Years ago I met a married Arabian man at the grocery store. The first time, I sucked him off in his truck, the second time, he followed me home and fucked me. The day after, one his friends came by my condo for a blow job, too.
I thought I’d never see either of these men again, and would live with the memories of those encounters forever. I guess nothing is forever, is it?
I’d joined a queer pickleball league and our team made the playoffs. We were a team of four players. It was my turn to sit out and I saw out of the corner of my eye a familiar face. He was at the park next to the courts with a woman and two children, a boy maybe 8 and the girl maybe 6 years old. I was having trouble remembering why his face looked so familiar to me, and then, it hit me after several minutes. It was the married Arabian’s friend! The one who came to my condo!
Seeing him there with his family made me feel funny.. Knowing I knew his secret. He was laughing and had his arm around the woman’s shoulders they watched their offspring play on the swings.
I guess I felt turned on, and also angry at the same time. I remembered his fat cock and all that hair in his chest. He’d grown out a beard since I saw him last, but his thick mustache was very much still prominent on his face.
It was still early enough in the game that my teammates were playing that I could leave for a bit, so I decided to walk directly in full view of the man sitting in the bench on my way to the men’s room. I looked him straight in the eyes as I walked past him. His smile turned upside down almost immediately. His eyes locked on mine until I turned my head and made it to the urinal.
I was mid stream when he walked in and saddled up next to me and pulled his cock out.
“Not here. Not in front of my family.”, he said in his thick accent.
“No, no, I wouldn’t.” I was about to push my caged cock back into my shorts when he grabbed my forearm.
“Tonight, can I come fuck you? 8 o’clock?”
“Sure, you remember where I live?”
“Yes.”
I went to wash my hands and before leaving them there, pissing, I said, “See you tonight.”
I walked out with a smug look on my face and as I approached his wife I smiled and said “Your children are so adorable. Hope you enjoy the afternoon.”
Yes, that was rather shitty of me but I was just being polite.
I returned on time to play my turn in the next game, which we won, but I was very, very distracted. The team wanted to go for drinks to celebrate our victory but I declined and said I needed to get some work done at home.
I found a pink jockstrap I hadn’t worn in a while. It was very skimpy and barely hid the cage covering my dick.
At 8pm sharp I heard a loud wrap on my condo door. There he was. I didn’t remember his name, but I don’t ever think he provided it. Wearing a short sleeve button down shirt with the top three buttons undone a thick carpet of hair could be seen. He wore tight jeans and brown leather sandals.
He stood in the doorway with a very mischievous grin.
I pulled him inside and shut the door.
“Did you have a nice day at the park?”, I asked while unbuttoning the other buttons on his shirt.
“Yes. I don’t want to talk about that now, fag. I want you to suck me, yeah?”
I ran my fingers through his chest hair and remembered how he and his friend had referred to me as “fag” when I’d met them before. I guess that title suits me well enough.
I brought him into my living room and removed his shirt. I took to my knees and began to unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans to his ankles. He was wearing an interesting patterned Jockey bikini brief which did nothing to hide his erection. His cock tilted to the right, the head stretched the waistband.
I had him sit on my recliner upright and while still on my knees I removed his sandals and pulled off his jeans. I looked up at him and his eyes were closed as I resumed exploring his chest. I bent down and kissed the fabric where his leaking cock head was bulging out his briefs. Then I used my tongue to lick the glans down to the base, soaking his briefs with my mouth. When I began to suck and chew on his cock, he pleaded with me, “please”, begging me to bring much needed relief to his aching, quaking erection.
I pulled down the waistband of his briefs and his cock sprung out like a jack in the box. It was thick and over seven inches long. It was a darker shade than I had remembered. A clear strand of seminal fluid stretched into the hairs just above his thick bush.
I brushed my tongue against the underside of his shaft, up and down, licking his very hairy balls. I had to stop three times to remove stray pubes from my mouth. I worked my way back up his shaft, licking, kissing, pressing my tongue to activate all his nerve endings and to tease.
“Open up, fag! Swallow my cock!, he commanded impatiently.
I opened wide and finally slid his shaft all the way down my throat in one swift motion. The man sighed in utter pleasure, “ohhh yes! Oh that’s good.” The wait was over, finally, I had toyed with him long enough.
He held my neck down as he began to move his hips upward to face fuck me. He was speaking in Arabic very rapidly. I don’t know what he said exactly but “fag” was used in his vocabulary several times, and that was a word I understood all too well.
The man continued to rape my throat like he hadn’t had release in decades. He was on a mission and I was glad to be his copilot.
“I fuck you now, fag, yeah?”
I lifted myself up from the floor and bent over the coffee table. The stud moved behind me. I’d taken out a tub of Vaseline from the bathroom before he arrived. He open the lid, scooped some into his fingers and pushed them up my ass. He had four inside me very easily as my pussy dilates very fast these days. Then he pulled them out and replaced them with his chub.
The greased cock slid inside me with ease, and soon I was fully shafted. The man resumed his verbal Arabic monologue as he began to slow fuck me. God my ass felt so good and full with his very thick boner poking around inside me.
My fucker picked up his pace and rode me like a matador as he claimed my pussy and made it his own. I didn’t want him to cum just get so I pulled off him. He cursed me in his language and spanked me hard. I think I pissed him off as the scowl on his face indicated. Undeterred, I made it to the sofa and positioned myself on my back, and held my ankles back in my hands and presented my slick hole for him to resume his quest to fill my pussy with his prick and fill it with his virile baby makers.
That cock felt like a battering ram as it slid over my p-spot over and over again, causing me to have a mini-assgasm. I pulled him closer to me, trying to kiss him as he pounded inside me, but he pulled his face to the side. Hey, I tried. That’s a common reaction from these married “straight” men. It’s not about the passion, it’s about the sex. No emotions, just a physical release.
The man did allow me to bear hug him as he battered my pussy. I ran my fingers through his thick black hair when he growled and cummed deep inside me.
The man pulled out and fetched his jeans. He pulled out a wad of cash and threw a $50 bill at me. Then he silently pulled on his red bikini briefs, and his jeans. He reached into his back pocket and out came a cigarette and lighted it. With the lit cigarette in his mouth, he put on his shirt and re-buttoned leaving the top three open.
He gave me a wink, and left me there on the sofa with his seed half dripping out of me. I wasn’t expecting payment for my services but I didn’t give him the money back. I did feel like a cheap whore, though. It was not the first time I’d been paid for sex, and maybe it won’t be the last.
I dipped my index finger inside like a dip stick and pulled it out. It was very creamy and wet. I licked it off and continued to do this almost 10 times before I retreated to my bedroom and went to bed.
It was very, very hot!
