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In my defense, your dad sounds like he had more girth than mine, so I started at a disadvantage. Definitely haven't heard that in years.

Me next please daddy

I have never been told that. Lol

I had that happen to me recently here in Chicago. They said because I called them poppers I couldn’t buy them. I went somewhere else and bought them.

I think you and I can both attest this isn't true. LOL If a man wants a tight hole, I've yet to hear it. Back before I got loose all I was told is that I was "too tight."

When I go to the bath house or the video stores it seems that most of my breedings are with just spit. Tops don’t usually carry lube and I don’t like to Cary a bottle around either. That’s why spit is the most common lube. I went to a new fuck buds house yesterday and he pulled out some lube that was not as good as spit. I want as much of my tops dna in me as possible. Lol

as you should sir. you’re build to breed and it’s my job as a btm to let you enjoy yourself

I think that is yet another reason I am turned off with porn. The limited exposure I have seen it was a top telling a bottom how tight his pussy was. It makes me think that is what men want.

Sorry everyone, it has been quite some time since I could sit down and write. Should have the next chapter up soon.

wow!! hot, sperming cock of yours, plus a manly body❤ message me if you can/would like to 🙂

Regardless of political leanings, the economy is the most important issue. People supported Trump and the GOP overall in 2024 because they felt that Biden and the Democrats in general had not done enough to improve their lives and their ability to care for their families, and they promised to make it better. The economy has considerably worsened, so the party in power is being punished. I would like to think that there is some sort of turn against their philosophy, but I suspect hard economic times is most of it.

