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(Sorry, this is a doozy....I think I'm riding off the energy of the cum in my hole....) FIRST, let me say that as someone who has been in 3 relationships all ending around the 8 year mark, I can in no way speak to longevity of the open relationship or monogamous constructs. Many of those who responded have far more years under their belts. SECOND, I don't think I want to be in any type of committed relationship, ever, again - open, closed, or otherwise. THIRD, if I had to do it all over again across my 20s, 30s, and 40s, I think I would learn towards "MONOGAMY PLUS" or "OPEN WITH LIMITS" whatever you want to call it meaning - we can have sex with other people, or go to our favorite poz gang bang, or hook up with some trick - but there are limits that help us continue to focus on our core family unit. So maybe you get to go to four sex parties a year, or hook up X number of times, or whatever....but it keeps it constrained. Part of the "assistance" a monogamous structure provides is to create a "walled-garden" around the relationship that allows those two people to focus on exclusively critical components of that relationship - emotional connection, physical/sexual connection, spiritual connection, health and well-being, family'friends/community. I think monogamy strives to achieve a balance between these things, understanding that all may not be running perfectly at any given time, but that you're balancing one area (sexual relationship with other areas that might need more focus at that moment and having a clear conversation with each other about that.) Removing one aspect of focus or shifting attention outside of the "walled-garden" in an open relationship creates a challenge in that - while Person A may feel they are paying an appropriate amount of attention to the "open" part of what they are up to, Person B may be spending more having to think about the other areas because attention has been drawn away. Thus begins the formation of resentment that time and attention is drawn away from the core-unit which is A+B. Invariably I think on person will find that the A+B relationship is of more importance and priority than the "OPEN" construct and things fall apart. As I allude to in my preamble, that's why if you're going to be in some type of "open" scenario, for me, I'd want to have some constraints around it. Those constraints don't necessarily need to be limiting, per se, but they have to be mutually agreed to by A+B so that they both feel that the limit doesn't constrain a person AND ALSO continues to support focus on the relationship. And you keep open commutation about this as things develop. If PERSON A needs to get bred by some rando 2 times a day 7 days a week and PERSON B agrees this still allows for the right level of focus on A+B, then you're fine. Alternatively, if PERSON B feels that only 1 hookup a week will allow the focus on A+B to be sufficient, then both A&B need to come to common ground with each other. Part of any great relationship is expectation setting and follow through when expectations aren't met. If they conversation had simply been like "Yeah, I'm fine with you fucking other people" and then PERSON A goes AWOL and out of control, PERSON B is going to feel some type of way. Net net, I don't think monogamy is a modern-day construct and for that reason alone, we should give it another name and call it COMMITTMENT. If you make a COMMITTMENT to the other person, then you have to deal with the underbelly all of it which is to be mature, thoughtful thinkers and communicators with and together with each other.

Watched it last night and it's very hot. I love Dick Wadd's nasty porns.

Actually the very young kids have no idea what sex or privacy means. So it is natural for them for people doing anything. I have a bi friend who has sex with his wife with door open, so his kids may enter and watch. He just keeps fucking and tells the kids parents are busy. Just don't tell others outside family. The kids might just feel bored and left. When kids grow up, he'd ask them to join in. Can't have more details here. If you are interested, you may DM me.

Im A Proud Faggot always Been A Proud Faggot, Please Call me what I Am! Not just tops, Anyone can Call me A Faggot

It’s always raw for me, I refuse to cover when I fuck no matter how hot the bottom might be. Same when I’m bottoming. There will be no latex penetrating my ass unless there’s an M.D. attached to his name and it’s for medical purposes, even then I hate the feel and smell. Fortunately these days fucking raw is the norm. It’s rarely even discussed, just naturally gravitates towards raw/bareback/creampie. Even dudes who have “safe only” in their profiles can be talked into a breeding fuck where we’ve exchanged cum .

Always 🅱🅱, and rarely an issue since the majority of men in SoCal fuck bare as well.

I am off on Dec 25 and 26. I may get a hotel room if you prefer. Or we may play at bathhouses. Some rules: No drugs or meds (including PrEP). No condoms. Poppers is OK. And no questions about status. Every top needs to fuck every hole, and every bttm must not say no to any cock.

