English translation below.gsQuelques extraits...
''Ils pouvaient tous, et à leur guise, et en permanence, tout jeter et à n'importe quel moment dans la cuvette, jusqu'à tard dans la nuit, l'excédent et surplus du trop-plein de leurs couilles, afin qu'elles fussent entièrement vidées, complètement nettoyées, résolument dégraissées à sec par leur grandiose tapette.''
''He knew to reach the unique moment of his male superiority belittling me to mine inferior of a female blowing off his dick that totally filled my destiny.''
''Si la ville entière me savait être né la bouche ouverte et la rondelle accueillante, le gosier profond et les cellules immédiatement reproductives, jamais farouche et femme facile, elle me courtisait cependant, sans cesse entouré de belles et sublimes beautés viriles que le monde entier, sans vergogne, aurait payé des millions pour les avoir à ses côtés et dans son plumard. Les israéliens considéraient Haïfa comme une ville de troisième zone reculée et ''has been'', pauvre et trop arabe, limitée de plaisirs occidentaux. Les juifs aimaient vivre entre eux par culture ancestrale d'une histoire aussi récente qui les rassurait de connaitre leurs voisins, même si ceux du Sud de la Méditerranée ne fréquentaient pas ceux du Sud de la Baltique, et que les classes entre elles ne se mélangeaient pas. J'en avais pris l'habitude sans commenter ce qui de cet état de fait me dérangeait, et si j'habitais comme un bon juif bien formaté aux règles locales d'une ville uniforme, je retournais chaque semaine à Haïfa m'y faire mettre, entouré des plus extraordinaires beautés à la Mike Brant, et qui lui-même, était originaire de la ville dont il était sur tout point, représentatif de cette magnificence exclusivement masculine. À la vue de tels visages aux barbes noires et regards étincelants de noirceur qui me regardaient arriver, ces grands corps de footballeurs aux jambes arquées et aux mâchoires carrées qui me prenaient dans leurs bras d'acier pour me saluer, je me pâmais, féminine et désireuse, sachant déjà que tous allaient plus tard m'honorer avec brio de leur pinne. Car à chaque vision qui n'avait rien de subliminal, mais bien concrète d'absolues beautés et d'esthétique ici, là devant mes yeux, classiques ou non de corps si virils et de mecs puissance mec qui n'électrifiaient de suite que l'âme de mon vagin, je ne pensais après avoir admiré lèvres, mâchoires carrées, nez, grands yeux et cheveux noirs et barbes, qu'à leur queue, animale et bouillante de foutre en ébullition, toujours indécise du moment de la fantastique éruption, qui lui toutefois, était bien assuré de se produire. Il fallait que ça sorte des entrailles de la terre, il fallait qu'ils giclent, peu importe le trou à enfourner leur lave. Ils niquaient pour mon bonheur immense, tout ce qui bouge, et je le remuais mon cul, pour qu'ils n'en peuvent plus, et sans aucune décence. Ils allaient bien assez tôt, le pénétrer, le visser, l'enfoncer, le clouer, mais ces mots n'étaient que des mots, trop gentils et trop faux. Ils excavaient mes puits à grosse raclée et à sec, labouraient, scarifiaient mes terrains sans pudeur ni scrupule jusqu'à mes caves intérieures qui les faisaient gicler haut et fort, culbutant jusqu'à la dernière goutte sur leur lancée, mon forage, les couilles assommant, effrénées, mon menton et mes fesses entrebâillées, pour les mettre à feux et à sang. Une putain pour eux tous, était un moment de providence. Aucune chatte n'osait ouvrir sa fleur pour exulter leur gloire. J'ouvrais moi, avec vanité et infini orgueil, mes cuisses sans pareil, et recevais d'un bloc, leur monstre reproducteur en remerciant le ciel. Ils me faisaient gueuler de souffrances qui me faisaient d'avantage encore, les admirer. Plus j'hurlais leur nom d'implorations à me défoncer le plus profond de mes cavernes, plus ils me tamponnaient avec ardeur du cuir cinglant de leur gland arraché à vif, et que