The Even Further Erotic Adventures of Xi Jinping!


Previously, on…

Parts 1 and 2

Part 3

Xi Jinping meets popular /r/China character James

Xi Jinping sat in his Audi A6 while trapped in the mother of all traffic jams somewhere near Beijing’s 4th ring road. To pass the time he was strumming his finger over Tantan profiles as quickly as a Baltimore crack whore flicking herself off on a “Black Girlz Gone Wild” video.

Xi was pretty depressed. He had given instructions to his personal chef to prepare him a delicious steak and strawberry jam sandwich for the journey. Looking at the sorry item in his tupperware container he could see that the chef had completely screwed up and added ketchup rather than jam. The bread didn’t even have any sugar in it. It was disgusting.

To cheer himself up, Xi reminded himself that he was head of the Communist Party and that, technically, he owned every piece of property in the entire country. He decided to drive off the ring road and go and collect rent from one of the 1,400,000,000,000 properties in his portfolio. There was one school in particular that he had in mind.

Wiping the ketchup off his special “rent collecting” windbreaker jacket, Xi knocked on the door of the Happy Giraffe English School. The cunts in these private English schools were raking it in, but Xi hadn’t seen a single People’s Money from them in years. As leader of the world’s oldest and most harmonious civilisation, Xi loved collecting money and pushing people around, so even now his jaundiced one-eyed python was twitching like a Cambodian orphan on a landmine. Hopefully the school would have a sexy receptionist that looked like Angelababy. Sadly, when the door opened his mounting erection shrank from the size of an autonomous province to the size of a mere special administrative region.

Standing before him was an awkward looking man-child with thick glasses hiding a pair of shifty looking eyes that resembled day old tea eggs in two small dishes of spunk. He looked like an idiot.

“Hello,” said the man. “My name is James.”

“Where’s the money?” demanded Xi. “I want my fucking rent.”

“We have no money, Mr Jinping Sir,” stammered James. “We just spent our last remaining petty cash on installing a new school bell. Would you like to hear it?”

“Go on then,” said Xi.

James looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, you can’t. It’s broken. Would you like to look at a photo of my blue Geely hatchback instead? I’d show you the real thing but the security guards towed it away for parking it by the trucks. They’re stupid.”

Xi pushed aside the idiotic Director of Administration and barged his way into the school. In a fit of rage, he tore the school bell from the wall and crushed it beneath his extremely well polished shoe. Next, he tore off his windbreaker jacket and clothes and allowed the stale air of the crumbling property to encircle his glistening skin like flies around shit. He looked across at the cowering man in the corner – his eyes showed more fear than an average foreigner confronted with the characters 南海路 – and he felt his cock grow to epic proportions.

“If I can’t have my money, I’ll have you instead!”

James needed no encouragement. He had earlier finished half a bottle of Tsingtao and was as pissed as Uncle Ganbei on New Year’s Eve. James quickly whipped off his trousers to reveal a groinal area that was covered in pubic hair so black and so dense that Xi Jinping thought he was looking at Harambe as a child.

“Chairman Xi,” said the newly eroticised James. “I must insist that if you are to take me that we do it in a harmonious and patriotic fashion. Perhaps we can roleplay? I can pretend to be Taiwan, and you can be the Motherland rightfully reclaiming me?”

“Let’s do it,” roared the author of the Art of Governance.

Before James knew what had hit him, Xi Jinping reached out to him like the Port of Dandong reaches out to the world. Xi bent James over and was banging his arsehole like Ringo Starr on the drums during the final section of Ticket to Ride.

“Do you accept the One China policy?” growled the former head of the Communist Youth League.

“Yes! There is only one China and I’m an inalienable part of it!” cried James.

“Do you acknowledge the sovereignty of the Communist Party?”

“Yes! Drive your PLA tank through my streets of Taipei, beloved Chairman!”

Mere seconds later, Xi Jinping pulled out of James’ arsehole which now resembled the flag of Japan. And not the current flag of Japan either – the old one with all the rays coming out of it. Aiming at James’ head, the Chairman spunked a nine-dash line all over his face. As he stood over James, his cock now an empty shell and his balls hanging like punctured leather footballs, he felt he had made significant steps in bridging political divides. And getting his dick covered in shit.

“Thanks for the reunification debate, but I still want my money next week.” Xi pulled on his windbreaker jacket. He bent over the spunk-covered wreck that was James and was all ready to whisper “Harmony” in his ear and pat him on the fanny, when he noticed a young foreign man in the corner of the room holding a Coolpad.

