It is my contention that sex pigs and bug chasers are not born, but evolve. It certainly was so in my case. Here are some of my stories.

CJ: My First Poz Load

The first poz load I took was way back in the mid-1980s. At that time AIDS was getting a lot of attention from the press, but unless you lived in NYC, San Francisco, or Los Angeles it was still a remote thing to most gay men. Within the next year or two everything would change.

The guy’s name was CJ. He was a work friend and occasional fuck buddy of my first partner, David.

I remember when I first met CJ; I thought he was just the hottest thing I'd ever seen. He was good looking, well proportioned, sweet natured, had an ass like an inverted valentine, and...according to Dave...was totally humpy in bed. Actually, CJ was the human equivalent of a golden retriever: fun loving, always happy, and not too picky about what lap he jumped into. He was also my first chubby chaser, so I was especially intrigued.

So eventually CJ got around to me. I remember when he first kissed me, it felt like I was melting and I swear to God I felt my knees buckle. Now I had always enjoyed making out, but it was not until that time that I realized the movie caliber kissing actually did exist.

After that we played around once or twice, but jealousy on Dave's part and envy on mine made it problematic. So I sort of dismissed CJ and filed him under the category "David's Friend" and didn't think much more of it.

Then one Saturday day CJ called. Dave was at a photography class and was planning to meet CJ afterwards in Harvard Square for some lunch. CJ wondered if I'd like to join them. I thought I really shouldn't given the tension CJ generally caused between Dave and myself, but it was one of those sparkling Spring days and I wanted to get out of the house. So CJ said he would drop by on his way to Cambridge.

I didn't think much about the arrangement, that's until CJ showed up about half an hour early and jumped me. The first thing we did was make-out like crazed teenagers. Again, this was movie stuff...hot and consuming...and at some point our clothes came off. Next thing I know, CJ is lifting my legs and eating the beejesus out of my ass. This was new to me. I had eaten butt a number of times and quite liked it (I eventually became an ardent rim pig with a rim seat and everything), but no one had ever rimmed me before.

CJ suddenly stopped his ministrations and pressed his nice sized and uncut cock to my hole. I knew what was going to happen and I was a bit reluctant, not because any thoughts of AIDS, but because I was still ambivalent about getting fucked. It had happened a few times with Dave and some other guys and sometimes it was good but often it was not. Still, I wanted CJ bad, so I went hunting for some lube.

The only stuff I knew we had was Vaseline Intensive Care and I personally hate the stuff. It smells and tastes bad and...worse yet...burns. The only other thing I could think of was olive oil. I chuckled to myself, remembering yelling at Dave when I caught him jerking off with the expensive extra virgin one day. My lube of choice now happens to be plain aloe vera gel.

I greased CJ up and he slipped it into me. I then discovered the wonders of getting fucked by an uncut cock. Thanks to his spit, foreskin, and a decent taper, he entered with little friction and for the first time I felt stuffed instead of in pain. I think I became a confirmed pig bottom at that moment.

It was simply amazing. It was so primal and when I felt and tasted the sweat pouring off of CJ my head went to that other place that only a good, sound fucking can take it. The next thing I know, CJ clamps his mouth onto mine, groans under his breath, and unloads in me.

Well, we ended up meeting Dave only a few minutes late and proceeded to have a nice afternoon together. We ended up at a local suburban mall and I remember walking around feeling slightly bow legged and CJ's load gradually leaking out of me. Still, when I got home a few hours later and used the can, there was still quite a bit of cum in me.

I guess it was about six months later that CJ discovered he was HIV positive. He told us because my partner was in the hospital and CJ was concerned he might have infected him. Dave's problem was actually a heart valve infection and through the course of diagnosis it was discovered that he was still negative. However, I did need to get tested.

I was petrified, but not because I regretted what I did. It was a great fuck. I was also going though a lot then with Dave's illness and I just remember feeling beleaguered by this new responsibility. And remember, this was when it took weeks to get test results back. So between that and Dave's illness and eventual open-heart surgery, I was sick with worry. I remember at one point taking one of Dave's valiums and sitting there and wondering if I ever was going to relax. I didn’t. Well, I tested negative, Dave' surgery was successful, and things eventually quieted down.

Even though CJ was poz, we both still played with him on occasion...after all he was still totally humpy...though always safely. Still, every time CJ fucked me, part of me wanted him to rip off that rubber and plough me like he did on that brilliant Spring day.

A few years later, I found out he probably would have when it was discovered he had barebacked a few mutual acquaintances of ours. To this day, I don't know if he was trying to infect these people or just denying his own condition and CJ is no longer around to ask. Anyway, all turned out negative. In fact, I don't know of anyone CJ infected.

Three Pigs in a Bathroom Stall

So I guess my fascination with poz loads began with CJ. However, it did not really come to the forefront until the early 1990s when Dave and I parted company. The entire breakup had been very messy and painful, exacerbated by the interference of a beautiful but sociopathic bear named Paul and dysfunction Alaskan cub known as Eskimo Bob.

