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That's an interesting observation; why do you think that's the case?

Nice!

Wow, well done both of you for adding another very hot story to read.

I think I would prefer to be naked, with the exception of socks.

Chapter 30: Layers of Lies Clearview University Medical. Steighn wing, on-call waiting room. 23:36 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location. The call room felt smaller the longer Tex sat in it. The television mounted high in the corner was turned low, but the flicker of emergency footage washed across the walls in pale blue flashes. Helicopter shots of downtown streets. Police lights. A reporter speaking too quickly, trying to keep up with information that clearly hadn’t been sorted yet. Tex leaned forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, Trevor’s laptop open on the coffee table in front of him. On the TV the anchor said something about multiple incidents across the city. The chyron read: BREAKING: POLICE RESPONDING TO SEVERAL DISTURBANCES “…witnesses describing groups of men wearing what they’re calling black Venom-style costumes,” the reporter continued. “Authorities have not confirmed if these incidents are related…” Tex let out a quiet breath through his nose. Venom costumes. Sure. Across the room Elias stood near the door, arms folded, watching the television with a tight expression. Trevor leaned against the desk beside him, rereading the email on the laptop screen. The subject line sat there quietly. Follow Up on New HIV Drug Trials Tex dragged two fingers down the trackpad and scrolled slowly through the message again. Dr. Clark Grant’s tone was clinical, controlled—but there was urgency buried under the wording. The kind that didn’t match what Trevor had said about the man earlier. “Guy sounds nervous,” Tex muttered. Trevor shook his head slightly. “Clark Grant doesn’t do nervous.” Tex looked up. “Yeah, working with him, he was basically a robot.” “Emotionally,” Trevor said. “Brilliant. Cold. The only time I ever saw him show real emotion was when Julian died.” That name hung there again. Julian Marek. Even Tex, who had only heard the story less than an hour earlier, could feel the gravity behind it. The same name on the grave that Tex had found Grant talking to in the graveyard. On the television a shaky cellphone video appeared—club lights flashing, people shouting while someone yelled that something was attacking people outside. The anchor quickly cut away. “Authorities are still trying to confirm details from earlier reports near the InfraRed nightclub…” Tex glanced up at the screen. “Well,” he said dryly, “that escalated quickly.” Elias turned back from the television. “The city hasn’t connected the incidents yet,” he said quietly. “They think it’s gangs or coordinated assaults.” Tex snorted. “Black Venom costumes. If only they knew…” Trevor stepped closer to the couch, refocusing on the laptop. “They’ll figure it out eventually.” “Yeah,” Tex said. “Hopefully after we fix it.” Elias tapped the edge of the coffee table. “Grant didn’t email Helixion,” he pointed out. “Or the government. Or any of the labs connected to the project.” Trevor nodded. “He emailed me.” Tex leaned back against the couch. “Which means he trusted you.” Trevor hesitated, then shrugged faintly. “Or he trusted that I’d pay attention.” Elias gestured toward the screen. “He’s specifically asking about the clinical trial medication.” Trevor’s expression shifted as the implication settled in. Tex caught it instantly. “Oh,” Tex said slowly. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking.” Trevor straightened. “That the cure might already be here.” Elias nodded once. “The experimental HIV treatment,” he said. “If Grant designed the Hellion strain around an HIV viral carrier structure, the antiviral pathway he was researching from before might counter it.” Trevor stared at the email a moment longer. “You saw the email. Clark knew I was overseeing this clinical site,” he said quietly. “He asked me to contact him if there were developments.” Tex raised an eyebrow. “And you just happen to have samples sitting in your office?” Trevor gave him a look. “Toby, I’m a physician running the trial site. Of course I have samples.” Elias looked between them. “If Grant distributed the research fragments the way Tex found in Helixion’s systems… then the medication in Trevor’s office might contain the final piece.” Tex nodded slowly. “The last puzzle piece.” Trevor pushed off the desk, decision settling over him. “And if that’s true,” he said, “then the cure might literally be sitting in my lab.” From the television, the reporter’s voice rose again: “…additional disturbances now being reported near the river district…” Tex stood, adjusting the borrowed lab coat and Trevor’s ID badge clipped to the pocket. “Well,” he said, glancing between them, “guess we should go steal it before the Venom cosplay convention gets any bigger and decides to pay a visit.” Trevor closed the laptop with a quiet click and stood still for a moment, the silence that followed settling heavily over the call room. The muted television in the corner continued to cycle through flashing footage of police lights and helicopter shots