The vibration of my phone pulled me from a restless sleep. I fumbled for it on the nightstand, squinting at the bright screen. Grindr. A new message. My heart skipped a beat. I didn't recognize the profile name, but the thumbnail picture showed a glimpse of dark skin and a muscular arm. "Khalid."
I opened the message. "Hey, saw your profile. You're cute."
A simple opener, but it was enough. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, a familiar mix of anticipation and nervousness swirling within me. It had been a while since I'd felt this spark, this sudden rush of interest.
"Thanks," I typed back, trying to sound casual, "You too. What are you up to?"
His response came almost instantly. "Just chilling. Looking for some fun. You interested?"
Along with the message was a picture. A full-body shot. My breath hitched. He was stunning. Deep, chocolate-colored skin stretched taut over a physique that was both powerful and lean. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and legs that looked like they could crush stone. And then there was... well, it was impossible to miss. He was well-endowed, to say the least.
"Definitely interested," I typed back, my fingers trembling slightly. I sent him a picture of my own, a shirtless selfie I'd taken earlier that day. I was fit, I knew, but compared to this... god of a man, I felt pale and ordinary.
"Nice," he replied, "You ever had a BBC before?"
My cheeks flushed. "No," I admitted, "Never have."
"You're in for a treat," he wrote back, a winking emoji punctuating the sentence. "Wanna try?"
"Yes," I typed immediately, then hesitated before adding, "Very much."
"Give me your address," he said, "I can be there in an hour."
My heart pounded in my chest. An hour. An hour until this beautiful man was in my house, potentially in my bed. I sent him my address, my hands shaking so badly I could barely type.
The next hour crawled by. I showered, shaved, and changed into a fresh pair of boxers, feeling a thrill of anticipation every time I thought about Khalid. I tidied up the apartment, my movements jerky and nervous. I kept checking my phone, each passing minute an eternity.
Finally, the doorbell rang. My breath caught in my throat. This was it. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Standing before me was Khalid, and he was even more stunning in person. The pictures hadn't done him justice. He was tall, easily over six feet, with a presence that filled the hallway. His smile was warm and inviting, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. He was wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans, but on him, they looked like designer wear.
"Hey," he said, his voice a smooth baritone that sent shivers down my spine. "I'm Khalid."
"Samet," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. I was mesmerized, captivated by his presence.
"Can I come in?" he asked, a playful smirk on his lips.
I stepped aside, ushering him into my apartment. As he walked past me, I caught a whiff of his cologne, a musky, masculine scent that made my head spin.
He turned to face me, his eyes scanning my body, taking me in. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but also strangely excited.
"You're even cuter in person," he said, his gaze lingering on mine.
"So are you," I managed to say, my cheeks flushing.
He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through me. "So," he said, stepping closer, "where were we?"
He reached out, his hand cupping my cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. I leaned into his touch, my eyes closing instinctively.
"I believe you promised me a treat," I whispered, my voice thick with desire.
His lips curled into a slow, seductive smile. "And I always keep my promises."
He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. It was a soft, tentative kiss, a promise of what was to come. I responded eagerly, my arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.
The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more passionate. His tongue slipped into my mouth, tasting of mint and something else, something uniquely him. I was lost in the sensation, lost in the moment.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes burning with desire. "Bedroom?" he asked, his voice husky.
I nodded, unable to speak. He took my hand, his fingers interlacing with mine, and led me down the hall.
As we entered the bedroom, he pushed me gently onto the bed, his body following me down. He hovered over me, his eyes scanning my body, his gaze filled with a hunger that mirrored my own.
"You have no idea what you're in for," he whispered, his voice a low growl.
The anticipation hung thick in the air, a palpable tension that crackled between us. As Khalid lowered himself onto the bed, his movements were fluid and graceful, like a predator approaching its prey. He hovered over me, his eyes burning with a desire that mirrored my own.
His body was a masterpiece, a symphony of sculpted muscle and smooth, dark skin. His chest was broad and firm, his stomach rippled with defined abs, and his arms were thick with muscle. Every inch of him radiated power and virility. And then there was his cock, a magnificent specimen that strained against the fabric of his jeans, a promise of the pleasure to come.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. "You ready for this?" he whispered, his voice a low growl that vibrated through me.
I could only nod, my throat too tight to speak. My heart was pounding in my chest, a frantic drumbeat that echoed the intensity of the moment.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached for the button of his jeans. The sound of the zipper being pulled down was like a gunshot in the silence of the room. My eyes widened as he revealed himself, his cock springing free from its confinement.