It was during this period that I started going to the porn movies in Boston's once infamous Combat Zone on a regular basis. I actually came out at one of these places two weeks before my 19th birthday (who wants to be a 19 year old virgin) and went regularly throughout college, so this was not a new scene to me. But at that time, I was in sore need of a place to escape and the porn theaters provided me with much needed refuge as well as intense sex.

The sleaziest and most fun of these was the Pilgrim Theater, a once notable burlesque house that had fallen on hard times. It was filthy and in disrepair, drugs were freely trafficked there, and it was considered a cheap flop house by nearly every vagrant in Boston. It was also total sex palace where one could do and get done just about anything with anyone. And at $7 for all day admission, it was the best bang for the buck in town.

I remember one day I actually played hooky from work to go to the Pilgrim. I was in one of the bathroom stall downstairs when this black guy comes in. I had played with him before maybe a year or two earlier. I had sucked him off in the auditorium then he took me downstairs to piss on me in front of the guys hanging out at urinals and in the door-less stalls. He recognized me, came in, unzipped and pulled out a very nicely sized uncut cock.

I sucked him for a while and at one point I looked up and asked him to fuck me. He said he would fuck me for basically the price of admission. I had never paid before and though I was tempted, I also didn't have the cash on me. The Pilgrim was, after all, not a place where one wanted to be carrying extra cash...or wearing clean clothes, for that matter. After awhile, the guy decides he doesn't want to cum just yet and goes back to the auditorium.

About a half hour later, the black guy returns with this short, dumpy, middle-aged troll in tow and they enter the stall next to me. After a time, I peek through the hole in the partition and see the black guy is fucking the troll. I guess he had a spare seven bucks. Very brazenly, I pulled up my pants half way...more so I wouldn't trip than for modesty...got up, and asked them to join me in my stall. They agreed and…still connected at the genitalia, mind you…they moved over.

At first I started sucking the troll's cheesy, little dick as he was getting fucked. While I was doing it he was telling me about all the times he had been gang banged in the theater.* Personally, I thought he was just bull shitting me but whatever "floated his boat."

And just to avoid any confusion here, I both witnessed and participated in many the horny, piggy, fucked up, and down-right disgusting scene at the Pilgrim at all times of day and night for several years…including a hunky hairy midget being spun around like a Thanksgiving turkey on a lazy-susan as a bunch of men ate out his furry little butt and yours truly getting pissed on by a tall red headed young man who claimed to be Tina Louise’s (as in Ginger Grant from Gilligan’s Island) incestuously abused son … and not once was there a bona fide gang bang.

After a while the troll decides to suck me, so we exchanged places. Of course, the black guy now thinks it's my turn to get fucked and begins entering me with his dick still funky from the troll's public utility of an ass. I was really dry and tight, but he had some Vaseline gel on him (which is better than the lotion) and considerately lubed me up before pushing his way in.

When the troll realized what was happening he grabbed my head and shoved it into his lap. I began sucking his pecker again. Finally, he announced he was going to cum and I asked*without thinking "In my mouth or up my ass?" Since my ass was occupied and I don't think the troll felt like interrupting the black guy, he shot his pig load into my mouth. Of course, I swallowed.

The troll decided to leave (maybe his lunch hour was over) and the black guys begins fucking me in earnest. As he fucked faster and harder I do remember distinctly saying to him "Don't cum in me." However, I didn't say it loudly or with great conviction and he unloaded in me without even missing a stroke. I was a bit freaked, but when he pulled out of me and I saw that little dribble of cum leaking from his black cock what little trepidation I had melted.

Now I don't know if either of these guys were poz, but they certainly could have been. Nevertheless, this is the moment when I became a barebacker even though I didn't even know the term yet…I don't even think it had been coined...and not only a barebacker, but one with a fetish for getting fucked raw by fellow cum pigs. And you know what?* It didn't particularly bother me. I felt that an issue had been settled and I could stop worrying about it.

The Phone Lines

Even though I was now an active barebacker, and by some standards a very active one, it still took a while for the bug chasing thing to firmly take hold.

I first encountered it when I discovered the Boston phone sex lines. I had been out on a date with a perfectly nice but boring guy and when I got home all I could think of was finding some high octane sex with some nameless stranger of very dubious virtue. I picked up a local gay rag to see what time the porn theaters closed when I saw an ad for a line called 550-PIGG.

I only had a vague idea of how these lines worked, but I decided to give it a try. At first it was very hard to figure out how the system operated (they are much easier now), but eventually I got the hang of it. And after a few hours, I finally did manage to find someone.

Actually, I had a terrific time. I met this guy named Jimmy, only 21 years old, but already an accomplished sex pig. He even made his living running phone sex lines. We partied, I ate his hairy ass (I love eating hairy butt), he fucked me, I fucked him, he pissed down my throat, and basically a good time was had by all. However, as we were starting the next round his office called (by this time it was morning) and he had to go.

