Hairy Arab master is having fun with me
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Hairy Arab master is having fun with me

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Im so happy when only see me as play thing just to make them happy or entertaining them
From Accidental Musk to Deliberate Master
It started on that sketchy roommate app. The ad was blunt: “Straight Arab construction worker, 6’4”, big apartment, cheap rent. Need chill roommate who can handle a man’s mess. No drama, no bullshit.”
The photo showed Asif in a tight white tank top stretched over a thick, hairy chest, sweat stains already visible, work jeans low on his hips with a heavy bulge pressing against the denim. His arms were massive, covered in dark hair, and his beard framed a cocky, no-nonsense grin. I messaged him immediately.
We met at a cheap coffee shop near the construction site. Asif showed up twenty minutes late, still in his work clothes. The white tank was soaked dark under his pits and down the deep valley of his hairy chest. He reeked of fresh sweat, diesel, and pure male labor. At 6’4” he towered over me, olive skin glistening.
“You the slim boy who messaged?” he asked, voice deep and rough with a thick accent. He didn’t shake my hand — just wiped sweat from his forehead with his forearm and sniffed it casually. “Name’s Asif. I work hard, I sweat hard. You okay with that?”
I nodded, already feeling my pulse race as his scent hit me. “Yeah… I’m clean, I can cook and tidy up.”
He laughed, a low aggressive bark, and slapped my shoulder hard enough to sting. “Good. Place needs someone who isn’t a lazy fuck. Sit.”
We talked rent and rules. Under the table, his heavy work boot “accidentally” nudged my sneaker, then his hairy calf brushed mine when he shifted. He manspread wide, one thick thigh almost touching mine.
“Long day on the scaffolds,” he grunted, lifting one arm to scratch the back of his head. His pit hair was matted and wet, the sharp musky smell rolling toward me. “You don’t mind real man smell, right? I’m straight, I don’t do perfume shit.”
My tiny cock twitched hard in my jeans. I stammered, “N-no, it’s fine.”
He smirked, not noticing my flush. “We’ll see. Come check the place tomorrow.”
The apartment tour the next day sealed it. Asif kicked off his steel-toe boots at the door. A thick wave of cheesy, leathery foot sweat filled the hallway. His white socks were damp, toes outlined, dark hairs sticking through the fabric on top.
“Fuck, that feels better,” he groaned, wiggling his massive toes. “Twelve hours in those boots. Smells like hell, huh? Whatever, it’s my place.”
He showed me around in just his tank and jeans, flexing unconsciously as he pointed things out. The tank rode up, revealing a dense black treasure trail vanishing into his low waistband. Every movement made his heavy bulge shift visibly.
“You cook?” he asked, scratching his balls openly through his jeans. “I eat like a horse after work. Big portions.”
I volunteered eagerly, eyes glued to the dark sweat patch spreading lower on his tank.
We hung out a few evenings before I moved in. Beers on the couch, soccer on TV. Asif would sprawl out, legs wide, one socked foot ending up on the coffee table right next to my leg. Sometimes it “slipped” and rested against my thigh.
“Feet are killing me, man,” he muttered one night, not looking at me. “Long shift. You mind if I put them up?”
Before I could answer, his heavy damp sock landed on my lap. The heat and funk hit me instantly — sharp vinegar and boot leather. My cock throbbed painfully. He groaned in relief, flexing his toes against my leg.
“Feels good to stretch. Rub them if you want, they’re sore as fuck.”
I hesitated, then started massaging. The sweat seeped through the sock onto my fingers. Asif sighed deeply, almost aggressively. “Yeah… harder. Good hands, habibi. Soft like a girl’s.”
He adjusted his crotch casually, the fat outline of his cock thickening slightly. I was leaking in my pants and he had no idea.
After I moved in, the accidental teasing got worse.
Mornings he’d shower with the door half open, grunting and soaping his thick hairy body. I’d “pass by” and catch glimpses of his uncut cock swinging heavy, foreskin dripping, black hair plastered wet across his chest, back, and ass.
One morning he caught me looking. “What? Never seen a real man shower before?” he barked, but laughed it off and kept pissing loudly in the shower, stream strong and yellow. “Close the door if it bothers you, boy.”
