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sub btm slut visiting from Canada looking to set up a pump and dump at my airbnb

Well from uk and still on lol but soon they will stop VPNs

I need to completely give myself to any emaciated , ravaged ,diseased old trolls. Let them use my mouth and ass all day and night. Injecting their hvl poz cum into my healthy body, ruining my health. Destroying me.

Guys do it all the time. Doesn't bother me at all. I'm there to service him, period. What he wants, he gets. If that means looking at porn while I suck his cock, then so be it. If that means he is holding my head in both hands and hip thrusting his hard cock in and out of my throat, so be it. Anything in between works as well. When I'm sucking, I literally want men to think of me as they would a urinal when they need to piss. I'm just a "thing" that allows them to achieve their need. No need to thank me. Use me, zip up and walk away.

I’ve tried sounds a couple of times and really loved it. But the fear of UTIs kept me from continuing. And then I had a catheter with recent prostate surgery, so thankfully I didn’t feel the catheter going in. Coming out was no big deal. The worst part of having catheter was changing the bags and worrying about infection. I was wishing they had left me in hospital for a week so nurse could have always changed them. I was extra paranoid I suppose because my brother died after over a year of repeated UTIs. I’ll stay away from sounding now on.

Hot! Keep going....

That mix of fear and a need to be bred in increasingly risky ways that cannot be resisted. You've just described the ideal chaser mindset.

Nice little bookstore in Huntington. I catch a LOT of loads there. Another one near St. Albans.

Chance is zero if you really are undetectable, whether or not he is actually on PrEP.

Thank you so much for your advice!

Minority, yes. Unusual, no.

You were hating on and criticizing Robert Kennedy Jr, at least in part, for cheating on his wife. I read stuff on here every day about guys cheating. That was my point.

Hot

I stand by my statement. This is the last statement I will make on the matter.

Beautiful hole man! Mmm

Ok first of all, I am abstaining. I was as a default. I asked what I thought was an interesting question here, and saw what the consensus was. It confirmed my baseline belief and I continued with it. second, I really don’t appreciate you coming into a message board where I asked a question and having you (who do not know me) calling me the “next level of selfishness.” Maybe you should do some “soul searching” about why you feel the need to come online and judge strangers like that.

Have a late few days holiday from Wed 17th Sept so will check SaunaBar for bb action. Maybe CumUnion on Fri 19th too,

Guys, sounding is another thing to remember to KEEP CLEAN. Sterilize that stuff. Metal sounds can (and should be sterilized in boiling water and/or the sterilize function of your dishwasher. This is common in newer ones for things like baby bottles. Use it. Also, wash your hands. You don't want to get alcohol based sterilizers in your urethra, because they will BURN.

I don't mind porn being on, but once I'm actually touching another guy I forget it's there. I went though a phase where I was sucking off a lot of "straight" guys and they always wanted porn to make sure they got hard quickly.

