Arab stallion to pussy slave

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence and rape which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

The air in the terminal smelled of coffee, deodorants, and fresh sweat. Even the air conditioning, which was running at full speed at the beginning of the holiday, could not fight this onslaught of intense and mixed scents. Despite the early hour of the morning, the terminal was very busy. The beginning of the Easter holidays brought the usual holiday-hungry pack of tourists to the security area of the airport after they had traveled by car, train or bus and, after an encouraging cup of coffee and a last cigarette in front of the building, set off for various holiday destinations. Here in the terminal for international flights, the proportion of vacationers compared to business travelers was far higher than in Terminal B. Young, old, fat and well-trained travelers pushed their way through baggage control in shorts and T-shirts despite the outside temerature, hot for their holiday destination and two weeks of sun and sand before everyday life should catch up with you.

Everyday work for Arad Manhor Sokkar took place here in the baggage check. He hadn't found his dream job here, but luckily it came very close. Manhor had sought police training. His physical fitness had brought the Arab far in the aptitude test, but even his 192 cm with a fighting weight of 112 kg could not protect him from failure in the theoretical range. He had never been the brightest in school, but what cost him admission was his arrogance and lack of acceptance of authority. He had no sense of team spirit, not the slightest respect for superiors and rules, and too little ambition. The police psychologists who accompanied the test discovered this relatively early on.

After the failure of the test, Manhor had kept himself afloat for over three years with jobs with cousins and family. This was his culture, family even around five corners held together and strengthened each other. At the age of 24, his mother, who lived near Riyadh and only came to Düsseldorf twice a year, pushed for a wedding. But Manhor did not want to submit to the strict cultural rules of his family yet, he wanted to let off steam and experience something, fuck girls and let his magnificent cock pampered. Yes, he was proud of his 10 inch manhood that guided him through life.

In the last few years he had started out as a bouncer in a Balkan disco. His training buddy Mirza from McFit got him this job. However, after a few weeks, Manhor quit the post, because he preferred to accompany the horny things that stood in front of him every night to the disco or then to their home than to leave them to another horny goat who did not have to work at night. When these hot disco mice stood cackling in front of him for the night in their short skirts and tight tops and flirted with him for a free entry, his penis swelled and his pants twitched as if he had a nocturnal life of its own. Not infrequently he found himself during his break in the ladies' room in a cubicle, where he had put his strong, big hands around the waist of a slut who was screaming with pleasure, while his cock got it for her in rhythmic thrusts. When he was back at his post in front of the door shortly afterwards and the rest of the juice was still dripping from his cock into his boxer shorts, he drew with relish on a cigarette and had a satisfied grin, which also left no doubt among his colleagues, as to how he had spent the break. The cool night wind was a pleasant contrast to his cheeks, which were still heated from sex, especially to the heat in his pants, where the blood seemed to flow in only one direction again.

Despite his young years as a doorman, his imposing and well-trained stature instilled respect in every guest. His angular chin was accentuated by the meticulously manicured three-day beard. The beard also made him appear older than his early twenties, which gave him more chances with the more mature ladies. Manhor put a lot of emphasis on his appearance, after all, the girls were more into it than on in-depth conversations with him. Once a week he had his hair and beard cut by his hairdresser Mahmud. He was also not afraid to have his fingernails regularly groomed at a professional manicure and he even used an eyelash curler to shape his long, thick and stubborn black eyelashes. When he was freshly shaved, which was extremely rare, his face actually had something feminine, which was supported by his extremely full, soft lips and large pale green eyes framed by long eyelashes. But his beard, the strong round shoulders, the pulsating biceps, the massive, hairy chest and, last but not least, the bulge in his pants left no doubt about his manhood.

His cousin Waleed had found him his second job. Since Manhor led an expensive lifestyle, which included good clothes and swanky watches, all of which were imitations from Dubai, a 7 Series BMW and a stylishly furnished apartment, he had to earn money, because without finances, nothing would work for women. So he started working as a department store detective for Waleed, who had laboured hard to become the manager of a department store chain. Manhor was able to enjoy his work for a while, there were regular working hours, a reasonable salary and staff discounts.