It didn’t bother me. It made me sneak back later to lick the toilet rim where his piss had splashed.
Evenings were the worst. He’d come home drenched, tank transparent with sweat, jeans dark at the crotch. He’d drop on the couch, yank off his boots, and the room would fill with raw foot funk.
“Goddamn, today was brutal,” he’d growl, peeling his socks off and tossing them toward the hamper. One always landed near my door. “Smell that? That’s honest work, not your soft office shit.”
He’d lift an arm, sniff his own pit, then scratch it vigorously, dark wet hair visible. “Straight man sweat. Women love it or hate it — no in between.”
I’d sit there rock hard, pretending to watch TV while inhaling every wave of his musk. He never noticed how I squirmed.
Then came the night everything changed.
Asif had been out drinking with his crew — Khalid and Omar, two more hairy, built Arab guys just like him. They’d stopped by earlier, all three manspreading, farting loudly, scratching balls and pits while joking about girls. I’d been serving beers, eyes dropping constantly to their thick jean bulges and sweaty forearms.
After they left, Asif was buzzed and sweaty. He cornered me in the kitchen, towering over me.
“You were staring the whole time, weren’t you?” he said, voice low and aggressive. “At my boys. At me. Thought you were just shy. But nah…”
He grabbed the back of my neck with one big rough hand and shoved my face straight into his soaked armpit.
“Sniff it. Go on. I saw how hard you got when my foot was on your lap. When I took my socks off. You’re a little faggot, aren’t you?”
I whimpered, inhaling deep. The musk was overpowering — sharp, salty, masculine.
Asif laughed darkly. “Fuck. My roommate’s a secret cock-hungry faggot. And here I thought you were just polite.”
From that night on, nothing was accidental.
He started doing everything on purpose.
Next evening he came home extra sweaty, stripped to his stained boxers in the living room, and called me over.
“On your knees, boy. I know you want it.”
When I hesitated, he grabbed my hair and pulled my face to his hairy, sweaty chest.
“Lick. Clean a straight man’s sweat. I fuck pussy, not boys — but you? You’re my stress relief now.”
He made me massage his feet while he watched, this time bare. “Suck the toes if you’re that desperate. Yeah… just like that, faggot. Deeper.”
He’d piss with the door wide open, then snap his fingers. “Get over here. Mouth open. Straight man piss is all you get.”
Some nights he’d come back horny from a bad date, shove me against the wall, and fuck my throat roughly.
“Take it. This cock is for women, but your mouth is convenient. Gag on it, bitch.”
He’d slap his heavy, sweaty balls on my face and growl, “This is what a real man smells like. You live for it now.”
With his friends over, he got bolder. He’d make me fetch beers on my knees, then casually say, “My roommate’s a good little faggot. Rub Omar’s feet — he worked harder than me today.”
They’d laugh, but Asif’s eyes stayed on me, possessive and aggressive. “He loves the smell. Don’t you, boy? Tell them.”
I’d whisper, “Yes… Master.”
He loved that word. From then on he demanded it.
“Call me that when we’re alone. I’m your straight Master. I own this apartment and I own this eager faggot hole.”
Now every day is deliberate ownership.
He comes home sweating, strips, and orders me to bury my face in his hairy ass crack while he eats dinner. “Tongue deeper, faggot. Clean your Master.”
He leaves his used, piss-stained boxers on my pillow. Makes me drink his morning piss straight from the tap while he pisses aggressively down my throat.
And every single time he reminds me, voice rough and dominant:
“I’m straight. I’ll never suck your little dick. I’ll never kiss you. But you? You’re mine. My sweaty, hairy, aggressive release. My personal faggot roommate slut.”
He’ll never be gentle. He’ll never stop being the straight, dominant, constantly sweaty construction beast I first met.
And that’s exactly why I’m completely, stupidly addicted to my Master.
### "Sweaty Arab Alpha Owner"
Ahmed was a 29-year-old Arab Muslim construction foreman — thick, powerful, and covered head to toe in dense black body hair. His chest was a thick carpet of dark curls, always matted with sweat after long days on the site. His armpits were ridiculously bushy, two heavy patches of wet, musky hair that released a strong, masculine scent whenever he lifted his arms. His thighs were massive and heavily furred, sweat constantly dripping down the black hair. Even his huge feet had coarse hair on the toes. He was pure alpha — loud, crude, and unapologetically straight.
