My boyfriend is Muslim and he doesn’t fuck. I tell him, “Aren’t you tired of that?”
He answers, “No, not at all.”
But the answer to that same question changes after three weeks of Ramadan:
“Aren’t you tired of it?”
“Yeah… I can’t take it anymore!”
You can see the panic in his eyes. His face is red, he’s nervous… in the morning he wakes up with a hard-on he tries to hide.
The neighbor downstairs is an Algerian guy in his fifties. I’ve always thought he was really sexy. My boyfriend even jokes about it:
“You’re into old uncles now? lol.”
One evening in the hallway I hear them talking together in Arabic. Their conversation ends with laughter and a “salam aleikum.”
Later, around midnight, my guy tells me:
“Go downstairs to the uncle and get some pastries.”
I’m like: “Why didn’t you take them when you were talking with him?”
He goes: “Just go… don’t worry about it!”
So I go down. I knock. A voice says: “Come in!”
And there… to my surprise… I see the old guy stretched out on his sofa, his dick hard in his big hand (huge dick, like 23 by 7).
He tells me: “Suck.”
So I suck him for a good twenty minutes. He cums a huge amount of thick, tasty sperm in my mouth.
I get up and he says:
“Take the pastries in the kitchen.”
I grab them and go back upstairs.
My guy asks:
“So what were you doing down there?”
“Nothing,” I tell him.
“Nothing? You sure?”
“I asked him to give you his dick since you’re always horny… stop lying!”
Right away I confess, kind of embarrassed:
“Yeah… I sucked him.”
He answers:
“Of course you sucked him, you little slut. So… where are the pastries?”