In the evening he lived out his lust when he was wearing his typical outfit, a white, tight shirt that emphasized his muscles and was open to the third button, so that his thick chest hair oozed out at the top of the collar and yet underneath his well-toned chest muscles like the breasts an Oktoberfest waitress were visible. Black suit trousers and patent leather shoes as well as a heavy automatic Rolex or Breitling made him look as a mix of macho and gentleman and that definitely seduced the women. His Arab appearance, the intense masculinity and the broad, open grin, with the well-groomed white teeth flashing out in the middle of his black beard, acted like a magnet on the female sex.

"You're already late again!" Waleed had criticized him several times when he appeared in the store shortly before half past ten after a long shower instead of 9:30 am. That day, too, Manhor hadn't stepped through the shop door until 10:27 a.m., sauntered down a smug corridor towards his cousin, ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his sunglasses.

"Don't get upset, a man needs some care if he wants to get horny women in the evening!" Manhor laughed arrogantly. "But as a husband you're probably not familiar with that." Smiling, he took off the black sunglasses and casually tucked them with a hanger into his open shirt.

"If you are late again this month, you will be fired!"

"Now come down, brother!" Manhor relented. “You're bitchy like the bitch I screwed tonight. Man, that was such a blatant slut ...! ”He laughed loudly and casually touched his crotch. "I'm here now man, chill out!"

With these words, he turned around without even giving Waleed another look and went to Linda in the cosmetics area, who removed the last traces of the hard night from his face with Biotherm Homme test products. Linda had wanted him from day one, he had sensed it. Why hadn't he taken her earlier? While her fingers applied the cooling gremes to his cheek and rubbed it in in circular movements, his cock twitched like crazy in his pants. He couldn't hold back and grabbed her left breast with his right hand, unseen by all passers-by. Their eyes met, she twitched briefly, her long black hair fell over her forehead and a light scent of lavender shampoo spread out. Then a smile crossed her pretty face and he began to knead the full breast further. It wasn't until almost half an hour later that he came aware again when he rolled off her on the dusty floor of the storeroom and her sweaty, naked body lay next to him. His gaze wandered from her luscious bosom down her long legs to the red high heels and he had to laugh.

"Why are you laughing?" She breathed questioningly.

Images from the last 20 minutes flashed through his head. Linda lay naked on her back on a tattered cardboard box and looked at him lustfully. He remembered how he moistened two fingers and pushed them between her thighs. Then he grabbed her legs and spread them so that her high heels were on his shoulders. Without consideration, he thrust his shiny wet cock into the colleague's cunt and pounded on her so that his sweat dripped onto her round breasts. Her face was a bit contorted with pain at first, but apparently she quickly got used to the large shaft inside her.

"This is what you women need!" He thought during the fuck, "A real tough Manhor!" With these thoughts he grabbed her ankles and pushed her legs over her head. He saw her pink crevice open further and pushed harder and deeper.

"Aahhhh, yes, that's ... sooooooo good ...!" She screamed with relish.

"Take it!"

"Fuck me harder!"

"This will be the fuck of your life!"

"Ohh ... yeah ... oh my gooooood!"

"I'm cuuuuuuuming! Take my babies !!!"

He had done all of this as in trance until the moment she asked him and his conciousness came back. Only now did he consciously see the naked slut in her red designer shoes lying on the dirty cardboard box in the dust.

"You're lying there like a porn actress!" He snorted, not noticing how her face darkened. "As a porn star, you could be called Linda Longlove and make a lot of money for me!"

"You dumbass! The girls are right. Except for your dick, you have nothing bright! "

While she furiously gathered up her clothes and stumbled in her high heels in the direction of the door, he shouted after her "That's all you sluts want anyway!"

"Don't call me a slut!" She snapped back. He could hardly hear her "Fuck you!" Because the words were drowned in the banging of the door.

Next to him were her pink lace panties. He took it in his strong brown hand. The delicate pink silk material contrasted sharply with his olive skin and the black hair on the back of his hand. With relish he led the substance to his nose and sucked in the scent vigorously.

