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Grants Pass hear hey everyone from Oregon how's your day going??

Like shooting a load? Getting fucked properly is a total complete experience for me, so no worries if I shoot or not. First time a guy hit my prostate right I had this massive warmth coming from my prostate like a heater turned on inside it and then the pleasure. Each time it got better I thought that's the maximum, then it went better. I've felt my prostate ever since, even just squeezing my butt I can feel it in there. I think that guy found the on switch. When he shot his load and pulled out I put my legs around him and pulled him straight back in, then the second time he tried to pull out I did the same. I don't know where I was, I'd just had the best feeling I'd ever had and felt proper satisfied but also wanted more. And it wasn't like it happened once, I was in that feeling for multiple minutes at a time during parts of the fucking. That's a lot of the best feeling you've ever had. I'd have had my prostate worked more, but no way I needed to shoot a load after that. I've since had full prostate orgasms, he just had me getting close, but doesn't matter, on the edge or proper full prostate orgasm, I'm a happy guy by the end and don't need to shoot a load. But nothing wrong with a guy wanting to shoot a load. A fun spanish guy I've been meeting recently likes spooning, me fucking him, kissing and me wanking and edging him. He likes being taken care of and made to cum. We cum together same time. Another guy I play with, he likes to focus on getting fucked but then wank afterwards, he says he has extra intense orgasms after getting fucked. Other guys I top, some want to cum, some don't. I think go with the mood, see what a guy likes. But don't expect, for some of us like me we'd just being doing it to check a box not because we need it.

