I return to load the story to see if this time it comes out with paragraph separation. In a few hours, I'll release the 2nd chapter. Thanks for the comments... seeing them makes me want to write. Ideas and suggestions are accepted and appreciated.

It's my first story, let's see if the story manages to hook you.

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They say life takes many turns... Well, mine had taken a complete turn back to the beginning. At 32 years old, I was asking my parents to take me in, in my room that still looks like I'm 12 years old. My mother had removed the music posters and other things... but, of course, the stuffed animals from when I was 5 years old were still on the bed.

Well, I introduce myself, my name is Juan, and I'm a 32-year-old guy who's been hit by the crisis in a very interesting way. I was working at my company for 5 years when they fired me, and since I'm not the best worker in the world and I don't have any connections, I haven't been able to find a job in my field in two years... and I've run out of money. I didn't expect to have to go back home, but life in Madrid is very expensive... and I'm not made to work at McDonald's and barely survive sharing an apartment. The main reason I wanted to live alone... is that I'm very vice-ridden. I like fucking, playing dirty, role-playing, and unsafe sex (my fault... but I'm driven by my vice) ... But you'll see that in my stories.

Luckily, after 15 days of unbearable cohabitation with my parents, I received a job offer that fell from heaven. Good salary and many vacations... but, of course, everything has its trap, it was to work as a construction supervisor in Morocco, near the border with Algeria, a fairly dangerous area, and as usual in this type of construction, in a completely isolated camp.

I thought about it a lot, especially because I wouldn't have options to satisfy my daily desires for vice-ridden sex. But my mother's umpteenth scolding made me change my decision.

So I presented myself in Morocco, and a camp guard came to pick me up at the airport. As I saw him, my mood improved. He was a guy about 30 years old, handsome and in good shape, about 180 cm, not very strong but looked like he was toned, in uniform with boots that made me a bit excited, and he had a big package (the legend about Arab cocks might be true, at least for this one). But what made my day was his smile and cheerful gaze, green eyes typical of Berbers, and perfect teeth. He gave me the impression that he did a quick check on me, just like I did on him. The truth is that I'm not bad-looking, I'm a handsome guy, I take care of myself, I'm toned, and I have good legs and a good ass. I'm dark-skinned with light eyes, I have my hair shaved in a military style, and I have a beard and hair on my chest and legs... not too much, but it stands out because I'm very hairy. I usually keep my chest hair trimmed, without ove...