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I found a decent enough young Irish colleen and did indeed marry her. She is a great homemaker and is kind and considerate, but I can't for the life of me get over how much of a damp squib she is in bed. She never wants to be seen undressed and only wants sex in the dark. Then it is missionary style, dead fish boring vanilla sex. It's like fucking a cod fillet. The first time I went down on her she shoved my head away, as if I was Fred West with such depravity. I started visiting escorts and it saved my marriage. Thing is, it happened that the closest escort to my location that first time was a Nigerian woman. You can bend me sideways-up in the wind and call me triplefucked, but it was the most intense sex I ever had, everything I imagined good sex to be. Homina Homina! There's something about a confident black woman that makes my mickey harder than the lead up to the Northern Ireland Peace Process. Once I sunk my lad in that beautiful dripping black quim, with the big sensual labia calling me home to my roots, I was born again. Once I was clamped onto her with my mouth around her big floppy baps with huge areolas, I was like Rosa Parks, so reluctant was I to ever move from that place again. Ever since then I have visited around one black escort a month, from all over Africa and the rest of the world. I can't get hard to white women anymore and when my wife is laying there, waiting for me to do the deed, I am picturing the likes of Azealia Banks. There is something so fucking much of a turn on about mouthy, histrionic, half-crazed black hoodrats. Their pussies are a way more meatier, they taste beautifully strong, like Bovril. And the muskiness of their steaming arseholes is beyond compare. Hubba hubba! Oh God I am visiting a beautiful black Londoner escort next Tuesday.
