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The next morning I left the apartment under the excuse that I needed to visit a few clothing stores to pick up some new pieces for the upcoming business trip to Paris. Steven kissed me goodbye without any suspicion. Of course the truth was far from that. I went straight to the store because Khalil was there. The moment I walked into the office I felt a tingle in my legs.
“Hey,” I said to him.
He walked past me as if I didn’t exist, though he briefly looked me in the eyes with a very judgmental gaze from under those masculine, thick eyebrows.
Khalil closed the door behind him and approached me slowly, like a predator approaching prey. I felt my heart beating fast as he got closer. His eyes were shining with that familiar mixture of contempt and lust.
“I hopez you readyz,” he said quietly, his voice reflecting a mixture of impatience and desire. ‘Ready for what exactly?’ I wondered, feeling my heart pounding. Khalil’s dominance was unpredictable and it confused me.
“I’m always ready for you,” I answered, trying to sound confident.
Khalil placed his hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me toward the desk. “Clothez off,” he ordered, his tone cold and decisive.
I started taking off my clothes, feeling the excitement grow with every piece that fell to the floor. When I was completely naked, Khalil stood behind me and pulled me closer to him.
While standing completely naked in front of Khalil, I became aware of how complex our relationship was and how filled it was with power dynamics. On one hand, I was fully aware that I enjoyed him treating me like his sexual object. His dominance excited me in ways I couldn’t explain, but on the other hand, I was also aware that this power dynamic was uneven. Khalil used his physical presence and emotional manipulation to control the situation, and I allowed him to because part of me enjoyed that game. The feeling of submission excited me, yet at the same time it created an internal conflict. I needed to act before it completely consumed me.
“Khalil, you know this excites me,” I said softly, almost like a confession. “But sometimes I feel like you’re using my weakness against me.”
Khalil laughed, but there was no joy in his laughter. “Maybez,” he replied. “But you like when you should to be owned.”
His words were like a cold shower, but they were not unexpected. Khalil had always been direct about what he wanted and how he saw our relationship. It was a power game, but also a game of need. I needed him as much as he needed me, although in different ways. He needed the feeling of dominance, and I needed the feeling of belonging, even if that belonging came with humiliation.
I felt his cock pressing against my ass cheeks, already hard and ready. It was a reminder of his physical power, but also of the emotional control he had over me. I tried to relax, accept the situation and enjoy the moment, knowing I would question my feelings later.
“Forwardz,” he said, pressing me against the desk. “I wantz to hear yous beggingz for me.”
I obeyed him, leaning against the cold surface of the desk. Khalil grabbed my hips and positioned himself behind me. I felt his thick saliva dripping onto my anus, preparing me for what was to come.
“I want to hearz,” he said, his voice deep and rough. “I want to hearz how muchs you wantz me.”
“I want you, Khalil,” I said, feeling shivers run through my body. “Please, take me.”
At that moment Khalil stopped. His thick hands grabbed my cheeks and forcefully turned my head back toward him. “Lookz me in the eyez,” he said in a quiet but icy voice. His cockhead was still pressing against my anus, warm and pulsing, but he didn’t enter. He just waited.
It was a test. His black eyes, hidden behind a thick line of eyebrows, stared at me as if reading every thought, every weakness. He kept me on the edge, in that tension, while his cold saliva ran down my ass cheeks and my body twitched with desire and fear.
“Sayz it againz,” he whispered, squeezing my cheeks harder, forcing me to open my mouth, to look like a submissive whore ready to swallow.
“Please… I want you,” I repeated, this time looking him straight in the eyes, aware that I was surrendering the last shred of my pride.
A familiar small, victorious smile appeared on his lips.
“Maybez I don’t believez your wordz but I believe your soft azz.”
Khalil slowly entered me, his cock spreading me and filling me. Every centimeter felt like an explosion through my body. I felt my breath catch as he went deeper and deeper.