Chapter 20: Shattered Silence Quarantine Camp. Helixion Genetics, Building 4, Hot Labs. 18:26 MST. REDACTED location. 31-Oct-20XX “You’re staying, and that’s final,” Krell thundered in a declamatory voice. Dr. Grant was becoming more frustrated by the minute. He had been asking Krell to call it a day, without success. “General, you’ve kept me here all afternoon,” he pleaded. “Can’t you see I’m sick and need bed rest? I can’t be any good to anyone in this condition.” He hacked loudly to emphasize his point, echoing in the small room, and his expectoration brought up a little ball of yellowed phlegm. Krell looked at the doctor with obvious, silent disgust at his sharing of bodily fluids. “No. You’re assisting with the research. I’m done listening. ” Then he pushed past him, but Dr Grant continued his case. “General, there’s nothing here - nothing to study. That fool Jack ran off with everything, the test subjects, and probably all the research.” Krell stopped his steps again, a headache forming in his skull, and anger in the pit of his stomach. “I can’t do anything without it, and I don’t even know what my former colleagues were working on to even guess at it.” “Did you not hear me, doctor?” “Look, I don’t work for Helixion Genetics anymore, and I’m not even being paid for this,” Dr. Grant said in a louder voice. “You have no business keeping me here. I’ve barely slept these past few days, I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, and you have me working on a project I know nothing about. You can shoot me if you want, but I’m leaving. I. Don’t. Work. For. You.” Dr. Grant stabbed his finger into Krell’s chest with every single word, driving his words home. “Shut up already!” Krell said angrily. “I’ve heard all of your arguments twice over, and I’m not going to budge on this. You are needed here. We’re dealing with something very sensitive, and you don’t get a vote in this.” Tex had the great misfortune to walk in on this, and Krell observed him as he entered. “Do I look like I need your input, Dr. Vahn? Get back to work.” Tex was put off balance by the general’s aggression, but stood firm to his purpose. “No, sir. But it’s shift change, and I’ve been off duty for the past twenty minutes.” It was then Tex noticed, for the first time, a pile of seemingly junk in one corner. It was haphazardly arranged, as if carted here, dumped, and just left for later sorting. Something in it caught his eye, but he couldn’t get a detailed look in front of Krell or Dr. Grant. He made a mental note to come back to it before leaving. Dr. Grant was silently grateful for Tex’s interruption that allowed him to take a breath and decide what to say next. But it required no flowery language or bargaining. “If he gets to clock out, so do I. I’m going home.” “I can’t let you do that, Doctor Grant.” “You won’t be able to stop me. Free citizen last I checked and not some military contractor anymore.” The silence hung in the air between them as they stared each other down. Tex silently withdrew from the scene, unobserved by either man. When he was safely out of sight, he leaned back against a wall, and quietly exhaled as he cast his eyes on the ceiling. What an asshole. Just let the man go, he’s not useful to us! I swear these past twenty-four hours have been a goddamn rollercoaster. Even I want off this ride already… Then a new train of thought passed through Tex’s mind. Things just didn’t seem to add up with everything he’d witnessed. Jack…. JACK took the research? That doesn’t make sense. He probably has to take his shoes and pants off to count to twenty-one. No way he’s smart enough to know what to do with it. Tex absentmindedly checked a tooth filling with his tongue while he started to draw his own conclusions. Jack couldn’t possibly develop a biological weapon, and then engineer his own escape from this place AND take the data with him. It doesn’t add up. And Elias didn’t trust Grant, either. I wonder… His thought was interrupted by Krell, who came storming around the corner and into Tex’s line of vision. Krell said nothing to him, and continued on his way to his unknown destination. Dr. Grant followed shortly after, and stopped in front of Tex. “I’m going,” he said in a relieved but tired voice. “Sorry I can’t do much. I might be back tomorrow, but don’t count on it. Right now I’ve got something important to do.” With that, Dr. Grant walked toward an exit. Tex silently watched him go, and when he was sure the man wouldn’t come back, Tex returned to the pile of junk. Upon inspection, he discovered it was mostly paper files mixed with small unmarked black electronic boxes, cables, and broken unidentifiable bits. None of this was of interest to him - just the thing that caught his eye. With a little digging in the pile with his foot, he unearthed it: a small flash drive with a sticker on it. Here we go. The sticker was a bright pink color with a cheerful anime character on it. He didn’t know which one, but that wasn’t important. The Korean text on the sticker was a big clue. I’ve seen this before. And this script. Then it hit him. Pixel. It’s Korean. That can’t be a coincidence. He wondered what terrible fate had befallen his comrade, and whether he was a smiler now, too. I’ll bet this is the drive he used last night to download the research from the server. Giving a quick look around, he casually dropped his pen next to the drive, letting out a small curse before grabbing it and the drive before standing back up. Tex quickly pocketed his find just before an MP came through the door. “Ah, there you are,” Tex said in an upbeat voice to disguise any impression of wrong-doing. “I’m going back to my hotel.” “Do you need an escort, Dr. Vahn?” “No, thank you. I’ll manage on my own,” Tex answered. “Do let General Krell know he can reach me on my phone if something happens.” The MP, barely interested in the events of the day, simply replied, “Will do. Good night, Dr. Vahn.” Tex, with his pocketed hand grasping the data drive, moved toward the same exit used by Dr. Grant a few moments ago, and was already forming an idea before he got through it. —------- Discount Grocery. 18:58 MST. 31-Oct-20XX “Ten ninety-five, please,” the cashier said blandly. Doctor Grant handed over two rumpled five dollar bills and a one, wordlessly. The cashier took the money, pressed a few buttons, and the cash drawer opened noisily. She put the bills in their slots, withdrew a single nickel, and handed it to her ill-looking customer. “There you go, five cents. Do you want your receipt?” Doctor Grant closed his eyes and shook his head. “Okay, thank you for shopping at Discount Grocery.” She quietly looked at the flowers he had purchased. “They’re awfully pretty. No doubt for someone you love.” He picked up the bundle of flowers, pocketed the nickel, and answered sadly, “Yes, they are. Happy Halloween.” Grant turned toward the store’s front door, and walked through it. Stepping outside, he inhaled the night air with grateful zest. The scent of the rain earlier in the day was barely present to a normal nose, but Dr. Grant picked right up on it. The clouds had moved on, and he felt a little relief that he was away from the quarantine zone and back among normal spaces. Dr. Grant got in his car, turned the engine over, and with the flowers lovingly placed in the seat next to him, he drove off. Unbeknownst to him, another car was following him at a distance. Dr. Grant drove to the nearby cemetery and parked his car in the empty lot. Grabbing the bouquet, he stepped out of the car, and looked around for any observers. On the road to the cemetery, he noticed a single pair of headlights was consistently behind him, but paid it very little attention. Now he was suddenly concerned that someone might have been following. Probably Krell keeping tabs on me, or one of his blackguard gestapo underlings. But seeing no one at the moment, maybe it was just a coincidence and not about him at all. Grant silently walked between the various rows and headstones, the fog lending a naturally eerie vibe to the setting. As he moved through the silent place, flowers in hand, the memories began to crowd around him. It always began with the smell of antiseptic—sharp, cold, the kind that clung to your clothes long after you went home. It dragged Clark back to that room whether he wanted it or not, back to the slow-dying quiet where Julian lay fading under thin hospice blankets. Even now Clark would still clench his jaw remembering it. Because Julian didn’t have to die like this. Not like this. Not gasping softly in a room too quiet for a man who once lived louder than life. Clark sat beside the bed, elbows on his knees, fingers knit so tightly they hurt. Julian’s breathing was a fragile flutter, a rise and fall that barely lifted the blankets. His collarbones were sharp ridges. His eyelids trembled. Every detail carved itself into Clark’s memory until it felt like punishment. “Hey,” he whispered, brushing knuckles along Julian’s arm. “I’m here.” Julian didn’t speak at first. He just shifted his head a little, searching for Clark’s hand like he always did—instinctive, trusting, even now. Clark slid his hand into Julian’s, wincing at how cool the skin felt. “You look tired,” Julian murmured, voice faint, thin. “You should sleep more.” Clark almost laughed—almost. “I sleep,” he said. “Just… not when I’m here.” Julian’s mouth twitched, a ghost of the smile Clark used to chase across his face with kisses. “Liar.” Clark didn’t deny it. Instead, he looked toward the window where a sun he hated now was setting in gentle pink. Julian had always loved sunsets. Clark hated how poetic it all felt, how cinematic, how cruelly fitting—because this wasn’t a moment meant for beauty. It was a moment born of corporate cowardice, of boardroom politics, of numbers on a page that outweighed a human life. His hands tightened slightly around Julian’s. “You know,” Julian whispered, “you don’t have to stay through all of it.” “Yeah, I do.” Bitterness sharpened Clark’s whisper before he could stop it. “It’s the only thing I can still do.” Julian’s fingers twitched. Clark squeezed back, careful, gentle. He didn’t want Julian to feel the rage simmering under his skin, the kind that pulsed every time he saw the IV stand—empty, silent. He had designed a drug, spent two years shaping it, believing it would save him. Believing it would save people like Julian. But the company said no. That fucking rat bastard Jack had refused. Not enough data. Not enough precedent. Not appropriate for compassionate use. Too risky. Too expensive. Too soon for clinical trials. He knew it was only because of things like shareholders and dividends. Clark replayed those phrases every night like a litany of knives. They had denied him the one thing—the only thing—that could have bought Julian more time. And they had done it while sitting across a polished table, sipping water from embossed glasses, pretending to be sympathetic. His bitterness bled into his silence now. Julian sensed it. He always did. “Clark,” he murmured with a strained smile, “don’t be angry anymore.” “Julian,” Clark said, the name cracking in the middle, “I built that drug for you.” “I know.” Julian’s eyes opened a little more, dull but gentle. “But it wasn’t guaranteed.” “It was our best chance,” Clark snapped softly, the words trembling. “And they took it from us. From you. They took you from me.” A slow breath. A thinner exhale. “It wasn’t your fault.” “Well it sure as hell wasn’t yours.” Julian’s lips curved in the barest tease. “You always… get mean when you’re scared.” Clark huffed a wet breath. “I’m not scared.” “You’re terrified,” Julian whispered. Clark bowed his head, forehead pressed gently to Julian’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I am.” The room dimmed as the sun eased below the horizon. The shadows grew longer. Every second felt like an hour. Julian’s thumb brushed weakly against Clark’s hand. “You gave me everything,” Julian murmured. “Time. Love. A home. You fought for me… harder than anyone ever has.” “I didn’t fight hard enough,” Clark whispered. Julian’s breathing stuttered, then smoothed. Too smooth. Too quiet. “You did,” he insisted. “And I’m… grateful. So grateful, Clark.” Clark felt the words like broken glass. Julian’s next breath came late. Too late. His eyes drifted half-closed, focused somewhere past Clark’s shoulder—as if he saw the place Clark wasn’t allowed to follow yet. “Stay,” Clark pleaded. “Julian, just—stay with me a little longer.” Julian didn’t answer. His fingers slackened in Clark’s hand. Clark realized the exact moment Julian exhaled for the last time, because the world seemed too still with him. No machines beeped. No alarms rang. It was quiet—too quiet for the end of a life that should have burned brighter, lived longer. Clark pressed Julian’s hand to his forehead, breath shaking. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so damn sorry.” He stayed long after Julian’s skin went cold, bitterness settling deep in his bones like iron. He had built a miracle for a man he loved. And a corporation had let him die anyway. —- Dr. Grant could feel the tears starting to come to the surface as he approached the familiar spot. The sight of it stabbed at his heart, an anguish and guilt that nothing could assuage. Dr. Grant knelt at the grave, and gingerly placed the bouquet atop the mound of dirt. He brushed away some orange and brown autumn leaves from the grave marker until the full engraving could be read. HERE LIES JULIAN A. MAREK beloved son, brother, and lover “Hey, babe,” he said in a gentle whisper. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m here.” —---- Cemetery at St. Barton’s. 19:14 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. Tex kept on driving, letting Dr. Grant’s car turn to the left into the cemetery without following him in. He now knew where the suspicious doctor was going, and could only speculate his purpose at a cemetery on Halloween night. While goth kids might find such an activity edgy, Tex was pretty sure the man would go there for a more serious reason. Whatever he’s up to there, he at least deserves a little privacy, and the dead, our respect. I don’t get it. Dr. Grant had been adamant that he be allowed to go home and rest, but he came here instead? I should make sure he’s not up to no good. Tex parked his car a couple blocks away, and went back to the cemetery on foot. Passing revelers and small children in colorful costumes (and one very tired-looking woman chaperoning them), he found himself at the cemetery’s gate within a few minutes. He quietly opened it, wishing that last night’s passage through a gate had been as simple. If it had, Gravestone or Reaper could be doing this detective shit instead of me. Once on the other side, Tex scanned the area for any sign of anybody. He saw a little movement, almost in the dark, and decided to start his search for Dr. Grant there. I could also do with help from Zero for stealth in this. He slowly realized he was the only one of the Black Sigma team who hadn’t been infected, and this “sole survivor” distinction meant he was the best person to rescue them from whatever had taken them. The thought filled Tex with sadness, but also pride and determination to be the one to do it. He could hear, in the distance, the sound of sirens, but paid it no mind. As quietly as he could, he eventually came upon his quarry from behind, found on both his knees at a headstone and audibly sobbing. He was holding a lighted candle while he talked to his lost love. “I miss you so much,” the doctor whispered between hiccups. Tex at once felt sympathy for the man, and let him grieve for his deceased lover. “I know I promised you I would never work with these assholes—” He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly aware that he was being watched. Dr. Grant wiped both his eyes and his cheeks with his hands before he looked partially over his left shoulder. “You know, you make a really shitty spy, Dr. Vahn.” A lump suddenly leapt into Tex’s throat as he realized he’d been caught, and rather easily. “How… how did you know it was me?” “Lucky guess. Why are you here?” Tex fumbled for a legitimate reason, having been unprepared for the possibility of discovery. “I… um… you… were acting funny, so —” “So, what? You thought you would follow me?” Dr. Grant said accusingly. “To my dead partner’s grave? How dare you. This is none of your concern, and you’ve got no right. Did Krell put you up to this?” Dr. Grant rose to standing, blew out the candle, and turned to face his stalker. “No, doctor,” Tex said soothingly, showing both his hands to show he was unarmed. “I just thought maybe —” “What did you think?” He crossed his arms tightly in front of him, both to protect himself from the intrusion, and to show his displeasure. “Well? I’m waiting.” Tex couldn’t invent a reason fast enough, and he realized he’d made a bad choice to follow him. I’m not going to be able to lie to him. “I’m not here because anyone ordered me to be here.” “Look, your friend with the weird name, something King, came to my home today, and now you are here, interrupting a private moment.” The doctor snapped his fingers once. “Hudson. That was it. He’s a phony, and I have to wonder about you, too. You guys have got some nerve. Tell me something. How badly do you want to be part of this, Tex?” The way Dr. Grant called him by his code name shook him to his very core. The lump in his throat had returned, forming an identical one in his stomach. I never told him my code name. How does he know about that? What’s his deal? A quick revelation shot across Tex’s brain. I was right. This guy knows everything about what’s going on. “Krell may be fooled, but I read that mission brief as well. And your ankle seems to be doing rather well, Dr. Tobias Vahn… Tex… for someone who was too ill to make it to the mission last night,” Grant commented, arranging the flowers on the grave. Shit. Bastard is sharper than I gave him credit. He saw right through our smokescreen. “Just so you know, this borders on stalking,” Dr. Grant continued. “Same goes for your friend, Mr. Kade. Or would you rather I continue to call him Hudson King? I’m sure Krell would love to know you both were there last night and escaped the quarantine, too. Jack was rather insistent that he knew you.” Tex found himself tongue-tied at the accusations, which were unfortunately true. And he had a feeling nothing he could say would convince the doctor otherwise. “What have you got to say for yourself, Tex? Should I just deliver Krell a new round of test subjects to play with? Might be enough to get that self-righteous bastard off my back and let me rest.” Before Tex could answer, Dr. Grant was on the ground in an instant, tackled from the left by something large and dark. In the dim light, Tex couldn’t clearly see what it was, but he could no longer see Dr. Grant standing before him. The dark figure perched over Dr. Grant’s disheveled form, now in a heap on the damp, leafy grass to the right of where he’d been standing, and it turned its head in Tex’s direction. It smiled at him evilly, displaying its sharp teeth, blackened eyes, and curvaceous horns. There was no doubt in Tex’s mind about what was looking at him, and what he was seeing. Then the creature scooped up the doctor in its arms, and ran toward the line of trees that dotted the back end of the cemetery. Tex stood transfixed with horror and shock. It all happened in less than ten seconds, and he wished he had brought his sidearm when he left his car. He hadn’t anticipated getting caught, and certainly not needing to draw his weapon. Shit! His mind screamed. That smiler took my best lead! Tex pulled his burner phone from his pocket, and instantly dialed Elias’s number. We’ve got to do something.

I need to go on a vacation with you just so I can watch and hopefully experience adventures like these.

FUCK YES, your story is fuckin hot and I really love it!!! Thanks man for sharing it ☣️🔥☣️

Just wondering, what prompted you to start on meds? I know you said it was your doctor's advice but why did he advise you to start meds; were you having HIV-related health issues?

I wonder if clubs like this actually exist. It would be hot to find a group of guys that like to regularly meet for fun and debauchery.

As a bottom, I do not want to or care to cum. My only interest is getting my top to cum, at least once.

Last night I was bored and texted a friend if he wanted to play. He was busy but his friend was looking. So he had him text me. We met by a shopping center back parking lot. I jumped in his mini van and got two loads from him. I thought we were done and he drove me to his friends house called him to jump in and got another load in his driveway. Then drove back to my car to drive home dripping

What a fantastic story. It might be fiction but it is a hot story and a great tale about getting pozzed. I want to take a poz load but I'm not sure I'd be able to handle anything like that. lol

I do want to update my last statement. Earlier this week I was at a group play. Most of the men were totally not my type. I hope none of them see this. They were hot and fit and some of them hung and young. The oldest was probably 30. I was wearing my jock and noticed that not one of them got me hard. For some reason (luck I guess) I was the favored bottom and they all took turns fucking me. What I noticed was that I really just wanted them to use me to get off and nothing more. I didn’t really touch them or kiss them I just took it and when it was over I left. I think my preference is for older, heavier or sickly looking men. When they fuck me I want it to last and I savor the gift they give me. I guess I am evolving on this topic. I do sometimes have a preference

I quite enjoy it now, but years ago it was difficult. I love it because there is a huge amount of sensation in the body after I've come. I just bit the pillow and feel the pounding.

Your name you'll respond to: Jake, Jake Archer, Cumdump, Dump. Your cell number (for texts): (872) 216-1016 (PLEASE TEXT or at least leave a callback number if I don't answer your call). No guys just looking for phone sex or sexting - I want real guys using my hole and flooding it with cum! A Location (be at least as specific as a zip code): 60657; Lakeview neighborhood in Chicago (Sheridan Road and Wellington Avenue). Times you're generally available: Most of the time I'm available anytime, (work from home). Of course there are times when I'm traveling, sick, or have another engagement. I can host anonymous pump n dump breeding. Age: 47 Height: 5' 8" Weight: 160 Ethnicity: White Love being a sleazy easy dirty used cumdump whore. I have no problem taking dirty toxic loads. Love anonymous pump n dump breedings. Contact me via text at (872) 216-1016, archerjake679@gmail.com, @JakeArcher694 on Telegram and let me know what day and time you're looking to dump. If available to host you, I will send you my address. I can travel to you as well. Breedings should be anonymous pump n dump style, quick, but you can dump more than one load.

Awesome story

Both...love it when the top really enjoys yer ass....

Love that your beautiful cock is a tool share your dirty seed.

I can't be certain, and I only count guys that have cum inside me....and that number is over 14k. A small town!

Love the untrimmed bush and the hair below your navel. Great pleasure trail

Beautiful. Uncut, untrimmed bush. Perfect