Alex, his new slim, smooth, feminine roommate, was the opposite. From the moment Alex moved in, he became completely obsessed with Ahmed. He was a total secret faggot for hairy Arab men. Every evening he would hide behind his slightly open bedroom door and spy on Ahmed when he came home sweaty and dirty from work.
At first, Ahmed didn’t notice the shy glances.
One night, Alex heard Ahmed stumble into the bathroom after a 12-hour shift. The door was left half-open. Alex crept closer and peeked. Ahmed stood at the toilet in just his loose work shorts, pulled down below his hairy ass. His thick, uncut Arab cock hung heavy as he pissed loudly into the bowl. Sweat glistened on his hairy back and thighs. When he finished, Ahmed didn’t flush. He just shook his cock, pulled up his shorts, and walked out, leaving the toilet full of his strong yellow piss.
Alex’s heart pounded. After Ahmed went to the couch, Alex slipped into the bathroom, locked the door, and dropped to his knees. He pressed his face to the warm toilet seat and started licking — tasting Ahmed’s piss, smelling the musky scent left behind. His tiny clitty leaked in his panties as he whispered, “Thank you, Alpha…”
Ahmed still didn’t know. But he started catching small things.
He noticed Alex staring when he manspread on the couch, hairy thighs wide open, the large bulge in his shorts obvious. He saw Alex’s eyes locked on his bushy, sweaty armpits whenever he stretched. One evening Ahmed deliberately raised both arms behind his head for a long time, exposing the wet, hairy pits fully while smirking to himself. Alex’s face turned bright red.
Then Ahmed began doing things on purpose.
He started coming home, stripping to just tight black boxer shorts, and sitting with his legs spread wide. He would scratch his sweaty armpits slowly, then sniff his own fingers with a grin. Sometimes he spat on the floor right in front of Alex and rubbed his huge hairy foot over the spit. He left the bathroom door open more often when pissing, never flushing, knowing deep down someone was cleaning it with his tongue.
Weeks passed. Ahmed pretended he still didn’t notice, but he loved the power.
One night, while Ahmed was deep asleep on the couch (shirtless, shorts riding up his hairy thighs, one arm behind his head exposing a sweaty armpit), Alex couldn’t resist anymore. He crawled over quietly. First he buried his face in Ahmed’s hairy armpit, licking the salty sweat and thick black hair, moaning softly. Then he moved down, licking the sweat from Ahmed’s hairy chest and belly. Finally he gently pulled Ahmed’s shorts aside and licked along the sweaty crease of his hairy thighs and balls, tasting the strong musk. Ahmed didn’t wake up, only grunted and shifted, his thick cock twitching slightly. Alex stole the sweaty boxer shorts from the floor and went back to his room to sniff and hump them like a desperate faggot.
From then on, every single night became ritual for Alex.
While Ahmed slept, Alex would sneak in:
- Lick Ahmed’s sweaty hairy armpits clean
- Bury his tongue between the hairy thighs and under the heavy balls
- Suck on the big hairy toes of those massive construction feet
- Steal the cum-stained or sweat-soaked boxers to wear or cum into
Alex had become a total faggot for Arab men. During the day, when Ahmed was at work, Alex started going to parks and cruising spots known for hairy Arab immigrants. He would dress slutty — tiny shorts, crop top — and seduce rough, hairy Arab construction workers and taxi drivers. He let them fuck him raw in the bushes or cars, taking load after load deep in his ass and on his face. He would come home late at night with dried cum still streaked on his cheeks, chin, and eyelashes, his hole leaking.
Ahmed started noticing.
One evening Alex came back with obvious cum on his face. Ahmed was sitting on the couch manspreading, hairy thighs out, scratching his bushy armpit.
Ahmed looked at him with a mocking smile and asked casually, “What’s that white shit on your face, boy? Looks like you got painted.”
Alex froze, blushing furiously.
