Sex stories

I’m Jean, and one night I was hit with an insane urge to get fucked by multiple Arabs or Blacks and suck some thick, juicy cocks, tasting their cum. At 1 a.m., I slipped out in a tracksuit and a tight shirt, no underwear, strolling streets known for guys, playing the part of a slut on the sidewalk. Soon, a big BMW pulled up, and a Maghrebi guy in his sixties asked if I wanted in. I said yes. But first, he laid down his terms: “Strip, toss your clothes in the trunk, and get in naked next to me.” I was embarrassed, terrified of being seen, but it was 2 a.m., so I went for it.
Inside, he introduced himself as Moussa. I said Jean, and he grinned, “You’re my slut now—I’ll call you that.” He whipped out his massive 26cm cock, double my size, with a 6cm girth, and told me to spread my thighs. He fondled my balls and dick. Then, someone appeared at my window—I froze, mortified. Moussa rolled it down, chatting in Arabic. The guy reached in, roughly sliding a hand between my legs, teasing my hole with a finger before shoving it in my mouth. They kept talking, and Moussa ordered, “Suck, slut!” I dove onto his cock in front of this stranger, buzzing with excitement.
Moussa mixed Arabic—probably insults—with French, praising my sucking but pushing me to do better, saying I’d make a great bitch, and warning me to swallow every drop when he came or I’d regret it. After ten minutes of greedy blowjob action, his cock swelled more, and I took five or six thick spurts down my throat. No chance to pull back—he held my head firm. He made me clean his dick thoroughly, and I loved every second. “You’re a good slut—you’ll be a hell of a bitch for me,” he said.
When I realized his plans, I asked to go home. He pulled over and snapped, “Get out!” I panicked, “Naked? I can’t leave like this?” “Your call—leave or stay, the night’s not over, got it?” I didn’t have much choice.