Forget Poker. Or Black Jack. Or even a quick game of Gin Rummy with your Nan on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Simply forget any of the conventional ways you would expect to experience a queen of spades in everyday life. The term (in reference to fetish, anyway) is so infrequently used in the mainstream that it actually sounds pretty darned innocent. Spoiler alert: it’s not! You’ve likely heard the idiom “to call a spade, a spade” - meaning to call something as it truly is - regardless of whether that be flattering or not. This can also be known as the phrase “let’s call a spade a spade, not a gardening tool” which again nods to the honest, and perhaps abrupt nature of calling something as it is. These terms, however, became considered largely taboo once the term ‘spade’ became known colloquially as a racial slur. And so the term ‘Queen of Spades’ is perhaps to represent the act of submitting to your innermost desires and not be afraid to wear them, well, literally on your sleeve.
At its forefront ‘Queen of Spades’ is a term used to describe women (largely white women) who sleep exclusively with black men - hence the potential racial slur. These men can also be known as ‘bulls’ which is a common word within the cuckolding world to describe the (usually alpha male) lover of a cuck’s wife. ‘Queen of Spades’ as a fetish finds its origin within the BBC community (big black cock - sorry mum!) The BBC community probably needs minimal introduction - for as long as there have been dicks, there have been big ones. And for as long as there have been big ones they’ve been in demand, no doubt. To put lightly - you won’t have to scroll far on Porn Hub to come across the right category to feed this fetish
But perhaps the defining feature between a Queen of Spades and your everyday thirsty ‘size queen’ just looking to experiment is that Queen of Spades are incredibly loyal - shunning the attention of their own race to satisfy black men purely. Like pretty much all kinks there’s a pleasant pre-watershed version and one that lies strictly behind lock and key. In the bubblegum version, women worship and submit to BBC at sex parties, take part in cuckolding with their significant other or simply date very precisely. In the less-bubblegum version, women offer themselves up as ‘fuck toys’ for BBC bulls, brand themselves, fetishise mixed race breeding and even travel halfway across the globe in search of BBC prostitution - but more on that later!
It could be argued you aren’t a ‘true’ Queen of Spades until you take on the approved mark of the Queen - a particular tattoo that signifies you are only available to BBC. Although these tats can take many forms - the standard is a letter ‘Q’ and a black spade symbol often placed in a discrete area that can be revealed as needed - such as on the ankle. But, of course, there are the extroverts who prefer to say it loud and proud on more easily visible areas such as lower back, breasts or neck.
I suppose the obvious question to be asked is - what about the race issues involved? Is it racist to fetishise someone over their race specifically? It also kind of requires an idealised assumption that all black dudes are packing some serious trouser sausage and that’s what interests their would-be lovers. And while I’m sure you’d find it hard to find many red-blooded men who aren’t up for endless and easily acquired sex, surely it must be offensive to some, right? Along with the assumption that black men are overtly sexual to an animalistic degree.
There’s a particularly taboo term that can be found alongside Queen of Spades in the many warped forums of the internet and that the term is ‘mudshark’ or ‘mudsharking’ which essentially is another name means a woman who dates black men exclusively. Obviously, this term has even more of a negative racial connotation than Queen of Spades, but thankfully I think it is solely reserved for belligerent old right-wing fascists based mainly in America’s Bible Belt - or so my research tells me!
Of course, interracial relations are no new thing. But none-the-less can still be viewed as everything from mildly taboo to sacrilegious depending on what region of the world you happen to be in. History tells of white masters having interracial relations with black slaves: elitist white women who would use sex as a weapon and male house masters who would rape their female slaves. But alongside this are also tales of full ‘loving’ interracial relationships too, but this is the topic of much conjecture as it suggests that there was any kind of choice involved which I’m pretty sure there wasn’t! And while I’m sure slavery now has very little to do with modern-day interracial relations, it’s possible to see where the taboo element, and perhaps the element that fuels the fetish perhaps in some form stems from. “It’s bad, it’s naughty, it's ‘wrong’” - are these not the building blocks of kinks far and wide?
But for the modern Queen of Spades, I think this is not at the forefront of the appeal. It goes without saying certain specifics seem to have been accepted as fact by modern-day society - “black men are hung” to be a perfect example. It would appear that those of African heritage are potentially more likely to be well endowed - with Congolese men topping the charts measuring in at an average of 7.1 inches! But, of course, this is all collated data and not a strong basis to be running off to book your flight to the Democratic Republic of Congo anytime soon!