over downtown streets. The captions crawled steadily across the bottom of the screen. MULTIPLE INCIDENTS REPORTED ACROSS THE CITY… WITNESSES DESCRIBE MEN IN BLACK VENOM-LIKE COSTUMES Tex watched the captions for a second before muting the television completely. The room fell into a softer, more focused quiet—the kind that made the distant activity of the emergency department easier to hear. Phones ringing. A gurney rolling across tile somewhere down the hall. A faint page echoing over the intercom. Trevor remained standing near the desk, staring at the closed laptop as if still reading the email in his mind. “Okay, assuming you're right, if Grant really was trying to point us somewhere,” he said slowly, “then the answer is probably sitting right here in the hospital.” Elias leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. “The trial medication,” he said. Trevor nodded once. “If the Hellion strain really is built around an HIV carrier structure, then the antiviral pathway Grant was working on might disrupt it, or at least buy us time.” Tex leaned forward slightly from the couch. “Do you really think it’s a coincidence you get an email from him like this? And just happen to have doses of that sitting around?” Trevor shook his head. “Not sitting around. Stored properly.” He gestured toward the hallway. “Clinical trial samples are kept with the rest of the study medications in the infectious disease research room. Refrigerated storage unit. Locked.” Tex frowned slightly. “And who has access?” “Me,” Trevor said. “And the nursing staff assigned to the trial.” Elias held out his hand. Trevor opened his backpack and pulled out a small ring of keys before tossing them across the room. Elias caught them without looking. “The research room is about thirty feet down the infectious disease corridor,” Trevor continued. “Stainless steel fridge with a digital lock. All the samples are labeled under the trial protocol.” Tex studied the keys in Elias’s hand for a moment. “How many doses?” “Roughly ten,” Trevor replied. “Enough to test the theory. Although not enough to stop a full blown outbreak.” Elias slipped the keys into his pocket. “That’s going to have to be enough.” Trevor didn’t move immediately. Instead, he looked between Elias and Tex, clearly thinking through the next step. “Unh-uh. I’m going with you,” Trevor said to Elias. Tex raised an eyebrow. “You trust me with the keys but not the labels?” Trevor sighed and shook his head. “I’m the one who knows exactly what the drug looks like, how it’s packaged, and what concentration we’re supposed to have.” He nodded toward the hallway. “If we grab the wrong compound, we lose time we don’t have.” Elias glared, looking as though he was against it. “The sooner you get there, the sooner I can test the cure.” Tex leaned back slightly against the couch, arms resting on his knees. “Exactly,” Trevor said, crossing his arms across his chest. “You’d only waste time trying to fumble around in my lab.” “That leaves me here.” Tex looked over at him. “I should go out there and hold the front line.” “You’re the only one who can hold the line if Krell shows up.” Elias sighed, nodding in agreement. Tex glanced down at the badge clipped to the lab coat. Dr. Trevor Kade — Infectious Disease “No, Toby. Absolutely not.” Trevor said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, technically,” Tex said, tugging lightly at the coat, “I am a doctor.” Trevor crossed his arms. “You’re a virologist, Toby.” “Which still counts.” “Not when someone asks you to treat their appendix.” Tex shrugged. “Eh, I’ll stall. You got minions for that, don’t you?” Elias stepped closer, lowering his voice as he laid his hand on Trevor’s arm. “If Krell arrives while we’re gone, he’s going to try to take control of the situation,” Elias said. “Especially if he finds out who’s here.” Trevor’s expression hardened slightly. “And if I’m out there, that’s not happening,” Tex said quietly. Trevor sighed and finally nodded once. “Fine.” He moved toward the door, slipping his pager into his pocket. “Five minutes,” Trevor said. “And then you come right back in here. And don’t touch any of my patients.” Tex leaned back slightly on the couch. “Fine, Dad. Try not to get lost.” Trevor paused in front of him. “How about you try not to kill any of my patients while you’re pretending to be me.” Tex smirked faintly. “I haven’t killed anyone yet.” Trevor stared at him for a moment. “…You hear the word yet in that sentence, right?” Tex spread his hands slightly. “Bro, I’m keeping expectations realistic.” Elias sighed quietly and opened the door. “Please don’t.” Trevor shook his head and stepped out into the hallway beside Elias. The door swung shut behind them. Tex was alone again. For a moment the room was completely still. He adjusted the borrowed lab coat, straightened Trevor’s badge against his chest, and glanced briefly at the silent television where police lights continued to flash across the screen. Then he leaned back against the couch and waited. It didn’t take long. A knock sounded at the door before it opened and one of the ER nurses stepped inside. “Trevor,” she said, slightly breathless. “There’s some general down in the ambulance bay demanding to speak with you.” Tex closed