Hello - met a couple in my favorite water hole having Fun times - I have a reputation having Sex ! We were drinking and having Fun - closed out the bar - they took me to a Breakfast rest. - treated me and took me back at their Place ! Then a few more drinks - her Husband feel asleep - she came out with a See Through Teddy - 1 thing or another - we were having Sex - 69 - my back to the carpet - her legs penning my arms down - thinking She was giving me a GREAT Blow Job ! Then , I realized it was her Husband doing it - God it Felt GOOD ! I started pumping my Dick harder in his mouth - taking my fingers fucking his Wife's Asshole - they were in HEAT ! I stopped - like I passed out - allowing them thinking I did not know - later on met his Wife in the Gas Station - chatted - went back to my place - Fucking her RAW liked Animal !

There is another true story. I go to the naked party at Black Eagle very often. Last year I met a co-worker at the party. We both were very surprised and he tried to avoid me after. But after seeing him at the party for several times, We now got used to it. We just don't talk or play with each other. Just nod and walk away and play separately. He saw me getting fucked, and I saw him sucking and fucking others. We also met at Steamworks a couple of times. Once we partnered working together. During the break I asked him why he hadn't come to Black Eagle for a while. He then stopped talking with me. I do still meet him at the naked party now and then. We just act like strangers.

Before 2013, I played with condoms most time. I only had BB sex with my BF and some "trusted" regular FBs. But since I experienced BB sex and loved it, I did stealth some randoms guys too. Also got stealthed by some. One day I went to play with a guy at his place. He used condom. And I came back home. The next morning when I used toilet, I found out the condom left in my ass. I was kinda panic but also felt excited.

The majority of my friends don't play in the Breeding Zone / NastyKingPig / advanced bareback / poz universe so have little exposure to the vast majority of this part of my life. Those that do play on this field know and we talk openly about it or share stories or bitch about a hookup gone bad - my friend the other day called me horrified after a hookup and told me how he had to "waffle stomp" in the dudes shower for 20 minutes and the guy eventually got so concerned he came in to the bathroom and pulled open the shower curtain and witnessed my friend waffle-stomping. I digress. All of my friends know that I am very highly sexually active, and this has been almost my whole life since 15. They all know that I'm poz. They all know that I used to hook up a lot, frequent the bathhouses when I lived in Seattle, had a vast array of sex toys and gear, and even in my former house a sling room. They can make assumptions from there. I don't hide anything and if I were asked or a friend/family member wanted to know more or talk about it, I would and I'd be candid. I'm at a point in my career where I'm not concerned about any exposure to all of this in the workplace - this has made things like fuck pics and videos much more accessible for me to consider than they used to be. Of course, there have been some shocking moments at sex parties over the years. At a Cumunion in Seattle I was in the dark room for many hours taking dick and there was another bottom next to me the whole time. He was high like me. We never really made eye contact or could see each other that well, but as the party was wrapping, we both got up at the same time and realized we were CLOSE work colleagues - on the same team. I would have never thought him the type to take raw loads at a sex party and also to do drugs, yet here we both were. We formed a pretty close friendship after that. There were less ideal suprise encounters but nothing to write home about.

Chapter 3: Feliz Miccion Home Alone played loudly across the living room, the Wet Bandits screaming while the guys of Phi Alpha Gamma howled with laughter. Evan had picked the movie hoping for something lighthearted, something to ease the weird feeling twisting in his stomach. Instead, he spent most of the runtime watching the basement door instead of the TV. Noah should have come back by now. Derek definitely should have. Evan pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders, trying to ignore the faint cold draft slipping from under the basement door. It didn’t feel like normal cold air—more like something breathing out into the room. The others didn’t seem to notice. They sprawled over the couches, arguing about which trap was the best, tossing popcorn, drinking too fast because the storm outside felt like a good excuse. Bran elbowed him lightly. “Dude, relax. You’re staring holes into the floor.” “I’m just saying… I never saw either of them come up,” Evan murmured. “Not once.” “Derek probably found porn,” Ty said without looking away from the screen. “Noah probably passed out,” Zach added. “You know how he is.” Porkchop frowned sympathetically but didn’t join in. Evan stared at the TV, trying to let the movie distract him, but the feeling wouldn’t loosen. The storm outside smashed against the windows, rattling the frames as if testing them. The house lights flickered once—just enough for Evan’s pulse to jump—before stabilizing again. The others barely reacted, but Evan felt the pressure in the room shift, subtle and wrong. Something was happening downstairs. He couldn’t hear it, couldn’t see it, but the sense of it pressed into him like a weight beneath his ribs. He hugged his arms around himself. “I’m telling you, I would’ve heard them go upstairs.” Bran sighed without taking his eyes off the movie. “Evan. Man. They’re fine. Derek’s the last person on earth who’d get himself killed in a basement.” The reassurance didn’t touch him. If anything, it only made him feel more alone in his worry. The movie’s climax exploded across the TV—chaos, traps, screams, laughter—but Evan barely registered a second of it. His gaze stayed fixed on the basement door, on the quiet line of darkness pooling beneath it, on the draft that seemed to breathe just a little too steadily. Something was wrong. He felt it in his bones. And before the night was over, he knew he would have to be the one to face it. By the time Kevin was dropping bricks onto the Wet Bandits’ skulls, Evan couldn’t focus on the movie at all. The storm outside roared harder than the TV speakers, rattling the windows every few seconds. He kept glancing at the basement door, anxiety chewing at him—Noah wasn’t back, Derek wasn’t back, and he knew he hadn’t missed either of them going upstairs. The lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then the whole house went dark. Groans erupted instantly. “Dude, right at the BEST PART—come on!” “I hate this house!” “Electric companies should be illegal.” Bran sighed heavily and ordered everyone upstairs before the cold set in. The guys shuffled away, complaining the whole time, leaving only Evan standing alone in the pitch-black living room. Perfect. His gaze drifted to the cases of beer on the floor. If he didn’t stash those downstairs, some idiot would keep drinking until hypothermia felt “kinda fun.” He gathered the loose bottles first, then hefted two full cases into his arms, glass clinking sharply in the dark. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I’ll just do everything then.” He carried the crates down the stairs carefully, each creak echoing much louder in the cold basement. Without the furnace running, the air felt unnaturally still—damp, metallic, almost grim. He set the beer down near the wall and rubbed his chilled fingers together. As he turned to head back upstairs, a faint sound froze him in place. A scratch. Then a drag. Coming from behind the old maintenance door. He swore he could see something like a string of gold tinsel glinting in the near darkness, only the faint glow of the snow and his phone’s flashlight giving the space any light. “…it's just a raccoon, Evan. Just a raccoon that should have been hibernating and got in somehow,” he whispered. The lights snapped on for one harsh second—just long enough for him to see the maintenance door twitch like something nudged it from the inside—before the power died again. Evan’s heart hammered. But with Derek and Noah missing, he couldn’t ignore it. He swallowed his fear, approached the door, and reached for the handle. The moment his fingers brushed it, a wet hiss cut through the dark—and two streams of hot, chemical slime splattered across his face. Evan choked, stumbling back as heat pulsed through his skull. The world folded inward. Blackness took him. — Warmth pooled beneath him first—not comforting warmth, but thick and suffocating, the kind that clung to the skin like steam rising off concrete after a storm. Evan surfaced into awareness slowly, as if his consciousness were tethered to the floor by heavy ropes. Every breath felt thick, his lungs dragging in humid air that carried a faint chemical tang. His mind refused to focus, circling the same dulled thought over and over: something is wrong. When he tried to move, cold stone scraped against his bare hip. The texture jolted him, pulling him more fully awake, and his eyes widened as the dim, reddish glow of emergency lights revealed his situation piece by piece. His clothes were gone. All of them. His skin was exposed to the freezing basement air, except for the disturbing warmth soaking the floor beneath him, spreading in an unmistakable shape around his thighs. At first, Evan thought—hoped—it was spilled beer or a broken pipe or anything else. But the heat, the smell, the way it clung to him… “No,” he breathed, voice cracking. “No, no, that’s not— I didn’t—” His brain felt too fogged to scream properly, too heavy to fuel panic. Whatever had hit him before knocking him out had softened his awareness, numbing the edges of his fear until everything felt dreamlike, distant, unreal. A low exhale drifted through the room. Warm. Heavy. Animal. Evan’s head jerked up, breath hitching painfully as two massive silhouettes stood just beyond the deepest pool of red light. They stepped forward in perfect synchrony, each movement deliberate, predatory. The glow revealed their bodies in slow increments—first their broad torsos, glossy and black like oil-slicked stone; then their arms, corded with unnatural muscle; and finally their heads, crowned with long, jagged horns that curved like ornate blades carved from obsidian. They were not human. Not even close. Evan scrambled backward instinctively, but his limbs felt uncoordinated, coated in molasses. His body didn’t respond with the speed or desperation he needed. The monsters watched him with eerie stillness, as if studying a creature that had not yet realized it was trapped. Then a voice entered his mind with a thin, slicing presence, not heard so much as felt. Sticks. A second voice followed—heavy, grinding, powerful enough to shake loose something small and fragile in Evan’s mind. Lockjaw. Evan whimpered, though even the sound felt muted by the fog smothering his thoughts. “Wh-why can I… hear you? Why… where are my c-clothes—please—” Neither creature moved its mouth. But their attention pressed into him like invisible hands, nudging his thoughts aside to make room for their own. His fear bled into confusion, then into a warm, dizzying pressure that made it hard to resist anything at all. Sticks lowered himself into a crouch, claws clicking lightly against the stone as he leaned close enough for Evan to feel the heat radiating off his massive frame. The creature inhaled near Evan’s skin, slow and deliberate, as if savoring his scent. Its breath rolled over him with a humid force that made his chest tighten. “He woke marked,” Sticks’ mental voice murmured, darkly pleased. “Already leaking. Softened and wet. Ready.” Humiliation flushed through Evan’s body like a fever. “No—I didn’t—this isn’t—please, don’t—” His voice broke as Lockjaw’s clawed hand settled around his ankle, the touch firm but not painful. The effect, however, was immediate and profound; his muscles seized, trembled, then slackened under a wave of numbing heat that surged up his leg. Evan gasped, terrified by how fast the sensation spread. The monsters seemed to share a silent exchange before stepping even closer, boxing Evan in with their towering bodies. Their shadows merged into a single darkness around him, swallowing the red glow, making the room feel impossibly small. They reached toward themselves—bodies shifting, opening, revealing as they stepped forward two pitch black cocks, looking at though they were clad in black latex. Each of them shook their cock at him a few times, until suddenly a pair of twin streams of foul smelling urine shot out, spraying Evan in his face, splashing into his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Into the small scrapes that he didn’t remember having on his chest and legs. Warmth splattered across Evan’s chest and stomach, coating his skin in a way that shouldn’t have felt as heavy or intoxicating as it did. The air thickened with a scent both chemical and primal, sinking into him with every breath he took. Evan tried to recoil, but his body refused to move the way he needed it to. The fog in his mind thickened, melting his panic into something softer, more pliable. “No—please—just tell me what’s happening—” His voice trembled helplessly. Sticks’ mental presence curled around him like smoke. “Hush, little pig.” “You were chosen. We’re just showering you in our love.” Lockjaw lifted Evan’s face by the jaw, not roughly, but with a certainty that allowed no escape. The motion forced Evan to look directly into the creature’s eyeless, gleaming hollows. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt around that gaze—falling inward, folding in on itself. Then he felt as the man opened his jaw and expertly shoved it into his mouth. Suddenly, he felt a sudden flood of piss fill his mouth, and something inside him told him to drink. To enjoy this. That it would help what was to come. A rush of heat flooded Evan’s senses, so overwhelming that the room blurred at the edges. His breath stuttered. His body jerked beneath an instinct he didn’t understand and couldn’t control. The creatures’ psychic voices pressed deeper, pushing against the last organized pieces of his mind. “Don’t—don’t make me—” he whispered, but his will was already dissolving. His limbs slackened; his resistance thinned like melting ice. Sticks’ growl rumbled through his mind, satisfied. “Good.” Lockjaw gathered him up, repositioning him as if arranging a ritual object. Evan’s stomach flipped, his world spinning, and then he shuddered as he felt Lockjaw shove his knees to his chest and slowly began to press his large, dripping cock against his hole. In one sudden movement, he felt as the man shoved his cock deep inside of him. The two cracked open two new bottles of beer, much to Evan’s surprise, and he went to open his mouth, telling them not to drink them. Oddly though, his brain couldn’t produce the words and Sticks looked down at him before shoving his cock into his mouth and unleashing a new round of piss down his throat. Chuckling with a deep, dark growl, Lockjaw forced his dick even deeper in Evan’s ass, and that’s when Evan felt it. The feeling of heat and liquid filling up inside of him as the man began to empty his bladder deep in his guts. Pressure built inside him—unnatural, overwhelming, wrong. His vision swam. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. A cry slipped from his throat as Lockjaw’s large hand settled against his abdomen, guiding the energy within him, shaping it. The moment Lockjaw pulled out, the pressure released in a flooding rush that tore a strained sound from Evan’s chest, and he felt his own bladder start to release, as well as his bowels of Lockjaw’s tainted piss. He couldn’t stop until he was sure he was empty, his guts feeling pleasantly clean and empty and ready for something else. Something he couldn’t name. Suddenly, both were adjusting him as if he were a sex toy for their pleasure. He felt as Lockjaw first shoved his cock deep inside him, growling and pleased and then, he felt it. Sticks’s even larger cock pressing up next to Lockjaw’s, forcing the too-tight flesh apart as he too began to seat himself inside of him. He slumped forward, gasping. But the ritual wasn’t over. Sticks and Lockjaw closed in again—synchronized, practiced, moving with the precision of beings who had performed this rite countless times. Their claws traced sigils along Evan’s spine, along his ribs, across his chest. Each mark burned briefly, then sank into his flesh as faint lines of blood welled up on his skin as they pistoned in synchronization in and out of his guts. Evan whimpered, shaking uncontrollably as the psychic voices slid around his consciousness like dark waves. “Open.” “Yield.” “Let us in.” “You belong.” He didn’t know how long he endured it; time became unreal, stretching and folding over itself as the monsters worked. His mind frayed at the edges, unraveling strand by strand. That was, until he finally felt both of them picking up speed. They both growled at each other, with Evan scared and strangely excited as they both began to shoot their foul, brackish loads inside his ass. He didn’t know why, but something inside of him was telling him to be glad his ass was bleeding slightly and pleasantly burning, that it would make things go even faster for him. Shapes moved in the dimness—other monsters stepping forward, circling him, rumbling in approval. Some carried the beer he had brought down, drinking casually as they watched, savoring the scene like spectators at a ritual feast. Their presence pressed against Evan’s awareness, adding to the weight collapsing around him. The air shifted suddenly. Everything went still. Even Sticks and Lockjaw froze, lowering their heads. Evan’s breath hitched when he felt it—a gravity, an authority, a presence so powerful it made his bones feel hollow. The Alpha entered the chamber. He was larger, broader, horned with spiraling obsidian that looked carved by impossible forces. His body radiated heat and darkness, and the space around him seemed to bend subtly, as though reality struggled to accommodate him. The faint red glow reflected in the gleam of his teeth and the slow pulse of energy that haloed him. Evan couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. The Alpha crouched, bringing his massive form level with Evan’s trembling body. When he spoke, the voice struck like a blow inside Evan’s skull. “Give in. Be marked. Become ours.” Evan’s whole body shuddered, his thoughts scattering like frightened birds. Whatever remained of his willpower flickered, faded, and collapsed. In quiet recognition, he rolled onto his stomach and slowly lifted his ass up, as if it were a sacrifice to the Alpha, grabbing both of his cheeks and pulling them apart. He felt the Alpha gently stroke his mind, making his body shiver in happiness and reverence, as his new god slowly began to shove its cock deep inside him. He felt his bladder leaking with every thrust as the massive member slammed hard and fast, feeling as his colon began to burn as the Alpha quickly worked itself into a frenzy, gently dragging its claws against Evan’s tender flesh, adding more scratches to the surface. With one final, guttural growl, he felt as the Alpha’s seed flowed into him, his mind imagining a dark malevolent force pushing itself into him, flowing through his veins and shoving its tendrils into his mind. With a gasp and growl, Evan smiled, his pupils growing wide in surprised awe, feeling the second the Alpha’s virus started to seep into and reshape his mind. With a satisfied smile, the Alpha let its bladder flow, watching as Evan’s stomach began to bulge in response, as one of his other minions walked forward and handed their master a large butt plug, Evan’s mind likening it to a Christmas tree in the dim light. The plug was shoved deep into him, his anus stretching and burning even more before finally seating in place, trapping the massive amount of cum and piss deep in his guts to be absorbed and feed the change about to occur in his body. Evan felt the weight of something cold and heavy locking into place inside him, glowing briefly with unnatural light before settling. His mind cracked open, flooded with visions—his new form, his brothers waiting, the ritual not ending but beginning. Pleasure, fear, obedience, and delirium blurred into one unstoppable tide. He gasped, shaking violently and began to shoot his load, coating his wet, piss covered body with rope after rope of cum, smiling angelically as Sticks and Lockjaw dove forward, greedily lick his chest and stomach clean as Sticks latched onto his cock and began to suck it dry, with Lockjaw squeezing his balls as if to wring out each and every uncorrupted drop out of him. He sobbed at the sensation, until finally, his consciousness gave way entirely