"Great!" He groaned and touched his stiff member, which was still damp from her love cave. It only took a few movements, as five more jets of semen shot up from his prick and landed on his hairy torso. They nestled like sticky drops of dew in his frizzy chest hair. Manhor took off the silk panties and wiped his cock, which was dripping off his white love juice. Then he used the few dry patches of the small scrap of cloth to dab the splatter from his chest hair.

The silk panties were sticky and wet now. As he dressed again, a mean grin crossed his face. He had a brilliant idea how he would get the bitch back for her stupid exit.

"That's not how I treat me, slut!" He scolded with a malicious undertone. "I am not just anyone, I am Manhor!"

He took a clear plastic bag from a trash can and put the cum-soaked panties in there. He walked along the corridor of the staff corridor and entered the sales area. Past socks, lingerie and handbags, he walked straight to the cosmetic counter, where Linda was already consulting a middle-aged customer. The customer jumped a little when the big, powerful Arab suddenly and energetically stood next to her. Her frameless glasses actually slid on the tip of her nose in her wrinkled raisin face. But before even a sound came from her wide open mouth, Manhor reached into his right trouser pocket, pulled out the bag and shook it vigorously at the bottom while holding it in the air, so that the wet panties were thrown with a smack on the glass counter. The smell of fresh semen rose and even drowned out the scents of the perfume department.

"Thanks for the face cream, bitch!" Manhor hissed at Linda, "Here is a cream for you that I have saved for your face!"

Linda stood there stunned, tears welling up in her eyes, while colleagues approached her and put their arms around her comfortingly. Punishing glances met Manhor from all directions, but ricocheted off his muscular body like bullets on a superhero.

“I don't need this shed!” yelled Manhor a few minutes later when he was roughly pushed out of the shop and onto the street by the security forces.

That was six months ago. Waleed hadn't spoken to him since then. Manhor hadn't worked for over three months after that, but hadn't really bothered to find anything new either. It wasn't until he ran out of money, two installments for his swanky BMW turbo were unpaid, that he began asking friends and family. Fortunately, he had got the job at the airport through a recommendation from an uncle from Offenbach, which he had been doing for 8 weeks and which had now also settled his debts with the second income.

His boss Mads Harfmüller was a tough but fair superior despite his sunnyboy-like appearance. During the interview, Manhor had already looked into the steel-blue eyes of the man who reminded him so much of himself. Harfmüller was of the same muscular stature and seemed to have masculine hairs as well, just a Western European blonde. During the handshake in greeting, Manhor felt, despite all counter-efforts, that his new boss seemed to be even a little stronger. The inner surface of the hand was rough, safe from training without gloves, otherwise where else would an office guy have such calluses. Manhor pressed again, both to show who he was, but also to enjoy the physical contact with this equal man a little longer. Harfmüller withdrew his hand and gestured for him to take a seat.

"I could work out with him, we two sweaty stallions could certainly complement our training!" Thought Manhor a few minutes later, while Harfmüller tried to bring him closer to things about a sense of duty and responsibility for flight safety.

"Did you understand that?" The question penetrated Manhor's brain, who had just been performing a bench press with Harfmüller in his mind. “I ask, did you understand that!” Repeated Harfmüller, unable to place the applicant's glazed look. Nor did he notice that Manhor was not looking at him directly, but was following a drop of sweat that slowly ran down Harfmüller's forehead over the stubbly cheek and got stuck on the underside of the angular chin. Then Manhor, still lost in thought, how they were pumping each other's muscles and comparing them in front of the mirror, looked straight back into Harfmüller's face and grinned confidently at him.

"Sure boss!" replied Manhor indifferently, although he had hardly heard a word of the previous address.

The hardness from Harfmüller's face disappeared and the blue eyes seemed to widen and shine. “OK, Sokkar, we can use men like you. If there are problems, my door is always open for you! ”With these words, he laid his strong hand on Manhor's shoulder in a friendly manner. Manhor could now smell the sweat of the man whom he had just followed along the contours of his face, but who in the meantime had gathered in the crook of his arm under the fine white business shirt between all the blond armpit hair. Manhor once took a strong breath with his nose as if he had a cold and his nasal mucous membranes welcomed the masculine scent of the other. Irritated by his reaction, he shook his head and said goodbye with a quick thank you for the chance.