It was a sight to behold, a thick, heavy column of flesh that seemed to defy gravity. It was long, easily nine inches, and thicker than my wrist, with a slight curve that hinted at its power. The skin was a deep, rich brown, stretched taut over muscle and vein, the head a smooth, glistening purplish-brown.
A gasp escaped my lips, a sound of pure, awestruck appreciation. I had never seen anything like it before. It was both terrifying and mesmerizing, a primal force of nature that demanded my attention.
Khalid chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, clearly amused by my reaction. He began to stroke himself, his large hand engulfing his cock, his movements slow and deliberate. The sight of him, so big, so hard, so unapologetically masculine, was overwhelming.
"Like what you see?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.
"Yes," I managed to whisper, my voice hoarse. "Very much."
He leaned down and captured my lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue plunging into my mouth, tasting of mint and something else, something uniquely him. It was a kiss of dominance, of possession, a kiss that left no doubt who was in control.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes burning into mine. "I'm going to give you a taste of what a real man feels like," he said, his voice a low purr.
And then, he entered me.
It was a slow, agonizing process, his massive cock stretching me, filling me in a way I had never experienced before. I gasped, my body arching instinctively to accommodate him. The feeling was overwhelming, a mixture of pain and pleasure that brought tears to my eyes.
"Relax," he murmured, his voice soothing despite the intensity of the situation, "Just let it happen."
Khalid's movements were relentless, each thrust a powerful reminder of his dominance. He had flipped me onto my stomach, my face buried in the pillow, my ass exposed to his expert touch. I could feel his breath on my neck, his hands gripping my hips, holding me in place as he prepared to enter me again.
"You like it rough, don't you, boy?" he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.
Before I could answer, he spat on my hole, the warm, wet sensation making me gasp. Then, he slapped my ass, the sharp sting a shocking contrast to the slick wetness. It was a degrading act, a humiliating act, but it ignited a fire within me, a dark, twisted desire that I couldn't deny.
He positioned himself behind me, the head of his massive cock pressing against my entrance. I could feel him, thick and hard, pulsing with a life of its own. He pushed forward, slowly at first, then with increasing force, stretching me, filling me in a way that was both painful and pleasurable.
I cried out, my voice muffled by the pillow, as he buried himself deep inside me. He filled me completely, his presence dominating every inch of me. It was a feeling of utter possession, of complete surrender.
He began to move then, a slow, rhythmic thrusting that sent waves of sensation through me. Each thrust was a new discovery, a new exploration of my body, my limits. He moved with a confidence, a mastery, that spoke of experience, of countless encounters. He knew what he was doing, and he did it well.
His hands roamed over my body, caressing, exploring, his touch igniting a fire within me. He kissed my neck, my chest, my stomach, his lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
As he moved within me, I could feel myself changing, surrendering. The fear, the apprehension, the nervousness, it all melted away, replaced by a burning desire, a primal need to please him, to give myself over to him completely.
He was a force of nature, a powerful storm that swept me away, leaving me breathless and wanting more. He moved with a confidence, a mastery, that spoke of experience, of countless encounters.
His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, holding me steady as he pounded into me. He was relentless, tireless, his stamina seemingly endless. I could feel the sweat dripping from his body onto mine, our skin slick and glistening in the dim light.
He pulled out slightly, then thrust back in with even greater force, eliciting a scream from deep within me. It was a sound of pain, of pleasure, of surrender. I was his, completely and utterly, and my body responded to his every command.
Then, he changed his approach. He withdrew completely, leaving me feeling empty and hollow, craving his touch. But before I could voice my need, he was there again, this time at my mouth.
He grabbed my hair, his grip firm but not painful, and pulled my head back, exposing my throat. "Open wide," he commanded, his voice a low growl.
I obeyed, my mouth opening instinctively. He positioned himself above me, his massive cock hovering over my face. And then, he pushed forward, filling my mouth completely.
It was a tight fit, a struggle to accommodate his girth, but I managed, my lips stretching around him. He began to move then, a slow, deliberate thrusting that was both a punishment and a reward.
He fucked my mouth with the same intensity, the same dominance, that he had fucked my ass. Each thrust was a forceful reminder of his control, his power over me. My head was pushed back against the bed, my neck arched, my body helpless to resist.
He spat into my mouth, the warm, viscous liquid mixing with my saliva. It was a degrading act, a humiliating act, but it only served to heighten the intensity of the encounter. I swallowed it down, the taste of him, the taste of my submission, coating my tongue.
He slapped my cheek, the sharp sting a shocking contrast to the soft flesh of his cock filling my mouth. The sound echoed in the room, a stark reminder of my position, my role in this encounter.
