Sex stories

It’s been a while since I became Sofiane’s toy—a real badass from the projects. Tall, jacked, with a stare that pins you down and a 22cm cock, thick as my wrist. We linked up on a hookup site one night when I was starving for it. I shot him a quick message: “Discreet guy, into dominant bros, down for anything with a real man.” He hit back fast with a pic—gray joggers, hoodie up, his stiff dick poking out the waistband. “Where you at? I want it now. You host naked, hoodie on, kneeling by the door.”

Twenty minutes later, he rolls up. I open the door, shaking with excitement, hoodie pulled low like he ordered. He steps in, drops his backpack, and kicks me in the ribs—not too hard, just enough to show who’s boss. “Eyes down, .” I obey. He pulls out a cig, lights it, and blows a fat cloud of in my face. “Breathe it in, it’ll get you going.” I suck it down deep—it stings, but it fires me up. Then he drops his joggers, kicks off his grimy TNs, and says, “Lick ‘em, make me feel like you’re my bitch.” I freeze for a second—they’re nasty—but his glare crushes me, so I drag my tongue over the worn leather and clean them. He loves it; I see his cock swelling in his boxer.

Next, he orders me onto all fours on the couch, rips off my hoodie, and shoves his sweaty boxers under my nose. “Sniff hard, that’s your boss’s scent.” I inhale, totally high off his raw man-stink. He finally pulls out his man, smacks it across my face a few times, and growls, “Open wide, you’re taking it to the balls.” I struggle—it fills everything—but he grabs my hair and shoves it down till I’m drooling like a goof. He moans, “You’re my slut, right? Say it.” I xxxe out a “Yes, boss” between thrusts.

After a while, he flips me over, slams my stomach against the couch back, and rams into my ass no warning. I yell; he laughs, “Shut up, you signed up for this.” He drills me like a jackhammer, hands around my throat. When he’s close, he pulls out, drops me to my knees, and hoses my face with hot spurts. I swallow what I can; the rest drips down. He yanks up his joggers, pats my cheek, and says, “You’re locked in, . I’ll be back whenever.” Now, he swings by whenever he’s horny, and I wait for his commands like a good dog.