But it can’t all be about big dicks, right? There has to be a more nuanced fantasy at work here. And while the name itself ‘Queen of Spades’ exudes an air of dominance it’s actually very much a subservient position that most Queens seek. They want to be dominated by these men; to be told what to do and subservient in more than just sex but even as fertile females. One of the more niche aspects to this fetish is the idea of ‘breeding’ in which these women are so subservient to their black bulls that they allow themselves to become impregnated by them and see this as a turn on in itself. The turn-on of this appears to be that it is the ultimate show of dominance and masculinity. Some BBC porn even depicts pregnant women getting hot and heavy with bulls - assumably impregnated by them already. Being that there is basically a fetish for just about everything - this doesn’t surprise me! But there’s definitely a question of morality at play here way beyond the initial issues of race play.
Taking its name from the illicit acts of the Cuckoo bird, ‘cuckolding’ is the act of allowing one’s partner to sleep with other people for their own sexual pleasure. This is almost exclusively an act between man and wife - and the wife’s chosen lover(s). To explain; the cuckoo lays its eggs in another birds nest and then buggers off, leaving the other bird unaware that she is looking after illegitimate eggs - leading to the possibility of only finding out when they hatch. While this has little to do with cuckolding in the modern-day, it is joined in similarity through the original use of the word by which the husband would not be aware of the sexual indiscretions of their wife until they bore another man’s baby.
The object of the kink is humiliation and powerlessness for the man. Some ‘hotwives’ (as they are often called) will allow their husbands to watch while other wives will shut them out entirely - but, as a whole, cuckolding is based on trust. Cuckolding has become almost synonymous with BBC worship as often black ‘bulls’ are the archetypal product of every cuck’s fantasy: a man of strong physical stature, dominant, perhaps intimidating and no doubt packing heat downstairs (in an ideal world.) If the goal of the cuck is to feel weak and wimpy, then I can kind of see how to see this scenario feeds into their desire to feel inadequate - as the bull can offer the wife something that he simply cannot.
While the tattoo is the most commonly used mark of Queen of Spades, there are also less permanent ways to show your preference, such as temporary tattoos and jewellery. Perhaps the most interesting of jewelry pieces is the anklet; this particular piece of jewellery has an established association with things of a sexual nature. Originally worn in Ancient Egypt by females of all classes, they eventually became a tell-tale sign for prostitutes to signal their trade - and so now modern Egyptian women tend not to wear them due to this seemingly-unattractive past time.
In India, the anklet is worn to display that a woman is married. They would be worn with charms that jangle so that they could be heard approaching - which was supposedly so they could be welcomed with respect - but I’m wondering if it was more like the ‘wife alarm’ so the husbands could quickly stop whatever torrid thing they were up to, but I digress.
So in today’s modern society, anklets can still represent a sign of commitment worn by married women, or by women who are committed but are available for sexual engagements. In regard to Queen of Spades women who wear such anklets - they do so to signify their preference towards black men predominantly, but it may be that they are also married. Queen of Spades anklets carries the same ‘Q’ and spade suit detail seen similarly on similar tattoos. Alternatively, hotwives (those involved in cuckolding) wear a similar type of anklet often with three symbols - two male signs and one female to signify the idea of the woman being shared between two men.
I had never really intended to stumble into this world - but stumble I did, on a crisp January night earlier this year. As an apparent multicultural city and well-known ‘melting pot’ perhaps London is a prime example of a city where BBC fetish and Queen of Spades subculture has been able to flourish and blossom without fear of persecution.
By chance, I met a guy who just happened to be involved in the scene and insisted we should go to one of the two (that I know of) swingers nights aimed at white single women and/or couples seeking black male lovers. As I’m generally a sucker for controversy I was all ears and interested to peer beyond the confines of social normalities - and maybe even have a good old rummage around in BBC culture, if it came down to it.
The two main nights in London revolving around this scene are Team Players - a monthly (or so) party held at a private residence in Sutton, just outside of London proper and easily accessible from all over the city. Features include group playrooms, private playrooms, bar, ‘dungeon’ and more! These kinds of events are invite-only. Still, members of the public can apply by application with the hopes to be invited to the next event. The events welcome single women, single men and couples - but naturally attending as a single man is significantly more expensive as I suppose they want to cut down on the whole “men standing around touching themselves in a pervy fashion” vibe - as can so often be the case at sex parties if numbers aren’t controlled.
The other London party propping up BBC and QoS fun is the (rather imaginatively named) Black Man’s Fan Club which offers up a whole range of monthly events at several venues around the country. Their main venue being their Radlett mansion in Hertfordshire - a property that features a 50ft heated swimming pool, jacuzzi and sauna, not to mention a multitude of indoor and outdoor playrooms. Alongside the Radlett venue Black Man Fan Club also hosts events at no less than six other venues: Arousal in Dunstable, Dare to Swing in Bristol, Hellfire Club in Sunbury-on-Thames, No.3 Club in Lancashire, House of Poitier in Sutton (same as Team Players) and Xtasia in the West Midlands.
