All Activity

. . wishing this had continued

Good, but I think it may be in the wrong section since it seems to be an M-F story.

It has been years for me, but while I couldn't get as much in my mouth, I always found it easier to self suck in a seated position.

Great story!

Chapter 2 His breath was hot against my neck, a stark contrast to the cold dread solidifying in my stomach. My question—“What did you just say?”—hung in the air, unanswered, swallowed by the primal rhythm he was establishing. “Shhh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against my spine. His hands, warm and possessive, tightened on my hips. He didn’t withdraw. He pressed in deeper. “Just feel it.” My mind was screaming, a frantic alarm bell clanging against the words viral load and medication, but my body, still humming from its own recent climax, betrayed me. A treacherous, involuntary pulse of pleasure answered the slow, deliberate drag of his cock as he pulled almost all the way out. The friction was exquisite, a familiar ache that my nerves remembered, craving a repeat of the shattering bliss I’d just experienced. He rolled his hips forward, and I gasped as he filled me again, a smooth, steady invasion that stole the air from my lungs. God, he felt good. The thought was a traitor in my own head. He set a punishing, deep rhythm, each thrust a masterclass in finding the exact angle that made me see stars. The headboard began a soft, rhythmic tap-tap-tap against the wall, a metronome keeping time with our jarringly intimate collision. His lean, muscular body covered mine, a cage of tattooed warmth. I could feel the defined ridges of his abdomen against the small of my back, the dampness of his skin glued to mine. One hand slid from my hip, skimming up my side before his fingers tangled in my hair, gently pulling my head back to expose my throat to his lips. His teeth grazed my shoulder, not hard, but with a possessiveness that made my core clench tightly around him. A broken sob caught in my throat, a confusing mix of panic and overwhelming sensation. “That’s it,” he groaned, his voice thick with a pleasure I could feel radiating through his entire body. “Fuck, you take me so well. So perfect.” His words were a dark spell, weaving around the fear, muffling it beneath a rising tide of physical need. I was fracturing, my conscience at war with the raw, animalistic response he was eliciting from me. The music from the party below was just a dull throb now, secondary to the sounds of our bodies meeting, skin slapping against skin, our ragged breaths synchronizing. His pace quickened, growing more urgent, more frantic. His grip on my hip was almost bruising, holding me in place as he drove into me with a singular, focused intensity. I could feel him swelling, hardening even more inside me, the sensation foreign and terrifying and so intensely erotic. My own resistance was melting, the icy fear in my gut now a pool of liquid heat, coiling tighter and tighter. I was arching my back, pressing myself against him, meeting his thrusts, a willing participant in my own ruin. He buried his face in my neck, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. “I’m… I’m gonna come,” he panted, the words slurred with the force of his impending release. No. Wait. Stop. The words were a silent scream in my mind, trapped behind my teeth. My body was saying yes, yes, yes, a primal chant that overrode everything. His thrusts became shallow, frantic jabs, losing their rhythm as he sought his peak. He held himself impossibly deep, and I felt the first hot, pulsing jet flood into me. A long, guttural groan was torn from his chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated release. And as he came, as his body shuddered through the climax, he spoke, his voice a raw, blissed-out whisper directly into my ear. “God yes… fucking cumming… so deep… you feel that?” Another thick, hot pulse. “…and don’t worry… the meds… my viral load’s been undetectable for years…” The world didn’t just stop; it shattered. The warmth of his release inside me became a brand. A poison. The intimacy of the moment curdled into something vile and horrifying. The pleasure that had been cresting within me evaporated, replaced by a vacuum of pure, uncomprehending terror. My body went rigid beneath his weight. He was still for a moment, panting, his weight a suffocating blanket. He softened inside me and slowly, reluctantly, slipped out. The sudden emptiness felt like a wound. He rolled onto his side next to me, running a hand over his sweaty chest with a satisfied sigh, completely oblivious to the internal cataclysm he’d just unleashed. I lay frozen on my stomach, staring at the rumpled sheets, my mind shrieking. Undetectable. For years. The words echoed, each one a hammer blow. He’d known. He’d known the entire time. Through every kiss, every touch, every whispered promise of feeling good. He’d held this… this secret… while buried inside me. The casual confidence I’d found so intoxicating now seemed like a monstrous deceit. The careful way he’d handled himself wasn’t just sexy; it was a meticulously maintained protocol for a life I knew nothing about. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing a line down my spine. I flinched so hard it was a full-body spasm. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft, concerned now. “You okay?” I slowly, painfully, pushed myself up onto my elbows. I couldn’t look at him. The room felt like it was tilting. I focused on a crack in the far wall, my voice barely a whisper, hoarse and fractured. “You’re… you’re positive?” There was a beat of silence. I could feel him still beside me, the relaxed energy vanishing, replaced by a sudden, wary tension. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now, all the post-coital ease gone. “I… I thought you knew. The way we talked about being careful…” I finally turned my head, my eyes wide with a betrayal so profound it felt like my insides were crumbling. “Knew?” The word was a choked sob. “You thought I knew? I thought you meant condoms! Leo… you… you came inside me…”

It was originally posted by “CumTemple”, so maybe you have to be friends with him? I’m not sure but hope that helps.

I have been to a number of horse market events in America. I really love the prison twist!

Oh, well, comparing abortion to mass-murder, saying that the civil rights act was a mistake... I honestly find some conservative positions very dangerous for underrepresented folks. But "dangerous" does not mean "shoot them" or "prevent them from talking". I feel there are too many extremes, both in left and right side and I'd suggest to read a book about this. The author is French, she's Caroline Fourest and the book is "offended generation". She talks from a progressive and pro-lgbt point of view, about how progressive-oriented extremism ruins civil rights themselves. Maybe that phenomenon someone calls "woke". I am not a fan about these "all-inclusive" terms meaning everything and nothing, I'd rather prefer to talk about polarized culture. It's like having two deers fighting for the one with biggest horns or, well, the guy with biggest dick. But no one is the winner, in the end! I'm very worried because those folks like Kirk, are against diversity and inclusion policies, just as an example. Or even against EMPATHY! We can say DEI policies aren't perfect? Yes. We must say it, improve them, scream aloud what's wrong. We can say that empathy is a weak point somehow, because of very frequent scams! Too much empathy has caused half America to believe in Alicia (Tania) Head, that woman who faked to be a WTC survivor. Or the cancer fake survivor Amanda (Scamanda) Riley. Or that woman blogger who faked to have a sick kid till the child died to salt overdose, a case of Munchhausen syndrome. We could go on with dozens of people fooling us because of our good feelings. But lecturing against empathy does NOT make ourselves stronger. Declaring extreme concepts about abortion too. We can be pro, or against, abortion rather than anti-racism, lgbt rights, etc. But if we want to be politicians, we should remember we represent the whole country! Of course it applies to the opposite side too: having LGBT marriages, won't harm hetero families. But let's be honest: if you place an LGBT character or couple in _every_ TV series, it becomes boring! I have seen "breathless", a Spanish Netflix medical drama. There were 4 lgbt characters, 2 men and 2 women. Was it representation? Tbh, no. They were extremely stereotyped figures. As a writer, I'm aware stereotypes are essential in art. But these are extreme, and used to make both parts happy: "liberal" see gays represented, "conservatives" see their prejudices confirmed. My half a cent.

Love this scene! Where did it happen? Need to go to the next one.