****** Arab Dirt: Dirt Pig does a Middle Eastern Businessman by Dirt Pig ******
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Arab Dirt: Dirt Pig does a Middle Eastern Businessman


I hated going into midtown Manhattan during the August heatwave, but every now
and then it was unavoidable.

Just to keep cool (and in hopes that things would get HOT), I put on as brief
an outfit as possible -- that meant, how little could I wear and not get thrown
out of line at the bank!

I decided to go for a construction crew look: scarred workboots; dirty knee
socks covering my hairy, muscular calves; paper thin grey gym shorts over a
stinking, hole-filled jockstrap; and a skintight t-shirt with sweat stains down
the front and back and ripped-out armpits, which magnified my massive shoulders
and arms while showing off my pumped pecs and swollen cone tit-nipples to their
best advantage.

The shorts, too, showed off my assets. While walking, the back straps of my
jock could be seen clearly, since the shorts didn't cover much of my fur-coated
melon butt cheeks. In front, the jock caused a hefty bulge of my pumped,
swollen, uncut Italian meat -- particularly when I sat down. Unable to close my
legs, the foul filled pouch of scummy stained cotton hung rudely out to one
side of the leg openings in the gym shorts.

Reflective sunglasses insured my privacy, while a backpack handled my
paperwork, a couple of good-sized plugs (not counting the fist-sized plug
worked up my limber cunthole), titclamps and poppers.

The errands were over swiftly, with minimal stares from the stupid bitches at
the bank. Actually, I enjoyed the looks I got on Park Avenue from both men and
women, shocked yet titillated by my humpy, muscular body so obscenely displayed
-- of course, most New Yorkers are use to construction workers showing off
their bodies in the summer heat, and to many of the business class on Park
Avenue that hot August lunchtime I was just one more slab of illiterate
beefcake -- great to cruise from 15 feet, but far too much up close, where my
several days of sweat could be smelled above the city's rank garbage odors.

I perched on a sidewall just off Park in the 50's to smoke a joint, something,
fortunately, the New York police department could care less about. Everyone
deserved to get high if they were going to deal with this town in the summer
swelter.

With my thighs spread wide, my wrotted basket, dripping sweat and crotch juice,
was nearly eye-level with the heavy flow of office workers escaping to the
nearest air-conditioned bar or restaurant.

I always enjoyed watching the yuppie guys, particularly the New Jersey and Long
Island studs, fresh from their morning gym routines, muscles bulging beneath
thin white shirts, melon butts protruding from light weight summer suit pants.
Several cruised my tits and basket, even giving furtive second and third
glances as they passed down the block, but none stopping.

I was thinking of heading for the village when I noticed one guy stop several
feet down the block to stare intently at me. He looked to be a middle eastern
business guy: no briefcase, but still dressed in his suit jacket despite the
oppressive heat. He was short, like me, maybe no more than 5', very stocky with
black hair, a black goatee, stocky neck and wide shoulders.

I leaned back in the sun and stretched my thighs wider, causing my swollen
basket to sag forward onto the stone wall where I sat and giving the merest
glimpse of the base of the fist-plug embedded in my pighole.

The businessman stretched his massive shoulders and removed his suit jacket
slowly, revealing heavy sweat stains reaching down both sides of his tapered
white shirt. Removing his jacket revealed a truly massive set of pecs displayed
well beneath the tight white dress shirt, the tie hanging between deep, sweat-
filled cleavage. He obviously wore no t-shirt, as the wet, matted black hair of
his chest could be clearly seen through the damp thin cloth of his business
attire. His crotch was swelling, as well, a formidable bulge hanging well to
the left and stretching further and further down his leg, beginning to fight
against the thin material that clung to well-defined thighs.

He resumed a slow pace along the wall, passing within inches of my crotch as I
lifted one leg to insure a good look at the plastic fist plugging my hole.
Taking one good hard stare into my hairy crotch, he raised both eyebrows
slightly and smiled a lecherous grin, looking up into my mirrored sunglasses.
He walked out to the edge of the sidewalk, showing off a great pair of muscular
buns packed into the light summerweight suitmaterial of his pants, a deep sweat
stain running down his broad back and staining his ass crack down into his
crotch. The deep part of his asscrack couldn't be seen, as his butt stuck out
so far in the tight trousers. Without looking back at me, he stuck his hand
deep into the crack and scratched heavily, swinging the massive ass globes left
and right only a few feet in front of me. Then he turned around again, reaching
down to scratch what looked like a small arm stretching toward his knee down
the left leg of his skin tight pants. In response, I ran one hand down my pecs,
tugging rudely at the swollen nipple meat exposed beneath the shear fabric and
ran my tongue around my lips, signaling my hunger to taste his swelling Arabian
pole.

Smiling ever so slightly, he walked straight up to me. With a thick accent he
commented, "I'm about to pass out from this heat -- want to join me in a cool
beer at my apartment; it's near here."

Smelling the strong odor of unwashed sweat arising from his body, I nodded,
answering just "sure" and hopped from the wall to join him as he walked
eastward.

Luckily he had an apartment in a small brownstone -- I'm sure a doorman would
have been quite shocked to see me in my "labor" gear and this hot arabian
business dude on our way in at lunch hour!

He had a typical midtown "pied-a-terre", an "overnight" apartment furnished
sufficiently for breakfast, cocktails, a quick dinner and sleeping, but
obviously not a permanent home. I unzipped my backpack and dropped it by one of
the large armchairs, leaving it open enough to spy the fat dong heads of two
different plugs, both "dark skinned", protruding from the interior.

Undoing his tie and removing his sweat soaked shirt to display his thick mat of
black, sweat-soaked chest hair, my arab disappeared into the kitchen and
returned with two ice-caked cans of foreign beer. The shirt was left hanging
off the chair next to me, a tease for me to smell the days of stench arising
from the armpit sweat stains only inches from my sniffing nose.

"Shit, I'm sweating like some prize beef," he muttered in excellent but
accented English, watching me eye his wretched shirt. Smiling, he reached down
his leg and stroked the now slightly soft polish-sized salami in his left
pantsleg.

"My air-conditioner isn't working... sorry," he smirked. "Why don't you just
sit back there on the floor and try and keep cool, I've got to get these pants
off before they glue themselves to me. You don't mind if I make myself more
comfortable, do you?" he asked.

"Whatever you'd like," was my reply.

"I thought so," he responded, disappearing into another room.

I sipped on my beer, listening in the still apartment as he unzipped and
removed his pants. Next I heard him walk across the room. Here I spied him as
he crossed through a doorway, clad only in his underwear, dress socks and
garters, hair-coated back and huge butt cheeks clad in soaking wet, stained
jockeys swaggering with his steps. He turned and sat down on what I presumed to
be the bathroom toilet, only I couldn't quite see because the bed was in the
way. I saw him leaning forward, then stretching back, rubbing both hands
through the thick forest of black fur covering his dark arabian skin.

The wet fart and ensuing slosh of a heavy dump echoed loudly in the apartment.
My host chuckled and looked across the rooms at me, smiling lecherously. He
stood up, shucking up his jocky shorts, giving me the briefest glimpse of a
dark flacid tube that was a good foot in length...soft. Followed swiftly by
hairy horse-sized balls, it was stuffed down into his shorts as he strode
forward from the bathroom...never having bothered to flush.

"Phew, I stink sooo bad," he grunted, entering the living room and droping his
body into the arm chair where I had set my pack. In one hand he carried a three
foot double-headed black dildo, as big around as a hefty forearm. Sitting
across from me, he spread his legs, shifting his gigantic hairy thighs and
calves clad in black nylon dress socks out to each side. Then I noticed he
still had on his wing-tip shoes.

"Oh, shit, I forgot the damned shoes," he moaned in a manner saying he was just
too damn beat to care. "They're gonna stink so fucking bad when I pull them
off, too, because I haven't had clean socks from the laundry in over a week -
- in this heat! Pew!" and he laughed heartily. He dropped the massive dildo on
the floor between his legs and reached his hand into his piss- and sweat-
stained jockey shorts to scratch the enormous bulge unhidden beneath the thin,
worn cotton cloth.

Leaning forward, I lifted one wingtip-clad foot in both hands, tugging gently
at the heel and staring up into this handsome dark stud's panting face. His
lips protruded, drooling slightly as a moan escaped from deep in his hairy,
muscular chest.

Removing the shoe, my senses were overwhelmed with the stench of unwashed feet
and toejam, a smell I knew well from my sock-less puerto rican buddies in
Queens. But this smell was combined with shoe leather, not old sneakers. I
lapped my long, trained tongue up the sole of his foot, soaking up the sock
juices as I moved on to the raunch-ridden toes.

He unclasped the black sock garters and slowly slid the sock down his leg and
off of his foot, exposing toes filled with stinking crud. I sucked his toejam,
rimming between each filthy toe with my pig tongue while the hair-coated Arab
spread his muscle thighs further, dropped his head back and moaned gently.
Before doing his second foot, I turned his sock inside out and sucked deeply
and slowly on the filthy fabric, chewing the toejam lumps and slimey crud from
the sweat-soaked material.

"Take off that shirt and those dirty shorts, you pig," he sneered, recovering
from his lunchtime foot bath.

Pulling the shorts off, I revealed my grey and yellow, hole-filled jockstrap
swollen with my own pumped, shaved meat and bull balls. Rolling back on my
hairy muscle butt to expose the base of the plastic fist plugging my red, wet
hole, I hauled the shirt up over my head, exposing my elongated, cone-shaped
nipples the size of popper bottles perched on my pumped up pecs. My pecs were
shaved down, leaving the hair growing up the center of my chest, spreading
across my stomach and neck, even coating the bottom edges of my swollen pecs,
but not climbing up the deep cleavage of my gym-built tits.

His hands were immediately on my knobs, squeezing them by the bases, twisting
hard and making me pant in the hot, stuffy apartment. One hairy hand dropped to
my butt crack, where the ripe-smelling, horny arab businessman tugged on my
greased plug, sliding it in and out of my puffy hole, causing it to make wet
farting noises and for my large hole lips to slap moistly back and forth.

Pulling the plug out completely, he kneeled between my crotch and shoved my
body back on the floor, thrusting four of his fat fingers up into my sloppy
cunt. I rolled in heat as he hauled one knob up from the floor and thrust his
fingers and most of his hand roughly in and out of my wet, dripping, stretched-
out pussy.

Chuckling rudely, he spit several times on my shaved pecs, then picked up the
long dark dildo and rolled one of the heads in the mounds of thick drool pooled
around my red, raw knobs.

"Yeah, you little muscle pig, this fuckin' Arab's gonna fuck your big raw hole,
gonna plow your raw pig cunt with this arm of a dildo."

With both hairy paws, the hung Arab shoved my willing legs back against my
chest, exposing my gaping, dripping hole. My wet cunt puckered and puffed gas,
the swollen lips reaching out, forming a raw red target three inches wide and
four inches long. The massive black dong head pushed gently against the lips,
which sucked it in like a willing cocksucker's hungry mouth, engulfing the
plastic dickpole's obscene, bulbous knobend and suctioning in another two or
three inches of the arm-sized dark plastic meat.

"Woah, pigboy...," the Arab businesspig laughed. "Yeah, slide that fat dongmeat
home, cunthole." My plugged hole slurped at the black plug, hauling over a foot
of it deep into my smelly, ungreased cunt. With little pressure, another seven
or eight inches of black plug slid up my ass, until I felt the hairy knuckles
of my pigtop against the extruding lips of my well-trained ass.

"That's it, baby, just let it all slip up that guinea cavern of yours, you
filthy pig hole," he grunted. With several bursts of dank hole air, my fat lips
grasped both the plug and short fingers of the stinking, hairy middle
easterner, until two feet of the yard-long fuckdong and the arab's hairy hand
were buried in my seething, drooling hole up to his wrist.

Slowly he twisted his hand, working on my stretched fistcunt, shoving one
massive wad of warm hand and hard dildoplug deeply in and out of my gushing,
dripping pig twat. Back and forth he rode my hole with his hand and plug, my
head reeling, lolling side to side as drool ran out both sides of my panting
mouth and down my face.

Gently pulling his hand and the foul stained plug from deep in my reemed
bowels, he dropped the black meat in the deep, spit-filled crevice between my
pecs, the crap-coated head resting against my lips. My hole hung rudely open
before him and his hairy fist dove back in, sliding past the wrist and half way
up his forearm. Nastily he spit upon my face, commanding me to suck the filth
from the dildo head while his well-muscled forearm slid slickly in and out of
my juicy pigcunt. He fisted me deeply and slowly, the thick hair of his
powerful arms scratching against my swollen hole lips, sliding his powerful arm
and clenched fist in to the elbow, back out and, twisting roughly, in again. He
panted heavily, thick sweat running down his face and neck into the forest of
thick black hair coating his bulging, rounded pecs, the stench of his unwashed
body pouring over me in wave after wave of raunchy heat.

Pulling my ankles higher over my head, the Arab hauled down the stinking and
stained front of his jockey shorts, revealing the foot plus of dark, uncut
meat, hair covering the shaft more than half-way up. As I had seen through his
pants, the arab dickmeat was gigantic, a horsedick, bigger around than the
middle of his forearm. With my exposed, dripping butthole pointing toward the
ceiling, the businesspig slipped the uncut, skin-encased head between my
cuntlips and swiftly plunged the entire length deep down into my stinking hole.

The arab was up on his haunches, plunging downward as he fucked my cunt with
his hard, hot meatpole. He grunted, hauling hard on my swollen tit knobs,
drooling and spitting on my face and chest as he called me filthy names,
flicking my knob ends between strong finger tips, making my pig tits red,
swollen and raw at the ends. The foot plus of dark animal meat was slick with
holejuice, as a resounding gasey fart ripped from the spread buttcheeks of my
lunchtime fucktop and his heavy, juice-swollen horse balls slapped rudely
against my hairy fuckbutt.

Staring down into my flush, heat-ridden face, the arab spit a greasy load from
deep in his throat as he continued to stroke my hot hole with his hairy
manpole. "You know we don't believe in washing like you pussy americans do,
don't you, you filthy cunt?" he laughed. "My hole is so fucking dirty, my
asshairs must be caked in crud. Time for your lunch, huh, you slimey toilet.
You want to be my toilet, huh? I should have saved that last wet, stinking load
just for you to suck out and slurp on, huh?"

Hauling his uncut arm-sized meat from my gaping hole, he reached behind the
chair for a coil of lightweight rope and slid forward, straddling my pumped up,
shaved down pecs, my knobs resting up against his bush-covered tree trunk
thighs. The black horsemeat was shoved back into my drooling pighole, embedding
nearly two feet of rigid plastic pole deep in my fuckcunt. The arab tied my
ankles back behind my neck with the rope while my hands went to my own swollen,
uncut pole, jacking the pumped, fat meat in long strokes along its eleven
inches of trained pigskin.

As he tied the ropes behind my neck, my pigmaster shoved the dirty uncut head
of his monster dick between my lips. His meat slid between my pec cleavage,
pulling back the thick foreskin and shoving the shit-juice coated head between
my panting toilet lips. I tongued the deep slit, sucked on the swollen glans,
and slid my tongue and lips deep behind the skin-rimmed head, licking the wet
juices from deep within my own fuckhole, tasting my holescum mixed with rank
gobs of arabian headcheese.

With my legs secured, the Arab raised himself up on his haunches, grasping his
hair-coated shaft in one hand and his horse-sized ball sac in the other.
Through the sweat in my eyes I could see the thick curling black hair of his
deep crotch, large chunks of greasy turds clinging between his legs where the
jockey shorts had been hauled back. He tore the wrotting shorts from his
muscular thighs, rubbing the yellow and brown stained remanants in my face.

He stood up and turned around, squatting down over my chest and hauling the
massive horse dong from my well-fucked hole. From beside the sofa where I lay,
he pulled out another plug, this one made for the most serious of hole-
stuffing. It was not only two feet long, shaped somewhat like a mutilated
animal dong, but was round enough by the head to have been his over-built upper
arms, tapering to the size of the black plug by its base. At the base was a
wodden handle, like the handle of a toilet plunger, made for serious deep hole
plumbing.

The pig plug wedged itself against my swollen, flopping hole lips, streching my
already immense hole to outrageous proportions before slipping in deep into my
stretched bowels. My hole had no more resistance left and my legs, tied to my
shoulders, just fell back as I moaned from somewhere two feet inside my raped
ass.

I opened my eyes, hearing a straining, grunting noise. His gigantic hair-coated
asscheeks, perched above my chest were pulled back by his strong, small hands
as a good-sized log of warm, wet turdmeat oozed from his hair-swarthed hole to
rest across my chest from swollen, sore titknob to swollen, sore titknob.

"Eat this out good, you toilet," he commanded, as he slid his reeking, unwashed
buttcheeks across my chest and down onto my face. For leverage, he grabbed my
distended knobs and poised his slime-dripping hole only an inch from my panting
lips before plopping the wet, gaping and shit-smeared hair crevice onto my
waiting mouth.

The hairy Arab sat down hard, opening the filthy depths of his butthole to my
strong, probing tongue.

"Yeah, toilet pig, wash my foul hairhole. Eat that caked on slime, you dirtpig.
Eat it, eat it."

From the constant downward rhythm, I knew he was hauling on his massive pole
that had reamed my cuntbutt and fed my face. A gasey fart dropped wet gobs of
his hole's remains into my trough mouth as my swollen pole began dumping a
pent-up load across my chest, mixing with the thick, stinking cum shooting from
this hairy arab animal's pole as he bellowed, farted and wiped his greasy,
raunchy butt cleavage across my bearded face.

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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