his eyes briefly. At least the staff who knew his brother were buying the act. And of course General Krell had arrived. Tex didn’t react immediately. He stayed seated on the couch for a moment longer, elbows resting on his knees, staring down at the floor as the nurse waited awkwardly in the doorway. The words settled into place slowly, like pieces of a puzzle sliding into the positions he had already expected. Some general. There was only one person that could be. Tex pushed himself to his feet with a quiet sigh and smoothed the borrowed lab coat down the front. Trevor’s ID badge swung slightly against his chest. “Did he give you a name?” Tex asked. The nurse shook her head. “No, but he’s… very insistent. And frankly… kind of a dick.” Tex nodded slowly. That tracked. “Where is he now?” “Ambulance bay,” she said. “He’s already been arguing with half the staff out there.” Tex ran a hand through his hair and muttered under his breath. “Yeah. That sounds about right.” He grabbed Trevor’s stethoscope from the desk and draped it around his neck more for appearance than anything else. The weight of it completed the illusion well enough. Then he stepped toward the door. “All right,” Tex said. “Let’s go see what the problem is.” The emergency department was louder than it had been minutes before. News of the disturbances spreading across the city had clearly begun filtering in. The waiting room television was no longer muted, and the low hum of reporters speculating about the “men in black venom-like costumes” drifted faintly down the hallway. Staff moved faster now. More patients were arriving. Security had doubled up near the ambulance bay doors. Tex kept his pace measured, walking like someone who belonged there. Someone who had done this a thousand times before. Which Trevor had. When the doors to the ambulance bay slid open, Tex immediately spotted him. General Krell stood near the center of the bay, flanked by a younger aide holding a tablet and a phone. Krell’s posture was rigid, his uniform coat still covered with leaves from outside. His expression had the tight, irritated look of a man who was used to having rooms snap to attention the moment he entered them. Right now, the ER staff were mostly ignoring him. Which seemed to be making him furious. Tex stepped forward. Krell saw him instantly and the reaction was immediate. The general’s expression shifted from irritation to outright anger as he pushed past two nurses and strode toward Tex. “What the hell are you doing here?” Krell barked. Several staff members turned their heads. Tex blinked at him with perfect, calm confusion. “Excuse me?” Krell stopped a few feet away, clearly taken aback by the response. For a brief moment his expression flickered—confusion colliding with certainty. Tex tilted his head slightly. “Are you a patient, sir?” he asked evenly. Krell stared at him. Tex gestured politely toward the waiting area. “If you’re here to be seen, I can have someone get you checked in. This is the ambulance bay, the main entrance is around the corner.” The aide beside Krell looked back and forth between them, visibly unsure what was happening. Krell’s jaw tightened. “…Dr. Vahn,” Krell said sharply. Tex frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said calmly. “I think you’re mistaken.” He tapped the badge on his coat. “Dr. Trevor Kade. Infectious Disease.” For a moment, Krell simply stared at him. Tex could practically see the calculations happening behind the man’s eyes. Recognition. Doubt. The uncomfortable possibility that he might be wrong. Krell recovered quickly. “Yes,” Krell said stiffly. “Of course. My mistake.” Tex folded his arms loosely. “Can I help you with something?” Krell stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly. “I’m here on federal authority,” he said. “There is an active containment situation in this city and this hospital is now under my jurisdiction.” Tex raised an eyebrow. “Is it?” Krell bristled. “Yes.” Tex nodded slowly. “All right.” Then he held out his hand. “Credentials.” Krell blinked. “My what?” “Your credentials,” Tex repeated calmly. “Federal authority requires documentation. If you’re taking control of a medical facility, I’m going to need to see it. Hospital policy is pretty clear about that.” Krell briefly looked like he might explode. Tex remained perfectly still, giving him an expectant look. Behind them, two nurses pretended not to listen while very obviously doing just that. Krell finally produced a badge and flashed it briefly. Tex studied it for a second. “Thank you… General,” he said. Then he handed it back. “Well?” “Well,” Tex said, “that’s very convincing, General… Krell, but this is still my emergency department.” Krell’s expression darkened. Tex gestured toward the hallway. “If you’d like to discuss jurisdiction, I’m happy to meet with you in the ER conference room.” He glanced toward the trauma bays behind him. “Right now I have patients who actually need my attention.” The words were polite. The tone was not. For a moment it looked like Krell might push the issue right there in the ambulance bay. Instead, he exhaled sharply. “Fine,” he said. Tex nodded. “Great.” He pointed down the hallway. “Conference room is the second door on the left. I’ll be