Ahmed laughed loudly. “You know what? I fucking hate faggots. Disgusting pigs. Gays are all brainless idiots who think with their asses. Real men like me fuck real women. Faggots are just pathetic cum dumpsters.”
He said it with a grin, eyes locked on Alex, spitting on the floor near his hairy feet.
But Ahmed kept the teasing going every night. He would joke more and more about “filthy faggots” while deliberately showing off — lifting his arms to air his sweaty pits, manspreading wider, spitting, and leaving his dirty boxers on the floor for Alex to “find.”
Then one night, after Alex had come home with fresh cum dripping down his thighs from another park hookup, Ahmed finally dropped the act.
He grabbed Alex by the hair, pulled him close, and said in his deep Arabic-accented voice:
“I know exactly what you are, little sissy. I’ve known for weeks. You’ve been licking my sweaty hairy body while I sleep like a desperate Arab-worshipping faggot. Stealing my boxers. Cleaning my piss from the toilet. Getting your holes wrecked by other hairy Arab men and coming home covered in their cum.”
Ahmed smirked and raised his middle finger slowly in Alex’s face.
“From now on, you’re not my roommate anymore. You’re my personal submissive toy faggot. Your only job is to worship this hairy, sweaty Muslim alpha body every single day. You’ll lick my armpits, my thighs, my feet, my ass, and drink my piss straight from the source. You’ll beg real Arab men to breed you and then show me the results like the proud cum pig you are.”
Ahmed pulled down his shorts, revealing his thick, hairy, semi-hard cock.
“Start tonight. Get on your knees and clean these sweaty hairy balls with your tongue while I tell you how pathetic and stupid faggots like you are.”
Alex dropped instantly, face burning with shame and arousal, completely broken and owned by his dominant, hairy Arab construction worker roommate.
Ahmed had turned his secret admirer into his personal submissive Arab-worshipping toy — and he was only getting started.

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New Roommate – Part 2
Weeks passed, and Alex was slowly losing his mind.
Marco lived like a typical straight construction worker — loud, messy, unapologetically masculine. Every evening he came home covered in sweat and dust, stripped down to his boxers in the living room, and sprawled out on the couch with his thick, hairy legs spread wide. His massive chest rose and fell as he scratched through the dense forest of black hair covering his pecs and stomach. The heavy musk that rolled off his body filled the entire apartment.
Alex would sit across from him in tiny shorts and an oversized hoodie, pretending to scroll on his phone while secretly staring at every detail: the way Marco’s hairy armpits were exposed when he stretched, the dark treasure trail that disappeared under the waistband of his boxers, the way his heavy bulge shifted when he adjusted himself.
One Thursday night, Marco came home especially sweaty.
Marco: (grunting as he kicked off his boots)
Fuck, today was brutal. The sun was beating down all day. I’m fucking soaked, bro.
He pulled off his tank top right there in the living room, revealing his powerfully built, extremely hairy torso. Sweat glistened in the thick curls on his chest. He lifted one arm and casually sniffed his pit, then laughed.
Marco:
Jesus, I reek. Gonna hit the shower in a minute.
Alex’s tiny cock instantly hardened inside his shorts. He could see beads of sweat rolling down Marco’s hairy stomach and soaking into the waistband of his boxers.
Alex: (soft voice, trying to sound casual)
You can shower first… I don’t mind.
Marco nodded and headed to the bathroom, leaving his sweaty tank top and shorts on the floor. The second the door closed, Alex was on his knees.
He grabbed the tank top and buried his face in the armpit section. The scent was overwhelming — strong, salty, masculine sweat mixed with Marco’s natural musk. Alex’s eyes rolled back as he inhaled deeply, his little cock leaking into his panties.
Alex: (whispering desperately)
Fuck… he smells so fucking good… so hairy… so alpha…
He moved to the gym shorts next. The crotch was damp and warm. Alex pressed his nose right into the stained pouch, breathing in the heavy ball sweat and the faint piss scent. His smooth femboy body trembled with lust. He even licked the fabric, tasting the salt of Marco’s day-long sweat.
When Marco came out of the shower, he was only wearing a towel slung low on his hips. The towel barely contained his thick bulge, and a line of wet black pubic hair peeked above the edge. Water droplets clung to the dense hair on his chest and stomach.