“Who is that?” asked Xi.

James looked up. “Oh, that’s /u/Chinahandy – he’s this guy that follows me around and writes made-up stories about me online.”

“Oh yeah,” replied Xi. “I’ve got one of those guys too.”

The End


If you enjoyed this post you may also enjoy my book Party Members – a dark comic fantasy that exposes the corrupt underbelly of modern China.

The Further Erotic Adventures of Xi Jinping

If you enjoyed our previous instalment of erotic mishaps featuring the lovable Xi Jinping, then I have a treat for you: here’s another one. This one is entitled “The Chairman and The Tailor”.

Reporters without borders… and country leaders without SEXUAL borders! Phwoar!


Xi Jinping, leader of the world’s largest (and some say – best) Communist Party had a little known secret: he always felt uncomfortable unless he was wearing a windbreaker jacket or just stark bollock naked. Hence, it was with some trepidation when he walked into the Wangfujing branch of Uniqlo. He needed a new jacket for a global meeting on carbon emissions he was speaking at and he wanted to make sure that he looked the fucking shit. Last time, the Prime Minister of Japan had upstaged him with a strapless manbag and Lacoste belt. It would not happen again.

“If you could slip out of your jacket, Mr Xiaoping” entoned the fay shop assistant. “We’ll let you try some of the new stock on” “It’s Jinping” said Xi Jinping as his laugh filled the cluttered shop like an arsehole on

Xi Jinping threw aside the windbreaker and unbuckled his $$$888RICHBOSS888$$$ brand belt letting his trousers fall. The fabric rushed past his polished four-incher leaving him standing naked. The rarefied air of the clothes shop brushed against his black and curlies like a fart in a spacesuit and for a moment he felt like a yellow Messiah.

“Miss Rainy will measure you up” said the shop assistant as he disappeared out back to masturbate and cry.

Rainy strolled into the room and immediately Xi Jinping felt a twinge in his government organ. She was wearing a little black dress which he knew concealed a fantastic pair of tits and almost certainly a cunt so tight it ate at Dicos.

“Just relax, Sir, while I measure your inside leg” she said with a Hunanese accent richer than a Guinness fuelled laduzi session. As Xi Jinping felt the cold metal of the tape measure climb up his leg, he could feel his Party Member fill with blood quicker than a tampon on the first day.

Before he knew it, Miss Rainy was rubbing his growing concern like a FOB Tim swiping his CoolPad and wondering why he can’t find any Pokemon Go in Hohhot. She pulled apart her dress to expose her smooth white skin, epic boobs and a fanny more hairy than the floor of a busy barber shop at closing time. She had a 5/8 manjaw. “What a shame she isn’t flatter,” sighed Xi.

He ploughed into her like a K Train and plunged his now diamond hard cock into her like he was staking Dracula. Within hours it was over, Miss Rainy a useless pile of tit, minge and spunk and Xi Jinping panting and sweating like a multiple rapist.

Xi Jinping rolled up his massive cock and pulled on his windbreaker. “What about the new jacket, Mr President?” breathed Rainy.

“Fuck it. I’ll wear me old windbreaker. Do you know the President of the US is a black man?” roared Xi as he bent down over her bloodless torso, whispered “Harmony” in her ear and patted her on the fanny.

The End


If you enjoyed this post you may also enjoy my book Party Members – a dark comic fantasy that exposes the corrupt underbelly of modern China.

Xi Jinping Sex Stories

I was jerking about on Reddit recently and wrote these dirty little stories featuring everybody’s favourite Communist dictator Xi Jinping. Thought they were entertaining enough to feature here as well. Enjoy.



Xi Jinping sat in his Audi A6 as it passed through the car wash humming the theme tune of “Without the Communist Party, there is no new China”. All the windows were soaped up and no one could see in so, for the briefest moments, he thought about having a wank. But his daughter was in the back so he decided against it.

After dropping her off at school, Xi Jinping was at a loss as to how to fill his day. He was delivering a motivational speech to a bunch of spastics tonight at the Global Times so he didn’t want to overdo it. He felt a twinge in his back. It had been aching since him and Bo Xilai had wrestled naked in front of a roaring fire at Bo’s 12 million RMB mansion in Chongqing. Xi had smashed a porcelain bust of Bo Guagua and he had had to leave.

