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I had been married for just three weeks when I got a visit from my old boyfriend, Tyler. Two years earlier, when we broke up, he had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in making any kind of commitment to me. Hell, he wouldn’t even commit to being exclusive. So I broke up with him.
After breaking up with Tyler, I met Andy, a Chinese American, like me. I decided I was ready to leave my fetish for White men behind and settle down with someone that didn’t drive me crazy. When you’re driven by your sexual desires, your decisions aren’t necessarily the wisest.
But even after we broke up, Tyler would find a way to worm his way into my life. He seemed to have a knack for knowing when I would be alone, and would show up at my apartment. When he did, I wouldn’t be able to resist him, and I would end up letting him fuck me.
As time went on, I did try to resist him. Tyler liked jerking me around, and on top of that, I knew he was seeing other women. He was a real player who always seemed to have one or two women he was stringing along. He referred to me as “his Asian thing,” which wasn’t very flattering. So there were many reasons to stop having sex with him.
But when he came around, saying he needed a taste of my Asian pussy, I inevitably gave in. He had all the physical traits that I always fall for. He was very tall, about six foot four or six foot five, and I love big men. He also had bright red hair. And of course, he had a huge cock.
Tyler was the first White man that I went out with for an extended period of time. He was attractive, successful and wealthy. Generally with White guys, it was just one-night stands for me, usually conducted while I was in a relationship with an Asian guy. But Tyler was different, or so I thought. He could be funny and charming.
But the attraction also had a dark side. He had a way of bringing out the sexual submissive in me. The denigrating way that he used me only made me want him more. In that way, he was more addicting than the other White men I usually had hooked up with. He combined a sense of entitlement with a sneering disdain for me that made me constantly want to please him. I think around him I was a hopeless masochist.
And yet, in another way, I really fell for him. But I should have known that Tyler never saw me as a long-term girlfriend. For one thing, he never introduced me to his family. He said they wouldn’t approve of me. He also refused to meet my family. And he kept seeing other women. To be fair, he always said we weren’t going to be exclusive. But I wanted to be, and there were stretches of time when he didn’t sleep with anyone else, and we were practically living together.
I think that one of the reasons I was so eager to get married to Andy was so that I could break Tyler’s hold over me, once and for all. I guess I figured that once I was married, Tyler would leave me alone.
Of course, there was the inevitable pre-wedding sex. About three days before the wedding, Tyler came by and said he was ready to give me my wedding gift.
“Fuck you,” I said. “I’m not having sex with you three days before my wedding.”
“It’s either now, or the night before your wedding,” he said.
“What, you’re going to make my fiancé watch while you fuck me?” I asked.
“If I have to, yes,” he said. “You really want your future husband to see how you come when I fuck you?”
“I’m not doing it,” I said. “Just leave.”
“You know your Asian pussy is getting wet right now, just talking to me,” Tyler said, and he wasn’t wrong about that.
“It’s not wet,” I lied.