Marco: (toweling his hair casually)
Bathroom’s free, little bro. I left my dirty clothes on the floor again — sorry, I’m a slob.
He didn’t even notice how flushed Alex looked or how the smaller boy’s thighs were pressed together tightly.
The tension kept building.
A few nights later, Marco fell asleep on the couch after drinking a few beers. He was lying on his back, one leg hanging off the couch, the other spread wide. His boxers had ridden up badly. One heavy, low-hanging hairy ball had slipped completely out, resting against his thick thigh. The dark curls around it were still slightly damp from the day’s sweat.
Alex’s heart pounded so hard he thought Marco would hear it. He quietly crawled closer on all fours until his face was only inches away from Marco’s exposed ballsack. The raw, heavy musk hit him like a wave — pure alpha male, sweaty, musky, slightly pissy.
He leaned in even closer, nose almost touching the wrinkled, hairy skin. His tiny cock was throbbing painfully in his tiny pink panties.
Alex: (barely audible whisper)
Oh my god… they’re so big… so hairy… I want to lick them so bad…
Marco shifted in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent. His thick, soft cock flopped out too, landing heavily against his hairy thigh. It was veiny even when soft, surrounded by a wild, unkempt bush of black pubic hair.
Alex was shaking with desire. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face between those muscular, hairy thighs and worship every inch. But he held back, terrified of waking the big straight man.
Instead, he quietly pulled out his phone and took several secret photos — close-ups of Marco’s hairy balls, his thick cock, and the dense forest covering his groin. Later that night, locked in his room, Alex jerked his tiny cock furiously while staring at the pictures, whispering Marco’s name over and over.
Alex: (moaning softly)
Marco… your hairy body… your smell… I’m such a pathetic little faggot for you…
Marco, meanwhile, remained completely clueless. To him, Alex was just his quiet, slightly feminine roommate who paid rent on time and didn’t complain about the mess. He still saw him as “the kid” — nothing sexual ever crossed his mind. He continued walking around half-naked, scratching his balls, farting loudly, and treating Alex like any regular bro.
The secret obsession grew stronger every day.
Alex started doing little “accidental” things — “forgetting” to knock before entering the bathroom when Marco was showering, leaving his own tiny thongs in the laundry basket mixed with Marco’s dirty boxers, wearing extra short shorts around the house so his smooth legs and cute butt were on display.
Marco never seemed to notice the sexual tension. He’d just grin and say things like:
Marco:
You’re a skinny little dude, huh? You should hit the gym with me sometime, build some muscle.
But every time Marco said something like that, Alex’s mind went straight to imagining being pinned down by that big hairy body, smothered in sweat and musk.
The breaking point was getting closer.
One Friday night, Marco came home extra late and extra sweaty. He collapsed on the couch without showering, legs spread wide, and within minutes was snoring loudly. His boxers had ridden up even more than usual, and both heavy, hairy balls were hanging out, along with half of his thick, soft cock.
Alex couldn’t take it anymore.
He crawled between Marco’s spread legs, heart hammering, face inches away from the sleeping alpha’s exposed, musky crotch…
New Roommate
Alex was 19, slim, smooth-skinned, and undeniably feminine. He had soft features, long lashes, and a naturally petite body that made him look more like a pretty boy than a regular guy. He loved wearing tight little shorts, crop tops, and thigh-high socks when he was alone. Deep down, he was a total faggot — obsessed with big, hairy, masculine men.
When he saw the roommate ad, his heart skipped a beat. The guy’s name was Marco — 34 years old, construction worker, “straight-acting, clean, no drama.” The photos showed a tall, thickly muscled man with a full beard and a chest so hairy it spilled out of his tank top. Alex’s tiny cock twitched just from looking at the pictures.
He moved in on a Friday evening.
Marco opened the door wearing a sweaty white tank top and gray gym shorts. His massive, hairy chest and thick arms glistened with sweat from the gym. Dark hair covered his pecs, shoulders, and trailed down his stomach in a thick treasure trail that disappeared into his shorts. His legs were tree-trunk thick and covered in coarse black hair.