PIG--this was a short trip by UBAHN -and its held in a old sort of Capital event building -a courtyard and a lower level with various rooms -some like vaults, bars, dancing and sex areas with benches and slings for fisting , some benches etc. I got there early - i wasn't the only fool-they didn't open until 11pm -really! I did make it in- I paid for the VIP-- they only gave you Proseco or beer free- if you wanted water or coke -you had to pay! go figure- must be a European thing-so stupid. VIP was worth it- you get your own private check in and rest area from everywhere else- and its the main dance hall building-they do have their own private play space- but it was slings and gloryholes but it was so bright and pinkish-and cold- so unappealing. The other side of the venue had a check in and their lower level was more in line with sex club vibes- but so many guys and so much to explore- i think it was overwhelming for someone not use to a big circuit event. And it was thousands of guys- i didn't stay long- i had plane to catch so i knew this wasn't going to be much for me- you can't compete with skinny twinks and roided out gays. What surprised me the lines to get in at 1am were around the block for standard entry and VIP - so it was so so crowded. Wow, i'm glad i went but it wasn't for me- i had more fun at Tiergarten to be honest and hotter. but just for the experience it was good to go- i won't have FOMO anymore. Its LAB on meth is what i say but its huge- i found a whole set of mazes when i was trying to find the exit from the lower level - i didn't even see it when i got there early so i know i must have missed out on other areas. I went back and went to BULL but that was so crowded -too much - i had guys asking me to sell them meth-i was like - i don't even know what that is and they were so high whisky dick and all- lots of pushing and standing. Bull is great when its just crowded enough but overload- not great. When I went earlier Sat -i thought i would go loaded up to Horsefair- i got two loads and it was pretty empty but enuf guys and to me it was hot- afternoon at 4pm and got fucked twice and loaded wasn't expecting but hoping and it paid off...Late night on a big event-its alot and New Action was in the streets. I missed Scheune naked party but honestly better-the darkroom in basement isn't very big and not easy to get around so if it fills-not a lot going to be happening and I"m not sure they play upstairs but navigating that isn't much easier if you been in that bar. I missed the Coffee and Cream parties from years ago at Mutchman's and the old Horsefair market then -- even LAB- used to be scary to get in - that old gruff guy wouldn't have let 85% of the guys on line get in- that was the point when it opened but now its a different scene but that's my perspective as an "elder gay" now , but back in early years it was a bit of fear mixed in -which was the point. Too much flamboyance - and PIG Stated no women allowed well i saw a few at the party. In end i'm glad i went but Berlin is more fun when its not a huge event- but going in summer for Tiergarten is all worth it and more- you 're so lucky to have that and so much freedom to be that piggy at night. Beats Central Park and Hampstead Heath by miles!!! So jealous -i'm glad it shared some of that last week. My hole much appreciated the action!

