Afghani Legacy

Douglas was in the closet, literally, peeking through the slats on the closet doors, occasionally getting an eyeful of old, maimed Ahmad fucking perfect fuckdoll Jenny.

She was fertile and unprotected. The opportunities belonged to Ahmad; the consequences to Douglas. It was strict cuckolding, and as Douglas stroked his cock in that closet, it was the epitome of what he aspired to.

He could see Jenny's perfect foot, caressing Ahmad's ass, his potent cock pounding away, making Jenny's slick cunt froth on his meat. He could see Ahmad's big balls pound away at Jenny's pink star.

It was a pure contrast. The blonde redneck stripper slut, the lapsed Christian. The old Arab, a fervent Muslim. Douglas's small white cock spit another load onto Jenny's floor, listening to her cries, cries he'd never get to hear her make for him, and Ahmad's bullish roar, the roar of conquest and impregnation. The roar of a legacy that Douglas wouldn't get a chance to make with Jenny, and that denial was so sweet. Douglas fell asleep on the closet floor, as Ahmad proved his bull credentials by quickly hardening up again.