I warmly thank my loyal readers for their glowing ratings. I don't think I have an oversized ego, but I regret that a certain reader likes to systematically give me a 0. I am quite able to understand that my stories don't excite everyone. I understand a 4 or a 3, or even a two... but why give a lower rating for a story that no one is forcing you to read. Best wishes. We arrived a few minutes later at Daoud's. The characteristic roar of the sidecar echoed through the douar as we stopped in front of his house. The backfire shattered the usual calm of this small douar. Suddenly, the blue door flew open, revealing Younes. The young man appeared, attracted by the sound of the motorcycle he had recognized. His appearance was striking, as if he embodied the youth and vitality of Morocco. He was truly remarkably beautiful, reminiscent of the ancient sculptures of the young Greek gods. His fine and harmonious features, highlighted by his skin tanned by the southern sun, framed deep brown eyes, sparkling with curiosity and intelligence. Black curly hair framed his expressive face. Quite tall and slender for his age, he stood straight, with a natural confidence, reminding me of his father in the shower waiting for my rubs... He wore a simple djellaba, whose light color contrasted with his tanned skin. His hands, already marked by work, testify to his early involvement in the life of the douar. His warm smile lit up his handsome face as he welcomed us. He advanced towards us with a lively and graceful step, clearly happy with our arrival. He went to kiss his father, then shook both my hands, and began to turn around the machine, admiring and dreamy. I found him touchingly spontaneous, with glances only for my Ural. The evening was delicious, we laughed a lot together, and they taught me some great Moroccan jokes, their dirty register intensifying as the evening progressed. Daoud was particularly fit and made his two boys laugh a lot. I was surprised to see that modesty, which prevented him from seeing his sixteen-year-old son naked, did not bother him at all in the evocation of debauchery that, for my part, I would not have heard at home. And yet, it happened to me at the swimming pool to often find myself naked with my father in the showers... - Well, I'm going to go. - Karim, take your friend home. See you tomorrow Pierre! and he gave me an imperceptible glance. We found ourselves alone with Karim. I had already mounted my motorbike. - Did you have a good day with my parents? - Yes excellent, Karim. - Did the return go well?- Yes, very well. Since I was alone with your father, I was able to drive faster. - He is a king, my father, I adore him. Say, you didn't tell him anything at least for the two of us. - No, don't worry, I know how to keep a secret. And then, maybe deep down he doesn't care, right? He made a dubious face: - Hmm, I would be surprised, my father is really a ladies' man. - But you told me that women didn't fuck easily. He looked at me fixedly, for a second a sparkle of mocking superiority crossed his eyes, and, in my ear, he whispered: - Here, there are widows! and went back laughing. Still quite disconcerted, I started the car, put it in gear and took the road back. I felt my anus bruised and the idea of ​​an anal tear crossed my mind. I tried to reassure myself by remembering that I had not seen any traces of blood on the shower floor. Once in my room, I took a second shower to wash myself thoroughly. I tried to soap my ass with a finger loaded with soap. It went in much easier than usual, but it caused me a new pain, weak but real. After rinsing myself, I retrieved my travel mirror and, in a rather grotesque position, I began an inspection of my anus. From what I could see, there were no cracks. On the other hand, my anal bulge showed an unusual swelling. I discovered my buttocks, still all red and striped with scratches... Nevertheless, reassured, I turned on the ceiling fan, the perfume burner, turned off all the lights and lay down naked, with just a light sarong on my stomach, knowing that this type of ventilation often caused diarrhea. On my back, my head held by my two hands, I remembered my day which went by like a movie. What an adventure! Phew! What a handsome guy, this Daoud! What strength! What firmness and tone in his muscles! I couldn't help but realize that I had been sodomized after all, me who had always refused to give in to demands. So why today? Especially since I had felt almost no pleasure. I had known so many guys who were constantly asking for more, wriggling with pleasure at the end of my cock, sometimes even cumming without me touching their sex! Me, nothing...Closing my eyes, in the ...

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