Silk sheets whisper against my skin in my Lyon penthouse, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Rhône’s glittering curve. Marble floors gleam under recessed lights. Leather armchairs cradle our naked forms. Selim prowls like a feral panther, eyes wild, cock throbbing. He’s no longer the poised heir—pure madness glints as his gaze devours Jimmy.
To tame him, I drop to my knees on the plush Persian rug. His thick shaft fills my mouth, veins pulsing hot. ‘Calm, Selim… calm,’ I murmur, tongue swirling the salty tip. He groans, hips bucking. No words—just ragged breaths. I suck deeper, lips tight, drawing out his frenzy. Seconds later, he erupts, hot spurts flooding my throat. I pump every drop, discreetly spitting into a crystal glass. Relief washes his face, but hunger lingers.
The Privilege
Jimmy slips back in, three chilled Fanta cans sweating beads on the ebony bar. He vanished during the blowjob—probably peeked through the oak door’s keyhole. We crack them open, fizzy orange bursting sweet-tart on our tongues, bubbles dancing like champagne.
‘You okay?’ Jimmy asks, voice neutral.
‘No, not really,’ Selim growls. ‘Jimmy, I can cum eight times a night. This quick shot doesn’t kill my craving for you.’
Jimmy pauses twenty seconds. ‘I get it. But no fucking—not now. Maybe later.’
Selim’s eyes roll insane. He yanks on his bermuda shorts, slams into sneakers, storms out, door echoing off glass walls.
‘Your buddy scares me,’ Jimmy says, sipping Fanta.
‘He’s odd, but harmless. It’ll pass.’ Over fizzy gulps, I probe Jimmy’s life. Son of dirt-poor farmers near Lyon. Quit school at 14. Apprentice, then village gardener. Now 18, dreadlocked reggae fan in a youth hostel dump. Bob Marley worship, fingers stroking his locks proudly.
‘Guys built like you? Rare,’ I say. ‘Selim’s obsessed. He’d lick your feet if you asked. But no ass? He’s blocked.’
Jimmy stays silent—he’d answered already.
‘Past hookups?’
‘Yeah. Village circle jerks, blowjobs. Best? Hostel showers, first week. Neighbor’s towel drops—huge Arab cock, hard from my stare. Mine stays wrapped, shy. He’s Lebanese, like Selim. Invites me for tea. His room? Oriental paradise—tapestries, incense, vs. my cell.
The Excess
‘Tea hits hard. We bond. Stories flow—my nothing life, his war-torn Beirut. Knock. Friend Malik enters. Arabic chat, then they kiss. ‘Cool?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Girlfriend?’ ‘Nah, shy with girls.’ ‘I got Malik.’ Gentle giants. I’m naked but slippered. Malik eyes me hungry: ‘You’re beautiful.’ Sits close, strokes shoulder, then caresses. Souphy joins. Towel falls. They ogle, murmur Arabic praise. Strip. Kiss me, suck me. I return. Magic mouths mingle.
‘Malik boils water, Souphy cues oud music. Candles flicker. Djellabas on. Patience—tea, baklava. Tease.
‘They quiz kinks gently. Watch them? I nod. Fifteen minutes: tender strip, foot caresses, goosebumps rising. Kisses everywhere. Malik hairy, Souphy smooth—waxed for him. 69 artistry. Rimjobs staring at me. Malik fucks Souphy joyful, raw moans. I cum untouched on Souphy’s face. Apology? Malik licks it off, shushing. Now, nightly threesomes. They’d die for me.’
‘Envy surges. ‘How’d it end?’
Long Fanta sip. ‘Sex talk. They demo: laughs, tickles, full-body licks. 69 poetry. Analingus. Penetration bliss. My squirt seals it.’
‘No fucking you?’
‘Nah. Saving my ass for someone special. Vigorous yet fragile.’
‘Me?’
‘Nope!’ Laughs.
‘Bosses on the tractor?’
‘One’s 40s, boozers. Weekly blow or handjob buys freedom. Love the outdoor gig.’
Selim bursts back. We lie entwined on heated marble, my mouth on Jimmy’s pulsing cock, his on mine. Climax hits—’Mmmmmmmmmmhhhhhh!’—waves crashing, cum swallowed in penthouse hush. Glass walls seal our secret, city lights wink below.
