Arabian Bromance Ch. 02

30 Ocak 2022 0 Yazar: sexhikayeleri

Amazing Boobs

I was forced to confront my masculinity laying back in a bathtub full of lilac-scented bubbles…my previous experiences with girls and young women flashing before my eyes as my olfactory senses were assaulted with the feminine aroma of my second-ever bubble bath, and the images of a man’s hard penis seared into my hands, mouth and mind.

My entire belief system of who and what type of man I am was in shambles as I lay in the tub staring at my handsome Arab antagonist as he bench pressed more than two-hundred pounds.

I marveled at his firm, sculpted chest; his bulging biceps; and ashamedly found myself glancing from time-to-time at the new center-of-my-universe—the bulge in his tight shorts.

I relived what he had me do for him sexually, and with great confusion, and a twinge of sadness, my own small prick became so agitated it forced me to use all the strength and self-control I had left in me to refrain from masturbation.

I knew in a few minutes I would once again be on my knees before him, stroking the shaft of his manly Arab cock while I massaged his huge ball sac; my lips wrapped firmly over his manly Arab cockhead; my tongue working feverishly on his long and thick erection to coax one more load of his thick and creamy manly Arab seed from his swollen Arab balls which I would gratefully accept in my mouth, and greedily swallow every last drop ….

Goddamn this stiff prick of mine—WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?

I’d never been queer before…I dated plenty of girls…and even though I’d never sexually satisfied any of them with my small penis, whenever I was ordered to lick them to orgasm, I dutifully obeyed…isn’t that what a real man is supposed to do?

Anyway, yeah, sure, the past couple years I admit my fantasies have taken a slight turn.

I always masturbated to online images of pretty women on their knees giving blowjobs—I lived vicariously thru the men on the receiving end…I’m not sure when or why that changed, but one day I began to focus more on the men’s cocks than the women’s mouths. My orgasms suddenly became more exciting—much more explosive.

I wondered what it would be like being one of those women…I fantasized I WAS one of those women…they’re just harmless fantasies, right? People everywhere fantasize about the weirdest stuff—it doesn’t mean they actually want to do that stuff, right?

Yesterday was Sahib’s and my first full day together. My jaw is slightly sore from the number of times I was made to accommodate his manly Arab cock in my mouth. By dinnertime last night, my belly held so much of his thick and manly Arab seed, I was not hungry for real food.

He is playing some kind of psychological game with my head. All day I waited to feel his manly Arab cock ‘neekni sah rawi’ (fuck me in the ass), instead, he placed me in different sexual positions, and used two, and later three fingers to stretch my ‘koos’ (cunt) wide for him.

I am actually grateful for this exercise, not just for the wonderful orgasms he’s given me, but also to ensure my ‘qooq’ (pussy) is opened enough so when he does fuck me with his manly Arab cock, it will not be quite so painful.

You may think I’m enjoying my new role in life but you’d be wrong!

I have the ability to adapt to my surroundings—I have a logical mind. I know darn well if I don’t obey Sahib’s every command I will suffer great pain…hmmm, let’s see: suffer great pain, or enjoy wonderful orgasms? Which would YOU choose?

“Finish your bath, my little narcoossee (hot pussy),” said Sahib. “I am ready for you!”

“Yes, Sahib—right away, Sahib!” I replied.

I quickly stood in the bathtub, pulled the plug on the drain, and switched-on the shower attachment to rinse the excess soap off my body. I cleaned the tub then toweled myself dry.

Naked, I went to my knees at the end of the weight bench and waited as he shifted his body forward until the crotch of his brief shorts was inches from my face. As he’d taught me yesterday, I pressed my nose underneath the leg opening and began inhaling his musky and manly, Arab aroma.

His body was glistening in perspiration with the efforts of his workout…DAMN—the same reaction as yesterday—my prick rose to full attention as I breathed deeply thru my nose…why do I get so aroused from just smelling his crotch?

And, as instructed, I had to ask him the second-most humiliating question one man can ask another man: “Sahib, may I please lick the sweat off your manly Arab balls?”

“Yes, my little sharmotah (bitch)—-you may ‘ihass baydeteh’ (suck on my balls),” he replied. From the tone of his voice, I knew he was smiling…he enjoyed and took great pleasure in emasculating me.

I tugged at the waistband of his shorts and he helped me by lifting his hips while I peeled the shorts off his wide thighs and down his dark-haired legs.