j'emprisonnais alors de mes muscles fortement serrés en mes petits orifices pour leur faire atteindre des merveilles. Je leur étais totalement, entièrement, inconditionnellement, tributaire, et de fiertés à les voir balancer enfin leur jus, assujetti, en vacataire. Je les aimais. J'étais pour eux un français raffiné qui les aimait, je les aimais vraiment et ils le savaient; je les louais de compliments, flattais de grandes eaux leur extraordinaire visage, glorifiais de conquêtes leur énorme bitte, et après quelques whiskies d'une soirée sans femmes, j'étais l'unique, le seul, le glory hole providentiel qui allait satisfaire à l'infini, les besoins de leurs couilles trop lourdes et trop actives, toujours prodigieusement excitées d'effervescence sous le soleil brûlant du Moyen-Orient. Le gaz à l'intérieur de leur liquide se devait alors illico, en mes trous de dégager au plus tôt. J'étais à part mes coutumes et chants européens d'un autre monde, et mes libertés, aussi un jambonneau qu'ils pouvaient peloter, pétrir, prendre en main et malaxer au coin d'une envie subite de gicler leur sperme en vainqueurs qu'ils étaient tous. Ils savaient tous l'un après l'autre, toujours discrets mais déterminés et performants, que je me délectais de suffisances à les faire jouir, à fond de gorge ou comme une brave mégère dont ils s'agrippaient avec force aux hanches, sauvagement enculée. Si Mike Brant était une icône sexuelle sur un poster, rare à trouver dans une rue de Paris ou de Frankfort, j'en avais ici, mille des comme lui. Les braguettes de leurs shorts et jeans délavés étaient toujours, abondemment pleines, les pantalons remplis à bloc et jamais assez bien coupés ni conçus pour contenir le poids de leur attribut de mâle circoncis, pesant et lourd et coupé à ras, aussitôt prêt à ériger leur colonne de marbre au quart de tour pour viser une cible salvatrice en trophée. Elles s'ouvraient d'elles-mêmes, fermetures éclair descendues d'un pouce, boutons décousus et arrachés, boostées par de telles puissances phalliques. Ils avaient à mes esprits, tout de suite après leur admirable beauté divine qui me démettait de mes pensées, une bitte à la place de la tronche, et moi un paquet de chair, pour les satisfaire. Mes seins se durcissaient d'eux-mêmes et mon fion idem, ne pensait qu'à s'éclore. Mes lèvres elles, de ma langue, se soulignaient d'elles-mêmes, et souvent aussi, s'ouvraient en pâture à grandes bouffées, au hasard d'un mot. Je ne voulais être qu'un trou pour leur queue de géant, et les Dieux me concédaient de les faire bander dur comme du fer, ils ne pouvaient plus de cette tension d'organe par afflux immédiat de sang, se défaire, et ce trou, je l'étais. Ils arrivaient des faubourgs ouvriers, de Nazareth ou des petits villages de Galilée ignorant tout de leur grande et impériale beauté, un grand sourire aux lèvres, en pote, en camarade, une tape prolongée sur l'épaule après m'avoir embrassé, et un mot à l'oreille en arabe qui me disait d'un ton décidé, qu'ils voulaient. C'était le mot clef qui enlevait de suite toute angoisse à mes défaillances et qui me laissait savoir, sans plus attendre, qu'ils allaient me tirer. Waleed, Samir, Khalil, Elian, Zvi et Moshe, deux juifs qui eux bouffaient à tous les râteliers, aussi beaux de gloire physique que mes bédouins, allaient d'une nuit programmée qui s'annonçait, me défoncer, grave, profond et sans pitié, après des verres d'absinthe et des ondes de fumée de hashish qui leur ôtaient tout éventuelle gêne morale ou culturelle et qui, tout à coup, ne devenait maintenant, Ô! Délicieuse révérence, qu'une obsession à remplir mes ovaires. J'allais alors dans les toilettes du premier étage préparer mon cul, et sortais de mon sac, huiles et parfums qui leur ouvraient grand la voie, ne sachant qui en premier, allait me sodomiser. J'étais toujours prête à toute intervention qui répondait à une envie subite, et toujours parfaite. Je savais