PART 2 - Our little BBQ slut. Weeks blurred into a haze of self-discovery for Greg after that wild Melbourne Cup BBQ. His ass still slightly more loose than he would have liked it to be, and an ache faint from the relentless pounding, a constant reminder of the hot, poz seed that had flooded his guts. What started as a one-off thrill had awakened something primal—he craved the rush, the degradation, the way his body surrendered completely. Piss play lingered in his fantasies, the warm streams marking him as owned, and those amyl hits? They turned him into a quivering mess, hole twitching for invasion. Was he a bottom slut now? Was there any point to denying it? The uncertainty of his status fueled each session he jacked off with fire, but it had been weeks since the BBQ so he convinced himself he was okay. Seeking some kind of anchor, Greg fired up his laptop one rainy evening, typing 'support for risky hookups' into the search bar adding to the many corrupted searches he had done over time. Sites popped up all clinical and judgmental, but he scrolled past them. Then, buried in the results, a forum called Breeding Zone caught his eye. Curiosity piqued, he clicked through. What he found wasn't support—it was a rabbit hole of raw, unfiltered confessions. Threads overflowed with guys detailing bareback gangbangs, chem-fueled orgies, and the intoxicating high of chasing loads from strangers. Stories of conversions, glory holes dripping with cum, asses stretched wide for anonymous breeders. Greg's cock stiffened instantly. He stripped down, lubed up, and dove in, hours slipping away as he sniffer his fading amyl and gooned to the tales—edging himself to near-madness, hand flying over his shaft while reading about sluts like him getting turned out in dark rooms. One post mentioned local spots for real action: an dingy old video and adult bookstore down a city laneway with an upstairs backroom cinema where gay men prowled in the maze and shadows. The anonymity, the flicker of porn on screen, the scent of sweat and lust—it sounded perfect. Heart pounding, Greg showered, threw on loose jeans and a hoodie to hide his growing bulge, and headed out. The unlight old club sign loomed down the seedy laneway from the street corner, the neon buzzing to no effect. Inside, the clerk—a bored middle-aged guy—took his cash. 'Amyl for sale too,' the man grunted, sliding a fresh bottle across the counter. Greg snatched it up, the familiar chemical promise making his pulse race, then grabbed his ticket and went up the old wooden stairs. The room was a velvet-black void, lit only by the massive screen playing hardcore porn as it echoed off the walls, with the wet slaps of flesh on flesh. A dozen or so figures slumped in worn seats or leaned against walls, silhouettes shifting in the gloom. The air hung thick with musk, stale smoke, and something sharper, acrid. Greg's eyes adjusted slowly, spotting clusters of older men, their faces etched with hard living, clothes rumpled. He eased into a seat near the front, biting the top of the amyl cap he cut open the seal with his teeth for a quick sniff. The new bottle of rush hit like lightning, loosening his limbs, making his hole clench in anticipation. It didn't take long. A burly figure in the row behind him leaned over for a look, exhaling a thick cloud of vapor that toward Greg's face—sweet, chemical, not quite smoke. Greg realized dimly, the fumes tickling his nostrils and stirring a forbidden curiosity. The man, grizzled with a salt-and-pepper beard and yellowed teeth, grinned in the low light. 'Fresh meat,' he rasped, shuffling closer. Two others joined, one skinny with greasy hair, the other stocky and flannel shirt unbuttoned, tattoos faded across his gut. They circled like wolves, pipes glowing faintly as they puffed and blew more clouds his way, the haze enveloping him, making his head swim even before he inhaled. Greg's resistance melted under the amyl's and new glow the men had breathed on him. He slid or melted even to his knees on the sticky floor, the screen's glow illuminating his eager face. The bearded one unzipped first, hauling out a thick, veiny cock already leaking pre. Greg leaned in, lips parting to engulf the head, tongue swirling around the salty slit. The man groaned, hand tangling in Greg's hair, guiding him deeper. Soon, the skinny one flanked him, feeding his slender dick into Greg's mouth alongside, stretching his jaw as he slurped greedily, spit dribbling down his chin. The third man stroked himself nearby, watching with hooded eyes. Lost in the rhythm—suck, swallow, gag—Greg barely registered the bearded guy's pipe pressing to his lips. 'Open up, boy,' the man murmured, igniting the bowl. Greg's eyes widened, but the high from the amyl and the cocks in his face overrode caution. He inhaled deeply, the harsh burn racing down his throat, exploding into euphoria. Heat surged through his veins, every sensation amplified tenfold. His skin tingled, cock throbbing painfully hard against his jeans, and an insatiable hunger clawed at him. He needed more—more touch, more invasion, more everything. The men sensed the shift, their prey now pliant and ravenous. Hands roamed, yanking off his hoodie, tugging down his shirt. Greg helped, shimmying out of his pants until he knelt nude, body exposed to the cool air and leering eyes. The skinny one dropped behind him, spreading his cheeks to lap at his hole, tongue probing the tight ring while Greg deepthroated the bearded cock, gagging wetly. The stocky man took his turn next, shoving into Greg's mouth with rough thrusts, balls smacking his chin. They maneuvered him like a ragdoll—bending him over a seat, the skinny one sliding two fingers into his ass, twisting and scissoring while the others took turns face-fucking him. Greg's moans muffled around shafts, his body arching back for more, the high turning him into a vessel of pure want. One by one, they bent him further: the bearded guy mounting him first, spitting on his hole before ramming in raw, the burn exquisite under the drug's veil. He pounded hard, hips snapping, while Greg sucked the stocky man's dick clean of his own spit. The skinny one followed, his lean frame allowing deeper angles, grinding against Greg's prostate until stars burst behind his eyelids. Sweat-slick and trembling, Greg rode the waves, cum from the first load leaking down his thighs as the second man added his own, hot spurts painting his insides. The cinema's other patrons stirred, shadows closing in, but before more could join, a familiar voice cut through the din. 'Well, fuck me, if it isn't our little BBQ slut.' Victor stepped into the light, phone in hand, a smirk playing on his lips. He was dressed casual—jeans, tight tee hugging his dad bod his eyes burned with recognition. 'Got a pic texted to me from a buddy here. Some eager mouth on his knees, sucking like a pro. Had to come see if it myself. You look wrecked already.' Greg blinked up at him, glassy-eyed from the clouds and cocks, words failing as drool trailed from his lips. The men paused, nodding to Victor like old acquaintances, stepping back to give him space. Victor knelt, thumb brushing Greg's swollen lips, then trailing down to pinch a nipple. 'Missed that tight hole of yours. Want another poz load to keep you company? Bet you're starving for it.' Greg's nod was feeble, a whimper escaping as Victor unzipped, his thick cock springing free—familiar from the party, already hard and dripping. He hauled Greg up by the arms, positioning him bent over the seat's armrest, ass presented to the room. The other men watched, stroking lazily, as Victor rubbed his head along Greg's cum-slick crack. 'That's my boy,' Victor growled, then thrust in deep, the slide easy from the fresh deposits. Greg cried out, the fullness grounding his high, pleasure spiking as Victor set a brutal pace—long strokes pulling almost out before slamming home, balls slapping against Greg's. The cinema pulsed around them, moans from the screen mixing in with Greg's own. Victor gripped his hips, fucking with possessive force. 'You're mine to breed again,' he panted, leaning over to bite at Greg's ear. 'Take it you didn't convert last time or your still so naive. Do you want to convert?' As he pushed deeper.' Greg autonomously pushed back, lost in the rhythm, the smokes high and amyl blending into oblivion. Victor's thrusts grew erratic, body tensing, until he buried deep and unleashed—rope after rope of warm seed flooding Greg's hole, sealing the night's debauchery. As Victor pulled out, a trickle escaped, but he wasn't done. He spun Greg around, feeding his softening cock into that greedy mouth for cleanup, while the seedy trio closed in again, ready for round two. The cinema had claimed its newest regular, and Greg surrendered fully to the darkness.