When he was naked, he shifted forward until his manly Arab cock and scrotum were dangling over the end of the bench. I immediately took a deep breath, then licked the perspiration from his manly bingöl escort ball sac. I then took first one then the other plum-sized ball into my mouth and swirled my tongue around his hot flesh.

My hard-on began throbbing; I felt the familiar ache in my own balls—WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?

When I had licked-off all the salty sweat from his manly Arab balls, it was time to ask THE most humiliating question: “Sahib, may I please lick your manly Arab asshole?”

I wondered if he would just say ‘yes,’ or if he was in a playful mood and taunt and tease me again…I found out very soon….

“Do you believe you are worthy enough to lick an Arab man’s asshole, my little white ‘khaneeth’ (faggot)?”

I hated this game…it always left me feeling sad and empty inside…I knew this was part of his system of brainwashing me, and I had no choice but to go along with him, but in all honesty, the more I had to say these vulgar things, the more I began to believe them.

“No, Sahib, I am a worthless, little white khaneeth, but please—PLEASE allow me the honor and privilege of licking your manly Arab asshole!”

His laughter of derision brought a flush of shame over my face. He opened his legs wider and shifted forward again on the bench presenting his small, brown puckered anus to my mouth.

“Yes, my worthless white ‘sharmuta’ (whore)—you may lick your Arab Masters asshole!”

“Thank you, Sahib—thank you for allowing me to lick your manly Arab asshole!”

I wasted no time burying my cheeks between his buttocks and press my mouth firmly on his sweaty anus. I pushed my tongue inside him and licked the walls of his asshole.

He had me in this position for ten-minutes, until his manly Arab cock finally became stiff.

“‘Kol ayre’ (eat my dick), you worthless white ‘bala Il a’air’ (cocksucker),” he blurted out.

“Yes, Sahib—thank you, Sahib!”

I was getting quite good at this act…his squirming hips, and guttural moans and groans were all the proof I needed…and judging by how hard my own prick became whenever I had his manly Arab cock in my mouth, I enjoyed it, too.

Once I Heard his “ALLAH AKBAR” and swallowed his manly Arab seed, it was time for his shower.

He stood under the hot spray while I washed and rinsed every part of his manly Arab body. I tried to control my breathing, and hide the excitement I felt when I ran my hands over his hot and firm flesh, but the warm glow on my face, and my raging boner betrayed me every time.

He would laugh at me and say, “Little one, you are nothing but a worthless white ‘charmouta’ (slut)…you were born to obey and service Arab men—were you not?”

And I would have to reply, “Yes, Sahib, it is the greatest privilege to be in the service of manly Arab men—thank you, Sahib!”

After breakfast, I was in my usual position between his legs, my lips wrapped firmly around his flaccid Arab cock, his scrotum heavy in my hands. He was reading the newspaper above me.

“You made the newspaper, little one!” he chuckled.

Huh? Oh…I figured there was a story about my arrest and imprisonment.

He read the article: “(My name), age 22 from the United States, was killed yesterday by an explosion at the Riyadh Central oil field. He had been a worker there for over a year, and was due to return to the United States in a few days. His was the seventh such death this year at the oil field, his death has been ruled accidental. His remains will be flown to his home in the United States later this week.”

Killed? I wondered how they could get the story so wrong.

Sahib must have seen the confusion on my face. He chuckled again and explained:

“It is a pity about your untimely death…fortunate for you though—you will spend the rest of your life servicing manly Arab cocks!”


“Your ‘remains’ are such that no positive identification can be made…your family and friends will all gather and have no idea the person they are burying is not you…did you really think a pretty little white boy like you could come to Saudi Arabia and NOT be made into someone’s concubine?”


Tears began trickling down my cheeks. Sahib patted and stroked my hair.

“This is your life now, little one—get used to it!”

And then he said something that sent violent shivers up and down my spine.

“How long your Arab Masters will allow you to live is entirely up to you…make sure your Master is sexually satisfied and he will allow you to live…if you fail—you will suffer a most painful and gruesome death!”

Then he added: “Now that you are aware of your fate, I think I prefer you address me as ‘Master’…in Arabic ‘Sahib’ means ‘Master’ and I think it will be more degrading to you to use the English word…do you understand me, little one?”

