Reda
Reda lay restless on the pull-out couch in Sami’s living room, tangled in a thin blanket, hoodie bunched under his head. Work had dragged all week, his thoughts hooked on how Alexis had sucked him without question while Idriss gave orders. Reda replayed it endlessly, slowly admitting to himself he had loved both: the surrender, and the control. Shame had dulled, giving way to a quiet itch to taste it again. To taste all of it. He wanted Alexis on his knees, like Idriss had taught him. But at times, when he was the only one left awake and free to softly press on his hard cock, he imagined Alexis teaching him other things, like how to care for Idriss.
The TV blared from the corner with the news Sami in Arabic always left on, drowning Adel’s regular breath and Karim’s snores on the mattress under the windows. The noise felt like a shield, masking his move as he rose and he crept to the apartment door. He stepped out, shutting the door softly, and crossed to Alexis’s in three steps, his tight joggers pinching a waking hardness.
The door cracked open soon after he knocked, Alexis peering out. Reda raised his finger to his mouth, eyes darting to Sami’s, a silent warning. Alexis caught it, nodding, and stepped back, letting Reda slip inside. The door closed with a whisper, swallowing him into the apartment’s pale grey walls and bright bric-à-brac.
Adel
Nasser and Karim fired up loud video games on Karim’s mattress under the windows, each puffing on his own fat joint, laughter cutting through the early morning. Adel groaned, sleepy but awake, his hard-on straining his boxers, impossible to ignore with the racket. He dragged himself up, wrapping his skinny frame in a blanket to hide the bulge, and shuffled to the big bedroom, craving the quiet. There lay Tarek, sprawled on his single bed, above the covers in nothing but tight black boxers.
Adel froze, blanket clutched tight and stayed watching Tarek a minute before he sank into Nasser’s empty bed, on his side, facing Tarek. Those boxers hugged Tarek’s thick thighs, outlining every curve. His hairy chest rose slowly, all his strength at rest. Adel couldn’t look away, eyes locked on the tan skin, the bulge hinting at that improbably massive cock he’d seen, envied, that he now feared. Tarek shifted, one leg bending, boxers stretching taut, and Adel’s cock twitched under the blanket. He lay down, unable to turn, the sight searing into him. Manlier, bigger, better.
Adel wouldn’t look away. His hand slipped under the blanket, fingers brushing his disappointing cock, shame driving him as he started stroking, the sight of Tarek fueling a heat he couldn’t kill.
Tarek’s body loomed larger and larger in Adel’s mind. At 5’10”, Tarek towered over Adel’s 5’7”, his broad shoulders dwarfing Adel’s bony ones, tan skin glistening where Adel’s stayed pale and patchy. Adel raked his eyes over those shoulders, the strength he saw there keeping him stroking. Did girls wrap their legs around those shoulders? He realized Tarek hadn’t gotten pussy for so long… would he want some other legs around ther?
Light hair coated Tarek’s chest, trailing down to those boxers in a sexy trim, while Adel’s sparse fuzz barely showed and seemed planted randomly. Tarek’s arms rippled, muscled from construction, not the skinny sticks Adel flexed in vain. His thighs bulged, hairy and solid, crushing Adel’s twiggy legs in comparison.
And the outline of Tarek’s massive 11-inch cock, fat even at rest dwarfed Adel’s thick 7, a beast Adel had stared at, humiliated. Adel’s fist tightened, stroking faster, his breath shallow as he drank in Tarek, every part manlier, stronger, a king to Adel’s nothingness.
His mind spun. Tarek fucking women first, some faceless chick, bent over, screaming as that massive cock slammed deep. Tarek’s hairy hips pounding, his sweat dripping. Fuck. Adel’s cock twitched, precum slicking his fingers. Now he imagined twinks, like in the videos he kept watching now, pale skinny fags gagging on Tarek’s massive cock, throats bulging, tears streaming as Tarek gripped their hair, brutal, relentless. Like Adel never would or could.
Adel saw it clearly, Tarek’s big hand slapping a fag’s face. Maybe his face. Adel’s stroke quickened as his skinny legs started shaking under the blanket.
The image came suddenly. Tarek fucking him, Adel, right here on Nasser’s bed. He saw it raw, Tarek waking, ripping the blanket off, pinning Adel’s skinny ass down, that monster cock tearing into him, almost rape. Tarek’s hairy chest pressed against Adel’s back, his breath hot on Adel’s neck, growling “Take it, fag,” and slamming deep, no mercy.