That’s certainly a valid position. I’d contend though that at least one party (or bloc) must take responsibilities for their actions or lack of actions n a parliamentary system. Conversely, in our system of government it’s very difficult to make major policy decisions.

At first I was going to argue that the premise of the poll question was misguided. I don’t think that’s it though. I think the poll question is fine and that public may indeed think we’ve gone too far on trans issues. (I think they’re wrong, but the data shows that’s what they think.) So my real concern is the phrase you’ve used to introduce the idea. “Will Dems pull back from pushing….” To me that implies that Dems have been making a major push on trans rights, which I just don’t think is accurate.

Definitely prefer spit for lube. One of my regulars has a great cock, on the shorter side but thick & uncut. I'll get him good and wet deep throating him, then he'll eat my ass before pushing it in. 10/10 every fuck with him is the best I've ever had.

The porn they show at the bathhouse in Amsterdam is totally not horny to my opinion. Even though I get fucked alot overthere it is nice to watch some horny raunchy bareback fucking as a break.

oh, yes, continue - so hot

When I first moved back here from Nevada, I went to buy some. I asked for them as poppers and was told they could not sell them to me since I refered to them as poppers. I explained I was from out of state and they still said no, I had to go to a different store and chose my wording. Not sure if that is still a thing or not, but that was only like 5 years ago

I usually have the TV turned off, I also keep the lights off. I am always ass up, door open. With the lights and TV off it makes it more anonymous. If the top wants the lights on, I don't have an issue. Ounce done, I'll reopen door, turn lights off, and get ass up for the next one. As far as public porn, I don't watch. Would be willing to make some though. Lol

Hi All Visiting Salzburg Austria July 2026, any one got a good hotel recommendation? At least gay friendly, ideally guys can just walk in and use me?

Haha, you were maybe braver than me going after the practical/economic side of this question. Really, we have to go there eventually to answer the question? i think with the underpinning principle of "grace" (for lack of a better term? you do seem to get where i'm going with it though). i left a culture of religious absolutism (fundamentalist christianity), so i'm molded by my history, and response to it. In that case their 'trump' was "God," and good luck winning a disagreement with "God." But i see that same attitude of absolutism everywhere (for instance, i've met more than a few fundamentalist atheists). To me, it's mostly an emotional disposition that creates rationale to support it. Sorry, seems like i'm getting into the weeds, but i see this as foundational. As i see it, the notion that i know and you don't removes the opportunity for true debate, because at least one side cannot be engaged (i.e, because they already know the answer/s, so the only think left is for the other to agree or capitulate to the truth. To me, it comes down to actions born of personal responsibility that derives from "pain only a moral person would feel--doing nothing." Your wrote: "Society is 'a system' and systems need to be as self-sustaining as possible either independently or in groups. The human body is a great example of inter-related systems to provide an analogy...simply: it's better not to need a ventilator to breathe than to need one. Most times, government programs are the ventilator." i'll add to your analogy, maybe break it down further. If "government programs are the ventilator," then governors/police/judicial etc., are the doctors that decide one needs the ventilator. And they can be "wrong," inadvertently or by intentional corruption. Of course, we've developed a system to deal with that too, but it always seems to come back to balancing act between trust and grace. It is likely best not to need a ventilator, but our systems all seem to rely (ultimately) on a degree of trust/grace to be self sustaining, and i think that is where things often end up broken(er?) in an already imperfect society. So, i'm nodding my head at "Financial market regulation is an absolute necessity due to greed and market manipulation," while simultaneously wishing it was a ventilator we didn't need. i find myself wondering if we've not upset homeostasis in how wealth is currently distributed in the US. In that vein, i appreciate this simplified assessment of division of wealth. Of particular interest (to me) is a graph he uses throughout his assessment of low, middle and high earners and how all three are increasing income at a similar rate along side the growth of the economy. Towards the end of the analysis, he shows how that has changed (dramatically).