with you… when I can.” Krell turned and walked away stiffly, his aide scrambling to keep up. Tex waited until the doors closed behind them. Then he exhaled slowly. “Okay,” he muttered to himself. “That probably bought us about five minutes.” —- The conference room door shut behind him with a soft but deliberate click, muting the constant noise of the emergency department outside. Krell remained standing at the end of the long table instead of sitting, one hand resting lightly against the polished surface as he stared through the glass wall into the corridor beyond. Hospital staff moved back and forth in hurried bursts—nurses pushing carts, technicians carrying lab trays, a gurney rattling past with a patient under oxygen. The controlled chaos of an ER in the middle of the night. Ordinarily it would have been the sort of environment Krell could dominate instantly. Tonight it felt different. His assistant hovered nearby with a tablet, watching him cautiously. Krell’s mind replayed the interaction in the ambulance bay again. Dr. Trevor Kade. The name wasn’t the problem. The face was. There had been a moment—brief but unmistakable—where Krell swore he saw the sharp prick of recognition in that infuriating doctor’s face. The calm confidence hadn’t helped, either. The man had stood there, completely unbothered by a federal authority attempting to assert authority in his emergency department. That kind of composure wasn’t typical. His phone vibrated. Krell answered automatically. “Yes.” The voice on the other end was smooth, professional, and completely detached. “General Krell. We’ve reviewed the latest data package you transmitted.” Krell’s posture straightened. “I assume the results were more than satisfactory.” “Satisfactory doesn’t quite cover it.” There was a pause before the voice continued. “The transformation subject designated Zero produced extremely valuable field data. The neurological override, the accelerated muscular restructuring, the infection vector efficiency… it’s precisely what the project needed to confirm.” Krell allowed himself the faintest hint of satisfaction. “The Hellion protocol performs exactly as designed.” “We agree.” The voice lowered slightly. “The board is extremely impressed. Assuming containment remains stable, your reinstatement to full general status is very likely.” The words landed exactly where Krell had hoped they would. The Berlin incident had nearly ended his career—an outbreak spiraling beyond control, diplomatic fallout, years of reputation nearly erased overnight. Hellion was his redemption. “Containment is ongoing,” Krell said calmly. “No confirmed public awareness and no intelligence leaks.” “And Dr. Grant?” “Still being handled.” The call ended shortly afterward. Krell slipped the phone back into his coat pocket and turned toward his assistant. “Updates.” The assistant glanced down at the tablet. “Multiple new incident reports across the city. A convenience store robbery about ten blocks away. Witnesses described the suspects as men wearing black… suits. Several people compared them to Venom from Spider-Man.” Krell’s expression tightened slightly. “We already knew that. Next.” “Multiple assaults reported near a nightclub called InfraRed. EMS responded but one ambulance hasn’t checked back in.” “And Grant?” “Still missing.” The assistant hesitated before continuing. “There’s another detail. The missing ambulance from the nightclub call—GPS tracking shows it arrived here about fifteen minutes ago.” Krell’s gaze shifted toward the hallway again. Everything was converging on the hospital. Convenience store. Nightclub. Ambulance. And still no sign of his precious patient Zero. The infection was spreading faster than projected, and the most important proof-of-concept subject was suddenly outside Krell’s immediate control. That was unacceptable. “Stay here,” Krell said. He stepped out of the conference room and headed back toward the emergency department. The ER had grown noticeably busier. Televisions now showed live coverage from around the city—reporters describing multiple disturbances and confused eyewitness accounts of “men in black venom-like costumes.” Staff members clustered near nursing stations watching the reports while still moving through their work. The narrative was forming, but no one had connected the incidents yet. Krell walked through the corridor with measured purpose. As he turned the corner, he nearly collided with a surgeon emerging from another hallway. They stopped for half a second. The man wore surgical scrubs and a cap, his mask hanging loose around his neck. Tall. Composed. Calm in the way only someone accustomed to crisis could be. Their eyes met. And the feeling returned. That same look of recognition. Not from the hospital. Not from the media. Something deeper in his memory. The surgeon gave him a tense, polite nod and continued walking. Krell turned slightly to watch him go. The shape of the man’s face, the jawline, the eyes— Something clicked. He could swear he saw that face before. In relation to the ER doctor from the ambulance bay. Dr. Trevor Kade. The resemblance was too strong to be coincidence. Krell frowned. Vahn. That irritating virologist from the Helixion containment briefing—Dr. Tobias Vahn. Krell