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There used to be a guy in Atlanta Georgia who lived for guys with foreskins like me, and he would insist that I not take a shower when I came to visit. There was enough smeg even if I had showered the day before. My late hubs would peel back his foreskin when he and I peed together in the morning and the wonderful aroma of piss and underarm would be really fucking amazing. Pity his health in the last few years didn’t permit him to fuck every day like we did in the beginning. So many people are scrupulous about keeping their cock free of cheese and it’s a pity.

I've not had much fun for a while now, due to a variety of circumstances but now up in Scotland for a long weekend. This afternoon I met up with a 21 year old Afghan lad. I first met him about a year ago at a cruising ground where I fucked him bareback and came in him just after another guy had loaded him up. Afterwards we exchanged numbers and in the summer I arranged to meet him again at the same cruising ground and fucked him again. This time he came to my hotel room - he was a bit shy about getting naked, and kept his T shirt on. He removed everything else though and knelt up on the bed and, a little to my surprise, let me lick his hairy arsehole (I didn't think he would). After a while I lubed him up, slid my cock up him, fucked him and dumped what felt like a huge load right up him. He loved it, and so did I

NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS: After today's posting, we'll be taking a break from our usual serial for the Christmas season. This will give us time to catch up on a backlog, and also give you time to catch up with previous chapters. It's a long read, and we're only halfway through, so this little break is necessary for everyone. Thanks for sticking with us this far. There's still more story to tell, so click the "follow topic" button at the bottom of the page (or wherever it is), and you'll get the update when Act 3 begins.

To achieve that goal in, let's choose to agree upon a 50 hour session one would have to take 20 loads an hour, giving each top 3 minutes start to finish. If we take a not unreasonable two cumloads over that time as average, that's 500 guys have to pass through the room.

