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The Empty Streets of Alexandria
Walid was a fucking wreck haunting the dark, piss-soaked streets of Alexandria like a ghost with a hard-on. This Egyptian arab gay loner was a wiry bastard—lean and tough, with a scruffy beard and a chest dusted with black hair, his body hardened from years of scraping by alone. At 29, he’d fucked his way through a handful of secret sluts, his cock a thick eight-inch rod that could stretch a hole raw, but he always ended up alone, jerking off in the shadows. His sun-baked skin glistened with sweat, and those hollow, desperate eyes screamed for someone to fill the void—preferably with their ass.
Tonight, his balls were tight, aching with a load he hadn’t dumped in weeks. The air stank of fish, salt, and his own festering loneliness as he prowled a crumbling alley by the docks—the kind of shithole where arab gay outcasts like him hunted for a quick, dirty fuck to feel something. Walid didn’t give a fuck about the danger—Egypt wasn’t kind to queers, but he was too broken to care. His faded hoodie hung loose over his bony frame, and his jeans clung to a bulge that twitched with every step, starved for action.
The Twink in the Gloom
That’s when he saw him—Amir, a skinny little arab gay stray, barely 20, slumped against a wall like a lost puppy begging for dick. Smooth and fragile, with big, haunted eyes and a mouth made for sucking, he looked as lonely as Walid felt. The older man’s cock jumped, leaking a slick drop of precum into his pants. “Hey, ya little fucktoy,” he rasped, voice rough with need. “You lost, or you here to get your holes stuffed?”
Amir flinched, muttering some bullshit about waiting for a friend, but Walid wasn’t buying it. He stepped closer, grabbed the twink’s chin with a shaky hand, and growled, “Don’t lie to me, ya arab gay slut—I know a lonely bitch when I see one.” Amir’s small dick was already stiff, pressing against his torn jeans. Walid’s chest tightened—finally, someone as fucked-up as him. He dragged the twink into a dark corner, shoved him against the wall, and ripped those jeans down, exposing a tight, trembling asshole that screamed for a pounding.
Gagging on Lonely Meat
“Knees, now, you cock-hungry dog,” Walid snarled, yanking his jeans open. His cock sprang out—an eight-inch arab gay beast, veiny and thick, dripping with desperate precum. Amir dropped fast, choking as he tried to swallow it, his throat bulging while Walid rammed it in deep. “Suck it, you pathetic cunt,” he groaned, grabbing Amir’s hair and skull-fucking him with a frantic edge, like it was the last dick he’d ever taste. Spit and tears streamed down Amir’s face, but the twink moaned like a lost soul finding home, slurping and gagging on that lonely meat.
Walid didn’t hold back—he gripped the twink’s head and pounded his face like it was his only lifeline, his balls slapping Amir’s chin with wet, needy thuds. “You love this arab gay cock, don’t you, ya broken little shit?” he spat, watching Amir’s eyes water as his throat stretched. The twink’s hands clutched Walid’s thighs, trembling with the same hunger, but Walid didn’t stop—he kept ramming, turning that mouth into a sloppy, drooling mess until he yanked out, leaving Amir gasping and coughing up spit like a wrecked doll.
Fucking the Loneliness Away
Walid wasn’t finished—he hauled Amir up, bent him over a rusted barrel, and spat a thick, sticky glob onto that virgin asshole. “Time to fuck your lonely guts out, ya arab gay cumrag,” he sneered, lining up his cock and slamming it in raw with one brutal thrust. Amir yelped, his hole splitting open, a trickle of blood mixing with the spit as Walid groaned and started pounding. The barrel rocked, metal screeching, as he fucked that ass like it was the cure to his empty fucking life.
The twink’s legs shook, his body jerking with every savage thrust, but Walid didn’t ease up. He grabbed Amir’s hips, fingers digging in hard, and drilled so deep the kid’s belly bulged. “Beg for it, you lonely slut—scream for my dick,” he roared, smacking Amir’s ass until it glowed red. “Please, fuck me, fill me up!” Amir sobbed, his voice raw with the same aching need Walid felt. The older man growled, slamming harder, desperate to bury his loneliness in that tight, wrecked hole.
Rutting Like Broken Animals
Sweat soaked Walid’s hoodie as he jackhammered Amir’s ass into a gaping, sloppy mess. His balls slapped the twink’s thighs, heavy and wet, while Amir clawed at the barrel, drooling and whimpering like a fucked-up stray. “You love this arab gay cock tearing you apart, huh, ya pitiful bitch?” Walid taunted, yanking Amir’s head back and ramming in so hard the twink’s guts churned. “Yes, fuck, take me!” Amir wailed, his ass clenching and farting wetly around the loner’s dick.
Walid flipped the twink onto his back on the barrel, spreading those skinny legs wide like a dockside whore. “Look at me while I fuck your soul out,” he spat, plunging back in with a wet squelch, his cock sliding through a mess of spit, blood, and ass-juice. Amir’s eyes locked on his, wide and broken, as Walid fucked him senseless, the barrel creaking under the force. The alley reeked of sweat, cum, and their shared despair—a perfect pit for two lost arab gay souls to drown in each other.
Unloading the Pain
The pace turned frantic—Walid’s lean frame tensed, his cock throbbing as he chased release. Amir was a babbling, cum-drunk wreck, clawing at Walid’s chest, screaming, “Fill my fucking ass, make me yours!” That hit hard—Walid roared like a wounded animal, slamming in so deep Amir’s hips bruised, and unleashed a flood of thick, hot cum straight into that wrecked hole. Rope after rope blasted out, overflowing and dripping down the twink’s thighs as he convulsed, his own tiny dick spurting a weak, watery load across his stomach.
Walid yanked out with a sloppy pop, his cock dripping cum and filth. He spat on Amir’s fucked-out face and muttered, “Good little bitch. Maybe I won’t be alone next time.” He stumbled off, leaving the twink shivering on the barrel, ass leaking like a busted pipe, both of them still hollow but a little less dead inside.
The Lonely Echoes
Word spread slow among the shadows. Every arab gay reject in Alexandria whispered about Walid, the loner who fucked like a beast but always walked away empty. He didn’t care—he kept prowling, a broken arab gay soul in a city that chewed up queers and spat them out. Amir limped through the docks for days, ass too wrecked to sit, jerking off to the memory of that brutal connection, hoping Walid would come back.
Walid didn’t stop hunting. He’d fucked a few lost boys, but the loneliness clung like a curse—every dark corner, every stinking alley was a chance to fill the void, even if just for a night. He’d spit on the world, fuck the rules, and keep ramming his way through the arab gay underbelly, a lonely alpha chasing something he’d never find.