Before he knew it he was at a massage parlour and had paid his 100 RMB entry. Before he could get to the changing rooms he slipped out of his navy windbreaker and could feel the fragrant steam of the sauna tickle his massive balls like a poacher under a trout.

He applied a towel to his lower torso, barely able to conceal his pulsating fleshy fire hydrant. He stepped into the room and lay down on the pleather massage table pushing his face through the hole and letting his cock hang over the side.

Behind him the door opened and Xi’s pussy senses were raised to Severe. The aroma of chicken and sweetcorn soup and whelks hit him like a steam train and he knew right then that he would sire another child.

Small hands covered in oil began to explore his muscular, egg coloured bodywork. As the girl’s hands reached his proud buttocks he tried everything in his power to hold back a huge fart he had been brewing since he’d parked in the multistorey car park.

When the girl slipped a greasy little finger up his brown eye he let out a yelp and nearly roared “Harmony!” but he stopped himself. The hands of the girl motioned him to turn over, which he duly did.

His eyes found a young Chinese girl wearing a little white tunic which he knew concealed a pair of juicy little boobs and almost certainly a clunge as ripe as a week-old banana. As he lay on his back, blood rushed into his veiny Tower of Pisa quicker than an old woman into a FamilyMart on Free Rice Day. He lay there looking like a drawing pin as the girl starting applying more and more oil. He was so hard and tall that he worried slightly that the price of oil may be affected by his erection.

Her tiny hands kneeded his giant oak and at one point Xi half thought she was an Ewok trying to climb a Giant Red on Endor. He leapt up and ripped open her tunic revealing, as he had suspected, a gorgeous set of two tits, nipples as dark as Dove Chocolate and a pussy so wet and hairy he was reminded of Mario during one of the water levels.

He dived into her like a released rapist and set about plunging into every orifice that was available and some that were not. Within hours he was on his final strokes and let rip with such a gush of spunk that the poor girl tried in vain to make a call to the Japanese coastguard.

Spent, sweating and panting Xi untangled his yawning cock and slipped on his windjacket. The girl, who later from police reports he found was called Hi Tide Run, lay on the floor, a shredded mess of manfat, baby oil, matted hair and rice. Xi looked at his Casio watch/calculator and saw that the spastic thing started in 20 minutes. He bent down over the meal he had just demolished, whispered “Harmony” in her ear and patted her on the fanny.


Erm… something about Xi Jinping and fisting…

Xi Jinping scaled the walls of the 13 million RMB Pudong condominium with all the stealth of a gekko on a Shenzhen shower wall. As luck would have it the window was open. He dropped in and slipped out of his windbreaker jacket and let the cool air caress his polished skin.

The house was quiet. He looked into one room and saw the sleeping Huang Xiaoming – handsome star of many famous Chinese TV shows and films that I cannot name right now. Without the wig and wax on his face he was rather beautiful. But Xi Jinping wasn’t into arses. Not today.

He heard a noise coming from the bathroom. He ran along the landing, his giant cock swinging in the air like Hilary Clinton’s neck after a Trump Presidential win. He looked into the bathroom and saw a tired wrinkled old woman cleaning the toilet floor with a cloth. Xi Jinping was disappointed. This wasn’t the Angelababy who he had masturbated over into an oven glove. The reality was some old crone who he suspected had breasts like a nong’s luggage at Chinese New Year and a cunt as wide and useless as the One Road One Belt project.

“Xi!” said a voice behind him. “Stop looking at my ayi with your cock out”.

Xi Jinping slowly turned around and saw Angelababy in front of him – wearing nothing but a Hello Kitty one-piece and the slightest glistening of her ample vagina. It was dripping like a burst xiaolongbao with a clit as thick as Xi’s own collection of quotes on the governance of China.

As ever Xi’s cock became harder than the gaokao exam and proceeded to bang Angelababy’s tits off as the ayi ate a bag of sunflower seeds from the floor that Xi had brought just in case.

Before Xi left he wiped his now dying cock on the hungry ayi, and bent down to the prone Angelababy, who had been covered in his man-gravy like pumpkin spice powdered over a fempat’s latte. Xi softly whispered “Harmony” in her ear and patted her on the fanny.

Angelababy: Loves a fanny patting


If you enjoyed this post you may also enjoy my book Party Members – a dark comic fantasy that exposes the corrupt underbelly of modern China.