophomore year.
And even that, had stopped being an option recently. A client had recognised me in a club, and seen me leaving with a black man. I mean, to be fair, no one in that club was in any doubt about what was going to happen later that night.
Colin had called me into his office the next Monday.
Angie, we've had a complaint...
You just can't be seen with men like him...
You have to... uphold the company image.
Bullshit.
They didn't care that he had a law degree from Harvard, they didn't care that he had a Chicago penthouse. They cared that he was black. And they cared that he fucked me all night long.
Not only did they find it disgusting, a Black man with a white woman, to them it made me unavailable. They felt they could never shape up, that even if they plied me with enough Dom Pérignon to drown an elephant, they'd never have me, they'd never shape up.
And they were probably right.
So, the specific play I really want to play with this character, is YC being MC's subordinate at work. We end up having to share a hotel room due to overbooking, and end up fucking. I'm desperate to keep quiet, but I just can't keep my whore mouth shut...
The final part of this is just a theme I've been wanting to play with, I had it as it's own post in this thread but I'm just gonna include it here for visibility (though I dunno if it'll actually make it more or less visible...)
One thing I'm interested in, that I haven't been able to play enough is... a kind of anti-fetishisation fetishisation. Which, probably doesn't make much sense when written like that, but let me explain.
I - in both my real life and in my writing- enjoy fetishising black men, if that wasn't clear from my prompt. However, I don't think that it's necessarily right. I mean who am I, a 20-something whitegirl from [REDACTED] to decide what black men should be? To decide that all black men should be well hung dominant lovers.
And sure, in my experience, that does bare out, in my experience I do have more... sexual chemistry with black men. But it's not just that it bears out, it's not just that the whole black is better thing reflects my experience.
It's that I enjoy it, I enjoy... well at the heart of it, I enjoy fetishising black men. Even if it is, in some sense, wrong.
So, this is something I'd be interested in exploring in play, and it's something I rarely get to explore, it's probably something that'll come more from... charecterisation than pairings. Most of the roles for bulls above could explore it, however I do have some specific scenarios in mind that would touch upon this theme. That said, I'm reticent to list them here, because I don't want someone just jumping in and being like 'let's play that scenario', it's something I'm looking to play with a very particular type of partner. So - if you think that partner could be you, or of course if you're interested in any past plays, please drop me a message - no matter how late you come to this post!
I - in both my real life and in my writing- enjoy fetishising black men, if that wasn't clear from my prompt. However, I don't think that it's necessarily right. I mean who am I, a 20-something whitegirl from [REDACTED] to decide what black men should be? To decide that all black men should be well hung dominant lovers.
And sure, in my experience, that does bare out, in my experience I do have more... sexual chemistry with black men. But it's not just that it bears out, it's not just that the whole black is better thing reflects my experience.
It's that I enjoy it, I enjoy... well at the heart of it, I enjoy fetishising black men. Even if it is, in some sense, wrong.
So, this is something I'd be interested in exploring in play, and it's something I rarely get to explore, it's probably something that'll come more from... charecterisation than pairings. Most of the roles for bulls above could explore it, however I do have some specific scenarios in mind that would touch upon this theme. That said, I'm reticent to list them here, because I don't want someone just jumping in and being like 'let's play that scenario', it's something I'm looking to play with a very particular type of partner. So - if you think that partner could be you, or of course if you're interested in any past plays, please drop me a message - no matter how late you come to this post!
OK, so that was probably too long a post, but yeah, if anything in that interests you, then just let me know, and we'll work something out! Oh and if I've made any etiquette/formatting mistakes, please point them out!
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