The weeks passed. Whenever Manhor met his supervisor, he greeted him in a friendly manner, but could not bring himself to speak to him about a private undertaking or joint training. Never before had he been so intimidated towards another person. Perhaps the dominance and professionalism of Harfmüller was exactly what fascinated him, exactly what he was actually missing. And this man had come this far while only doing unskilled jobs himself.

"Wow, that's what I call a fuckable chick!" Manhor nudged his colleague Raviz with his elbow. From the check-in, a luscious blonde in a skin-tight, knee-length dress with an animal print approached. Her gold statement chain nestled between her round breasts, which were pushed up by the dress. Silver lace-up boots with heels of an incredible 16 cm wrapped around her shapely calves. A Louis Vuitton bag as a beauty board case rounded off the look perfectly. As if in slow motion, she approached the two of them, while her long wavy hair swayed around her shoulders like in a shampoo commercial.

“Mano,” that's what his colleagues called him, “leave that shit! Raviz warned, but Manhor was already walking towards the 185 cm tall woman who had just passed the security check with his chest up like a rooster in a cockfight.

"May I ask you to follow me?" He addressed her politely, and the first shock on her face faded as she looked into the broad grin on the man's face. "There is a problem with your hand luggage!"

"Sure, Mr. ..." she replied and looked at the name tag, which was only slightly below her eye level on the man's muscular chest. Through the suit she could see the muscles, bulging biceps and wide lats that Manhor was not afraid to tense boastfully. He smelled her perfume, so close and sweet it almost took his breath away. "Sokkar!" She finished the sentence. "I am happy to follow such a stately giant, my Arabian stallion!"

Manhor was a bit confused by this rather aggressive pick-up, but felt flattered and horny at the same time as he hadn't for a long time.

"The stallion is about to ride you!" He thought and gave her a sign to follow him into the examination room. No sooner were they inside than he bolted the door. "Now let's see what you are hiding in the little case!"

"Is that really the reason why you took me here with you?" Asked the lady innocently in a warm but very deep voice, but opened the suitcase. Right at the top were red panties made of fine lace, next to them the matching bra.

"Why do you carry such sexy lingerie in your hand luggage?" He asked, reaching for the panties. As in the storage a few months ago, he took it in his hand and pressed the material to his nose. He took a deep breath and dropped the panties back into the trunk. "Fresh, too bad!" He whispered and looked challenging at the blonde. "Is there also a used one?"

With these words, both of them broke the tension at the same time and greedily rushed towards each other. Their lips met, he tasted the red lipstick on his tongue, which thrust into her mouth like a piston of an engine and explored the roof of your mouth. Her tongue returned the kiss and circled his.

"Mmmhhh!" She moaned. Her tight bosom pressed against his body. Manhor felt that it was made of silicone, but that didn't bother him, it was nice and big and round, just as he loved it.

"My cock will fit in there nicely!" He thought, and while the kiss was taking place, he took the breasts with both hands. She followed his example and grabbed his ass cheeks, which she kneaded vigorously while her tongues continued to seem to fight endlessly. Saliva dripped from between her lips and ran down Manhor's beard in a thin white thread. However, this bothered him just as little as the woman was bothered by the prickly stubble of beard. .

His hands found the zipper of her dress and began to open it. At that moment she broke the kiss and pushed her body away from his embrace.

"Sorry, but no further!" She began, but Manhor grabbed her with one of his strong hands like Hulk on the back of her head and pressed her lips back to his mouth. For a moment she struggled, but then gave in to the kiss again. Her body relaxed and she snuggled up against his muscles.

Again his hands slid along her curves, slipped the straps of the dress down and exposed the beautiful breasts. Underneath was a turquoise push-up from Viktoria's Secret, which he had removed with a practiced hand movement in a flash without breaking the kiss. Slowly he moved his tongue down her throat, slid into her neck behind her earlobes, played briefly with the golden hoop earrings before burying his head between her plump breasts.

