Preview
Full video
The Gritty Streets of Algiers
Amine was a fucking brute stomping through the dusty, piss-soaked streets of Algiers like a goddamn tank of muscle and cock. This Algerian arab gay plumber was a hulking bastard—six-foot-two, arms thick from years of wrenching pipes, a chest matted with coarse black hair, and a beard so scruffy it looked like it’d been dragged through a sewer. At 33, he’d fucked his way through every tight hole he could find on his plumbing gigs, his dick a fat nine-inch slab of veiny meat that left asses gaping and throats raw. His dark, sweat-drenched skin shone under the blistering sun, and those sharp, predatory eyes promised to pipe your hole and leave you leaking.
Tonight, his balls were heavy, swinging low in his stained work pants, aching to unload after a long day of fixing shitty leaks. The air stank of diesel, grilled meat, and his own rank musk as he prowled a rundown alley near the Casbah—the kind of filthy dump where arab gay sluts got their holes smashed behind crumbling walls. Amine didn’t give a fuck about the risks—Algeria wasn’t a playground for queers, but he owned every job site and every ass he touched. His greasy work shirt clung to his hairy pecs, unbuttoned to show off his gut, and his pants sagged under a bulge that throbbed like a fucking jackhammer.
The Twink Client in the Slum
That’s when he saw him—Sofiane, a scrawny little arab gay twink, barely 19, hovering near a busted apartment block where Amine had fixed a pipe earlier that day. Smooth as a peeled fruit, with big, needy eyes and lips made for sucking, he was a plumber’s wet dream, dripping with “fuck me” vibes. Amine’s cock twitched hard, leaking a thick wad of precum into his boxers. “Hey, ya little cumslut,” he growled, voice rough from shouting over drills all day. “You back to get your pipes cleaned, or you just sniffing around for dick?”
Sofiane stammered some bullshit about a leak, his cheeks flushing under the dim streetlight, but Amine wasn’t buying it. He stomped over, toolbox clanking, and grabbed the twink’s throat with a greasy hand. “Don’t fucking lie to me, ya arab gay pig—I know a thirsty bitch when I see one,” he snarled, squeezing until Sofiane whimpered. The twink’s tiny prick was already stiff, tenting his cheap jeans. Amine smirked—he’d seen this before, horny clients begging for more than a wrench. He dragged the slut into the dark stairwell of the building, slammed him against the wall, and ripped those jeans down, exposing a tight, trembling asshole that screamed to be fucking wrecked.
Choking on Plumber’s Pipe
“Knees, now, you cock-sucking rat,” Amine barked, dropping his toolbox with a clang and yanking his pants open. His cock flopped out—a nine-inch arab gay beast, thick as a pipe, veins pulsing, and dripping with slimy, sweaty precum that stank of a hard day’s work. Sofiane dropped fast, choking as he tried to swallow it, his throat bulging while Amine rammed it in deep. “Suck it, you worthless cunt,” he roared, grabbing Sofiane’s hair and skull-fucking him so hard the twink’s nose smashed into his sweaty, hairy bush, reeking of grease and musk.
Spit and snot sprayed everywhere, soaking Sofiane’s face as he gagged and retched, but the little slut moaned like a bitch in heat, slurping and choking on that filthy plumber’s dick with desperate hunger. Amine didn’t ease up—he gripped the twink’s head with both hands, his rough fingers digging in, and pounded his face like a clogged drain needing a plunge, his balls slapping Sofiane’s chin with wet, meaty thuds that echoed up the stairwell. “You love choking on this arab gay cock, don’t you, ya fucking trash?” he spat, watching Sofiane’s eyes roll back as his throat stretched, the veins popping out. The twink’s hands clawed at Amine’s thighs, trembling for air, but the plumber didn’t give a shit—he kept ramming, turning that mouth into a sloppy, drooling mess until he yanked out, leaving Sofiane coughing up spit and precum like a busted faucet.
Piping the Hole Raw
Amine wasn’t here to waste time—he hauled Sofiane up by the neck, spun him around, and bent him over the stair railing like a cheap fucktoy. He hocked a thick, greasy glob of spit onto that virgin asshole, rubbing it in with a calloused thumb. “Time to get your fucking pipes reamed, ya arab gay cumdump,” he sneered, lining up his cock and slamming it in raw with one brutal thrust that made the railing shake. Sofiane screamed like a stuck pig, his hole tearing open, blood mixing with the spit as Amine laughed—a deep, guttural growl—and started pounding like he was fixing a burst main.
