Alex stepped off the plane in Istanbul already hard. The heat hit him like a hand grabbing his balls. Hed come for the history, the food, the men. Mostly the men. Two nights in a cheap Sultanahmet hotel and he was cruising the back streets near the hammams, looking for exactly what he needed.
He found it in a dim teahouse off a side alley. Mehmet was sitting alone, thick forearms on the table, black eyes locked on him the second he walked in. Short beard, heavy shoulders, the kind of body that came from real work. Alex bought him a tea. Twenty minutes later they were in a taxi, neither saying much. Mehmets hand was already on Alexs thigh, squeezing hard enough to bruise.
The apartment was small, third floor, windows open to the warm night air. The second the door shut Mehmet shoved Alex against it and kissed him like he wanted to eat his tongue. Rough. Wet. Mehmets hand went straight down Alexs pants and grabbed his cock.
Fuck, youre already leaking, Mehmet growled in broken English. He squeezed the head, thumb smearing pre-cum. You came here to get fucked by a Turk, didnt you?
Alex nodded, breathing hard. Mehmet yanked his pants down and spun him around. Two thick fingers shoved straight into his ass, no spit, just the slick from his own cock. Alex groaned and pushed back.
Open up for me, Mehmet said, working those fingers deep, scissoring hard. Im gonna wreck this hole.
He didnt waste time. Belt off, jeans down, and that fat Turkish cock slapped against Alexs ass. Thick, veined, uncut, already drooling. Mehmet spat on it once, lined up, and drove in balls-deep in one thrust.
Alexs forehead hit the door. The stretch burned so good he saw white. Mehmet didnt pause. He fucked like he was angry, hips slapping loud and fast, one hand gripping Alexs hip, the other fisting his hair.
Take it, Mehmet grunted. Take every fucking inch.
The room filled with the wet sound of cock pounding hole. Alexs own dick swung between his legs, dripping on the floor. Mehmet reached around and jerked him rough, matching the brutal pace in his ass.
They didnt last long the first time. Mehmet slammed in deep, growled something in Turkish, and unloaded. Alex felt every hot pulse. Mehmet stayed buried, grinding, pushing his load deeper while he milked Alexs cock until he shot across the door.
They barely caught their breath before Mehmet dragged him to the bed.
Round two was slower but dirtier. Mehmet put Alex on his back, legs over his shoulders, and fucked him with long, grinding strokes that made Alexs toes curl. He talked the whole time.
Look at this greedy American hole. Swallowing my cock like it was made for it. You want more cum? I got plenty.
Alex begged for it. Mehmet flipped him again, face down, ass up, and railed him until the bed slammed the wall. He came again, deeper this time, then pulled out and shoved three fingers in to feel his own load inside Alex.
They fucked twice more that night. Once in the shower, Mehmet pinning him to the tiles and pounding standing up until water and cum ran down Alexs thighs. Once on the floor when they couldnt even make it back to the bed.
By morning Mehmet was hard again. He woke Alex with his cock already inside him, slow morning thrusts, one arm around his chest, the other stroking him lazy until they both came with low, tired groans.
Alex left Istanbul three days later with a sore ass, bite marks on his neck, and Mehmets number in his phone. He knew hed be back. Turkey had exactly what he needed.