So I went home and naturally tried to find someone new, figuring the next hookup would be as easily arranged as the first. Little did I know I had lucked out and that finding guys on the phone lines was fraught with difficulties and frustrations, not to mention expense.

So I was trying to find another trick on the line while taking a bath. I ended up talking to this guy from Newton and while we were going through the obligatory question and answer session about our looks, locale, and sexual tastes he mentioned that he was poz and wanted to cum in me. And guess what? I said as nonchalantly as I could "Sure." I think he shot at that moment, because he suddenly hung up. Come to think of it, I came about a minute later just thinking of the consequences of that one little word.

As my life on the phone lines progressed, I encountered more poz men looking to fuck raw. Generally this was very late at night, a time when people are generally more interested in jerking off and going to sleep than hooking up. But it was these conversations that enflamed my desire for dirty seed and I began more frequently looking for other sex pigs, knowing that some of them undoubtedly would be poz.

Mr. Baseball Cap

As you can imagine, I developed quite the reputation at the Pilgrim Theater. It got around that the curly headed fat pig would do anything anyone wanted: suck cock, eat ass, drink piss, and take loads from any and all cummers. It got to the point where guys would just appear next to me and just haul it out to fuck me or drop trou for a good butt sucking. I loved it.* More than that, actually, I reveled in it. Later I discovered online that some of these guys were poz. However, there were men even more sexually provocative than myself.

There was this one guy and his thing was to run around the theater totally naked except for a baseball cap and get barebacked by anyone and everyone. He wasn't good looking, but he was slender, smooth and had a big dick, so he did pretty darn well. Later I found out that he hid his clothes behind the screen and that he often found them stolen or piss sodden. I admit, I once pissed on them myself. I eventually figured out the purpose for the baseball cap, that's where he kept his car keys. How he got from the theater to his car without getting arrested, I am not quite sure.

Anyway, the first time I met him he was bent over a seat a row in front of me and getting fucked by this homely, skinny, middle-aged guy. Some other guy had his hand between the two, feeling the cock go in and out of the willing hole. However, I didn't realize he was being barebacked until Mr. Baseball Cap told the onlooker to tell the fucker to leave his load up there. Unfortunately, the management soon broke up the scene.

About 15 minutes later Mr. Baseball Cap returned, probably looking for his top. He had to settle for me. I asked him if he had some loads up his ass so I could suck them out.

I had been introduced to felching a few weeks before by this guy in sweatpants I was butt sucking. I didn't know he was carrying loads at the time, but after about 10 minutes of some very piggy ass eating cum started drooling from his hole into my waiting mouth. The rimming went from piggy to savage as we both lost ourselves in the moment and came without touching ourselves. I was hoping to repeat this wonderful experience. Unfortunately, the management had its "knickers in a twist" that day and just as I was about to rim this guy to within an inch of his life we got interrupted.

Maybe a week or two later I ran into Mr. Baseball Cap again and I guess the management had a new copy of Martha Stewart because this time we were left alone.

I asked him if he had any loads and he said he did. He had been barebacked by a fuck buddy of his before coming to the theater. So I directed him to sit in the seat next to me and hook his legs over the next row…that's how I felched the guy in the sweats. I then crawled along the filthy floor between his spread thighs and stuck my tongue right up his used hole. It was terrific just munching away at that pig's ass but when he began using his ass muscles to squirt that load into my mouth, it was simply amazing. Like sucking a shooting cock and eating ass all at the same time all wrapped up in the danger and passion of barebacking.

After his ass was "spick and span," he asked me to stop, but he wanted me to hang out. He said he had a surprise for me. For the next hour or two Mr. Baseball Cap wandered around the theater...stark naked, mind you...getting strangers to cum in him. After he received each load, he came back so I could suck and lick it out...all the while telling me about the nameless stranger who had just used his hole for his pleasure. There was a black guy who barebacked him in the bathroom, a fat guy who spooged his hole in the standing room area, some rough fuck jock who begged him behind the screen, etc. etc. And each time I just worshipped his hole, licking and swallow all that second-hand cum.

To finish the day, I shoved my aching cock up his well-lubed hole and gave him his final load.

Over the next year or so, we would repeat this scene a few times. He was never able to get as many loads, but it was great fun nonetheless. Unfortunately, I never got to take his load. He did piss all over me a few times, though. He claimed he was negative anyway and that he used chemicals in his ass to protect himself. Still, it would have been an honor to get used by such a brazen slut.

Ironically, I ran into him in another porn theater a year or two later to discover he had married a woman, of all things. He had met his female counterpart at the Pilgrim and they fucked behind the screen. That was always one of his favorite trysting spots. The two now cruised for bareback tops together. Though I am queer as a three dollar bill, I have always wondered what a three-way would be like with those two as I go to eat stranger loads out of both of them.