“Good, bitchz,” he muttered, beginning to move rhythmically. “Feelz how real mans fucks.”
His movements were methodical and controlled, like a choreography he performed with precision. I felt him occasionally press gently on my hips, as if testing my endurance. I enjoyed knowing who was behind me: Khalil, a man who doesn’t even look like a man but more like an old uncle, yet fucks like a self-satisfied stud.
“How you likez my big beniz?” he asked, his voice hoarse with excitement.
“I adore it,” I moaned, writhing beneath him. “Please don’t stop.”
Khalil picked up the pace, slamming into me harder and harder.
“Okayz I will push him go deeber.”
“Fuck me, push it into me.”
“You will not comblainz laterz how I waz too rough?”
“I won’t, I promise… Please, I need it.”
I felt my whole body responding to his thrusting movements, every muscle inside me tense from the intensity of the moment. Every movement of his cock inside my guts felt unreal to me. I knew that sex with him couldn’t be compared to any other sex. He started pumping.
“Do you likes when real manz fuck you?” he asked in a breathless tone, like some eager little troll. I was too deep in my own thoughts and pleasure to answer.
“Leonz doesn’t fucks like thiz?” he asked in a surge of passion.
“No, nobody has ever fucked me like this,” I said.
“But you should to be fuckedz hard, thiz is why you comez to me.”
“Yes, fuck me, fuck me hard…”
“Do you wantz to feelz my sbermz going into your azz or is the same to youz?” he asked, barely catching his breath.
“I want to feel it in my ass,” I begged.
“Are you ready for my sbermz?” he growled, holding me firmly by the hips.
“Yes, please, Khalil,” I whimpered. “Fill me up.”
With a powerful final thrust, Khalil buried himself deep inside me. His body shook as he let out a series of deep sighs. He didn’t move his cock, he just left it there to empty deep inside my guts. I felt the warmth of his sperm filling my insides while my knees trembled from the intensity of the moment.
After he emptied his balls, Khalil immediately pulled out of me, leaving a feeling of emptiness but also the warmth of his load in my ass. He watched me holding onto the desk, trying to pull myself together. Beneath me on the floor were a few visible drops of blood and cum. The air in the office was heavy, mixed with the smells of sweat, sperm, and the metal from the belt that was still lying on the floor. In that stifling moment I felt my body fighting between two extremes — the desire to run as far away as possible and the sick need to stay on my knees in front of him, begging for more.
He had wrecked me again. It seems I will never get used to his big cock and the intensity of his fucking.
“Dress and go home,” he said coldly and added, “See you on Monday, I need another 200€ for the oil change in the car.”
He followed me downstairs to the warehouse, where I was actually going to leave unnoticed. I looked over my shoulder as I was leaving, leaving him there. I felt humiliated, but still deeply aroused by his dominance.
As I closed the door, a new message arrived on my phone. It was from Khalil. “Oooo Tom-Tom. Already missing your hole.”
A few days had passed since Khalil last fucked me. During that period, our relationship at work was completely professional, but in every way full of tension. The tension came from the lack of privacy because we worked with other people. His eyes followed me every day, and every accidental touch felt like an electric shock. On the outside we were colleagues, but inside us burned a fiery and dangerous game of power and dominance.
One morning, while we were preparing the office for usual operations, Khalil came closer than usual. I felt the warmth of his male body and the cheap smell of his perfume mixed with the musky scent of his skin. He whispered through his teeth, quietly enough that only I could hear: “Today after work. You and me. My place. Bring 200€.”
My heart jumped, but I kept a calm face. I just nodded without saying anything.
I spent the whole day in anticipation and thinking about why Khalil had called me to his home and how to lie to Steven. I knew why Khalil had called me over; definitely not for tea and cookies – but where was his wife? Also, my version of his wife, that is Steven, was definitely at home waiting for me to return.