Hey guys. I’ve been thinking about trying a different direction for a story. It includes a new theme. I hope you like it. Coach Sanders I think deep down I always knew I was gay. It was just there, in the back of my head, waiting for me to quit pretending. Hard to believe now, but back in high school I was a chubby geek. I used to hide behind baggy clothes and spend more time online than outside. My body made that clear. The thought of showering in front of the guys in gym made my stomach twist. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t about being small down there. That wasn’t it. It’s that I knew they’d laugh at my naked body. So, I’d pretend I had somewhere to be or wait by my locker until I could clear out unnoticed. And because I was basically a nobody, I got away with it. Thing is, I used to stare at the jocks, hoping they wouldn’t notice. All the time I’d just tell myself I was looking at them because I wanted a body like theirs. I even kept saying that when I started watching gay porn. But I was only jacking off to solo stuff and imagine my body like that. So, it was ok. But by senior year, I decided to do something about it. So, I hit up Coach Sanders about using the weights. He’s in his fifties, fit, serious. The kind of old school coach who still wears a whistle. I stood there, nervous. Even though I was intimidated, he never gave me shit and kinda watched out for me if the other guys messed with me. That’s what gave me the nerve to tell him I wanted to start on the weights and get in shape. He just sat there, looking me over for second before straightening up. “I’ve been watching you, kid. You’ve got potential,” he told me, standing up and putting a hand on my shoulder. “I can see it. Though, the baggy clothes aren’t helping any. It’s obvious you’re trying to hide your body.” I just stood there, his hand on my shoulder. Eyes locked on mine like he was waiting for something. I took a deep breath and told him the problem was that I wasn’t sure about being in the weight room with the other guys. There was no judgment in his eyes, just a quiet nod like he understood. He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, then turned and said I could come in once everyone had left. Since he taught a couple of history classes, he'd be in his office late. So I started showing up when it was empty. No noise, no eyes on me. Coach barely said anything at first. Just nods when I walked in. But after a couple of days, he noticed I didn’t have a clue. He’d correct my form, show me how to grip the bar, tell me which muscles I should be working on. I listened during all of it. After about a month, he stood beside me watching as I was benching. “Gotta be honest, kid. I didn’t think you’d stick with it,” he said, looking me over, not holding back. But I didn’t flinch. “I’m starting to see a difference.” I looked at myself and didn’t see much. Maybe a little definition, maybe nothing. But he saw it. After that, he started me on a plan and laid out what I should be doing, how often, how heavy. He didn’t ask if I wanted it. He just handed it to me, and I followed. I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to disappoint him. Sometimes I’d notice him checking me out, studying me. Not in a way anyone else would notice, but I felt it in my gut. And I started thinking about him without meaning to. The way he moved through the gym like he owned the place. Thick arms, veins visible even when he wasn't flexing. His pecs filling out his polo like it’s one size too small. Sometimes I could barely focus when he was in the room. One night, I dropped a dumbbell mid-set. It hit the floor hard. He was next to me before I could reach for it. “You alright?” he asked, eyes steady, handing it to me. “Yeah. Just slipped,” I told him, my eyes down. Embarrassed I’d fucked up. He didn’t say anything. Just stepped behind me, hands light on my elbows. “Keep your shoulders down. You’re pulling too high,” he reminded me. I adjusted, tried to focus. His voice was calm, steady. “Better. Now breathe,” he said in my ear. His body right up against me. I followed his lead, but my form was off. Not from the weight. From him. From the way he moved against me. Like he knew how my body moved and was moving with it. He pressed into me, adjusting me, until I got it right. “Good boy,” he grunted, stepping in front of me. He stood there for a second about to say something but stopped. “It’s getting late. I’ve gotta finish up some papers. See ya tomorrow, kid.” I trained harder after that. Sweated more. Pushed past the burn. I told myself it was about progress, about discipline like Coach told me. But I kept noticing when he was near. I kept noticing when he wasn’t. I could feel myself changing. Coach didn’t say much, but he changed how he talked to me. Less about the weights