I have always craved for big asses. I mean from the very beginning. As a skinny guy, since my first masturbation was thinking of big asses of chubby women.

I can remember one of the first porn pictures I saw on the Internet where a woman was sitting over a man’s face, which turned me on almost instantly. More than that, she was making him as a throne and as a toilet. Demoting him and magnifying her. I don’t appreciate scat; however, at that time, that scene turned me on. There were many signs there, which I had to decrypt after, and it was confusing to me, too much information.

Over the years I’ve become convinced I’m happiest when I’m nasty and dirty. I’m a forty-year-old man whose favorite thing is being buried in a woman’s ass. I like to imagine myself as the throne for a lust queen.

It didn’t happen overnight. In my twenties it was just a thrill; by my thirties it was an ache. I remember the first time a partner settled fully on my face and refused to budge. The world shrank to weight and heat and the sting of her nails in my scalp. That moment rewired something. I stopped pretending this was a side kink and accepted it as my core.

In my twenties I had time to court women on the Internet, and the fetish market felt like a small town. There was no Tinder, no OnlyFans—just message boards, forums, and late-night chats. It wasn’t easy, but it was viable, and being single meant I could show my face without a second thought.

Two decades later everything feels commercial. Domination slid into the same category as Netflix or Photoshop: a subscription, a service, a product. Findom became a paradigm, and the places that used to feel communal—FetLife, Twitter—turned into billboards. Back then social networks were driven by friendship: add someone and they added you back. Now everything runs on one-way follows. I skim their personas; they never see mine.

Back in my twenties I had time to court women online. Fetish spaces were smaller. There was no Tinder, no OnlyFans, and the market felt intimate. I was also single, so putting my face out there, flirting on message boards, chatting on MSN or ICQ—that was normal. It wasn’t easy, but it was viable.

Two decades later everything is different. Domination became a subscription, a polished service packaged like Netflix, Photoshop, or anything else with a monthly fee. Findom turned into a paradigm and the networks I once used to meet people—FetLife, Twitter—became billboards instead of communities. In the first generation of social media friendship was mutual: if I added you, you added me. Nowadays the follow button is one-directional. I consume the persona, but it doesn’t know me.

Okay, I confess: I am obsessed with big clits. Watching them swell and pulse, splitting lips as they throb, drives me absolutely feral. It is the first place my eyes go, the pulse I feel deep in my chest.

As more women hit the gym and experiment with hormones, those thick little monsters are becoming a regular sight. Testosterone, cycles, peptides—it all adds mass to their bodies and magic to their clits. These days I notice them everywhere: malls, restaurants, street markets. Rich or poor, there is always another muscle girl walking past with a thickened bud tucked into tight shorts.

I was in a relationship with a Domme for some months when a subject was put on the table. She was literally talking with her friends at a pub’s table about penis sizes when someone subtly complimented black ones, and I noticed my girlfriend unobtrusively agreed in silence. Soon, we will return to this subject. After a while, when I was scouting her at her house, I got the confidence to ask what she thought about and to my surprise, she confessed her taste for black ones, even telling me one of her experiences. At that time, I had erectile problems due to my addiction to femdom movies. I got used to not penetrating a woman but just lick. And in my mind, that was ok at that time. I had bought an idea of femdom that implicitly says, “penis isn’t important”. But It is a matter for another post, so let’s go back to the story. We said goodbye, and returning home, I eagerly searched on the Internet for a kind of porn I had never been interested in before. The tags BBC and cuckold had become frequent in my porn search until then.

Probably, you already know what I found. Some images were permanently imprinted on my mind. Maybe those scenes are common these days. I have noticed that cuckold is becoming one of the more popular tropes in porn, and perhaps in real life too. Some of my classics: