Karim, still curled up against me, reminded me every moment of how lucky I had been to cross his path... and not just his, but his family's. I had achieved a true three-in-one. An almost unreal feat, a disturbing yet so natural harmony, an alchemy I could never have imagined when I arrived here. Three men, three different energies, three unique experiences that had intertwined in my life like pieces of a puzzle I would never have thought possible to assemble. And, as if nature itself had wanted to distinguish them, all three of them had been endowed with an exceptionally large penis, a symbol of their overflowing virility, of that masculine power that seemed to flow through their family veins with disturbing clarity, for an eternity. Daoud, the father: the accomplished man, the quiet strength. Of average height, with the knotty musculature of a fellah, a man accustomed to physical labor, to sure and efficient gestures, to repeated efforts that sculpt a body without artifice, but of undeniable raw power. The absolute male, sure of himself, sure of his authority, with that raw charisma that effortlessly imposed his status as a natural dominant. He could have been content with this role, that of the proud and virile patriarch, but Daoud was more than that. He was attentive, almost possessive, and behind this facade of an unshakeable man, he knew how to distil gestures and words of disturbing gentleness, even tenderness, which shook my certainties about what a guy could feel, offer, and demand. He, in his raw confidence, sublimated this more "feminine" side of my bisexual personality, this part of me that liked to be dominated, desired, but never erased. And he knew it. His gaze, when he stared at me in private, had never been solely that of a man seeking simple physical pleasure. He analyzed me, tested me, tamed me in his own way, and I let myself go, troubled, curious, and despite myself… attached.Karim: the young lion, his confidence still wavering. Barely younger than me, but still searching for himself. 5'11", gymnasium-grade muscles, carefully sculpted, without excess, but with that clear definition that revealed a disciplined effort, a desire to master his own body. Proud of his young virility, proud of what he believed himself to be, but deep down, not so certain of what attracted him, what fascinated him. Straight? Probably. But capable of being troubled, of being attracted, of giving in to an impulse that was beyond him. I had seen his evolution, his pride grow after Madeleine, his confidence strengthen, and yet... in private, he had dared to touch me, to give me, to offer a part of himself that he had perhaps never considered before. That moment when he pressed himself against me, his head lying against my back, his hand sliding over my chest with that slow, almost tender caress… It wasn't just physical contact. It was something else. A form of acceptance, of trust, a need to explore without fear, to not stop at what he believed himself to be. And, like his father, like his brother, he possessed that raw gift of nature, that masculinity that could be seen, guessed, felt in each of his gestures, in his very presence. And then, Younes: the androgynous enigma. The youngest, 1m67, with an exquisitely refined body, but with the discreet and precise musculature of a dancer. A chiseled, supple, graceful body, whose every movement seemed thought out, every gesture imbued with an innate elegance. He didn't seek to understand or justify what he was. He loved men, he loved beauty, sensuality, he loved pleasure, without restriction or remorse. But he wasn't just that. His affair with Madeleine had revealed him in a different light. I, who believed him to be gentle and delicate, had discovered another Younes, more brutal, more assertive, almost animal. A shadow of his father, a genetic vestige that he only let appear when he decided. And he too, in his fluid, almost androgynous appearance, hid the same heritage as his elders. Three men, three energies, and me, at the center of this improbable alchemy. Lucky? I was without a shadow of a doubt. And I realized to what extent this family had offered me much more than what I had come looking for. A territory where I could be everything at once. A lover, a friend, an adopted brother. And somewhere, perhaps also, a man who was discovering facets in himself that he had never considered. And that… was perhaps the most beautiful discovery of all!When I dropped Karim off at his stall, finally satiated, satisfied, perhaps even a little disoriented by everything he had just experienced, I realized that something inside me had just imperceptibly shifted. This intimate awareness, this silent recognition of having woven something unique with this family, had triggered in me a need to step back, a desire for solitude, a longing to be alone with my thoughts. This is undoubtedly why I went straight back to the Ryad, the decision made. Madeleine was there, slumped on a deckchair, a glass of coke in hand, her eyes narrowed in the light of the dawning afternoon. As soon as she saw me, she knew. She read on my face, in my gait, something that was unmistakable. Even before I spoke, she guessed that today, I was not going to be one of them. But she let me formulate my decision anyway. "I'll take you to Younes's this afternoon..." I said in a calm, almost detached voice, before immediately continuing, as if to cut short any objections: "But I won't be staying with you." She didn't seem surprised, of course. She put down her glass with a wry smile, a smile that was too amused, too seasoned. "Oh really?" she said with that feigned sweetness that barely concealed the underlying teasing. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to take advantage of the afternoon to rest a little here. Relaxation and swimming pool." I played tired, sorry too, but she wasn't fooled for a single second. She tilted her head slightly to the side, looked me over with almost maternal attention, before murmuring in a falsely dreamy tone: "Too bad." She left a short silence, then, absently running a finger along the rim of her glass, she added, as if it were nothing: "You know how much I love our threesomes..." Her gaze fixed on mine, piercing, knowing, mocking. I shrugged slightly, feigning indifference, knowing full well that she didn't believe a word of it. She understood, of course. She knew that something in me, today, didn't want to share. But she also took the opportunity to remind me, mischievously, that I was depriving Younes and herself of a pleasure they had come to enjoy. A game that wasn't entirely innocent. She took a sip, then, with an almost languid smile, added with a sigh: "Well... We'll make do..." An imperceptible shiver ran through me. She had this gift for saying things with disarming simplicity, while slipping in implications between her words that resonated long afterward. But today… Today, I wasn't in the mood to play her game.So, I just smiled back, gave her a vague wave, and turned on my heel. I was going to lie down, float between two waters, let the events of the last few days settle inside me like sand after a storm. And she just followed me with her eyes, knowing full well that this was just a simple withdrawal... and not a definitive abdication. After dropping her off at Younes's, early in the afternoon, I returned to the Ryad, with only one desire: to abandon myself to a moment of silence, solitude, and rest. I pushed open the door to my room, and immediately, a wave of familiar warmth enveloped me. The bay win ...

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