Why Wiggling One’s Willie Within Willing White Women Works Wonders

I have stated before that the promise of discretion might be the best bet with white women. No matter how much she is gagging for black meat, there is still a social stigma hanging over their heads just due to racism. Certain blogs have certain terms that are used towards those who are favourable towards such coupling like mudsharks for instance which always has me rolling. I know a black guy whose friend, a guy he had known for many years, used such words when striking out on a night out on the town. He stated that the lizards were just mudsharks. Although he was drunk, they say the truth lies at the bottom of the bottle.

Many times a black man’s ego overcomes him when it comes to getting white lizards. I have learnt the art of memorising a lizard’s number without bringing out my phone. Once I know the area code, I can repeat the number over and over again and then get to somewhere where I can punch it into my phone.

In that manner, she can blow me under covers without ‘blowing cover’.

I met her at a work convention. It was a blend of many companies coming together so that way, we wouldn’t conflict with each other. I was vague about which company I was with, having tucked my ID badge away in my pocket. I gave her a false first name only and took her number down in the manner that I listed before (memorising it before walking away). Lizards like that. The thrill of being rammed by a lying stranger is a fantasy that tantalises many of them. There was no strategy involved behind my acquiring her contact details. I am of a firm disposition that if you put yourself out often enough with a high enough energy level, basically on a positive front, things will fall in your favour. At all times during our brief conversation, the effort put forth was a minimal of 50/50 from both sides.

My first date with her was to a sex exhibition. She suggested it which was her way of being forward. I didn’t mind her obvious attempt to make her intentions clear but being a Brit, I always had to wear the poker face. We walked around the exhibition and there were naked female bodies on show everywhere. There were some toys there and she mentioned that she wasn’t against using them. I nodded ‘nonchalantly’ but began to wonder. I wasn’t a fan of bringing sand to beach personally and there were certainly talent there. I saw a guy that I used to work with there (my former supervisor) with his girlfriend/baby mother and I pretended I didn’t see him and he did likewise. This was a trend that I had learnt as a part of the city.

The event was eventually over and we got on the subway to depart. We shared part of the journey back to our respective abodes and when she got to her stop, she said “You can come over to mine for a bit if you like.”
I had some things to do so I declined. But surely enough, this was a guaranteed slam. I hugged her goodbye, casually scrutinising her buttocks when she turned her around to leave from the train and they were full and shapely. My thing leapt in my trousers at the prospect.

We communicated fairly frequently on the phone during the days to come, mostly texting and we made arrangements to meet up again. She wasn’t really the going out type and preferred to meet at her place to watch a film and have a drink. This suited me perfectly.

We met up at her place late during an autumn evening when the sun had already gone down. We watched some generic action film with lots of explosions and flames. I had mastered the one hand bra unstrap (since which has gotten worse). As we spoke, I tentatively reached out and I embraced her ‘innocently’, letting my left hand work on her bra strap. In under 10 seconds, I unfastened the clasp and caused her large boob meat to escape its restrictive enclaves.

She looked at me in a possible feigned astonishment as her tits swung freely. I grasped and sucked at them, cramming the meat into my large mouth. Her LMR was zero. I palmed those full cakes hungrily, squeezing and appraising her soft, pale flesh. I leaned back into the sofa and unfastened my trousers, freeing my meat and let it stand strong and proud. She let the moment linger aware that I liked those buns and craned her body around to look at me.

She lowered herself onto my pole end, engulfing it within her wet regions. My heart raced like a trapped rat in a sugar cellar as she bounced on it. I felt a weakness seize my body. She dismounted and lead me, with my sticky end towards the back where her bedroom was situated.  She lay on her bed and I pulled the blue lace panties to the side to access the slit. She was very wet and I slipped inside her to the very hilt. I thrusted and began to wiggle my wood inside her in some kind of gyrating, grinding, winding fashion. She gasped and went as red as a beetroot as she came. This was due to the electricity that I bear in my thick trunk space.  After only a few minutes of pumping the slut, I immediately felt an effect take over my body and I grit my teeth. I was going to spurt prematurely.

“Ohhh!!!” I grunted, disgusted at my weakness as I deposited inside of her. I hated that because as a black man, I am an ambassador for the brother who comes after me. Many white women go after black men for a particular reason. Like it or not, the sexual excitement plays a big part. The taboo, the rebellion, the intracultural anger (within her ethnic group towards her). It’s fashionable, it’s cool. Some black men don’t like it, they don’t like being objectified. In my opinion, they are barking up the wrong tree.

In one of the podcasts, we discussed the importance of men in the game deciding what they want.

As I write this, I have been ghosted by a round bottomed lizard that suddenly changed moods after I banged her several times. On the last occasion as she gave me sloppy top, I held her peanut head to guide her bobbing actions and was very close to spraying her tonsils with my man muck but I decided to finish up with doggy in my bedroom instead. If I feel any kind of way about her sudden distancing then I am a buster. In this market, it’s important that we categorise lizards accordingly. Don’t fault people for behaving according to their category, fault yourself for not categorising them correctly.

Enjoy the ride!