had dismissed him as an academic nuisance, the kind of scientist who asked too many inconvenient questions. A remainder of the Black Sigma team. The man had looked too similar. Krell’s mind began connecting the pieces almost against his will. Vahn. Kade. Two doctors. Two faces that looked nearly identical. A brother. He remembered it suddenly—some offhand comment during a briefing about Vahn having a twin who worked in medicine. Who was married to another Black Sigma team member. Krell’s eyes narrowed. The thought formed slowly. If that really was Vahn in the ambulance bay… Before the idea could fully take shape, his assistant rushed up beside him again. “Sir,” the assistant said urgently, “local media has arrived outside the hospital.” The moment broke. Krell turned away from the hallway. The press mattered more right now. If the infection was spreading faster than projected, controlling the narrative was essential. “Good,” Krell said. “Let’s go talk to them.” The hospital entrance had transformed into a small media circus in the short time since Krell had stepped inside the building. Camera crews had clustered along the sidewalk, bright lights cutting through the cold night air while reporters stood shoulder to shoulder near the barricades security had hastily erected. Microphones lifted the moment Krell stepped out of the doors. The hospital signage glowed behind him, the red emergency lettering reflecting off the polished hoods of satellite vans lining the street. For a brief moment, Krell simply surveyed the scene. The timing was inconvenient—but also useful. If the infection was spreading faster than anticipated, then shaping the public narrative now would determine who controlled the aftermath later. He stepped toward the cameras. “My name is General Anton Krell,” he began, his voice steady and measured. “I’m overseeing federal containment efforts related to several disturbances reported across the city tonight.” The reporters leaned forward immediately. Camera lenses zoomed in. “At this time,” Krell continued, “we believe the incidents are connected to the unauthorized release of a test animal from Helixion Genetics.” The statement caused an immediate ripple through the gathered press. Several reporters began whispering among themselves. “We have identified a person of interest in connection with the release,” Krell said calmly. “A man named Jonathan Blaine. A lead project manager at Helixion.” Pens scratched rapidly across notebooks. “We believe Mr. Blaine intentionally released the animal as an act of domestic terrorism,” Krell continued. “He should be considered armed and extremely dangerous.” One of the reporters raised a hand immediately. “General, witnesses are describing attackers wearing black venom-like suits. Are those individuals connected to the animal?” Krell allowed a brief pause, giving the illusion of careful consideration. “Our working theory is that Mr. Blaine may have been wearing specialized protective equipment while handling the animal. It’s possible that bystanders mistook this equipment for some kind of costume.” The explanation was vague enough to satisfy curiosity without revealing anything useful. Another reporter spoke up. “General, are you confirming that Helixion Genetics lost control of a dangerous experimental organism?” Krell kept his expression neutral. “What I’m confirming,” he said evenly, “is that federal authorities are actively working to contain the situation and ensure public safety.” He allowed the tension to linger before finishing. “We ask that the public remain calm and report any suspicious activity to local law enforcement immediately.” The press conference ended quickly after that. The reporters already had what they needed—a suspect, a cause, and the promise of a larger story developing overnight. As Krell stepped away from the cameras, the faintest hint of satisfaction crossed his face. The groundwork was set. If the situation spiraled further, the blame would land exactly where he wanted it. Jonathan Blaine. Domestic terrorism. A single reckless employee responsible for everything. Krell adjusted his coat and exhaled slowly. But the calm lasted only a moment. Because the thought from earlier returned. Dr. Trevor Kade. The face. The resemblance. Dr. Tobias Vahn. Kade… that name seemed too familiar as well. Krell’s mind replayed the moment again in sharp detail. The man had looked exactly like the virologist from Black Sigma. The calm deflection. The refusal to acknowledge him. The way he had immediately pushed Krell into the conference room rather than allowing him near the trauma area. Krell’s eyes narrowed slightly. If that really had been Vahn… Then the situation inside the hospital was far more complicated than he had originally assumed. He turned back toward the entrance. “Get me everything you can on Dr. Trevor Kade,” Krell told his assistant quietly. “Now.” The assistant nodded, already typing. Krell walked back toward the ER doors, irritation simmering beneath his controlled exterior. Because if Tobias Vahn was inside that hospital pretending to be his brother— then Krell had just walked straight into someone else’s secret little operation. And that meant the night was about to get far more interesting.

