Sex stories

Hey guys, this happened a few months back after my Angoulême story. A buddy recognized my number, hit me up to talk about it, and we set a meet at 11 a.m. at a bar/tabac on Boulevard Jean Moulin in Clermont-Ferrand. We grab coffees, sit on the little terrace, and he cuts straight to it, asking if I’m the one writing those stories. I look down, admit it’s me. We switch topics, chat for half an hour, then split. But he invites me to his place that night to “talk more.” At 5 p.m., I get a text from Djamel with his address, telling me to come at 8 p.m., with a vague note: “Come at 8, however you feel most comfy.” For me, being a sexy slut’s my vibe, but what’s he gonna think? I throw on my new beige push-up leggings, a black thong, a black tee, and my fitness jacket.

I get to his place, buzz the intercom, say “It’s me.” He’s like, “Top floor, door 51.” He’s waiting, lets me in, and we crash on his couch. He asks how long I’ve been “a fag.” I tell him I’m into sex, into cocks. He laughs, says, “Especially cut dicks, huh?” Then he drops his sweats, whips out a thick, half-hard cut cock. “Show me what you got.” I drop to my knees, start sucking, licking his balls. It’s getting bigger, harder to take, but he’s turning dominant, fxxcing me to deep-throat. I’m struggling, gagging, but he’s wild, going harder, no feelings. “You love Arab dicks, should’ve told me sooner, I’ll take care of you.” He keeps pounding my throat, I’m drooling like crazy. He shoves it all in, pulls out, rips off my leggings and thong, pushes me onto the couch. I’m on my back, legs up, as he lines his spit-soaked cock against my hole and rams it in. “Dirty slut, I’m gonna train you, fuck your ass.” He’s insulting me, spitting in my face, then unloads five or six thick shots in my ass. Shoves his cock back in my mouth for another deep-throat, cumming straight down my throat.

Once he’s chill, Djamel says I’m not his buddy anymore, I’m his slut now, and I belong to him. Tells me to leave and come back tomorrow at 11 a.m. I say I’m not sure. Bam—he slaps me hard, almost me over. “You’re coming tomorrow at 11, got it?” “Yeah, Djamel, I’ll be there.” Haha, I’m his.