Yoann’s got a thing for Arab guys, and this ain’t his first rodeo with Citebeur, but even though he likes playing the submissive to well-equipped street dudes, this one’s gonna push him past his limits.
Hard hits, slaps, deep throating, he’s gonna endure the twisted desires of this impressively hung Moroccan lowlife.
Yoann finds himself kneeling down, faced with the colossal cock that he can’t help but admire. The guy’s hard rod is a sight to behold – its girth and length a testament to the stories of well-hung Arab men. His heart pounds with anticipation, and as he reaches out to touch the thick, veined monster, his knees wobble slightly. The energy is electric, the smell of masculinity intoxicating.
The Moroccan stud smirks, coolly, gripping Yoann’s head, pushing him towards his crotch. Yoann opens his mouth, taking in the cock as much as he can, but it’s so damn big. He gags a little but continues, driven by his desire to please this arrogant stud. He feels a slap across his face, a jarring reminder of who’s in control.
But Yoann doesn’t resist; instead, he relishes in his submissive role. He’s servicing this man’s cock, swallowing it deep, feeling it touch the back of his throat. It’s a rough ride, not for the faint-hearted, and it’s clear this Moroccan stud takes pleasure in his control, reveling in Yoann’s obedience.
But just when Yoann thinks he’s made his partner close to climaxing, the game changes. The Moroccan stud pushes him away roughly, and Yoann falls back onto the filthy concrete floor of the basement, exposed and vulnerable.
The Moroccan stud smirks at the sight, his eyes lingering over Yoann’s pert ass. He spreads his cheeks, expectantly. He spits, the salivary glob landing squarely on Yoann’s puckered hole. Yoann shivers, the cold dampness startling, but he doesn’t protest.
What comes next is a shock. There’s no gentle introduction, no easing into it. Just a raw, primal thrust as the Moroccan stud forces his massive cock inside Yoann’s ass. The pain is intense, and Yoann screams out, but his cries seem only to fuel the Moroccan’s lust.
The virile stallion pounds into him with a ruthless rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the dank basement. Yoann can only brace himself and take it, the experience pushing him to the brink of consciousness.
And then, finally, the climax. The Moroccan stud pulls out abruptly, his cock glistening with sweat and spit. He strokes it feverishly, his breathing ragged and heavy. Then, with a growl, he releases his load, a creamy torrent that hits Yoann full in the face. Yoann blinks, temporarily blinded by the warm, sticky mess, and the Moroccan stud laughs, a dark, triumphant sound.
As Yoann kneels there, dripping with the Moroccan stud’s cum, he realizes that he’s been pushed to his limits – and he loves it. He’s endured this man’s roughness, his domination, and his lust. And he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