Angelo was available on Sniffies and as eager to fuck as I was to get fucked. He was over in a flash and had me sucking his cock in no time. I could just barely take it all down my thought and Angelo patiently and persistently pulled my head down until he was lodged in my throat. "Swallow" he ordered and my throat massaged his cock until it was even harder and thicker. I got him wetter and wetter, bobbing my throat onto his big cock. Angelo massaged fingerful KY into my pussy and lined up his wet cock. He slid into me easily and plowed me steadily. I squeezed his big cock with my ass and he pounded harder and deeper. I could tell he was going to shoot his jizz deep inside my ass. His cock throbbed as he came and planted his load.

We are what we eat.....if you eat lots of meat and fat or you smoke etc your cum will bare the after-taste. I personally dont find it too tart or bitter - generally its quite tolerable and enjoyable. I really like the creamy, silky texture and the act of taking it. I think once you get past the 'idea' of it you quickly realize its easy to take and an exciting thing to do for your partner. 🏳️‍🌈🌈💦💦

HairyAlaskanArtist (whom I know personally though we've been out of touch for years) is on JFF. You can find him on X: https://x.com/HairyAKArtist

Rob what's left to swallow when you've already cummed down his throat?

I get real turned on when my cocksucker is choking and gagging when I’m balls deep down his throat. I got one cocksucker who always chokes and gags when I fuck his throat BUT he always keeps his mouth open and takes my cock as hard and as deep as I want without ever trying to pull off me. I tell him I’m gunna cum and he holds his breath while I pump my sperm down his throat. Then I tell him to swallow.

Hot story

Wish i was that boy

Looking to take loads while I’m in town

Very hot

I am definitely more like you, though I’m a step further and my cock is locked in inverted chastity cage now. I bet chastity would look great on you too.

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