and more about what it was doing to me. I started losing even more weight and building more muscle. The results were wild. After my workouts I’d head home, still avoiding the showers. Drenched in sweat, I’d run to my room, stripping down to check myself out in the mirror. The months of work were showing, and my late growth spurt was the cherry on top. My pecs were solid from benching. My abs showed real definition. My biceps were tight and defined when I flexed. And my legs, they were strong from all the squats. I felt more confident. Honestly, I was looking better than ever even though I still wore baggy clothes and still hiding my body. Old habits, I guess. The workouts with Coach also started messing with my head. I wasn’t just physically changing. I was starting to figure out it was more than just having a body like the jocks. I’d started looking at different porn. First it was just two guys jacking off together. But after a while, it wasn’t enough. I needed more. There was no going back. I was jacking off to guys making out, sucking, and fucking each other. I’d surf sites looking for all types, not just jocks. Being a tech geek, I’d downloaded a shitload of porn. One night at the end of the school year, I was halfway through my last set. Sweat clung to my skin. My muscles were pumped. I noticed Coach still hadn’t stopped by. He’d usually stopped by but was holed up in his office, something about grading papers. The room felt quieter without him. I finished my reps and hit the showers. Yeah, I was showering there now, but only after workouts. I dried off and walked over to his office. “Gonna get dressed and head out, Coach,” I told him, leaning in the doorway in my towel. Nodding, he looked up, eyes on me, and stood. "Wait,” he said, pulling out a stack of clothes and tossed me a t-shirt. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress. Figured it’s time your clothes caught up.” “Thanks, Coach,” I smiled, feeling the soft, thin cotton. I put it on, walked over to mirror, and looked at myself. “Fuck,” I moaned, seeing it stretched across my pecs, and how it gripped my shoulders and biceps. And the best part, I could see it framing my waist. It didn’t hide much. I could feel myself getting hard as I turned to Coach. He stood there, holding a pair of jeans. “Uh,” I stammered, grabbing them. The towel clung to my waist, barely. “I’ll go put them on. Just got out of the shower and don’t got underwear.” “You’re fine, boy,” Coach smiled and sat down, arms behind his head. “They’ll look better without. Besides, it’s just us guys. Go on. I think I got the right size.” Nodding, I turned around, trying to hide my cock. I tossed the towel, bent down, and stepped into them. I could feel how tight they were as I got my junk in and zipped up. “I think I need a bigger size, Coach,” I told him, seeing my bulge in the mirror. “Naw, they’re fine. You’ve got nothing to hide. Your ass looks good in those,” he smiled, ignoring my growing package. He was right. Coach just sat there, not saying another word, just watching me. I thought about the hours I spent to get here. The late nights, just him and me. The way he pushed me. The way his hands stayed a second too long after a good set. The way he looked at me now. I looked over at him, sitting like he always did, arms crossed. His face didn’t give anything away, but something in his eyes kept me looking for a second longer than I should have. I was sure he knew what I was thinking. I took a deep breath and grabbed for my towel. “Thanks, Coach. See you tomorrow,” I nodded, avoiding his eyes, and headed to my locker for the rest of my stuff. I didn’t look back, but I could still feel him watching. I kept thinking about it the whole way home. It was late when I finally got in and just went straight to my room. I sat on the edge of my bed, still stuck on it. Fuck, I was still hard, and my jeans were feeling even tighter. I peeled them off slowly, remembering Coach’s eyes on me, and tossed them on chair. That’s when I noticed the slip of paper sticking out of the pocket. I reached in and pulled it out. Reading it, I smiled. It was a 6-month membership to the gym downtown with a note from Coach. “Proud of you, Ben. You’ve come a long way from that boy coming to me asking for help. Thought you should keep going. Graduation’s next week, so tonight was it. Last session. Good luck.” I stared at it and read it again. He hadn’t said a word to me. Didn’t mention it when he handed me the clothes. The bastard had fucking planned it that way. I lay back, staring at the ceiling. The note still in my hand. After that, I was just kinda going through the motions. Trying to get through the next week. I saw Coach a few times, in the hallway, at the ceremony. But he never looked at me, not once. He didn’t even bother with a ‘bye.’ It was like all that time with him didn’t happen. The only proof I had was when I looked at the mirror. I started at the gym the week after graduation. It wasn’t like the high school weight room where it was just Coach and me. I was still pissed, but more sad than anything. So, I threw myself into the workouts. I lifted harder, ran faster, and pushed until my muscles screamed. Months of grinding at the gym were paying off. But it didn’t feel like it was enough. Not without him seeing it. That summer I came out of my shell. I was meeting new people but always made time for the few old friends I did have. My parents were out of town for the week, and I’d been at a party earlier. Nothing wild, just enough beer cut the edge off after a long week. I got home, kicked off my shoes, stripped, and flopped on my bed. I’d heard a couple of guys at the party talking about an app they had luck with and decided to check it out. I wasn’t even sure why. Sure, I thought about having sex with a guy. How could I not? I had all that porn. But I wasn’t really out. Not to anyone. Not even to myself, not fully. Still, I set up a profile and uploaded a selfie showing off my pecs and abs. I made sure you couldn’t see my face or recognize my room. I started swiping and scrolling. Then I saw him. It was Coach. My thumb froze over the screen. I stared at his profile, my heart pounding. It was definitely him. Even without a face pic, I’d spent enough time with him to know. I tossed my phone on my bed and started pacing. “Fuck it,” I mumbled, grabbing my phone. I scrolled through his pics, finally getting a look at all of him. There it was. His uncut cock. Veins wrapped around his shaft. It was thick, just like I’d imagined it. Yeah, I had noticed his bulge when he spotted me. Before I could chicken out, I sent him a message. “Hey, Coach. It’s me. Ben. I’ve been wondering about you for a while. Seeing you here, kinda answers it.” He replied right away. “Yeah, I was wondering, too. You think I didn’t see the way you looked at me? I had to pretend I didn’t see it at the end. You made that damn gym feel dangerous.” “Dangerous how?” I asked, already guessing the answer. “Like I wanted to lock the door and ask what the hell you were really thinking. But I couldn’t. Not with you still a student.” “I’m not a student anymore,” I wrote, not saying anything else. I could see he was still online but didn’t respond. I started thinking it was stupid to have said it. Then, I saw his message. “True. And if you came over now, I wouldn’t have to worry about it.” Since I still had his number, I just replied, “Text me your address.” That’s when I noticed my hardon. I threw on the t-shirt and squeezed into the jeans he gave me, checked the mirror, and headed over. The quiet streets and warm air made the buzz go down. I wasn’t sure what I wanted from going there. But knew I wanted to see him. When I got there, he opened the door like he’d been waiting. No shirt, just a pair of shorts. He looked good. Like I said, he was in his 50s, around 6'1", solid with broad shoulders, thick arms. I’d seen him almost every day and now his pics, so I knew he was furry. I was surprised how into it I was. He smiled, seeing me in the clothes he gave me. Stepping aside, he let me in and followed him into the living room. “Figured, you might want one,” he said, handing me a drink. He dropped into the chair across from me, stretched his legs out, looked me in the eyes, and drank. “Rum and Coke.” “Thanks,” I said, taking a sip, like I knew what I was doing. The rum was stronger than I expected. Sweet at first, then sharp. He watched me with that calm look, same as always. I leaned back, trying to seem relaxed, but my leg kept bouncing as I looked around. The place was clean, lived in, soft lighting, music low in the background. We talked about nothing really, just catching up. His voice was calm, steady. I took a gulp, trying to settle into it. That helped. I started to relax. That’s when I finally came out and asked why he had dropped my workouts. Not even a heads-up. He shrugged. I nodded and took another gulp. No judgment. I guess I finally understood “Fuck, Ben,” he smiled, “You’ve bulked up since graduation. You should put some more pics up on your profile.” “Yeah?” I smiled, flexing a bit to show off. “You think so? I just put it up tonight.” “Definitely, but you’ll need someone to help you with it,” he grinned, “If you want them done right.” I sat there thinking about it and nodded. He got up with a smile. That's when I noticed his bulge. It was pretty obvious he was getting hard. Still nervous, I sat there, not saying a word. He walked up to me. His bulge almost in my face. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. “If you want, we can do some now and have them up in no time,” he offered, grabbing a camera on the side table. My mouth hung open. I was practically drooling. He stepped back before I could do anything. I looked at him. Really looked. The booze had kicked in. I felt warmer. Relaxed. Open. I wanted to see where this was going. I nodded and stood up, then slowly took off my shirt. The room felt warmer. Or maybe it was me. He guided me over to the wall and adjusted the light. Told me to turn just a little and started shooting. After a few, he said the light would hit better if I showed more. I wasn’t sure. Besides, I was commando, like I’d been since graduation. Looking up, I saw Coach holding out a jockstrap to me. It looked beat up. Stretched out like it’d seen some action. Kinda dirty. Like maybe it hadn’t been washed in a while. “It’s one of my old ones. It’ll do,” he grinned, eyeing my bulge. Looking at it brought me back to all the loads I shot thinking about guys wearing one. Their cocks outlined in the pouches. The look of the straps framing those muscled asses as they got fucked. “Go on boy, put it on. It’ll make that ass pop,” he told me. Fuck if I didn’t want to! I tossed my socks and sneakers. And this time I didn’t hide it. I dropped my jeans. My cock was growing as I stepped out of them. I put on the jockstrap, filling up the pouch with my junk. He didn’t flinch. He just lifted the camera and told me to hold still. I did and let him see me. He circled me, snapping pics, all the time telling me how sexy I was. How I could have my pick of anyone I wanted. I was feeling the buzz mixing with horniness. That’s when I finally noticed he’d tossed his shorts. He was totally hard. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. I’d seen pics of his cock on the app. But it was the first time I’d seen a hard cock in real life besides my own. What surprised me more was that even hard, his foreskin still covered the tip. Then, he lowered the camera and stepped in close. His hand brushed my cock, light but deliberate, as he adjusted the pouch. “Better,” he sighed and leaned in. His breath was warm, close enough to feel. His eyes locked on mine. I didn’t move, didn’t speak. Then he broke the moment. “Come on,” he smiled, leading me down the hall. “You gotta see yourself.” His bedroom was everything I expected. It felt like him. The large bed was made tight with no mess. The air smelled clean with a hint of sweat. Coach walked me over to the mirror without saying a word. He stood behind me, hands on my shoulders. I could feel his cock poking at my back as I caught his eyes in the mirror. By this time, there was no hiding it. My cock was at full mast. Up, tight against the mesh. I was leaking. For a second, I just stared at the sharp lines carving down from my hips. I ran my hands down them, tracing the V. Something I never thought I’d see on me last year. “Goddamn, boy. If you were mine, I’d keep you strapped 24/7,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around me, and gripped my pecs. “A perfect musclejock.” “Fuck!” I moaned as his fingers spread and played with my nips. "Flex those guns, boy," he said, voice rough. "Show Coach what you built out of that flabby mess you were." My biceps swelled under the challenge. My pecs popped as I clenched and held the tension. He leaned in. His eyes locked on me. I flexed even harder. “That’s it, boy. Show it off,” he grunted in my ear, sliding his hands down my abs until they landed on my hips. He pushed back just enough to make room for his cock and looked at me again. Turning around, I stood there. My cock was practically shredding the frayed pouch. I lifted my chin, just barely. That’s all it took. His hand slid to the back of my neck. His fingers gripped me tightly and pulled me into him. His lips found mine and our tongues started wrestling. I could feel his cock sliding against my abs. Breaking the kiss, he bit my bottom lip and pulled it between his teeth. I groaned. He liked it. I could feel his hand moving down my back and over my ass, his mouth still holding on to me. I wrapped my arms around him. It only made him rougher. He was taking control of me. Letting go, he slipped a couple of fingers in my mouth. “That’s it boy. Show Coach how hungry you are,” he growled. His fingers explored my mouth. I started sucking, covering them in spit. Next thing I know, he bit my neck. I lost it. It was all he needed. His slick fingers were tapping against my hole. I arched, letting him know I wanted it. “Good boy,” he smiled, slipping a finger in, and led me to the bathroom. “Let’s get you ready. Strip and get in.” I saw the chrome attachment shining in the shower and got excited. Fine, I admit it. I’d looked it up. I’d been thinking about being fucked for a while now. I guessed what was going to happen. Never done it myself, but Coach walked me through it. It was awkward at first. But with his hands on me, it made a difference. It was like he’d done this to others before. After a bit, it was obvious I was clean. But Coach grabbed a squirt bottle, and put more in, ‘just to make sure.’ Told me to hold it in for a bit, then I’d be ready. He stood watching me, making sure it wasn’t leaking out. Satisfied, he told me to empty, finish up, and put my jockstrap back on. He’d be in the bedroom waiting for me. I turned on the faucet, hands roaming as I spread lather across my pecs to my nips. I pulled and felt them harden up. The pain was connecting with the tingling in my hole. I moved down to my abs, tracing the deep cuts, then grabbed my junk with both hands and started rubbing. I’d never felt so fucking turned on. “Hurry up, boy!” Coach barked, getting me out of the moment. “Get your ass in here, NOW!” I realized he was waiting for me. I called out to him, “On my way, Coach!” I rinsed, dried off, and pulled on my jockstrap. I looked in the mirror. It was tight, perfect. I headed for the bedroom. Coach was on the bed, watching me. His eyes locked on me like he’d been waiting for this. I felt hot all over. My skin buzzed as I slowly walked to the foot of the bed. The closer I got, the more I started feeling the burn in my hole. Something was happening. My chest felt tight, my skin alive. I was horny. Yeah, but it was more than that. I so wanted this. And I didn’t care what happened next. I just knew I was ready. Coach was studying me. His eyes steady, taking in every reaction as he motioned me to him. "Yeah, boy. Get over here," he ordered, stroking his thick thighs, spread wide open. Cock hard and ready. Slowly, I crawled onto the bed and got on my knees between his thighs. He watched how I breathed. How my body tensed. How I looked at him. I looked down at his cock, sticking straight up, foreskin still covering the tip. I could feel my hole twitching. Then he moved. No warning. Just a shift. “I always had my eye on you. Knew what you were capable of. Been fucking wanting this since before you first came to me, asking,” he growled, grabbing my head and yanked. “You aren’t the first one I got in shape.” Down I went, face to face with Coach’s cock. I could smell the day on him. Fucking sweat from being out in the hot sun all day. I didn’t know what came over me, but I started sniffing it as he worked his hand down my back. He started working my hole again with a slick finger. It was crazy. I was loving it and my moans got louder. “Fucking jockpig,” he laughed, working it deeper. “You like Coach’s smell, don’t ya?” There it was again. I could feel the burn getting stronger, but I didn’t care. It felt good. All I could think about now was Coach’s cock. I could see the precum oozing from his foreskin. “Fuck yeah, Coach,” I moaned, reaching out with my tongue. He stayed in me, making sure I felt his rough finger sliding and digging around. All the time, I lapped at his cock. I could taste it sliding over my tongue and down my throat. It was sharp and clean. Then I felt it. Another finger sliding in. Everything I’d ever imagined about being with a guy was happening. It wasn’t with someone my age, but I didn’t care. It was Coach. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I wanted him to show me. The burn was hitting every nerve as he opened me up, getting me ready. It was all I needed. I opened my mouth wide and went down on him. “Goddamn cocksucker. Get me ready.” Coach moaned, feeling my lips sliding over the foreskin, pushing it back on the shaft. I took it down about half-way. He just sat there, slowly starting to fuck my face. I tried not to gag, but spit was pouring from my mouth. The deeper the strokes, the more I moaned. I wanted it ready for my hole. I sucked harder. “Just relax, nice and slow. You got it,” he murmured, holding my head with both his hands until I was nose deep in sweaty pubes, my chin on his balls. I kept at it, sucking on him. His leaking cock was dripping down my throat as I gripped his thighs. His thrusts were getting harder and faster. “Alright, enough,” he growled, grabbing me, and shoved me back. He leaned in, his mouth almost at my hole. I could feel his hot breath on it. Then, he flicked his tongue at it. “Shit, yeah,” I moaned, never thinking it’d be like this. He was fucking me with his tongue. Coach ate me out for a while then pulled up. My hole was on fire, hungry, and aching. That’s when I finally saw it. It wasn’t showing in any of his pics, but I could see it now. A black scorpion tattooed on the tip of his cock! Its tail wrapped around it. The stinger going under and into the piss slit. How did I miss it?! Seeing my reaction, Coach spread my legs and moved in before I could do anything. “You don’t know how many fucking times I thought about breeding you,” he growled, teasing my hole with his cock. “I knew it the first day you asked about working out that I’d make you into the perfect fucking poz musclejock.” His words were hitting me, reminding me of those nights when he was pushing me harder and harder. Making me want it. I could see the lust in his eyes but then, he got serious and stopped. “But then you fucking got under my skin, boy,” he sighed. “Like I said, you aren’t the first. Just the one I never should’ve let get this close. That’s why I ended it.” I should’ve been freaking out, but my hole was aching. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck me,” I whimpered. The look on his face suddenly changed. “Yeah? You want it, huh?” he smiled, pushing his cock at my hole, again. “Just say it, boy.” “Oh, God!” I moaned, my body giving me away. I lifted my hips and offered myself up. “I wanna be your poz musclejock, Coach.” That’s all it took. He started into me. “Shit!” I cried out, feeling the tip stretching my hole as he punched through. “Fuck, boy,” he grunted, feeling me tightening up. “You’re still fucking tight. I got plenty more to train that hole. But for now, let’s try this.” I wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying. I was trying, but I still couldn’t relax enough to take him any deeper. That’s when I saw him grab a brown bottle from the side table. I recognized it from some of the raunchier porn I’d gotten into. I watched him unscrew the bottle and take a long snort. “This’ll loosen you up,” Coach moaned, handing me the bottle. I could see the poppers were getting to him. I looked him in the eyes and put the bottle up to my nostril and breathed in. “Fuck,” I growled, feeling it hit me at the same time Coach pushed into me. “Another,” he ordered, “Opening you up, boy. No going back.” This time, it worked. I could feel him sinking in. “God! Give it to me,” I whimpered, his shaft splitting me open. “I DON’T HEAR YOU, BOY!” he yelled, hitting my prostate. I kept moaning, feeling him sliding over it. Pushing deeper. It felt like I was floating. Not really in my body but still aware of what was happening. I didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t care. Everything was a blur. But I knew he was fucking me now. And I didn’t want him to stop. “FUCKING BREED ME!” I yelled, “FUCKING POZ ME, COACH!” Coach pumped into me, pushing himself into my guts. His balls banged against me. His grip got tighter. “Fucking ass feels good, boy,” Coach growled, “Just fucking tight enough.” I just groaned. I couldn’t speak. My cock was twitching. He just kept on, ramming into me. I was loving it, wanting him to fill me up with his poz load. “Been waiting for this since I started seeing results,” Coach said, letting it settle into my head. “That ass getting high and tight. Just begging for my poz loads.” “Shit yeah,” I moaned, realizing I had done it all for him. “I fucking wanted to be your musclejock since day one, Coach. Fucking wanted to make you proud.” I was panting and bucking, pushing back on his cock the whole time. I wanted it all the way in me. Each time he hit my prostate, I’d push back for more. “Fucking cockpig,” he growled, “Gonna have you begging for other poz cocks soon.” I was too much into it to answer. That’s when he sank down all the way and stayed there. “Fuck yeah,” he grunted, “It’s all in.” “Goddamn, it!” I moaned, squirming. Then he started ramming into me. Hard and fast. Sweat was flying off him. His eyes hard, like a hunter who knew he’d set up the perfect shot. Closing the space between us, he wrapped his arms around me. He held me tight. He was close. I clenched down. He started sucking in air short and fast. Then he slowed but went long and hard, the last one pushing me over the edge. “Shit yeah!” I growled, shooting biggest load ever as I felt his cock spasming in me. “Load me up, Coach!” “FUCKING TAKE IT!” he yelled, his swollen cock finally filling my hole with his poz load, and fell on me. He stayed in me for a while, both of us now covered in sweat until he pulled out and sat back. "You feel that in you, don't you, boy?” he grinned, fingering my sloppy hole. “Your first poz load.” “Yeah, Coach,” I growled, grabbing him tight, and pulled him back on me hard. My mouth crashed into his, rough and hungry. “Fucking thanks,” I panted against his lips, my breath raw and grateful. “You’re welcome, boy,” Coach smiled, showing me his red-stained cum slick fingers. “It’s starting. You feel it? It won’t be long.” “Shit,” I moaned, sucking on them. I could taste the metallic sharpness mixed with the saltiness of his load. “Gonna be your fucking poz musclejock, Coach.” “That you are, boy,” he growled and slipped a buttplug in my hole to make sure. “MY fucking poz musclejock. I got so much to show you.” “Can’t wait, Coach,” I muttered, rolling over and burying my face in his furry pecs.