under the Alpha’s will. He belonged. Evan lay on the cold stone floor, trembling so violently that his muscles twitched with each breath. The Alpha’s presence pressed over him like a weighted blanket woven from heat and shadow. His vision pulsed in and out, red light ebbing through the chamber like a heartbeat not his own. His own heartbeat felt distant now—faint, irregular, as though it belonged to someone he used to be. Then the Alpha’s voice rolled through his skull, deeper now, resonant enough to shake his ribs: “Open your mind.” Evan gasped as warmth surged through his chest, rising up his throat and spilling behind his eyes in blinding waves. Thought itself felt like it liquefied—ideas melting, memories softening, borders dissolving. He felt the change beginning inside him like a second heart awakening. At first, it was subtle pressure—pushing outward against his bones, stretching the space behind his sternum, pulsing at the base of his skull. Then the pressure intensified, blooming into something hotter, richer, powerful enough to make him arch off the floor. A sound tore from him—half cry, half moan, all desperation—but not from pain. From hunger. He wanted this. “Oh… god…” he whispered, barely aware of his own voice. “Please… don’t stop…” The Alpha’s shadow leaned closer, horns framing the edges of Evan’s vision. “You crave what you will become.” Evan nodded, breath shuddering. “Yes… yes, I… I want it—” The Alpha’s mental touch slipped deeper into him—into the cracks of his unraveling identity, into the spaces where doubt and fear and worry had lived only an hour before. Images fluttered behind Evan’s eyes: the black horned silhouettes, the pack circling him, the rituals performed again and again in endless cycles, a brotherhood not of blood but something darker, older, binding. Of a shared virus. Changing all of them and corrupting them into something darker and evil. His chest burned with longing. His stomach tightened with anticipation. His mind whispered back, fragmented but eager: Let me be one of you. Let me belong. Make me yours. Heat spiraled down his limbs, crawling beneath his skin like molten ink. He felt it threading through his veins, sinking into his marrow, rewriting him. The sensation hurt—and soothed—and intoxicated him all at once. His fingers clawed the stone floor, unable to anchor himself through the overwhelming rush overtaking him. He could feel his shape already beginning to loosen around the edges. His breathing deepened, slower, more powerful than before. A faint shiver passed across his arms—like shadows dancing beneath the skin. He gasped and embraced the sensation instinctively. More. Please, more. I want to transform faster, Alpha. His bones ached—not breaking, but preparing, longing to shift. His skin prickled, pores heating with the promise of something dark and glossy rising beneath the surface. He wanted to feel it burst through, to feel the monster beneath him reveal itself. Every instinct he had ever lived by—fear, restraint, self-preservation—crumbled. His mind leaned into the change, pressing toward it like someone stepping willingly into fire. A whisper crossed his mind—not from the Alpha this time, but from himself. I want this. I want it so badly. Please… let me finish becoming. The Alpha’s hand lowered to his chest—a massive palm radiating heat—and Evan arched beneath it, shaking. Suddenly, a set of deep gashes sliced into his chest, welling up with blood as the other monsters stepped forward and began to piss into his wounds, allowing for their filth and seemingly demonic seed flood in through his wounds. When each of their minds touched him, Evan’s consciousness cracked open wide. He saw himself—reflected in the Alpha’s mind—tall, horned, obsidian-skinned, eyes glowing faintly from within. A creature of the dark. A brother. A vessel. A soldier. He exhaled shakily, tears streaking down his temples. “Yes…” he whispered. “That’s… me. That’s what I’m supposed to be…” His body would begin to pulse with the energy filling him. His muscles would tighten, expanded, relaxed, reshaped in terrifying, exquisite waves. His vision would cloud, then sharpen, as his physiology slid between human and other. Heat pooled low in his abdomen, flooding his spine, spreading through every nerve. He savored each ripple of soon to come transformation. Each small distortion of his humanity. Each sensation pushing him further from who he had been. “I want it,” he murmured desperately, his fingers curling, nails darkening slightly with each twitch. “I want to finish. Please—I want it. I want to be yours.” The Alpha’s mental voice rolled through him like a commandment: “Then surrender the last of your human mind.” Evan did. Gladly. He let the tide sweep through him, let the dark reshape him, let the warmth erase the final weak fearful sparks of who he’d been. Pleasure, terror, identity, submission—all blended together into a single overwhelming pulse of transformation. He shook violently, almost convulsing. He felt as his cock erupted again, with Sticks and Lockjaw switching positions, already feeling that his seed was no longer perfect and untainted, and instead tinged ever so slightly with the corruption. He let out a deep sigh and then collapsed back to the floor, chest heaving, eyes dimming faintly with the first signs of the monster he would become. He was not finished. He would continue to pump out every last drop of his still mostly uncorrupted cum to feed his new creators until nothing but black corrupted seed flowed out of him. He would gladly give up the remaining untainted part of him in order to feed that darkness. Because he was no longer human. And he wanted the rest of the change more than he wanted air.