Intermission #2: We Come Out At Night Matt and Darin’s apartment. 19:53 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location. Matt had never felt so trapped in a familiar place. The apartment was small — too small, suddenly — and every inch of it seemed to echo with something he couldn’t remember. The crooked skeleton hand still hung on the curtain rod, its bent fingers pointing straight at him like it was calling out his guilt. He sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the beer he hadn’t touched. His large hands looked foreign to him — strong, calloused, steady — but right now they were shaking. Tall, broad-shouldered, gym-built Matt Sutton never shook. He was the guy people asked to move furniture, open jars, deter creeps. Except last night. Last night he wasn’t sure who he’d been. The bathroom door opened with a soft creak. Darin stepped out, toweling his sun-kissed blonde hair, the lean cut of his arms and shoulders glistening from the shower. He was smaller than Matt but carved, compact, like a gymnast made out of sharp edges and smirking confidence. When he saw Matt still sitting there, he grinned like he’d found a Christmas present he forgot he’d wrapped. “Oh,” Darin said, voice bright with mock delight. “Still here. Love that for me.” Matt dragged a hand over his brown hair, trying to slow his breathing. “Darin, not today.” “Today is the only day.” Darin padded barefoot into the kitchen, popping open a can of sparkling water. “You look like you’re about to cry into that beer, and I’m dying to help.” Matt glared. “Just tell me what happened last night.” Darin raised his eyebrows, taking a slow sip. “Mm. Straight to the begging. You didn’t even warm me up this time.” “Darin.” Darin set the can down, sauntering closer. The overhead kitchen light hit his hair just right, turning it gold. “You know,” he said, tilting his head, “if you want the full recap, you should start by acknowledging how unbelievably adorable you are right now.” Matt clenched his fists. “I’m serious.” “Oh, I know you are.” Darin crouched in front of him, elbows on his knees, eye level. “That’s half the fun.” Matt swallowed hard. Darin smiled like a wolf discovering a weak spot. “You want to know what you did, big guy?” “Please,” Matt whispered. “Mmm. Magic word.” Darin’s voice dropped. “Let me see if I remember… You, drunk off your very pretty ass, came into my room. And you — tall, muscular, alpha-boy Matt — started climbing on top of me like you were starving.” Matt’s breath stuttered. “That’s not— I wouldn’t—” “Oh, sweetheart.” Darin patted his thigh. “You did. The big brown-haired heartthrob became very, very soft for me.” Matt’s stomach twisted. “Darin, just—did we sleep together?” “Maybe,” Darin said lightly. “Maybe not.” “Darin—!” “Why ruin the mystery?” Darin stood, stretching lazily. “You’re so much sexier when you’re confused.” Matt felt a pulse of anger, shame, and raw fear shoot through him. “You’re enjoying this.” “Of course I am.” Darin leaned against the wall, casual and smug. “I never would’ve expected the alpha boy to be so… complacent. So needy. God, you clung to me.” Matt’s face burned. “Stop it.” “Begging for me to touch you. Whispering my name. You should’ve heard yourself.” Matt pressed both hands into his eyes. He couldn’t tell what was real and what Darin was weaponizing. “Did I cheat on Amy?” he asked, voice cracking. “Just tell me that.” “You want the truth?” Darin asked softly. “Yes.” “Too bad I’m not gonna tell you, lover boy.” Matt’s head snapped up. “Why?” “Because,” Darin said with a shrug, “I’m not your diary. You don’t get closure from me. You get questions.” Matt’s chest felt crushed. “I can’t tell her.” “Oh, I know you won’t.” Darin grinned. “She’d burst into tears while you stood there stammering, and where’s the entertainment in that?” Matt stared at him, horrified. “You’re fucking evil.” “Only recreationally.” Darin pushed off the wall and wandered behind the couch, leaning over the back so his face hovered inches above Matt’s shoulder. “You know what else is interesting?” he whispered. “You’ve got a little tattoo on your ass.” Matt went rigid. “How—” “You do,” Darin sang. “And last night? I definitely saw it. Cute little thing. Very kissable placement.” Matt’s heart slammed painfully against his ribs. “You sure did like sucking on things, too,” Darin added casually. Matt’s eyes flew wide. “What—?! Did I—did you—did we—” “I’ll let you torture yourself figuring that out.” Darin smirked. “You’re so good at hating yourself. It’s kind of hot.” Matt’s voice broke. “Please don’t do this.” “Sweetie, it’s already done.” Matt groaned, burying his face in his hands. Darin ruffled his hair. “Oh — and about tonight?” “Tonight?” Matt echoed, dazed. “We’re going to a gay nightclub,” Darin reminded him. “Amy said so. Agreed that she was in the mood for some eye candy.” Matt’s stomach lurched. “And you,” Darin said, tapping his broad shoulder, “should maybe limit your drinking.” “W-why?” Matt croaked. “Mmm, because drunk Matt gets curious.” Darin’s grin turned wicked. “Would hate for you to wander into a backroom and end up grinding on a go-go boy while Amy’s in the bathroom washing her hands.” Matt felt like he might vomit. “Stop.” “Or worse,” Darin continued gleefully, “end up on your knees behind the curtain. You know those boys don’t wear much. Big boy like you might get hungry.” “Darin—” “And by the way,” Darin added with a shrug, “Amy handles her liquor way better than you. She’d be stone sober walking in on you moaning ‘this isn’t who I am’ while a pirate in glitter booty shorts rearranges your sexuality.” “Darin, PLEASE....” “Oh, the way you say please,” Darin sighed happily. “Exactly like last night.” Footsteps climbed the stairs. Darin straightened, expression turning breezy and innocent. “Showtime.” The lock clicked. Amy walked in, cheeks flushed, curls bouncing, her blonde ponytail slightly crooked. “Hi, babes! Why does this room feel like someone died?” Matt forced a smile. His throat was dry. “Just—long day.” Darin stretched. “He’s been thinking. Dangerous habit.” Amy blinked but let it go. She kissed Matt’s cheek, warm and trusting. “Come get into your Batman costume! I wanna see my big strong guy. I already got my Catwoman outfit hanging up!” Matt’s stomach sank. Amy disappeared down the hall. The second her door shut, Matt slumped back, shaking. Darin perched on the armchair again, smiling like a cat who’d knocked over all the glasses in the kitchen. “You’re a mess,” he said. “And I love it.” Matt looked up, throat tight. “You’re not going to tell her. Right?” “Oh, absolutely not,” Darin said. “This is far too fun to end.” Matt closed his eyes in shame. Darin leaned forward, voice dropping again, all velvet and threat. “Tonight,” he said softly, “you get to wonder which parts of last night were real… and which parts you just wanted to be real.” Matt’s breath caught painfully. Darin winked. “Happy Halloween, alpha boy,” he murmured. “Let’s see what happens when the music gets loud and you get tipsy.” —-------- Exterior of InfraRED nightclub. 21:04 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location. The line outside InfraRED twisted down the block under pulsing red lights, the bass from inside vibrating through the pavement. Matt stood behind Amy and her girlfriends, towering over most of the crowd in his skin-tight Batman suit. His brown hair kept falling into his eyes; he pushed it back again, fingers trembling. Amy was wearing her skintight cat suit and carrying a whip. And her friends were glittering, laughing sprites under the club lights. Darin stood with them, mesh shirt shimmering over his lean, defined body, looking completely at home, with a glittery pair of pixie wings. Matt didn’t. “Hey, alpha boy,” Darin murmured, stepping close enough for Matt to smell his citrusy cologne. “Remember—no drinking tonight. One drop of vodka and you’ll be humping furniture again.” Matt flushed. “Stop.” “Can’t,” Darin chirped. “It’s my calling.” Amy turned around, blonde ponytail bouncing. “Babe! You don’t want your rum and Coke?” Matt forced a smile. “Nah. Just… not feeling it. You guys have fun. I’ll be the designated driver tonight.” “Responsible king!” she declared. Darin snorted under his breath. Matt’s cheeks burned. “Darin. Please.” “Oh, I love when you say please.” Darin leaned in. “Just like last—” “Shut up.” Darin laughed and turned away, but Matt could feel his eyes still on him. The line shuffled forward. A group of drag queens swept past like a cloud of glittering royalty. Matt couldn’t shake the tightness in his chest. Every thump of bass felt like a warning. Amy nudged him and pointed toward the alley. “Whoa. Look at that guy.” Matt turned. A massive man stepped out of the darkness beside the club — short, muscular, half-naked, his skin painted pitch-black from his jaw down his torso, slick and glossy like oil. Even his eyes gleamed like polished obsidian. He walked slowly, deliberately, scanning the line like he was choosing a target. “What… is he supposed to be?” Brooke asked. “A demon?” Jenna offered. Darin squinted, then snapped his fingers. “Oh! He’s dressed like Venom. Right? The paint, the muscles, the ‘I might eat you’ vibe? Very method acting.” Matt didn’t laugh. The man tilted his head and smiled — wide, unnatural, teeth gleaming like something sharp hiding behind human skin. Matt felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “That’s… not a costume,” he said quietly. Darin scoffed. “Relax, Matt. It’s Halloween. Big dude in body paint? Calm down. You’re Batman, aren’t you? Brooding is on brand.” The man took a step closer. Darin grinned, playful. “Actually, he’s hot in a ‘please ruin my life’ sort of way. Wanna ask him if the paint rubs off—” “Darin, stop.” Matt’s voice was firm, low. “Please.” Darin blinked. “…okay, that one didn’t sound like foreplay. But I would let that man destroy me.” The black-painted man let out a sound — a low, vibrating growl that rolled through the alley like something alive. Matt’s pulse spiked. “We need to move. Now.” “Dude,” Darin said, frowning for the first time, “it’s just a guy doing a Venom bit—” The man moved. Too fast. Before Matt could register the motion, something wet and clear arced through the air and splattered across his face. A glob of clear slime — hot, tingling, burning. Every muscle in Matt’s body went soft and overheated at once. “What the hell—?!” Matt staggered, grabbing for the brick wall. Amy screamed. “MATT?!” The Venom-painted man lunged. He grabbed Matt’s wrist, fingers like steel clamps, and yanked him toward the alley. “HEY! LET HIM GO!” Darin shouted, grabbing at the man’s arm. The man turned and backhanded him without hesitation. Darin flew sideways, slamming into a dumpster with a sickening metallic thud. He collapsed, dazed, pain twisting across his face. “DARIN!” Amy shrieked. “CALL 911!” Brooke screamed. “NOW!” Matt tried to fight, but his limbs felt hot and heavy, his strength dissolving under the burning slime. The man dragged him deeper into the alley, ripping at the thin Batman costume. “No—stop—let go—” Matt gasped, but his words came out slurred, his head swimming. The man shoved him against the wall. Then he bit him. Hard. Teeth sank into Matt’s shoulder, tearing through fabric and skin, sending a lightning-bolt of agony down his back. Matt screamed. Amy screamed louder. People in line scattered, shouting for help, pounding on the club doors. Darin, groaning, staggered to his knees. “Let… him… go…” The man didn’t. Didn’t even look at him. He tore at the suit like it offended him, dragging Matt deeper, deeper into the shadows. Amy’s voice cracked with terror. “MATT! PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP HIM!” Security was running. People were calling 911. Sirens in the distance. But Matt was going numb, his vision swimming as the heat from the slime spread through his bloodstream, fogging his thoughts, twisting something inside him. The man’s teeth sank deeper. Matt’s knees buckled. Darkness rushed in.