Marco: (deep, casual voice)
Yo, you must be Alex. Come in, bro. I just got back from the gym. Sorry about the smell.
Alex’s knees almost buckled. The heavy, masculine musk of sweat, musk, and pure man hit him like a drug. He could see Marco’s hairy armpits when he raised his arms, the thick bush of hair under there dark and damp. Marco’s bulge in those loose shorts looked heavy and full.
Alex: (soft, slightly breathy voice)
H-hi… Yeah, I’m Alex. Nice to meet you.
Marco showed him around the small apartment like any normal straight guy would. He was friendly but very “bro” — slapping Alex on the back, talking about work, sports, and how he hated “clean freaks.” He scratched his hairy chest absentmindedly while talking, fingers running through the thick pelt.
That night, Alex lay in his bed listening to Marco shower. When Marco came out, he was only wearing a towel around his waist. Water droplets clung to the dense forest of hair on his chest and stomach. The towel hung low, showing the top of his thick pubic bush.
Marco: (toweling his hair)
Bathroom’s free, dude. I left it a bit messy, hope you don’t mind. I’m not big on cleaning after a long day.
Alex’s tiny cock was rock hard under the blanket. He waited until Marco went to his room, then quietly crept to the bathroom. The air was thick with Marco’s scent — heavy sweat, soap, and pure alpha male. The hairy alpha had left his sweaty tank top and gym shorts on the floor. Alex couldn’t resist.
He picked up the tank top and buried his face in the armpit area, inhaling deeply. The strong, pungent smell of Marco’s hairy pits made his head spin. His little cock leaked pre-cum as he rubbed the fabric against his face.
Alex: (whispering to himself)
Fuck… he smells so good… so manly…
He pulled out Marco’s gym shorts next. The crotch was still warm and damp. Alex pressed his nose right into the stained pouch, breathing in the heavy ball sweat and musk. His smooth, femboy body trembled with lust.
From that night on, Alex lived in secret heaven and torture.
Every evening Marco would come home sweaty from the construction site or gym. He’d strip down to his boxers in the living room without a care, his massively hairy body on full display — thick chest hair, hairy stomach, bushy armpits, and the dark forest between his legs. He’d scratch his balls through his boxers, fart casually, and talk about his day like any regular straight alpha guy.
Marco: (scratching his hairy chest)
Man, today was brutal. Sweated like a pig. These shorts are soaked, bro.
Alex would sit on the couch pretending to watch TV, but his eyes were glued to every inch of Marco’s hairy body. His tiny femboy cock would strain against his tiny shorts, leaking constantly while Marco remained completely oblivious, treating Alex like a regular (if a bit quiet) roommate.
One night Marco fell asleep on the couch after a long day, legs spread wide. His boxers had ridden up, and one heavy, hairy ball had slipped out the leg hole — thick, low-hanging, covered in dark curls, still slightly sweaty. Alex’s mouth watered. He quietly got closer, heart pounding, and leaned in until his nose was inches away from Marco’s exposed hairy ballsack.
The raw, masculine scent was intoxicating.
He wanted so badly to lick it, to bury his face between those hairy thighs, but he didn’t dare. Not yet.
Marco shifted in his sleep, mumbling something, and his thick, soft cock flopped out too — heavy, veiny, surrounded by a wild bush of black pubic hair. Alex almost moaned out loud.
Alex: (whispering, trembling)
God… he’s so fucking hairy… so alpha… and he has no idea what he’s doing to me…
Marco remained completely straight in his mind — just a regular, hairy, masculine guy sharing an apartment. He had zero sexual thoughts about his cute, feminine little roommate. He just liked having someone to split rent with and shoot the shit with after work.
But for Alex, every single day became pure erotic torture and secret bliss.
He started “accidentally” walking in on Marco changing. He’d “forget” his charger in Marco’s room just to catch glimpses of that hairy, muscular body. At night he’d jerk his tiny cock furiously while sniffing Marco’s dirty laundry, fantasizing about being used by the big hairy alpha who still saw him as nothing more than his chill roommate.
The tension was building.
Marco had no idea yet… but Alex was already completely addicted.
