Bodi's blog

As part of my new Snapback recovery program I’ve decided to fuck whores to try and release some Beta-rage and maybe kid my elephant that it’s getting sex.

I’m browsing the goods on www.adultwork.com and see this whore in Lewisham who looks fairly decent at £100 an hour:

£100 an hour! And that’s cheap. For primarily unskilled work requiring no qualifications it truly sickens me. Back in the day in China I’d pay £30 for an hour with a babe who would be grateful of my custom.

I ring this whore up and she’s not working tonight. Damn. I do some browsing on Punternet (one of the reasons why the web should exist. Fuck you Harriet Harman)  and find there’s a ‘parlour’ up the road in New Cross. I pop my trainers on and head out. It doesn’t really fit my plan of finding a gorgeous fit, big and firm titted girl to regularly bang but I really feel like getting up to some mischief so go for it. Arriving at the location after a long walk it’s a crappy dilapidated flat. The girl who shows me in weighs more than me. After obviously consuming nothing but watermelon and Maltesers for her whole life she now resembles a mutated cross between the two, albeit wearing a pink baby-doll negligee. She’s fat. A fat black mamma.

I considered leaving but on reflection, what the hell it was a long walk, may as well clean out the pipes. I fork over my sixty quid and get ready for action. Now I’ve previously had a few whoring experiences in the UK which were so singularly unerotic I was unable to achieve any form of erection so I must admit this was playing on my mind a little. It really didn’t help either when I realised this girl actually had a passing facial resemblance to the black security guard who used to work at an office I worked at years ago. It was like having him staring at me, wearing a baby-doll negligee. This was not proving very arousing but unfortunately I had contacts in so couldn’t resort to taking off my glasses to get a nice blur. Instead I hit on the plan of simply avoid looking at her face.

Luckily for me she starts by licking and sucking my nipples, my number one thing which can turn me on. I’m quite surprised as most western whores don’t go in for this but this one certainly does. She’s learned the lesson that most Chinese prositutes know: sucking a guys nipples is an easier and more hygenic way to get him hard than sucking his cock. I have a good old suck on her quite big tits and to my delight find I have a workable erection. Like lightning she whips on a condom and mounts me. The condom seems to be made of asbestos and she has a fanny like a wellington boot so I’m feeling no more down there than, say, rubbing myself against a door handle. I flip her over and start rutting on her from ontop. At this point the deadly Condom Clock is ticking. The rubber is killing all sensation so it’s a race against time to fuck violently and fast enough to get enough sensation to the member to actually be able to orgasm. Condoms are truly shit and truly ruin sex but I’m not insane enough to consider fucking a whore without one.

I’m going to need extra help to blow my load at this point so I start desperately running through fantasies in my head. I dig out the old “Massa of the Plantation” classic.

It begins..

I’m riding my white stallion through the cotton fields one day and notice a chubby, big-titted slave picking cotton. My frigid, highly strung, Catholic wife is not giving me any sex so my tight, white riding pants are bursting with unfulfilled Massa-meat. I’ve tied my horse up and made it quite clear that slave-girl is to accompany me into the long reeds where I will pound her. At some point she objects so I darkly threaten to have her “ole pappa” thrown out on his ear and to have her husband whipped. She’s still reticent but I produce a huge, delicious slice of watermelon from my saddle-bag. “Yes, it’s all for you” I tell her greedy eyes. She follows me into the reeds and I shove her to the ground, paw at her dress and then with my riding pants barely half down mount her and start pumping away deliriously. I mentally merge this fantasy into me rutting ontop of this obese Malteser and feel quite good about the whole thing. My Johnson is tingling and I’m quietly confident I’m heading for ejaculation.