pour la plupart que mes talents d'aspirateur buccal les achevaient rapidement, au bar, dans les chiottes ou dans la rue, dans leur voiture; Elian, lui, trop souvent titillé par sa bitte de colosse qu'il aiguisait entre ses cuisses frétillantes de mouvements vifs et courts, m'emmenait diligent et empressé, sur son scooter, dans un parc environnant le plus proche, et me la sortait, sous un arbre, ou derrière un fourré dans le noir obscur pour excaver ma gorge à genoux après l'avoir travaillée à la main et huilée de ma salive sur sa machine. Il aimait de son grand corps être caressé en conduisant, et flatté de mes attouchements manuels sur sa queue si monumentale de force qui pointait elle, l'horizon et nous guidait, direct, vers le chemin de son éjaculation, toujours rapide, mais plusieurs fois dans la nuit répétée. Je pouvais compter sur lui, sa demande était immense, il pouvait me tringler en nocturne, facilement cinq ou six fois, ne serait-ce qu'une goutte à encore faire cracher dès la prochaine pulsion. Insatiable et maniaque, je priais le ciel de ses dieux qu'il eût encore envie de jaillir sa verve aussitôt mon opération orale terminée. Son gland en boule de plomb plongeuse en mes amygdales me rendait aux anges, calé de ses longues mains sur ma nuque qui ne me laissaient aucune chance de m'échapper, que celle opportune, d'avaler. Il savait atteindre le moment unique de sa supériorité de mâle en me rabaissant à la mienne inférieure de femelle à pomper sa bitte et combler mon destin. Son don de sperme et ma soumission, l'âme fière, à le recevoir, était totale. Je m'exécutais à l'excellence de sa lumière. Il savait en absolu mâle, me remettre à ma place. Les autres se faisaient sucer de façon plus classique, m'observant opérer, à fond de cale certes, habile et travailleuse comme à l'accoutumée, mais ils restaient immobiles, debout ou allongés, le plus souvent assis. Ils se laissaient faire, tranquilles, une cigarette au bec, ou en main une dernière bière, sans poussée labiale frénétique ils attendaient l'explosion en bouche qui les satisfaisait grandement, en rois impassibles, les jambes légèrement trépidantes lors de la décharge électrique, mais toujours avec un dernier grognement d'exultation qui ravissait mon travail de tête. C'était à moi de tout faire, mais j'ingurgitais leur sève avec autant d'avidité, et sans me branler, en un glouton comblé de leurs désirs immodérés. Zvi et Moshe eux je le savais, m'enculeraient plus tard. L'un se complaisait à me voir souffrir, m'entendre gémir, accroché à lui tandis que l'autre me défonçait le cul, débridé, déchaîné, comme un taureau en rut me traitant de pute avant de reprendre la place de l'autre qui lui me tabassait de coups de poing dans le dos, la larynx empalé de l'un quand ce n'était pas l'autre pendant qu'ils se roulaient des pelles en creusant plus profondément mes trous. J'étais à leur service, prise en sandwich, hautaine et orgueilleuse de subir leurs délicieux caprices. Poubelle à foutre spécialisée en ordure ménagère arabe et hébraïque, ils pouvaient tous, et à leur guise, et en permanence, tout jeter et à n'importe quel moment dans la cuvette, jusqu'à tard dans la nuit, l'excédent et surplus du trop-plein de leurs couilles, afin qu'elles fussent entièrement vidées, complètement nettoyées, résolument dégraissées à sec par leur grandiose tapette. Un regard sur mes lèvres, un clin d'oeil, un signe de l'index tapotant sur leur bitte, j'étais à chaque instant assurée de mes fonctions, attendant du prochain qu'il appuyât sur la pédale pour ouvrir large, à nouveau mes couvercles. Et ils me remplissaient à ras bord, et j'en redemandais encore. Je remplissais moi, ma condition en maitre, et ils adoraient tous, ma subversive convention de matrone, révérant la leur sans complexe de niqueur né pour gicler, et rapide, en propulsion somatique d'un moteur à injection, le fin fond de leur cuve à sérum physiologique.