The first party we attended was Team Players which was an eye-opening experience, to say the least. I have dabbled in the more commercial club-night style fetish parties as some of my friends have been involved in sex work in the past and it kind of facilitated becoming interested to see what “all the fuss” was about. But Team Players and Black Mans Fan Club are much more intimate affairs than club-based parties. For starters, many of them are held in private residences resulting in very much of a house party vibe. Personally, I really liked this aspect. 1) Because now I’m over 30 no one invites me to house parties anymore! 2) It’s way more intimate and 3) It saves you a small fortune in booze costs as most are Bring Your Own Booze (BYOB) - which is pretty handy, as I did feel it was necessary to pound at least one entire bottle of Cava before even stepping foot through the door to “calm my nerves.”
Thankfully, I had no need to be nervous - it’s a friendly crowd, and there’s no pressure to do anything other than socialise if you don’t want. The house party vibe makes for a familiar setting - and if you never wandered upstairs, you might not even realise anything sexual was going on. Well, until people get comfortable enough that it casually spills into the social areas - but nothing a couple of baby wipes couldn’t set right.
Far beyond the quaint hamlets and twitching curtains of suburban England global sex tourism is in full swing. Perhaps when you think of “sex tourism” you imagine gross old guys with Thai brides, or stoned kids giggling outside the scarlet-lit windows of Old Amsterdam. And yes, that it certainly is. But what is seldom depicted in modern media is the hush-hush world of Jamaica’s sex tourism industry. While nowhere on par with some of the worlds more distinguished sex destinations, Jamaica offers up a unique, although little discussed, service - of sorts. In Jamaica, they have harnessed the power of the ‘milk bottle’ dollar. ‘Milk bottles’ being a term used for older white women who are fresh to arrive on the island and thus are pasty white and (no way in my words) “waiting to be filled.”. While milk bottle women don’t necessarily need to be older, much of the clientele is. There are a multitude of names for these ad-hoc male prostitutes; ‘Rent-a-dread’, ‘Rastitutues’ or simply ‘beach boys.’ They typically pick up women at the beach or via high-end resorts in the busy tourist town of Negril. While the prostitution side is slightly blurred in comparison to the out-and-out transactional nature of sex workers in Amsterdam, there is still an undoubted exchange of services. While beach boys offer the full “boyfriend experience”, men working as tour guides often include extra services on top of their standard tour itinerary. Yep, rock climbing at 3pm, cunnilingus at 4pm, 5pm happy hour - I mean, it doesn’t sound half bad! Many of these exchanges don’t actually involve the changing hands of money implicitly - but paying for food/hotel/treats for the man - who in return showers the woman with compliments and affection - or so the story goes.
It is perhaps unsurprising to hear that the book and subsequent film “How Stella Got Her Groove Back” from the late 90’s really put Jamaica on the map for females seeking the pleasure from black men. Of course in this dynamic, the dominant and submissive roles are slightly skewed from the traditional nature of Queen of Spades - as in one way the woman is kind of in charge. But, beneath the surface, these women are seeking the same qualities that traditional Queens are: they want strong, physically fit, and well-endowed lovers. So it’s not merely the allure of a holiday romance, but a holiday romance where they can explore their sexuality in a way that perhaps would not be possible at home.
But as well as older thrill-seekers, plenty of younger woman - both black and white - flock to the Carribean and Africa’s West Coast to experience first hand some good old-fashioned sex tourism - or “romance tourism” as its come to be known. However, is it really viewed as this? I think many women enter into this without the realisation that they aren’t garnering a real connection. Of course, we hear this time and time again in Thai sex tourism escapades where some naive guy sends a girl thousands of dollars for her “dying Grandma” and then shockingly never hears from her again. And so is such with female sex tourists and their Carribean lovers.
Interestingly, the woman who wrote How Stella Got Her Groove Back actually wrote it concerning her own experiences of falling in love in Jamaica, assumably with a part time male prostitute. She married the guy and lived happily ever after for a short while until he announced he was gay and she filed for divorce. Another touching modern-day love story courtesy of convenience and capitalism! It just warms my heart.
While race fetishism continues to linger tumultuously on the teetering edge of “socially acceptable” - I can’t help but question whether there is really anything wrong with being attracted to someone simply for the colour of their skin - in the same way that there is no shame in being attracted to someone for the colour of their hair, or eyes, of exactly how girthy their wallet is. It’s all genetic make-up at the end of the day - well, aside from the allure of cold, hard cash, of course. It seems as long as everyone is happy and comfortable with it, then all is well that ends well. Am I ready to offer myself up as a BBC hotwife? Not quite yet - but maybe that’s something to keep in the bag for retirement! I’m sure life will use some significant spicing by then. And perhaps a trip to Jamaica for this aging milk bottle might be just the ticket!