Adel’s dick pulsed and precum soaked his boxers imagining Tarek’s weight, his stink, his power, every thrust a punishment Adel deserved, wanted and feared. His skinny body shook, the fantasy too real, too close. Adel’s breath hitched, the thought too much, too wrong, and his cock erupted. Thick trails of cum coated his belly, his boxers, the blanket, as he swallowed a groan and bit his lip, eyes still on Tarek.
He lay there, panting. Adel couldn’t look away.
Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks, and he whispered “Faggot” to himself.
Reda
Reda sat on Alexis’s couch, Alexis perched beside him, a loose tank top slipping off one shoulder, his tablet propped between them for a French lesson. Two hours ticked by, Reda’s voice halting but growing smoother, confidence slowly taking over. There were no stakes and no judgement, just learning, someone to talk to, his French sharpening with Alexis’s patient nods. Most mistakes he made prompted Alexis to say, “It’s so interesting that you landed on that!” as if he was proving something to him about language.
After two hours, Alexis paused, stretching, and started rolling a joint. “Break time,” he said. “You did very well, seems like you’ve been practicing at work or something.”
“At the bakery. Work is a bit much for now.”
“Well, it’s working out for you. You’ll be fluent in no time.”
“Thanks, so much,” Reda murmured in Arabic, then again in French.
Alexis waved it off, “Good for me too, I need to get better teaching.” He leaned closer, blue nail polish glinting as he set a hand on Reda’s thigh, adding, “You’re doing well, very disciplined, a good student.” A tease followed, “I usually only get to teach bad boys, the ones who need punishment, not rewards.”
Reda’s breath caught, his half-hard cock swelling full erection and straining his tight joggers. He met Alexis’s eyes, hesitating but wanting to play. “You’re a good teacher,” he said, then whispered, “Never had one this sexy before.” The words felt bold, borrowed as much as he could from Idriss’s swagger.
Alexis leaned in, tank top slipping further, murmuring in French, “A good student like you deserves a real break, if you want one.”
Reda took Alexis’s hand on his thigh, fingers trembling but firm, and slid it slow to his hard cock, pulsing under the fabric. “I deserve a proper reward,” he said, “to encourage me.”
Nasser
Nasser and Karim sprawled on Karim’s mattress under the windows, controllers in hand, FIFA roaring on the TV, each puffing a fat joint. Nasser’s slouched, his gold tooth glinting as he cursed, “Fuck your goal, bro,” laughing hard. Karim grinned back, exhaling a cloud as he countered, “Learn to block, asshole.”
Sami shuffled in from his small room in a faded jacket, muttering about going to the market and then café with the crew. He opened the door to the hallway, pausing, and sneered, “The nigger’s not raping the faggot this morning, huh?” His voice dripped venom, then he stepped out, slamming the door.
Nasser snorted, joint to his lips, and mocked, “Old man’s obsessed, needs to chill.”
Karim laughed, “Yeah, bitching about the fag every day, he needs to relax.” Then Karim shifted, voice dropping, “Faggot’s not so bad, you know.” Nasser’s brows shot up, surprised, pausing the game as he stared at Karim, waiting. “Helped me sleep off a drunk night, gave me his couch.”
Nasser couldn’t hold his curiosity, “And what, got a blowjob before bed?” And jealousy, maybe.
Karim chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, that’s the thing, bro, Alexis just offered help, no sex shit.” He paused, thinking, “Fag’s got disgusting habits, sure, all that noise with the black guy, but otherwise, he’s normal. Yeah, like, decent. We should leave him alone, Sami especially.”
Nasser looked at his joint like it was gonna talk back, processing, his cock stirring uncomfortably.
Karim grinned, casual, and added, “He’s like, a good host and shit, gave me tea and hash, offered breakfast. Would make a good wife, I mean, imagine a wife doing all that in bed.”
The image hit too close for Nasser. He pictured Alexis as his wife, slutty and devoted, kneeling daily, rimming his hairy ass on demand, giving up any hole at any time he wanted. Cooking his food, tucking him in. He shifted, hiding the bulge as he forced a laugh, saying, “Fuck, yeah, maybe we should adopt him, bro, make him a collective wife, clean this dump, take care of us.” He said it, as best he could, with the tone of a joke.