Et, sans culture médicale, biologique, scientifique de toute sorte ou autre et peu importe, je demeurais indubitablement persuadé, du présent et du futur, que de ces jeunes Éphèbes et Apollons, Jeunes Guerriers de Soliman le Magnifique ou Fils de David, Enfants du Prophète ou Terroristes en herbe à se taper une vieille qui restait toujours jeune et belle et jamais malade, je recevais des dieux ma source absolue de jouvence, mentale certes, mais avant tout physique, en pressions osmotiques qu'ils transfusaient de sperme via leurs perméables membranes en jets directs dans mes réceptacles, la puissance de leur jeunesse.''
''They all could, as they pleased, and permanently, throw everything into my pan at any time, until late at night, the overplus and leftovers of their overflowing balls for them to be, entirely emptied, completely cleaned off, resolutely dry cleaned off their fat by their grandiose queer.''
''If the entire town knew I was born with an opened mouth and a welcoming asshole, with a deep gob and immediate reproductive cells, never fussy as an easy girl, it still paid court to me, dependent as I non-strop was from handsome terrify beauties that the whole world, shameless, would have given millions to have them by its side and in the heart fog their bed. Israelis considered Haifa to be a third class and has been city, too poor and too Arabic, limited to occidental pleasures. Jews by ancestral culture or recent history loved living together to make sure their know their neighbors, even though the ones from the South of the Mediterranean sea did not mix with the ones coming from the South of the Baltic sea, and that social classes did not gather between them. I was used to this fact without commenting what annoyed me from it, and if I lived like a good Jew who was formatted to the local rules of one uniform city, I went back each week to Haifa to get screwed, surrounded by the most extraordinary beauties like Mike Brant, who was himself, born there, and quite representative casting up figures, of this exquisite virile magnificence. To the sight of such faces and black beards and dark shining looks that watched me coming, these tall footballers' bodies with curved legs and square jaws that welcomed me in their iron arms made me swoon, feminine and willing, already knowing they'd later honor me with their prick. For at each vision that in now way was a sublimating one, but quite real of absolute beauties and esthetic right here right in front of my eyes, these so virile classical or not bodies that emphasized each of their male power, electrified on the spot, only the soul of my vagina, and I only thought then after having admired their lips, square jaws, noise, big eyes and black hair and beards, of their dick, always animal and boiling of cum and always undecided of the moment when, the terrific eruption would happen, though well insured that it will. They had to throw their lava out of the guts of the earth, they had to spurt, no matter which hole to shove it into. They fucked for my tremendous happiness, everything that moved, and I shacked my ass to drive them mad, without any decency. They would soon enough, penetrate it, screw it, get in it, nail it, but these words were only words, far too kind and too wrong. They excavated my wells trashing them dry, ploughing them, and scarified my grounds immodestly nor scrupulously till my inner caves made them squirt loud and strong, hitting till the last drop on its way, insane, my drilling, their balls knocking down my chin and my opened buttocks, firing them off. A whore for them all was a moment of providence. No pussy dared to bloom its flower to exult their glory. I, opened, with vanity and infinite pride, my legs with no equal, and received at one go, their reproductive monster up between them thanking the skies. They made my suffering scream away and that made me admire them, even more. The more I implored screaming their name to bump me in the deepest of my caverns, the more they ardently crashed into them with their lashing leather cut knob I imprisoned firmly, clenching my little orifices' muscles to make them reach wonders. I was totally, entirely, unconditionally, depending on their cock, and tributary at seeing them shooting their juice in me, submitted as their stand-in. I loved them. I was for them a refined French man who loved them, and I loved them really, and they knew it; I flattered them beyond words and