The twink’s legs buckled, his skinny body jerking with every savage thrust, but Amine didn’t slow down for shit. He grabbed Sofiane’s hips, his nails gouging into the flesh, and drilled so deep the kid’s belly bulged with every slam. “Beg for it, you fucking slut—scream for my dick to wreck your shithole,” he roared, smacking Sofiane’s ass with a meaty hand until it was raw and welted, the skin glowing red. “Please, fuck me, ruin my ass!” Sofiane sobbed, his voice cracking as his pathetic dick sprayed precum onto the stairs. Amine grinned, his teeth bared, loving the power, knowing he could break this arab gay bitch and leave him a whimpering, cum-soaked wreck.
Fucking Like Sewer Rats
Sweat poured off Amine’s hairy back, soaking his shirt and dripping down his crack as he jackhammered Sofiane’s ass into a gaping, sloppy crater. His balls slapped the twink’s thighs, heavy and wet, swinging like wrecking balls while Sofiane clawed at the railing, drooling and wailing like a brain-dead fucktoy lost in the haze. “You love this arab gay cock ripping your guts apart, huh, ya filthy fucking pig?” Amine taunted, yanking Sofiane’s head back by the hair and slamming in so hard the twink’s prostate turned to mush, his insides churning. “Yes, fuck, destroy me, own my hole!” Sofiane howled, his ass clenching and farting wetly around the plumber’s dick, the sound loud and obscene in the cramped stairwell.
Amine flipped the slut onto his back on the stairs, grabbing those skinny legs and spreading them wide like a back-alley whore, exposing that wrecked, bloody hole. “Look at me while I pipe your fucking soul,” he spat, plunging back in with a nasty, wet squelch, his cock sliding through a mess of spit, blood, and ass-juice that coated his shaft like grease. Sofiane’s eyes rolled back, his mouth gaping in a silent scream as Amine fucked him senseless, the stairs creaking and groaning under the relentless force. The stairwell stank of sweat, shit, and raw, animal sex—a perfect worksite for a plumber like Amine to dominate and destroy his client, leaving nothing but a shattered, leaking mess behind.
Blowing a Greasy Load
The pace turned feral—Amine’s hairy ass clenched tight, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he chased his nut, his muscles flexing under his sweaty shirt. Sofiane was a babbling, cum-drunk wreck, clawing at Amine’s chest with weak hands, screaming, “Fill my fucking ass, Daddy, flood my pipes, make me your bitch!” That snapped it—Amine roared like a goddamn beast, slamming in so hard the railing bent, and unleashed a torrent of thick, stinking cum straight into that wrecked hole. Rope after rope blasted out, hot and endless, overflowing and oozing down the twink’s thighs in a sticky, filthy mess as he convulsed, his own tiny dick spurting a weak, watery load across his belly, splattering up to his neck.
Amine yanked out with a wet, sloppy pop, his cock dripping cum, blood, and ass-juice, a glistening mess swinging between his legs. He spat a fat, greasy glob onto Sofiane’s fucked-out face, coating his lips, and smirked, his chest heaving. “Good little bitch. Next time your sink clogs, I’m bringing my crew to gangfuck your worthless cunt ’til you’re a puddle.” He strutted off, leaving the twink twitching on the stairs, ass leaking like a busted pipe, mind completely shattered from the brutal, hole-ruining pounding he’d just taken.
The Plumber’s Reign of Filth
The Casbah buzzed with whispers the next day. Every arab gay slut in Algiers was jerking off to Amine’s name, trading tales of his savage fucks and that plumber’s cock that turned tight holes into dripping, ruined wrecks. He didn’t give a fuck about the chatter—he kept prowling, a arab gay god towering over every job site and alley. Sofiane couldn’t sit for a week, limping through the slums with a wrecked ass, his legs trembling, beating his meat raw every night to the memory of being piped open like a cheap whore, his body bruised and marked by the plumber’s wrath.
Amine was already on the hunt for his next fix. He’d fucked half the twinks in Algeria, leaving a trail of limping, cum-soaked wrecks, but his appetite was endless—every leaky faucet, every dark corner was a chance to claim another hole, to assert his dominance over the arab gay underworld. He’d piss on the rules, spit in the faces of the pious bastards who’d kill him if they could, and keep ramming his way through the shadows, a filthy, unstoppable plumber carving his legend in the flesh of every slut dumb enough to call him for a job.