Karim laughed, “You serious? Sami would make us widowers in an hour, and then he’d send us in the grave after the fag.” He laughed hard, tossing the controller, the game forgotten, joint stubbed out in a cracked ashtray. Nasser joined in, but his cock stayed hard.
How could it not?
Reda
Reda looked at Alexis’ hand, the naked shoulder, and said in French, “Good teachers reward good students, let them do what they want for a bit.” His voice steadied, echoing Idriss, playing at the man.
Alexis nodded, replying in French as well, just another part of the lesson, “You’re in charge now.”
Reda exhaled with anticipation, his breath shaking. He still had in mind that five-minute blowjob, too quick and somewhat humiliating. So, he wanted it slow this time, lasting, a real reward. He stood, towering over Alexis, and gestured down, “On your knees.”
Alexis slid off the couch, eyes locked on Reda’s, waiting. He was in charge. Reda hooked his thumbs in his joggers and boxers, lowering them both at once, slowly, his 7-inch cock bobbing as soon as it was free. “Suck the tip, slowly, with kisses, please,” he said as firmly as he could, his hand hovering near Alexis’s head.
Alexis leaned in. His lips brushed the tip and gave a light kiss, then another, his tongue flicking out to taste precum, his eyes never breaking from Reda’s. Reda groaned, quietly, still wary of the connecting wall but the sensation too sharp, too wet for him to ignore as Alexis kissed again, lips puckering around the head, a tease that shook Reda’s legs.
He grabbed Alexis’s hair, gentle but sure, and his fingers threaded through pink and brown strands, guiding without force, keeping it soft. “Good, suck a little, please,” he murmured, the wall muffling Nasser’s shout, “Goal!” next door.
Alexis obeyed, kissed down the tip, then sucked softly, going deeper and deeper. Minutes stretched, Alexis’s lips working slowly, deliberately, taking the time to taste every inch of Reda’s cock. Kisses turned to sucks, the head slipped deeper and came back out to be licked like ice cream. Alexis’ tongue swirled in wet circles without needing rest.
Reda guided him now, hair in his fist, easing Alexis down. He kept it quiet, moans bitten back and turning to a low hum in his throat. Alexis matched him, muffled his whimpers as his mouth stretched, always taking more. Reda’s eyes stayed on Alexis’s, the connection as hot to him as the mouth worshipping him. Nasser’s laugh cut through again, “Fuck you, bro,” in Arabic, and Reda tightened his grip, pushing Alexis deeper, going balls deep as often as he was back up on the tip.
Time blurred, ten minutes, twenty… Reda was enjoying it but he kept his eye on the microwave and counted every single minute a victory. Reda’s hand kept steadily guiding Alexis’s head, his cock sliding slow, in and out of Alexis’s red, glistening lips, his eyes teary but eager.
Reda’s hoodie clung damp, sweat beading on his brow, the room a furnace, and he removed it as well as his shirt in half-assed, rushed movements. He pushed deeper and harder, getting Alexis’s throat to flex. A soft gag echoed but Alexis did not pull out. Reda groaned, “Good teacher,” his balls tightening even as he spoke the words.
He counted thirty minutes on the microwave. For a minute there, he stopped trying to be as strong as Idriss and just turned his eyes to the ceiling, pushed Alexis balls deep, and went back to being a teenage boy getting an insane blowjob.
Reda’s breath was now ragged. With a still firm grip, he pulled his cock out until the tip rested on Alexis’s lips again, wet and swollen. “I’m gonna cum,” he warned in a hoarse whisper,
Alexis was panting as he answered, “Good students get to choose where they come.”
“Face,” Reda said immediately, without even thinking about it. His hand pumped his cock as he kept his eyes on. In a dozen strokes, white ropes hit Alexis’s cheeks, his nose, his lips, dripping down his neck and chest, a mess Reda watched, chest heaving, fascinated to have created it
His fingers moved, tentative, scooped a streak from Alexis’s cheek, brought it to his mouth and pressed it past his lips. Alexis sucked, tongue curling around Reda’s fingers, swallowing, eyes still locked, eyes simply refusing to close. Reda fed him more, bit by bit, wiping his face clean, each swallow a jolt, his cock softening but his mind racing. He could have spent the day coming over that face and feeding his load to Alexis. To anyone.
“Good teacher.”
Next : someone shows off (again!), someone else shows off (Jesus with these guys), someone has an uncomfortable conversation, and someone has ambitions with the neighbors