congratulated their extraordinary face, glorified their conquests with their enormous dick, and after one evening with no women and a few whiskies, I was the one, the only one, the providential glory hole that was about to satisfy to the max, the needs of their too heavy and active balls that always were, greatly excited under the burning sun of the Middle-East. The gas inside their liquid needed then and quickly, to burst out in my holes immediately. I was, apart my European habits and musics coming from an other world, me and my freedoms, also a knuckle of ham, a big piece of flesh they could paw and pet, knead and malamute and take in hands at any corner of a sudden envy at splashing their sperm as vanquishers they all were. They all knew one after the other, always discrete but determined and outstandingly effective, that I delighted myself with self-conceit at making them come deep throat, nice and neat, or like a brave shrew whose hips they hold themselves to and savagely fucked on the spot. For if Mike Brant was a sexual icon on a poster, and a rare one to find in the streets of Paris or Frankfurt, I had here, thousands of them like him. The flies of their shorts and stone washed jeans were always, tremendously full, and their overfilled to the brim trousers never were well enough designed and cut to contain the weight of their circumcised male attributes which were heavy and flushed with sharpness, still ready to erect right away in a minute, their marble column to screw a saving target as a trophy. Their actually opened on their own, zippers one inch down, unpicked or pulled buttons out, far too boosted by such phallic powers. They put to my mind, straight after having admired their incredible divine beauty that dismissed me from thinking, a cock instead of their face, and as for me, just identified myself to a bag of flesh to satisfy them. My teats got harder on their own and so was my asshole, only thinking to bloom. My lips, with my tong, underlined themselves, and often too, opened on their own like puffing away twirls of smoke at random of a word. I only wanted to be a hole for their giant dick, and the Gods granted me to get them hard as solid as a rock, driving them over the edge by too much tension of their organ getting influxes of blood they could not get rid of. And that hole, I was it. They came from working class suburbs, from Nazareth or from little villages of Galilee, totally ignoring their great and imperial beauty, teeth out, and as good fellows, as buddies, slapped my shoulder they hold longer to say hi after having kissed me hello, and, with a determined and discrete word in arabic to my ear, said to me they wanted. That was the key word that immediately took the anxieties of my weaknesses away and that let me know, with no endless waiting anymore, that I was about to get laid. Waleed, Samir, Khalil, Elian, Zvi and Moshe, two Jews who used any trick they could but as handsome of glory as my bedouins were, announced from a night that was already set, they were severely, seriously, deeply and without mercy, gonna do me after a few glasses of absinth and twirls of hashish that made them vanish any eventual cultural or moral trouble which suddenly became, O! Divine reverence, only an obsession to fill up my ovaries. I got up then to the first floor toilets to prepare my ass, took out of my bag oils and fragrances that opened big, their way in, not knowing who first would sodomize me. I always was ready for any eventuality that answered to a sudden need , and perfect, always was I. I knew that to most of the, my vacuuming oral talents finished them off rapidly, at the bar, in the loos or in the street, in the car; as for Elian, far too often burnt by his titillating colossal prick he sharpened between his wriggling legs with quick and short moves, he rode me, diligent and in a hurry, on his scooter in some park as nearby as possible to take it out to me, under a tree or behind bushes in the total dark of the night to excavate my throat with it offered to him on my knees after I had manually worked on it on the way with my saliva as he drove his machine. His tall body loved being caressed as he rode, and flattered with manual touches on his monumental cock pointing the horizon and that guided us, directly to the zenith of his ejaculation, always quick, but more than once overnight spurting away. I could count on him, his demand was tremendous, he could at night fill me