After last night’s brutal fucking, I woke with my hairy asshole throbbing, Hassan’s thick cum leaking onto my sheets, staining my galabeya. I stared at the ceiling, my gut churning. How fucking low had I sunk? A conservative Muslim dad, once the alpha cock of this town, now enjoying sucking my son’s 8-inch dick? Was I a cum-hungry slut? Shame burned my chest, but my limp cock twitched, my balls aching with satisfaction. I was disgusted yet sated, my mind a warzone of haram and lust. I dragged my fat, hairy ass to fajr prayer, begging Allah for forgiveness, my beard still crusty with Hassan’s jizz. “Ya Allah, save this filthy sinner,” I whispered, but my hole clenched, craving his cock again.
At the breakfast table, I forced myself into my alpha dad persona—strict, conservative, the Muhammad my family knew. My three wives—Fatima, Aisha, and Laila, her tits straining her hijab—served ful and taameya, while my five daughters chattered about school. Hassan slouched across from me, his lanky frame in a tight tank top, his dark curls messy, his musky scent hitting me like a punch, a smug smirk on his lips. He was fucking happy, and I knew why—his cock had wrecked my hole, filled me with his load. I couldn’t look at him, my face burning, my ass sore under my galabeya. Laila snapped, “Muhammad, scold Hassan for staying up late!” I swallowed hard, my throat still raw from his cum, and barked, “Hassan, get your shit together! No more late nights!” My voice was deep, commanding, but his evil smirk widened, his bulge huge in his boxers. Flashbacks hit me—his cock stretching my throat, my hole, my cum splattering his chest. My tongue flicked out, drooling, and I prayed no one noticed. I was barely holding it together, my alpha mask cracking.
After breakfast, I bolted to my room, locking the door, huffing like a bitch in heat. I stuck my tongue out, panting, unleashing the slut I’d suppressed. All day, I was obsessed with nightfall, when I’d ride Hassan’s dick again, my hole begging for his load. But his “surprise” nagged me—what the fuck did he mean? I couldn’t focus, so I skipped work at the falafel shop, claiming a headache. When Hassan left for school, I snuck into his room, the air thick with his teenage musk—sweat, cum, and cheap cologne. I climbed onto his bed, lying where we’d fucked, imagining his cock ramming me. I moaned like a whore, my limp dick leaking. Then I spotted his dirty briefs on the floor, crusted with cum stains. My body moved on its own—I grabbed them, sniffing his musky scent, my cock twitching, my hole clenching. Guilt hit hard—this is haram, you sick fuck—but I couldn’t stop, inhaling his essence like a drug. Laila’s voice broke my trance, yelling for me to fix a leaky faucet. I dropped the briefs, ashamed, my face flushed, knowing I’d have sniffed them all day if she hadn’t called.
At dinner, the table was loud with my daughters’ chatter and the clink of molokhia bowls. Hassan, all smiles, leaned back and said, “Some folks learn their place real quick. Tonight, that wild one’s gonna get a shock, maybe regret it. That first taste of sweet cream? Unforgettable.” His voice was casual, like some cryptic Bedouin saying. My daughters nodded, thinking it was wisdom, and Fatima muttered, “Deep thoughts, habibi.” But I froze, my cock leaking precum. He meant me—the bitch he fucked, my cum squirting on his face that first night. No one else caught it, but his smirk screamed he knew it was his dad. Laila nudged me, “Tell Hassan to sleep early, Muhammad. He’s up too late.” I forced my alpha voice, “Hassan, bed on time, or you’re grounded!” He grinned, his bulge taunting me, and I barely held it together, my hole throbbing.
Lights out, everyone to bed. I prepped for the fuck, my heart pounding, shame and lust tearing me apart. I prayed, “Allah, forgive this disgusting slut,” but my hairy ass was slick with oil, my limp cock dripping. I knocked on Hassan’s already-open door, his 8-inch cock waving in the air, rock-hard, precum glistening. I dove in, my job clear. I sucked his dick, gagging as it hit my throat, my beard brushing his balls. He fucked my face brutally for ten minutes, my throat raw, tears streaming. I glanced up—and fucking hell, no blindfold. His eyes locked on mine, a wicked grin spreading. I was shocked, ashamed, ready to bolt, but he grabbed my bearded face, ramming his cock deep. “Surprise, you cock-sucking bitch!” he growled, and his dick erupted, flooding my throat with thick, hot cum. I choked, gulping his endless load two, three times, my beard dripping. I tried to speak, “Hassan, it’s not what you think!” but my voice was hoarse. He laughed, “What the fuck, Dad? You drank my cum, and you’re denying it?”
“Forget that shit,” he said, his eyes burning. “I’m horny as fuck. Bend over, show me that hairy hole I’ve been pounding.” He shoved me onto his bed, my face in his cum-stained sheets. I was his dad—how could he fuck me? But I’d just sucked his cock, so who was I kidding? My conservative alpha ego crumbled as he mounted me, his hard cock slamming into my oiled-up asshole without warning. I screamed like a bitch, pain and pleasure exploding, his shaft stretching me wide, hitting my prostate like a fucking sledgehammer. He fucked me brutally, his balls slapping my hairy ass, his hands gripping my hips. “Take it, you slutty dad,” he growled, pounding relentlessly. My flaccid dick flopped, but I came hands-free, ropes of jizz shooting onto his bed, my body shaking. He fucked harder, his cock tearing me apart, my hole gaping. “You’re my bitch now,” he snarled, and came, his hot load flooding my insides, leaking down my thighs. I came again, my cum splattering his sheets, my legs trembling.
He leaned close, his breath hot. “I knew it was you from the first night, Dad. Those boxers you put on my face? I sniffed your musky scent. Your cum squirting confirmed it.” My ego shattered—I’d been scolding him as an alpha hours ago, and he’d known I was his cum-dump. He laughed at my puppy-like moans, my slutty transformation. “Act like that strict Muslim dad while I fuck you,” he demanded, threatening to expose me. I fucking loved it—being his bitch. I climbed onto him, scolding, “Hassan, you better be a man and fuck me hard! Pound your dad’s hole like a real stud!” He grinned, thrusting up, my hairy ass bouncing on his cock. “Come on, son, fuck your alpha dad harder! Be the man I raised!” I growled, cumming hands-free, my jizz hitting his face. He opened his mouth, drinking my cum, saying, “Can’t waste this tasty dilf milk.” I laughed, “My cum’s that good, huh? Like yours, boy.” He grabbed my head, shoving his tongue in my mouth, pushing my cum back in a sloppy, cum-soaked kiss. Jizz dripped over my beard, his face, and we laughed, our faces a mess.
I tried to stand, his cock sliding out, a river of his cum pouring from my gaping hole, pooling on the floor. “Clean this mess, alpha dad,” he ordered, “and worship my body.” I licked his sweaty abs, his musky balls, scolding, “You better keep this body strong, son!” My alpha act was a joke, my tongue lapping his cum. A knock—Laila, screaming, “Muhammad, is Hassan asleep?” I yelled, “I’m scolding him, don’t worry!” Hassan smirked, whispering, “Always act alpha out there, but under my dick, you are my BITCH!.” I nodded, leaving, my hole dripping, my shame and satisfaction at war.
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