Goddess Worshipper - Origin Story - How I First Started Down The Path To Interracial Cuckoldry

Below is the re-publication of my FIRST EVER blog post - from when I started The Goddess Worshipping Blog in 2015...

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 walking down the street without wondering what she might look like in the embrace of a powerful Black man - and I created this blog to muse 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. We met at a party thrown by a mutual friend, Fiona, who also 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 brown hair and the biggest bright blue eyes. 

She had the most beautiful face and amazing translucent 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 in London - and Jo and I began dating. She invited me to the apartment she shared with a girlfriend in Willesden, North London. 

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

It soon became clear that this girl had a real thing for the company of 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. It was my first taste of disempowerment.

Knowing Jo, realistically, 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 faced before moving to the UK capital.

I remember one sunny Sunday afternoon that summer sitting in the front room with Jo and her room-mate and three of these big Black guys. There was an atmosphere - and 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 model's 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 perfect 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 wide smiles. 

I felt so 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, saucer-wide and super sensitive. I did my best to "be a man" and satisfy her.

At night, we were often interrupted by her room-mate, 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. Anyone know it? 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.

My time with Jo that summer was brief.

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 room-mates boyfriend was DJ-ing. I had some idea what to expect and so I was very 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 in the entire club.

The room was pumping 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 their own scene and really dominating the nightlife - and the most beautiful white girls were flocking to the scene and 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. I just stopped and stared. It’s another sight seared into my memory that I will never ever forget.

Jo was stood facing the dance floor. Either side of her stood two big, dark-skinned Black 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.

Jo was talking to the two Black guys 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, perfect 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. This was entirely new. These emotions were all completely 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 nightclub full of Black guys, all of them seemingly more sexually open and at ease than I had observed 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, honestly, I never saw Jo again. There were a few text messages, but that was it - I was shut down and shut out. What a fuck up I'd made of it.

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. 

 Twitter: @wokewhtknight