"Ohhhh yeah," she moaned, while his beard tickled her breasts and his lips and tongue contrasted gently and gently.

"Stop him!" Shot through her head. "Not further! He'll notice. ”But it was such a nice feeling to be desired by this man, to be loved,“ ... to be fucked! ”At this thought she tore herself away from him, so that Manhor stumbled and bumped with his thigh against the edge of the table behind him as she tried to pull her dress back on.

"Are you nuts?" He scolded while rubbing the painful area. "What's wrong with you?" Before she could answer, he grabbed her without thinking of the consequences and pressed her dominantly against the table. His cock swelled as he pressed his 150 pounds onto her. He had never forcibly fucked a woman before. The idea of dominating her in such a way, of humiliating and degrading her, made him hornier than ever. The woman was strong and tried to push him away from her, but he was stronger, he clasped her wrists with one hand behind her body so that she lay handcuffed like a prisoner under him and her breasts stretched even further towards him.

"Let go of me, you pig!" She hissed like a hoarse wildcat, which only made him even hotter at that moment.

His dick was about to explode, although it hadn't even entered her yet. He pressed himself between her thighs even more until he could feel her opening. Suddenly he winced. There wasn't a soft, warm crevice; it hit a bulge. Without thinking he reached with his free left hand to where he suspected her vagina under the dress. His eyes widened before his face twisted in disgust.

“Do you have a prick? You freak! ”He shouted and let go of her hands. Before she could pull it out from behind her body, he hit her on the cheek with the palm of his hand so hard that the creole that got in between left a red and circular mark on the entire cheek and would turn red.

"I have to throw up!" He snorted as he spat on the floor in disgust. "Who lets something like you run around?"

While she / he / it was pulling up the straps of the dress, she ran to the door, rattled it before realizing that she had to release the lock first and stumbled into the hall of the security area. Only then did Manhor realize that he had probably gotten himself into trouble again. How big these problems would be, however, only became apparent a few hours later. And that should just be the beginning of much bigger problems for him.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Yelled Harfmüller so that everyone could hear it through the glass of the office into the break room. "Despite your previous history, we gave you a second chance, and what are you doing ...?"

"How should I know that this is a fag!" Manhor justified himself. "A freak like that doesn't deserve..."

"Do you think that will solve the problem?" Interrupted Harfmüller, screaming so hard that small splashes of saliva came out of his mouth and landed on Manhor's forehead and cheeks. “It doesn't give a shit whether it's gay, tranny, straight, it can be a goat if you like! But when I look at you camel driver, you've already fucked all the goats in your country! He roared like an attacking lion. "It's about sexual harassment AND discrimination, and WE, the security company, are being sued!"

"But the fagot wanted it too!" Manhor's voice was a bit broken and meek. In that brief moment, he hated himself for causing so much trouble for his boss, but more so for making him an enemy.

“You just don't get it! We will lose the trial. ”Harfmüller pressed out the sentences. “But you will lose your job! You have been terminated without notice! Take your personal belongings and leave the airport premises immediately! ”He screamed so loudly that the window in front of him vibrated.

"Somebody needs some moral support," Akshay mused in the staff room. He had watched the event from the control tape and overheard Harfmüller's outburst. Akshay came from Mumbai and looked rather slim compared to Manhor with 1.78 m. Even though his thick dark hair was typical of an Indian, you couldn't really tell he was 24 years of age. He had worked hard physically all his life to get out of the poor environment. His body was not pumped up with muscle mass from this permanent physical activity, but otherwise fully trained and defined, which is why he looked more like the body of a swimmer or athlete.

Unnoticed by the rest of his colleagues, he crept behind Manhor, whom he had been watching with interest for several weeks, following the staff passage to the locker room at a distance. When he got there, all he saw was the sturdy Arab sitting on the bench between the lockers in his boxers, his hands held in mourning over his face and his uniform scattered on the floor.

Akshay had never seen his colleague so half-naked. Only now did he register the unbelievable perfection of this Arab man, who was sitting there bent so tangibly close in front of him.