It's a true story: My sister is superstitious. Once she went to a fortune teller she believes very much and asked him about me. I've never met the fortune teller before. But my sister told me that he said I am a slut. I was astonished. Some close gay friends know I am slut. I never tried to hide it. But just don't like to talk about my sex life with everyone. Only shared with some FBs. Too bad I still haven't found a FB same like me. 🙂

I had this conversation last night with a buddy. If we define "stealthing" as misleading the bottom that you're going do "safe only" or lying about your status, I'm not for this. If it included not proactively telling them you're poz even though they don't ask, then that's not my problem and I have no issue not proactively declaring my HIV status. I have stealthed a few times - one time was a pure grudge fuck because the bottom was a self-righteous asshole even though we still ended up fucking. At any rate, it doesn't really do it for me. I'd much prefer a bottom beg me for my poz cum emphatically while we're fucking, tell me about what a slut they are and how now they are a poz cumdump. This gets me going. This makes me want to shoot my load. Watching and hearing them emphatically become a poz pig.

To me, oral or handjob is not real sex. Only anal sex counts. So my number is 600+. I started sucking and jerking off for other boys at young age. Don't remember how many cocks I sucked or me got sucked. But it was in China. Gay sex was very prohibited, although I still tried to organized some group sex when I was in Beijing from late 90s to early 2000s. After I moved to Canada, I started to get loose. I started to make an Excel sheet from 2012 to record the people I fucked or fucked me. My goal is to get 1000.

Your first name (or a name you'll respond to): Brian Your cell number (for texts and voice calls): 508-472-0519 A location (be at least as specific as a zip code): 7 Raven St, Middleborough, MA 02346 Times you're generally not available: Available at all times Age: 44 Height: 5'8" Weight: 145lbs Ethnicity: Caucasian

Same here - now older - looking - trying to find aggressive Sexual - even Bondage - Multi Fuckers - Raw only way !

You / your profile Extremely HOT ! Stealthing - so Fucking HOT on videos - cutting tip or pulling Off ! Going to Happen - especially a party or sniffing poppers ! Imagining first steps developing a Whore - having them being Fucked Raw while Sucking Cocks - Power to Breeders ! more - more - videos ?

Curious - is it Right for a Father , Age ? , teaching his Son of Sex - J.O. Sessions or having his Older son teaching his young brother ?

Mines simple get pozzed lol

Great story but the pace is bit slow ha

I researched this a little bit and while it is illegal for a father/son the fuck, they are the ones committing a crime and not a third party. As such, I'll go ahead and say that I do have a deep fantasy about fucking around with a father/son (of legal age and consenting). Shoot me. Not gonna waste a ton of time looking for it, but if I were to happen I'd be rock hard and dripping immediately.