in five or six times, easy, never mind if there was only one drop left to shoot at the next pulse. Insatiable and maniac, I praised the sky and its gods he needed to gush his verve again as soon as my buccal operating process was over. His knob as an iron digging bowl into my tonsils drove me up the wall, well immobilized in his long hands on my nape that left me no chance to escape but the one, opportunistic, to swallow. He knew to reach the unique moment of his male superiority belittling me to mine inferior of a female blowing off his dick that totally filled my destiny. His sperm giving and my submission of a proud soul, was total when receiving it. I complied to the excellence of his light. He knew as an absolute male, let me know where I stood. The others were being sucked in more classical ways, watching my head job, deep down indeed, skillful and hard working as I was, but they staid still, quiet, smoking a fag or one last beer can in their hand, standing or laying down, though most of the time sitting down. They let me do my job come and cool without any frantic labial push waiting for the explosion in mouth that greatly satisfied them, as impassible kings, their legs slightly vibrating at the time of the electrical discharge, but always with one last groan of exultation that delighted my inner soul. I was the one to do everything, but I swallowed their sap with as much eagerness, without wanking, as a gloutton fully contented from their immoderate desires. Zvi and Moshe, I knew it, would fuck me later. One pleased himself at seeing me suffering, hear me cry and moan grabbing his legs while the other screwed my ass hard, out of his mind like a bull in rut calling me a slut before the other took his place and thumped my back with his fist when my larynx was then impaled by the other not knowing anymore who was who as they kissed each other, digging in deeper into my holes. I was at their command, as a sandwich man, haughty and vain to undergo their delightful whims. Sperm trash can specialized for Arabic and Hebraic garbage, they all could, as they pleased, and permanently, throw everything into my pan at anytime, until late at night, the overplus and leftovers of their overflowing balls for them to be, entirely emptied, completely cleaned off, resolutely dry cleaned off their fat by their grandiose queer. A look on my lips, a quick glance, a sign by their forefinger tapping their cock, I was at each moment sure of my deeds, waiting for the next one that would press the pedal to open big, again, my lids. And they filled it to the brim, and I asked for more. I personally filled, my condition of a master, and they all adored my subversive convention of a matron, revering theirs of born fuckers made to shoot without any complex, and rapidly, as a somatic propulsion of a combustion engine, the deepest of their physiologic serum out of their tun.
And, without any medical culture, biological or scientific one of any kind or an other and who cares, I deeply remained totally persuaded that, from the present to the future, out of these young Adonis and Apollos, Young Suleiman The Magnificent Warriors or Sons of David, Children of the Prophet or Terrorists weeds fucking an old broad that still was young and fresh and never sick, I received from the Gods my absolute fountain of Youth, a mental one indeed, though first of all physical, as osmotic pressures they transfused with sperm though their permeable membranes as direct jets into my receptacles, the power of their youth as well.''
Et, sans culture médicale, biologique, scientifique de toute sorte ou autre et peu importe, je demeurais indubitablement persuadé, du présent et du futur, que de ces jeunes Éphèbes et Apollons, Jeunes Guerriers de Soliman le Magnifique ou Fils de David, Enfants du Prophète ou Terroristes en herbe à se taper une vieille qui restait toujours jeune et belle et jamais malade, je recevais des dieux ma source absolue de jouvence, mentale certes, mais avant tout physique, en pressions osmotiques qu'ils transfusaient de sperme via leurs perméables membranes en jets directs dans mes réceptacles, la puissance de leur jeunesse.''
''They all could, as they pleased, and permanently, throw everything into my pan at any time, until late at night, the overplus and leftovers of their overflowing balls for them to be, entirely emptied, completely cleaned off, resolutely dry cleaned off their fat by their grandiose queer.''
