Sex stories

I’m Hector, 22, gay, and apparently very good-looking. I just moved to Paris with the help of a friend, François, who knows people.

A few days later, we grab a drink. We talk about everything, then eventually about sex.

I tell him I’m really into Arab guys.

He looks at me with a mysterious smile and says:
— “In Paris… there’s Toufik.”

— “Who’s that?”
— “Ah… the prince.”

— “Meaning?”
— “The hottest Arab guy in Paris.”

— “Nice… introduce me.”
— “You don’t find Toufik. He’s not online. No socials. And I can’t give you his number.”

— “So how do I meet him?”
— “You pass a casting.”

— “What??”
— “Not money, not porn… just Toufik. If you want to be one of his boys, you earn it.”

— “He has boys?”
— “Yeah. A whole circle. Around 25 guys.”

I’m shocked… but curious.

Next day, I show up dressed sharp, nervous.

I buzz in.

A guy opens—slim, pretty.
— “Come in. I’m Sébastien. One of his boys.”

We walk into a big room.

Guys everywhere. Half naked, relaxed, confident.

Then I see him.

Toufik.

Tall, powerful, calm presence. Not flashy—just dominant without trying.

He looks at me:
— “You’re Hector?”

I nod.

— “You look like you’re going to a job interview.”

— “Respect matters.”

He smiles.

— “Good answer. I like you.”

He studies me.

— “You’ve got potential.”

Everything around fades.

It’s just him testing me, silently.

Then finally:

— “I’ve got 25 boys… now 26.”

And with a slight smile:

— “Next week… we’ll see what you’re really worth.”

I nod.

Across the room, one of the guys looks at me coldly.

The favorite.

Yeah… this was going to be a war.