He alternated between fucking my mouth and my ass, a relentless assault on my senses. Each transition was rough, abrupt, designed to keep me off balance, to keep me submissive.
The feeling of being used, of being completely at his mercy, was intoxicating. It was a surrender unlike any I had ever experienced before, a complete giving over of myself to another.
Hours passed, or maybe it was just minutes, time seemed to lose all meaning. He fucked me in every position imaginable, each one pushing me further, harder, closer to the edge. He was relentless, tireless, his stamina seemingly endless.
And then, as the first rays of dawn began to creep through the blinds, he reached his climax. It was a powerful, explosive release, his body convulsing, his groans echoing in the room. I felt him pulse deep inside me, his hot seed filling me, claiming me.
He collapsed on top of me, his weight heavy but not unwelcome. His breathing was ragged, his body slick with sweat. We lay there, entwined, our hearts beating in unison, the silence broken only by the sound of our combined breaths.
The intensity of our encounter had left us both breathless, our bodies slick with sweat, our minds reeling from the raw, primal energy that had filled the room. As the last tremors of release subsided, Khalid pulled back, his chest heaving, his eyes still dark with lingering lust.
"Bath," he declared, his voice hoarse, still thick with the remnants of passion. It wasn't a question, but a statement, a gentle command that I was more than happy to obey.
He rose from the bed, his movements fluid and graceful despite his size, and extended a hand to help me up. I took it, my fingers interlacing with his, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between us, a bond forged in the heat of desire.
Together, we walked to the bathroom, our bodies brushing against each other, a subtle reminder of the intimacy we had just shared. Khalid turned on the faucet, the sound of rushing water filling the small space. Steam began to rise, creating a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere.
He added a generous amount of bath oil to the water, the scent of lavender and sandalwood filling the air, a soothing contrast to the musky aroma of sex that still clung to our skin.
As the tub filled, Khalid turned to me, his eyes scanning my body, taking in the marks he had left, the evidence of his possession. A slow smile spread across his face, a smile of satisfaction, of ownership.
He stepped into the tub, the water rippling around his muscular frame, and then reached for me, his hand beckoning. I joined him, the warm water enveloping me, soothing my aching muscles, washing away the last remnants of our encounter.
We faced each other, our bodies close, our knees touching beneath the water's surface. Khalid reached out, his large hand cupping my cheek, his thumb gently stroking my skin.
"You were amazing," he said, his voice soft, his eyes filled with a tenderness I hadn't seen before.
"So were you," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned in, his lips capturing mine in a soft, tender kiss. It was a different kind of kiss than before, not one of dominance and control, but of affection, of appreciation. It was a kiss that spoke of a deeper connection, a bond that went beyond the physical.
We kissed for a long time, our tongues exploring each other's mouths, tasting the lingering traces of our passion. The warm water swirled around us, the steam rising, creating a cocoon of intimacy.
Then, Khalid pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. He reached for the sponge, lathering it with soap, the scent of lavender and sandalwood intensifying.
"Let me wash you," he said, his voice a low murmur.
He began to wash me, his touch gentle yet thorough. He started with my face, his fingers tracing the contours of my features, wiping away the remnants of sweat and tears. He moved down to my neck, my chest, my stomach, his touch lingering here and there, reigniting the embers of desire.
As he washed me, I felt a sense of peace settle over me, a feeling of being cared for, cherished. It was a side of him I hadn't seen before, a tenderness that belied his earlier roughness.
When he was finished, he handed me the sponge. "Your turn," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.
I took the sponge, my hand trembling slightly, and began to wash him. I mirrored his movements, starting with his face, his strong jawline, his full lips. I moved down to his chest, his broad shoulders, his muscular arms, lingering on the tattoos that adorned his skin, tracing their intricate patterns with my fingertips.
As I washed him, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of his body, the perfect symmetry of muscle and bone, the smooth, dark skin that stretched taut over his powerful frame. He was a work of art, a masterpiece of male anatomy.
I washed every inch of him, my touch both thorough and intimate, a silent conversation passing between us. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me, appreciating my efforts.
When I was finished, we rinsed each other off, the warm water cascading over our bodies, washing away the last of the soap. We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, our bodies close, our skin glistening in the soft light.
Then, Khalid leaned in and kissed me again, a deep, passionate kiss that spoke of a hunger that was far from satisfied. The water swirled around us, the steam rising, enveloping us in a warm embrace.
As our kiss deepened, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together. Khalid had opened a door to a world I never knew existed, a world of pleasure and submission, of dominance and surrender. And as I looked into his eyes, I knew that I was ready to explore it with him, to follow him wherever he might lead me. This was the night my transformation began, the night I started down the path to becoming a submissive cum slut.