Apart from the stature of a demigod with a pectoralis major who inflated the chest like a bulging balloon, an upper arm on which biceps and triceps competed against each other in terms of size, shoulders as big and round as a handball, neck muscles that follow diagonal counter-movement against the V-shaped back finally acentuated by a six-pack visible even through the thick hair, that was thick on all of Manhor's body, forearms, chest and legs. The back and the upper arms above his biceps, however, shone smoothly like a child's bottom in her exotic dark complexion. Overall, Akshay could estimate that Manhor spent countless hours in the studio pumping. Still, the overall musculature appeared balanced and well defined, which is why Akshay doubted that steroids or anabolics were involved. Unlike many bodybuilders, Manhor also seemed to be training his legs intensively, as the abductors and adductors pressed out of the hem of the boxer shorts as if the pants were three sizes too small. Akshay swallowed, desperately trying to suppress the thought of what was still hidden under the few clothes of the black cotton shorts.

"Later, my friend, you will show me!" He muttered carelessly and gave a start when Manhor looked up briefly. But he had neither heard nor seen him, just reached into his trouser pocket, which was lying on the floor, and pulled out a cigarette, which he lit with slightly trembling hands, ignoring the smoke alarm above him.

Akshay went quietly to his locker and took out a few items, which he quickly put into his bulging trouser pocket. He approached the suffering Manhor and tapped him on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

"Smoking is not allowed here!" He broke the silence.

"Leave me alone!" Manhor mumbled into his hands, but looked up briefly and added: "They can't fire me again!" Smugly, he took another strong drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke provocatively in the direction of the smoke alarm on the ceiling.

"Come on man!" Akshay addressed him with his funny Indian accent. “Don't let yourself down like that! I've got something here! ”With that, he pulled a joint out of his pocket and let it dangle between two fingers like bait in front of Manhor's eyes. “I'm about to finish work! We can smoke that outside there. I can bring a few cans of cold beer too! Will do you good now! "

Manhor looked up. He had never done drugs before, but in the mood he was in, that couldn't be so wrong. And he wanted to come down, the beer would surely help! He'd screwed up so much shit today that a few moves didn't matter anymore.

"OK, I'll wait outside!" Manhor got up and pulled on his sleeveless hoodie. The barren was so wide that the hair on his chest peeked out from it wildly. Akshay thought about burying his head in it for a moment, but held back.

"That'll come later!" He thought and grinned. "You will still learn respect and obedience ... when you are entirely mine!"

Manhor had put on his ripped jeans, his bottom formed a plump peach shape in it and the dark skin of his legs shimmered through the large holes in his pants. He bent down to tie his shoes and unconsciously stretched his ass towards Akshay so that it was only a few centimeters away from Akshay's cock and almost touching him. Akshay's mouth watered.

"See you soon, little one!" Teased Manhor, who had straightened up again, and left the locker room briskly with his shouldered black Nike sports bag, from which the smell of the sweaty clothes of the hard morning training penetrated Akshay's nose.

"Patience!" He told himself. “I'll enjoy all of this after your workout! You won't be so cheeky soon, hahaha! "

Shortly after 5:00 p.m., the two of them were standing relaxed next to each other in the parking lot, leaning against Manhor's black 7 Series BMW. Akshay's half-empty can was on the hood, Manhor was already holding the third can freshly opened in his left hand and took a long swig that the foam ran out of his mouth and stuck in the stubble as white drops. Akshay didn't have a car, but could already feel the warm metal of the BMW on his thighs, which would soon be his without paying a dime.

"How often do you actually work out?" Asked Akshay casually. "These are very impressive muscles that you are dragging around with you-"

“5 training days per week are compulsory! I'm doing triple sets with a few reps at the moment, that's really pumping. This morning I trained my biceps and chest for 90 minutes! ”Manhor replied proudly and tensed the biceps of his right arm. "But it's worth it as you can see!"

Akshay looked at the tense muscle and would have loved to stick his tongue out at it. His throat was suddenly completely dry. With a pressed voice he only managed a scratchy "wow".