''If the entire town knew I was born with an opened mouth and a welcoming asshole, with a deep gob and immediate reproductive cells, never fussy as an easy girl, it still paid court to me, dependent as I non-strop was from handsome terrify beauties that the whole world, shameless, would have given millions to have them by its side and in the heart fog their bed. Israelis considered Haifa to be a third class and has been city, too poor and too Arabic, limited to occidental pleasures. Jews by ancestral culture or recent history loved living together to make sure their know their neighbors, even though the ones from the South of the Mediterranean sea did not mix with the ones coming from the South of the Baltic sea, and that social classes did not gather between them. I was used to this fact without commenting what annoyed me from it, and if I lived like a good Jew who was formatted to the local rules of one uniform city, I went back each week to Haifa to get screwed, surrounded by the most extraordinary beauties like Mike Brant, who was himself, born there, and quite representative casting up figures, of this exquisite virile magnificence. To the sight of such faces and black beards and dark shining looks that watched me coming, these tall footballers' bodies with curved legs and square jaws that welcomed me in their iron arms made me swoon, feminine and willing, already knowing they'd later honor me with their prick. For at each vision that in now way was a sublimating one, but quite real of absolute beauties and esthetic right here right in front of my eyes, these so virile classical or not bodies that emphasized each of their male power, electrified on the spot, only the soul of my vagina, and I only thought then after having admired their lips, square jaws, noise, big eyes and black hair and beards, of their dick, always animal and boiling of cum and always undecided of the moment when, the terrific eruption would happen, though well insured that it will. They had to throw their lava out of the guts of the earth, they had to spurt, no matter which hole to shove it into. They fucked for my tremendous happiness, everything that moved, and I shacked my ass to drive them mad, without any decency. They would soon enough, penetrate it, screw it, get in it, nail it, but these words were only words, far too kind and too wrong. They excavated my wells trashing them dry, ploughing them, and scarified my grounds immodestly nor scrupulously till my inner caves made them squirt loud and strong, hitting till the last drop on its way, insane, my drilling, their balls knocking down my chin and my opened buttocks, firing them off. A whore for them all was a moment of providence. No pussy dared to bloom its flower to exult their glory. I, opened, with vanity and infinite pride, my legs with no equal, and received at one go, their reproductive monster up between them thanking the skies. They made my suffering scream away and that made me admire them, even more. The more I implored screaming their name to bump me in the deepest of my caverns, the more they ardently crashed into them with their lashing leather cut knob I imprisoned firmly, clenching my little orifices' muscles to make them reach wonders. I was totally, entirely, unconditionally, depending on their cock, and tributary at seeing them shooting their juice in me, submitted as their stand-in. I loved them. I was for them a refined French man who loved them, and I loved them really, and they knew it; I flattered them beyond words and congratulated their extraordinary face, glorified their conquests with their enormous dick, and after one evening with no women and a few whiskies, I was the one, the only one, the providential glory hole that was about to satisfy to the max, the needs of their too heavy and active balls that always were, greatly excited under the burning sun of the Middle-East. The gas inside their liquid needed then and quickly, to burst out in my holes immediately. I was, apart my European habits and musics coming from an other world, me and my freedoms, also a knuckle of ham, a big piece of flesh they could paw and pet, knead and malamute and take in hands at any corner of a sudden envy at splashing their sperm as vanquishers they all were. They all knew one after the other, always discrete but determined and outstandingly effective, that I delighted myself with self-conceit at making them come deep throat, nice and neat, or like a brave shrew whose hips they hold themselves to and savagely fucked on the spot. For if Mike Brant was a sexual icon on a poster, and a rare one to find in the streets of Paris or Frankfurt, I had here, thousands of them like him. The flies of their shorts and stone washed jeans were always, tremendously full, and their overfilled to the brim trousers never were well enough designed and cut to contain the weight of their circumcised male attributes which were heavy and flushed with sharpness, still ready to erect right away in a minute, their marble column to screw a saving target as a trophy. Their actually opened on their own, zippers one inch down, unpicked or pulled buttons out, far too boosted by such phallic powers. They put to my mind, straight after having admired their incredible divine beauty that dismissed me from thinking, a cock instead of their face, and as for me, just identified myself to a bag of flesh to satisfy them. My teats got harder on their own and so was my asshole, only thinking to bloom. My lips, with my tong, underlined themselves, and often too, opened on their own like puffing away twirls of smoke at random of a word. I only wanted to be a hole for their giant dick, and the Gods granted me to get them hard as solid as a rock, driving them over the edge by too much tension of their