“Hey love, today I have to stay a bit longer at the store because of some shipments. See you later at home,” I wrote and sent it to Steven. I felt guilty, but I simply enjoyed Khalil’s cock too much.
When the shift ended, Khalil apparently went home so as not to arouse any suspicion, but in reality he was waiting for me with the car behind the store building. His look left no room for discussion. We got into his car and drove in dead silence to his apartment. Every kilometer was filled with electric tension. I watched his masculine, hairy hands and fists with short but thick fingers confidently holding the steering wheel. Khalil is definitely an incredible man; sometimes he disgusts me because he is a pathetic henpecked husband, doesn’t know how to dress, he is ugly in the face and a bit in the body too. On the other hand, sometimes he shines like a bright star and shows me his other side, the one I am obsessed with. That masculinity that comes to Khalil naturally and with ease is something indescribably attractive to me. I enjoyed watching and observing him when he was in his element. While he was driving, controlling the wheel, changing gears, accelerating and braking, for me it was a rhapsody of masculinity.
When we arrived, Khalil locked the door behind us and immediately pulled me toward him. His lips came down on mine with a ferocity that reflected his suppressed passion. Without a word, he pushed me toward the bedroom.
“Take off your clothez,” he said roughly, his voice a mixture of excitement and dominance.
I started undressing, feeling my body burning under his intense gaze. When I was completely naked, Khalil sat on the edge of the bed and pointed with his finger to the floor in front of him.
“Kneel,” he ordered.
I knelt, looking toward his face. Khalil spread his legs, showing me his swollen cock through his pants. “I’m gonna destroy your hole today like never before,” he said with a smile. “And remember, you are here for me.”
He looked me straight in the eyes while unbuttoning his pants and letting his cock spring out. It was hard and pulsing, and I felt a wave of excitement pass through my body.
“Take him in your mouth,” he said coldly.
I took his cock in my hands, feeling its weight and hardness. I started licking it, enjoying every moment. His taste was a mixture of sweat and deodorant. Khalil grabbed my head and started guiding me with his rhythm, pushing it deeper and deeper into my mouth.
“That’s it, slutz, suck him deep,” he growled. “Feel what it means to be a real whore.”
Occasionally my gaze would shift to his eyes, where I could see the glow of satisfaction, but also something else, something deeper. It was as if his satisfaction was filled with a need for confirmation, for a feeling of power that he otherwise lacked. That moment of intimacy revealed more about him than he could ever say.
After a few minutes of wild sucking, Khalil pulled me to my feet with his short but strong hands and turned me toward the bed. He pushed me forward, forcing me to support myself with my hands on the mattress. My ass was raised high, ready for him.
“Spread your legs and lower your azz,” he ordered.
I spread my legs to lower my ass to his lower height while he fisted the tip of his cock and lubed it with some Arab cream. I waited patiently for him to put it in, and waited… but it wasn’t happening.
“I can’t,” he said and threw himself on the bed next to me.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“I can’t fuck you here where I sleep with my wife. I thought I could, but I can’t,” he said.
I looked at his cock, which was completely soft. I looked at him again and kissed the upper part of his torso that was closest to me.
“Do you want me to suck it a little more?” I asked, and he just shook his head that he didn’t want to.
“Never mind, I’ll go home then,” I said, getting up from the bed. I felt awkward.
“Dress… but stay. We can drink some juice and watch TV?” he said to my great surprise.
Honestly I didn’t know what to say. I stayed. And we really did drink juice, watch TV and laugh like we used to laugh before our relationship escalated into intimacy. In those moments I felt like I was sitting with a completely different man. Not with that ugly, sweaty fucker who wrecks my guts at work, but with a friend, even a brother. He laughed at his clumsy English jokes, explained scenes from Syrian series he followed to me, and for the first time I thought: maybe Khalil is more than just the cock that fucks me.
Still, while we sat next to each other, that tension still hung between us; quiet, but indestructible. Because I knew that, sooner or later, I would be his hole again.