And, bingöl escort bayan blinded by the tears in my eyes, I momentarily took my mouth off his manly Arab cock and obediently replied, “Y-Yes, M-M-Master!”

It was after lunch when a pounding on the cell door made me flinch in surprise; his penis flopped from my mouth. ‘Master’ cuffed my ears and scolded me: “STAY!”:

“Y-Yes, Master!” I replied, and immediately recaptured his penis with my lips.

I heard the door unlocked and opened, and the shuffle of feet then the cell door slammed shut.

Master spoke Arabic with someone—a man replied…from the tone of the conversation and their laughter they sounded like old friends.

How can that be? I wondered. Do they allow convicts here to visit one another?

I heard the familiar sound of two zippers being lowered on overalls and the men removing the heavy garments. Then I watched out of the corner of my eye as a tall man squeezed himself beside Master and sat on the loveseat. The man wore only boxer shorts similar to Masters.

“SHARMUTA (whore),” Master said sharply to me.

I raised my eyes to his and he nodded his head to his ‘friend’ and said, “You will obey ;Sahib’ as you do me!” then he pointed to someone behind me and said, “Kolby will assist you—STAND!”

“Yes, Master!” I crisply replied; I had a feeling I’d better not embarrass Master before his friends.

I smiled and nodded at the tall man beside Master; he must have had bad acne as a kid, his face was disfigured with huge pock marks…I immediately nicknamed him ‘Crater Face.’

When I turned and faced the other man I was briefly taken aback—he was naked, and his flesh was black as midnight—I couldn’t help myself and lowered my eyes—it was the first time I’d ever seen a black penis.

He was more a boy like myself than a man and was about my size; his penis was no longer or thicker than mine. His scrotum, however, was much larger than mine and I instantly wondered what his penis would look like erect, and how much cum his big balls held…my mind seemed to automatically drift towards sex—‘Master’ was training me well….

‘Crater Face’ snapped his fingers at the boy and said, “YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO!” and the boy quickly replied, “YES, SAHIB!”

It was very strange to be naked before two more men, but that feeling lasted mere seconds…it appeared nudity for boys like Kolby and myself was commonplace in this country.

I followed Kolby to the bathtub and he began filling it with hot water. I decided it was best not to protest that I’d already had a bath in the morning. He sprinkled the bubble soap into it and when the tub was full I eased myself into the hot water.

I must admit, his hands felt wonderful roaming over my body—outside of pinches, furtive caresses, and, of course, the painful spankings, Master never touched me this way.

He spoke so only I could hear him, “You are very lucky…your skin is so soft—like a girl—Arab men will desire you for a long time!”

I was stunned—he spoke perfect English with a British accent…I don’t know why, but I became overwhelmed with happiness…I wanted to say something but he placed a finger over my lips to keep me quiet.

“We are not allowed to speak to each other—if they catch us we will be severely punished!” he warned me in a whisper.

I looked into his brown eyes and nodded my understanding.

We could hear Master and Sahib deeply engrossed in conversation. I guess this emboldened Kolby to break the rules and talk to me.

“I understand you are a virgin—you’ve never taken a manly Arab cock in your koos (cunt) before?” he whispered.

I nodded in agreement.

“I shall try and make your first time as easy for you as possible,” he whispered.

The hair on my neck stood straight; a shiver raced up my spine—OH MY GOD—HE WAS GETTING ME READY TO BE FUCKED BY MY MASTER!

He reached for a bag I’d never seen before; he must have brought it with him. He took out a vaguely familiar-looking object: a rubber pouch with a nozzle attached to one end. He unscrewed a lid on the bag, dipped the bag in the soapy water and filled it.

“Stand and face the wall!” he said loud enough for all to hear.

The men on the loveseat stopped talking and I was aware of their eyes trained on me.

I did as I was told. Kolby had risen the same time I did and I caught a quick glimpse of his black penis—it was as hard as mine—he had gotten aroused while washing my soft flesh. His erection was so cute my first instinct was to drop to my knees and suck it for him, but I knew I had to obey his commands.

“Place your hands on the wall and open your legs wider!” he instructed.

When I was in position, I felt the nozzle against my anus and became alarmed as he wasted no time and pushed it thru my sphincter; then a sudden gush of warm, soapy water flooded my asshole.


“Hold it inside you!” he commanded.

I’d never escort bingöl had this done before…I obeyed Kolby and squeezed my sphincter shut…I figured it would be easy enough, but in a matter of seconds, I was overcome with a most powerful urge to, uh, well, you know—sit down and vacate my bowels.