He said i look like a good dog 🐕🤤
🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤
It was a very hot summer on the construction site in France. I was the new helper, a slim white European femboy with soft pale skin, long blond hair, and a pretty face. Most of the workers were tough Arab men. The one who made me horny every day was Karim.
Karim was a big Moroccan guy, late thirties, tall and strong. His body was covered in thick black hair on his chest, arms, belly, and ass. Every afternoon his dark olive skin was shiny with sweat. He smelled strong — salty, musky, like a real man who worked hard all day.
At first he just talked to me normal. “Hey blondie, hold this.” When he came close, his sweaty hairy arm touched my smooth skin. His smell hit me hard. My cock started getting hard in my shorts and I tried to hide it. Karim acted like he didn’t notice, but he kept finding reasons to stay near me.
He joked a lot. “You are too pretty for this job, little European boy. You look like you want to suck cock instead of carry bricks.” He laughed loud, but his eyes looked at me different. He wiped sweat from his hairy chest with his hand and then rubbed the same hand on my shoulder. The warm wet smell made my hole twitch.
One Friday the other workers left early. Only me and Karim stayed to finish the job. The sun was still hot. Karim pulled off his wet t-shirt. His big hairy chest was dripping. Thick black hair stuck to his skin. A long trail of hair went down his belly into his pants. His armpits were bushy and dark, full of sweat.
He saw me staring at his body.
“You like looking at my hairy Arab body, huh?” he said with a smirk. “I saw you sniffing when I get close. Your little femboy cock gets hard from my smell, right?”
I blushed hard but nodded. “Yes… I like it. A lot.”
Karim stepped closer. His big cock was already pushing against his work pants. “Good. I like that you are horny for me. Come here. Smell me properly.”
I walked to him. He raised one arm and pushed my face into his sweaty hairy armpit. The smell was so strong — salty sweat, man musk, a little bit of old deodorant. I breathed deep and my cock got rock hard.
“Fuck yes,” Karim groaned. “Lick it, pretty boy. Taste my Arab sweat.”
I stuck out my tongue and licked the wet black hair. It tasted salty and bitter and perfect. Karim moaned and grabbed my long blond hair. “Good little slut. You love hairy Arab men, don’t you?”
He pulled down his pants. His thick, dark cock jumped out. It was big, uncut, with heavy hairy balls. Pre-cum was leaking from the tip. “Get on your knees.”
I dropped down fast. I took his sweaty cock in my mouth and sucked hard. The taste of his sweat and pre-cum mixed together. Karim fucked my face slowly, his hairy balls slapping my chin.
“Take it deeper, femboy. Choke on Arab dick.”
He pulled me up after a while and bent me over a stack of wood. He spit on his fingers and pushed two thick fingers into my tight pink hole. “So smooth and tight. Your white ass is made for Arab cock.”
I moaned loud. “Please fuck me, Karim.”
He rubbed his fat cockhead on my hole, then pushed in slow. Inch by inch his hairy body pressed against my smooth back. When he was all the way inside he started thrusting hard. His sweaty hairy chest rubbed on my back. His big balls slapped my ass.
“Take it, little European whore. This is what you wanted all week — big hairy Arab dick in your boy pussy.”
He fucked me faster, grunting in Arabic and French. Sweat poured off his body onto mine. I could smell him everywhere. My own little cock was leaking on the ground.
Karim reached around and stroked me while he pounded my hole. “Cum for me, pretty boy.”
I came hard, shooting on the concrete. My ass squeezed his cock. Karim growled and pushed deep. He filled my hole with thick hot cum. When he pulled out, his cum leaked down my legs.
He turned me around and kissed me rough. “Next time at my place. I want you to spend the whole night licking every hairy part of me.”
I smiled, still breathing heavy. “Yes, please.”

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this arab alpha’s thick hairy chest, sweaty post-gym armpits and powerful hairy thighs have me so weak 😭
just a pathetic boy leaking over all that dark manly hair and musky scent… desperate to bury my face in those pits and worship every inch like the weak boy i am.
every boy reading this feels it too… god i’m disgusting for needing this so bad."
Im a toy for them 🤤❤️
Hairy sweaty musky arab master taste so good

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Yummyyyy smell