organ getting influxes of blood they could not get rid of. And that hole, I was it. They came from working class suburbs, from Nazareth or from little villages of Galilee, totally ignoring their great and imperial beauty, teeth out, and as good fellows, as buddies, slapped my shoulder they hold longer to say hi after having kissed me hello, and, with a determined and discrete word in arabic to my ear, said to me they wanted. That was the key word that immediately took the anxieties of my weaknesses away and that let me know, with no endless waiting anymore, that I was about to get laid. Waleed, Samir, Khalil, Elian, Zvi and Moshe, two Jews who used any trick they could but as handsome of glory as my bedouins were, announced from a night that was already set, they were severely, seriously, deeply and without mercy, gonna do me after a few glasses of absinth and twirls of hashish that made them vanish any eventual cultural or moral trouble which suddenly became, O! Divine reverence, only an obsession to fill up my ovaries. I got up then to the first floor toilets to prepare my ass, took out of my bag oils and fragrances that opened big, their way in, not knowing who first would sodomize me. I always was ready for any eventuality that answered to a sudden need , and perfect, always was I. I knew that to most of the, my vacuuming oral talents finished them off rapidly, at the bar, in the loos or in the street, in the car; as for Elian, far too often burnt by his titillating colossal prick he sharpened between his wriggling legs with quick and short moves, he rode me, diligent and in a hurry, on his scooter in some park as nearby as possible to take it out to me, under a tree or behind bushes in the total dark of the night to excavate my throat with it offered to him on my knees after I had manually worked on it on the way with my saliva as he drove his machine. His tall body loved being caressed as he rode, and flattered with manual touches on his monumental cock pointing the horizon and that guided us, directly to the zenith of his ejaculation, always quick, but more than once overnight spurting away. I could count on him, his demand was tremendous, he could at night fill me in five or six times, easy, never mind if there was only one drop left to shoot at the next pulse. Insatiable and maniac, I praised the sky and its gods he needed to gush his verve again as soon as my buccal operating process was over. His knob as an iron digging bowl into my tonsils drove me up the wall, well immobilized in his long hands on my nape that left me no chance to escape but the one, opportunistic, to swallow. He knew to reach the unique moment of his male superiority belittling me to mine inferior of a female blowing off his dick that totally filled my destiny. His sperm giving and my submission of a proud soul, was total when receiving it. I complied to the excellence of his light. He knew as an absolute male, let me know where I stood. The others were being sucked in more classical ways, watching my head job, deep down indeed, skillful and hard working as I was, but they staid still, quiet, smoking a fag or one last beer can in their hand, standing or laying down, though most of the time sitting down. They let me do my job come and cool without any frantic labial push waiting for the explosion in mouth that greatly satisfied them, as impassible kings, their legs slightly vibrating at the time of the electrical discharge, but always with one last groan of exultation that delighted my inner soul. I was the one to do everything, but I swallowed their sap with as much eagerness, without wanking, as a gloutton fully contented from their immoderate desires. Zvi and Moshe, I knew it, would fuck me later. One pleased himself at seeing me suffering, hear me cry and moan grabbing his legs while the other screwed my ass hard, out of his mind like a bull in rut calling me a slut before the other took his place and thumped my back with his fist when my larynx was then impaled by the other not knowing anymore who was who as they kissed each other, digging in deeper into my holes. I was at their command, as a sandwich man, haughty and vain to undergo their delightful whims. Sperm trash can specialized for Arabic and Hebraic garbage, they all could, as they pleased, and permanently, throw everything into my pan at anytime, until late at night, the overplus and leftovers of their overflowing balls for them to be, entirely emptied, completely cleaned off, resolutely dry cleaned off their fat by their grandiose queer. A look on my lips, a quick glance, a sign by their forefinger tapping their cock, I was at each moment sure of my deeds, waiting for the next one that would press the pedal to open big, again, my lids. And they filled it to the brim, and I asked for more. I personally filled, my condition of a master, and they all adored my subversive convention of a matron, revering theirs of born fuckers made to shoot without any complex, and rapidly, as a somatic propulsion of a combustion engine, the deepest of their physiologic serum out of their tun.
And, without any medical culture, biological or scientific one of any kind or an other and who cares, I deeply remained totally persuaded that, from the present to the future, out of these young Adonis and Apollos, Young Suleiman The Magnificent Warriors or Sons of David, Children of the Prophet or Terrorists weeds fucking an old broad that still was young and fresh and never sick, I received from the Gods my absolute fountain of Youth, a mental one indeed, though first of all physical, as osmotic pressures they transfused with sperm though their permeable membranes as direct jets into my receptacles, the power of their youth as well.''
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