I decide to go for another fantasy. After all, it’s my treat. In this one I’m working in a big company with a diverse, reverse-racist, graduate recruitment scheme and there’s a grad on placement in my office who is a strapping African girl. Educated and eloquent she’s working on Unix support and doing a reasonable job. She’s smartly presented and wears a white blouse and nicely cut trousers which can’t help buy accentuate her big bubble butt. She doesn’t know that many people in the office and is pleased at the attention I give her, although obviously I’m pretty Alpha and have high value as the acknoweleded programming-guru of the office. I boss her about a bit and neg her, blah blah blah, and finally after wining and dining her and massively DHV’ing myself I end up taking her home and seducing her. As soon as the seduction starts all her professionalism goes out of the window and she goes all super African-girl on me and talking in a dodgy Nigerian accent. She tries some LMR and I slap her ass and throw her on the bed, telling her I know what black girls like. After multiple hours of me worshipping her ass, rimming her and finger-fucking her to numerous orgasms I finally mount her violently and start pounding her. At this point I again merge the fantasy into me currently pumping the black space-hopper. I cunningly have her bent right over in a way where it’s hard to see how fat she is and I can’t easily see her face. I look away and just look enough out of the corner of my eye enough to see her black skin next to mine. It’s Amaleisha! the sexy African graduate recruit… and I’m pounding her. Awesome. This does the truck and I shudderingly blow my load up the whore.

I lie there sweating for a minute, have a chat and giggle with Malteser a little bit then head off. Walking home I’m pleased to find that I feel pretty good about it. I do have that light feeling in my body which you get from releasing some sexual tension on a real female. I actually feel pretty jolly. On the way back I notice a very dodgy looking shop with a sex-shop style double door and become excited that it’s another brothel. I google the address when I get home and am sickened to find out it’s actually a homo’s bumming-den.

In all it wasn’t really a quality sexual encounter but I think the sordidness of it actually turned me on. Crappy little brothels and obese women are not really a good plan and are in fact dreadful value for money. Over at Admiral Escorts 150 large can buy you an hour with this:

Airbrushed fo fuck but still hung like a frigging dairy-cow and her shits are probably hotter than Malteser.

Blowing off a load of dick snot and feeling spritely afterwards only served to remind me of how utterly life-changing getting multi-week, high quality, free sex from a girl you like and find highly sexually attractive is. Unfortunately despite having had that before I find the thought of having it again a million miles away from my reality. I may as well imagine walking on the moon. I just find it so incredibly, terribly difficult to visualise this because I want it so badly and getting it seems an almost insurmountable task. This is the power of experience:

Years since age 17 not having regular high-quality sex: 16 years 4 months

Years since age 17 having regular high-quality sex: 1 yr 8 months

You can understand why I’m finding this difficult.

Epilogue:

What happened to Massa?

Having abused one slave girl too many his slaves stage a revolt. Kidnapped from his colonial mansion one humid night at full moon, he is strung up in the trees where the slave’s blind old crone witch doctor pulls his guts out and winds them round a stick. His balls are then chopped off with a machete and boiled in a pot and all the slaves drink it. Believing it to have magical JuJu power they have a massive, hysterical orgy on the spot. They then roast and eat Massa, however the witch doctor chops off his head for herself, shrinks it and keeps it as a trinket. Struck down with grief Massa’s widow finds solace talking each day to Liberty, her six and a half foot 23 year old Nigerian slave gardener. Over time, half mad with grief and becoming a semi-alcoholic, she lures Liberty into the maze and incites him to ravage her like an animal. Thereafter she continues a mad, lustful affair with Liberty and his massive ten inch cock, often worshipping it and making him slap her in the face with it when he has a semi. Finally one day, sick with shame and lust she shoots him in the groin with Massa’s old Confederate .45 revolver and as he lies bleeding and weeping she puts it in her mouth and pulls the trigger.

I actually like to think of Massa’s upcoming grisly end at the same time as running the initial part of the fantasy, and to be honest it quite turns me on. Live Massa! Live free!

What about Bhodissata and Amaleisha?

There’s an uncomfortable silence between them for days, which Bhodi breaks by forcing Amaleisha to accompany him to Depford’s premier Nigerian restaurant. Stuffing her with food and being DHV’ed by the owner the ice breaks. Bhodisatta finds he actually quite likes Amaleisha and finds himself asking her to the movies. Over the next few weeks they find themselves dating regularly and engaging in a journey of black and white sexual discovery. They end up dating for a few months and having a good time, although things finally start to go wrong. Amaleisha starts to get cold feet about what her parents back in Africa will think about her cracker boyfriend and the potential half white chillen. Will her African genes be strong enough to overcome the sickly, weak, weasely white DNA and produce healthy children who can dance properly? She also questions if Bhodisatta will accompany her back to Africa in the future, to which he replies “I would rather die on a spit”. The cultural question is to great to surmount and they decide to split but remain good friends. They still chat on Facebook.