"Pretty impressive, dude !?" Manhor continued and made another pose by crossing his arms in front of his chest and causing biceps and chest muscles to almost explode.

"Do you actually take photos of yourself, I mean selfies in the studio!" Asked Akshay irrelevantly.

Manhor pulled out his Iphone 7 and entered the PIN without realizing that Akshay was concentrating on it in order to get this information. Manhor scrolled through his photo library, in which Akshay could see numerous sex shots with busty women in a submissive posture with Manhor out of the corner of his eye. Then he freely showed footage from the gym, proudly posing shirtless in front of the mirror.

“I've already thought about shaving my hair off, then you can see the muscles better. But the chicks like it! They want real men with muscles and hair just like me! "Boasted Manhor, briefly rubbing his dick through his pants as if he could make the sentence clearer." But you don't seem to have disposition for it when I look at you like that! Hahaha! You've got body-hair, hopefully not everywhere like a little chimpanzee! Hahhaaa!”

The remark made Akshay angry for a brief moment, but he controlled himself. "After all, not everyone can be blessed with genes as good as you!" “But don't be fooled about it, your arrogance will still pay off! Soon we will see what all the muscles bring you up to and who'll be the last one to laugh! ”He thought to himself and grinned at Manhor in a playful, friendly way.

This was the third time he passed the joint to Manhor. The dejected Arab put the white paper between his plump lips and pulled it hard like a water pipe. Akshay could see the saliva from the wonderful lips soak into the paper of the joint and hoped eagerly to be able to bring this glowing stick with Manhor's spit to his own lips. The initial shyness of Manhor about the drug had given way and the effect even drew a delightful smile on his face.

"It's their own fault if they let something like that on the premises!" He explained to the new buddy. "Brother, this thing had a cock and I'm being punished!" He took another strong drag, handed the joint back to Akshay and blew the smoke that he had circulated in his lungs into the cold evening air. "Oh yeah, that's chilling, dude!"

“I knew that was good for you! Sometimes you just need a friend! "

"Yes, you are right, Ashky!" Manhor was intoxicated, but even without the drug he would hardly have remembered the Indian's name.

Akshay looked at that perfect face, the smoke that came from between the thick, broad lips and thick stubble and slowly snaked the dark complexion of the cheeks past the large dark eyes. Focused on this masculine perfection, Akshay failed to notice that he reached past the joint and accidentally brushed the back of his palm against Manhor's hairy forearm. His hand lingered there for a brief moment, so that his fingertips dug into the dark arm hair and caressed the muscle fibers underneath.

"So soft and cozy!" he thought as the tips of the hair touched him like a small electric shock. “And yet so muscular and hard!” The feeling of his fingers, which dug into the velvety and yet so thick and dense dark hair on the forearm of the man next to him, was indescribable. He felt how the warmth of the body next to him ran through his fingertips up the arms along his whole body and seemed to land in his cock, which twitched with encouragement. He jerked his hand back and grabbed the joint before Manhor had registered the touch, even if it was a little longer than necessary.

"Man, dude, I needed that. I ... feel so ... hmmm ,,, very chilled ...! ”Manhor laid his head back relaxed and blew another cloud of smoke, which he had apparently held in his lungs all the time, vertically into the evening sky.

"OK, he's ready!" Thought Akshay and reached into his pocket. He had planned it that way, waiting for Manhor's reaction to wear off. He was already in a delirious state due to the dope and did not notice how Akshay reached up to him, stretched his right hand towards his neck and attached the needle point of the syringe. It piked briefly.

"Ouch!" Manhor thought he had been bitten by a mosquito, then he saw Akshay with the syringe in his hand and an imperious grin in front of him, no, standing over him. He sank to the floor, dragging the half-full can of beer with him, which landed on his chest, soaked his sweater and then rolled down the side of his massive chest into his armpit. He tried desperately to straighten up with all his might, but his muscles failed, all nerve cords tingled briefly, then his head also sank back on the concrete of the parking lot into the foamy puddle of beer that was slowly expanding around him, and the world around him went black.