“Choke on it,” he commanded in a deep guttural voice that made my dick deflate like a punctured air mattress.

He was the athletic, 6-foot-something white-type that freshman me had been wet dreaming about for years. His body, chiseled to perfection, made me anxiously hard from the moment I ripped off his Under Armour. But at the emergence of his entitled hookup etiquette, my erection retreated like a disgruntled French soldier.

I couldn’t help but repeatedly glance down at my own flabby exterior, bewildered by how I even landed an appointment with his eminence in the first place. Despite my increasing anxiety and fleeting boner, I felt compelled to see the whole sexcapade through.

Fucking a hot white guy is supposed to be a sexual accomplishment after all.

So I begrudgingly obeyed his order, shoving the length of his miniature Campanile down my esophagus to barely scrape my tonsil. But even so, his pathetic peen was far from triggering my sensitive gag reflex.

After what felt like an eternity of feigned struggle, I popped off his shaft like the pros do on RedTube.

“Oh my god you’re so big,” I fibbed with a mischievous precum-stained smile, jerking him off to buy myself some time.

Simultaneously stroking his shaft and ego seemed to do it for him: “I want to finish all over your fucking face.” Not gonna lie, I was initially kinda sorta into it, but after letting him give me a facial, I immediately regretted every single decision I’ve ever made.

When it came time for him to give me followup head he stated that he doesn’t “do blowjobs” and proceeded to give me a halfhearted handjob, which I pitifully concluded on my own.

Despite the sexual stranger’s overall unimpressive cock size and terrible bedside manner, he was still considerably more toned, white and masculine than I. This, by default, gave him some form of commandeering sexual authority over me. Chris Cox, the more feminine, flabby, foreign creature became his sexual object: a submissive sucker to imperialize.

The asshole probably thought it was an honor for me to hook up with someone of his stature.

Before “throat”-fucking me, the same white man digitally inquired what my mix was, eager to categorize me within his racial preference hierarchy. My Middle Eastern-white hybrid passed his test with flying colors. He expressed that I was even hotter because my other race had been mixed with whiteness.

He then asked me if I’ve “ever tried black before,” equating people of color with adventurous cuisines to be sampled. He feared fucking Black guys because of their “massive dicks,” but apparently my “exotic facial structure” was perfect to cum all over.

While this interaction is one of the more extreme examples, most of my sexual encounters with masc white men have been comparatively troubling. Whether they’ve been entitled beasts that just want to get their rocks off or harbingers of internalized homophobia who fear any potential expressions of femmy queerness, I have found myself perpetually disappointed by white dudes.

These holders of Casper cock profit off society’s archaic system of trickle-down fuckenomics, where most sexual experiences prioritize the pleasure of masculine white men over their partners. The rest of us plebs at the bottom are forced to clean up their resulting sticky mess and make our own by ourselves.

Homosexuality does not invalidate this privilege. Queers still benefit from the sexual system that caters to white dick, especially those masculine enough to pass as hetero. To be “straight-passing” means to move through the world in a way that adheres to heterosexual norms, bypassing characteristics deemed to be feminine (i.e. effeminate body language, self-expression, gay drawl, etc.).

Society indoctrinates us to jack off to individuals with more normative attributes. Tom Daley is a quintessential gay on a pedestal. The Olympic diver is white, fit and performs gender in a normative male fashion. He and his actor bae make straight girls jealously pout: “All the good ones are gay!” Apparently, the most desirable queers are those whose homosexuality comes as a surprise to the heterosexual matrix. Additionally, their whiteness and masculinity are key elements of homonormativity, which is the queer standard that rewards those who imitate heterosexuality.

Gays are conditioned to strive for the homonormative. Reinforced images of attractiveness anoint buff mayo men as the hottest shit in town. In the media, token white gay couples serve to mimic straight gender roles. One partner is often more masculine than the other. Femmy gays, whose queerness is obvious according to stereotypes, are only validated when attached to more manly beings.

Similarly, people of color are undesirable unless fetishized by whiteness.

Not every white guy wants to jizz on me to satisfy a fetish or whatever. But despite how good of a person potential Anglo Romeo may be, he’ll always benefit from this inherent structure. While I recognize my white-passing privilege, I’m still waiting for my complete colonial counterparts to discover their full-scale advantages.

I’m tired of hopping on Columbus cocks, dawdling on disappointing dicks and wishing for woke white wangs. I’m not going to waste my time pursuing the homonormative ideal. There are plenty of other delicious dongs out there.