The Black Man’s Fan Club
White women who love to be used by black men. White husbands who love to watch. What’s this all about?
Tim Woodward had no idea, but reports from the front line…
I’d never even heard of anything like this until one day my friend Charlotte asked me to go with her to a club, just to keep her company and see that she was all right. Now, I’m fond of Charlotte and I know that she is hardly a wilting violet. In fact, Charlotte is rather more familiar than most with alternative sexual behaviour and – if we are being frank – this is based on a decade or two of enthusiastically gathered experience. So I wondered just exactly what kind of club it was that could possibly make a woman like her nervous.
Black men. Now what is the fetish for white women having sex with black guys all about? Well, all right, apart from the obvious. Is it based on the thrill of flouting some ancient social taboo? There’s a doctoral thesis or two there, but I propose to gloss over all that here, on the grounds that it’s boring and I want to cut to the chase. As did Charlotte, for she had taken me to The Black Man’s Fan Club.
Around half of the people at the club were white. They were mostly couples, more or less middle class and pretty obviously married. They were ordinary folk, chatting about schools and holidays, the kids at university, traffic on the M4, that sort of thing. The only thing you’d remark on was that the women were dressed in outfits their kids would have no idea their Mums owned. The short frocks and high heels were presumably kept hidden away at home. The white husbands looked pretty ordinary.
The other half of the people in the club were black. All men, all on their own. They hadn’t brought their partners with them. Funny, that. The black guys were a friendly and relaxed bunch. The atmosphere was cool and the evening began to take shape. I discovered later that the organiser, a charming woman called Helen, policed everything carefully. These guys had to be members; they could not just turn up at the door. This worked well; Helen had put together an atmosphere that was sufficiently sexually charged – but not at all pressurised and very welcoming to newcomers like us.
The purpose of the club was to allow the white couples to interact with the black guys in this pleasant atmosphere. After a glass or three of Pinot Grigio, the women began to interact with mounting (sorry) enthusiasm and we watched to see how it all worked…
The women had their fun, without having to sneak off behind their husbands’ backs. The husbands mostly stayed chatting at the bar while their wives went off to play, although some accompanied their wives, watching or sometimes joining in. The thrill of being cuckolded was obviously a big attraction for many of these husbands – and without the danger of the wives having affairs of the heart. As for the wives, they had a great time, believe me. (I felt it my duty to observe closely, you understand.) You just knew they would be driving home afterwards in their Vauxhalls and enjoying the horny stories together.
You could see them thinking… Kids off to uni, still in love with husband, but he’s getting a bit older and not the dynamic lover he was. But look in the mirror – I still look pretty good in a short dress. Time for fun before I collect my pension. Here’s fun all right and no danger of romantic entanglement – in fact hubby absolutely loves it. Result!
My favourite was a lovely woman in her late forties, good humoured and well spoken. She mentioned that she was a Bank Manager. Later on, I wandered off around the club and spotted her in a dark corner, enthusiastically obliging several young, good looking black lads. At the same time. Some time later, she appeared back at the bar, smoothing her dress, and re-joining her husband for another white wine, chatting about the government and the weather. Twenty minutes later, there she was again, in a side room with a couple of other guys, this time with her husband present, watching happily.
Meantime, Charlotte was chatting with a handsome black man and I could see that they liked each other. As they wandered off to a side room, she caught my sleeve to indicate that she wanted me to come too. Never one to disoblige a friend, I tagged along, not too sure exactly what my function was supposed to be. Charlotte quickly discovered that what they say about black men was certainly true in this case and soon she was a very happy bunny indeed.
Later, as I dropped her off at home, I asked what she had made of it all. Had she had fun? All she said was “Can we go again next month!” and that’s exactly what we did. It was all such fun that I wondered on what basis I might continue going, as Charlotte didn’t really need looking after any more. Could you approach it as a guy who is not into being cuckolded? After some thought, it turned that yes, by all means you can.
The way I found to enjoy this stuff was to do it an an SM context Now, anyone with any real understanding of SM will understand that the dominant partner is there to please the submissive. The trick is to find out exactly what the sub is longing to be “forced” to do and then “force” them to do it. After some research, I found that quite a few women are very turned by the thought of being taken to a safe and secure environment, to be used by handsome and hung young black guys, under the care of a responsible and caring dominant. Enter Diane…
Diane is a tall, cool blonde with a professional career, teenage kids, and a penchant for giving up control now and then and being told what do to. From the start, she is instructed to wear her highest heels. Having very long legs, she looks stunning – and feels deliciously vulnerable. Diane is not allowed underwear for this, so she feels vulnerable as soon as she sneaks out of the house, her long coat concealing her shortest dress.
At The Black Man’s Fan Club, Diane is bent over a whipping bench and spanked until she is nicely warmed up. She drifts away into an abandoned state; I love to see her like that. By this time, several black guys have gathered round to watch. Ken is young enough to be Diane’s son, handsome, fit, a nice guy and seriously equipped. I invite Ken and a mate to use her. I supervise closely, taking great care of her.
Afterwards, Diane is a very happy woman. If you like a bit of role play, you can approach the BMFC as a “hotwife” and her cuckold or as a dom and his sub. Having said all that, though, you don’t really need any pre-set agenda at all; you can just go and have fun.
Why black men? As I said, I don’t agonise about this. There are many flavours of sexuality. Some of us are gay, some of us are straight, some like to be spanked or dress up in rubber and some of us like red hair and glasses… or is that last one just me? Maybe it’s because black men are said to be well hung. Maybe generations of racism have created a taboo that’s exciting to break. Theorise as you will, but Charlotte and Diane don’t worry about that and neither do Ken and his friends.
The Black Man’s Fan Club is at www.blackmansfanclub.co.uk
This article was originally published in KFS Magazine issue 1, available at www.kfsmedia.com