Sex stories

My father was keen for me to marry the daughter of François Girard, the village's incredibly wealthy tenant farmer: "Marry into that family, son, and you'll be set for life." Indeed, that family was loaded; the Girard girl — my fiancée — was a plump, loud and gossipy woman, with all the insolence and nastiness that characterises daddy's girls. On top of the qualities I've just listed (sic), she was a notorious racist; she had VIP access to the local National Front headquarters. Every evening at dinner, while she ate (and she gorged herself, to put it mildly) in front of the TV, she would rant about "the rabble": "Always the same ones causing trouble: the Arabs and the Blacks!!" I did not — let me reassure you — share the same views; I would always reply gently: "There are good people among them too, there are idiots and decent people everywhere"; to which she would retort, face red and eyes bulging: "NO! SHUT UP!!" I kept quiet, but even as a young newlywed and with all the good resolutions in the world, my taste had always been the same: COCK! And more specifically, not to displease my dear wife, Arab cock. Very rarely I would suck one in the evenings in parking lots known for that, but it was damn hard to find one in this godforsaken backwater — there were only disgusting old men.

The sequel to this story (true, I should point out) is absolutely hilarious. My wife had decided — making my life hell in the process — to redo the garden terrace. The company she had hired at great expense (thousands of euros for a bloody terrace) had sent a worker to take care of it: AN ARAB. Curiously, she put her foul tirades about those people on hold ever since this tall, tanned man got to work. As for me, watching him, I obviously had a burning feeling in my arse... It must be said they hadn't sent the least desirable one: muscular, very dark-skinned (he must have been a Moroccan from back home), beautiful bright green eyes, and obviously (the man was in shorts, it was June) a heavy package; he walked around with an enormous bulge, without any shame, as if to say: well, I'm a man, that's just how it is... you know the type...

One day around noon — it must have been 30 degrees — I spot him sweaty (the poor guy was working very hard):
— Would you like a glass of water, Monsieur?
— Oh yes, please, if it's no trouble (with a strong accent from his country).
I bring him his glass, which he downed in one go while looking at me, with those eyes full of desire (I know those eyes).
— Fancy taking a break at the back of the garden in the shade of the cypress? I said to him.
With those same dark, desiring eyes, he answered softly:
— Yes...

Once at the cypress, he put his hand on my arse; he even slipped 2 fingers right into my hole (thick, powerful fingers). "Hmm, you're wet, you slut..."
— Yes, I'm always wet when I see you.
Then he pulled down my shorts; pulled down his; I see an enormous, golden cock, magnificent, obviously... he starts to take me; it's very big... very hard... I feel the full force and beauty of his race inside me; I feel his sweat too; the smell of his hard work; which makes me open up even more; because such a hard worker deserves pleasure !! He fucks me deep; I moan like a whore ! Then, I hear my wife in the distance: DENIS, WHERE ARE YOU? — AT THE BACK OF THE GARDEN UNDER THE CYPRESS! The Arab, feeling too good inside me, doesn't stop fucking me; she appears in front of us and says: THAT'S DISGUSTING !! YOU CAN'T EVEN HIDE WHILE YOU DO THAT, WHAT A DISGRACE !! — No, and you see, Melanie, there are good people among the Arabs, and especially very very good fucks !! The Arab came in my arse with a slightly sorry look; my wife, in a black rage, stormed back to her crappy house. Obviously, after that scene, my marriage (already on the rocks) was over; I went back to live with my father. — You're a good-for-nothing, he said, only good for feeding the chickens !! In my head I was thinking: YES, AND FOR TAKING ARAB COCKS DEEP IN MY ARSE WITH LOVE. MASHALLAH.