I made a move to climb out of the bathtub to sit on the toilet but Kolby blocked me.

“Not yet, you little white whore—your narcoossee (hot pussy) must be clean for your Master!” he said sharply, and I heard the Arab men laughing.

It was becoming unbearable…the churning in my belly and the overwhelming desire to sit on the toilet…my body began to tremble—I was deathly afraid I would let loose and relieve myself right there in the bathtub.

Finally, Kolby took my hand, and helped me out of the bathtub…he toweled me dry the best he could before I sat down and unleashed a loud, and watery crap…the men thought it was hilarious—they laughed and laughed and laughed….

Tears in my eyes, shame written all over my face, the mixture of water and waste gushed from my asshole into the silver bowl. Leave it to Arab men to make a natural human function into something humiliating and perverse.

When the cramps in my belly subsided, I knew I had been flushed clean inside. Kolby had me wipe myself (another supremely embarrassing moment in front of prying eyes).

He had me stand in the tub. I watched him put on latex gloves with a mixture of fear and suspicion. He poured cream on his gloves from a bottle he’d removed from the bag. He coated my chest, legs and pubic region, and finally had me raise my arms over my head as he rubbed the cream into my armpits.

I had no clue what the cream’s function was…I thought it was a skin softener, or some such moisture.

He had me face the wall again as he applied more cream to my legs. He forced my legs apart and he rubbed the cream on my perineum and anus. Then we waited….

After what seemed an eternity, he connected the shower attachment, pulled the plug on the tub then washed me all over with the hot spray. It took a few seconds before I noticed my body hair swirling down the drain with the sudsy water.

To my amazement I saw my chest hair-free; I ran my hands over my legs: smooth as silk…I peaked at my armpits—sure enough—not a single hair remained.

I took it in stride—if Master chose to use me like a girl, I may as well look and feel like a girl, too.

I thought my ordeal was over, but no, I watched Kolby produce a long rubber tube, and another bottle of what appeared to be baby oil. He dipped the tube in the oil and handed me the dry end.

“Turn around and bend over…you are going to show your Master how much you want his manly Arab cock inside your narcoossee (hot pussy)…get it good and wet so your Master feels no discomfort!” ordered Kolby.

So HE feels no discomfort—what about ME??

I must say, it was a new and interesting sensation I was feeling ‘down there,’ as I slid the tube in and out of me…coating it with more and more oil. The semen in my balls was churning…desperate for release.

Kolby took the tube from me and whispered in my ear: “You will perform this ritual several times every day…it is for your benefit—you will never know when your Master may decide to have you bend-over for him! It is wise to ALWAYS be prepared or else you will not enjoy the pain!”

He dried me and I thought that was the end of it. Instead, he opened a cabinet on the far wall and brought out some type of garment. I studied the white material then an alarm bell went off in my head.


Kolby held them up for me—I saw the frilly lace waist and leg bands and again, the hair (figuratively this time) on my neck stood straight.


They instantly brought back a memory I had of reading a porn story involving an Arab sheik who owned a harem of women. In the drawings that accompanied the story, the women wore only these sheer and diaphanous pants…very girlie and feminine.

Kolby showed me how to wear them and I soon found myself pulling the pants up my legs. As soon as I felt the delicious material on my hairless legs my small boner lurched and throbbed…OH MY GOD—THEY FELT WONDERFUL ON MY SENSITIVE FLESH!!

They were too small—my damn erection tented-out the front of the pants. The men pointed and laughed at my boner. I felt small and silly and very feminine…compared to these two manly Arab brutes, I really was just an insignificant, little girlie play-toy.

Master and Sahib became silent. I watched Master rise from his seat and approach me. I saw in his eyes something I had not seen before: passion and lust. His huge, bobbing cock drooling pre-cum.

Kolby whispered instructions in my ear. I stood face-to-face with Master, his eyes were hot burning coals of wanton lust. I dropped to my knees, licked the pre-cum from his manly Arab cockhead and looked up at him.

“Master,” I began, “…please…please ‘neekni sah rawi’ (fuck me in the ass)!!”

A devilish grin played across his full lips. He waved for me to rise. He turned me so I was facing the bed and he applied pressure to my back until I placed my hands on the mattress and was bending over for him. My heart was racing.