I just saw a post on Insta this week about some guy trying to do this -I think he's a porn star. They didn't write about the specifics, but I'm pretty sure the goal was 1000 loads.

I've been mostly a bottom but in the past year depending on party favors I've been being more of a vers and enjoying topping.

I hardly ever wear deodorant. I typically go days without showering, if I many too physically active. I only shower if I need to wash my hair or I start to smell myself. I only use detergent if I am going out in public and don’t have time, or motivation, to shower. I enjoy having my pits, ass, and crotch licked and sucked after a long sweaty day’s work. In the summertime, here in Oklahoma, I typically don’t have to do much in order to sweat.

I started out 100% top. At some point in college, I had a guy force himself into me after a bunch of us went out drinking, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. After many years and several relationships, I eventually tried being a bottom for someone I was dating. I think we were getting board with our roles at top and bottom. Over time, I would only bottom for guys I felt a connection with; the chemistry had to work. I suppose I can say I am 98% top. I haven’t bottomed since my last M/M relationship. We broke up in 2005. I have been missing that made bonding and testosterone infused connection. Over the years I have met a few FWB, but they typically were 100% bottoms. Now I have been on NKP searching for someone I can develop a connection with and be more versatile.

I dated started dating that cock sucker when I was in tenth grade, he was in ninth. He actually approached me, I was shy back than. After we’d got around school that we were a thing, I had a few guys approached me about sucking my cock. By the time I graduated, I had a few regular cock suckers tending to my teenage needs; most were a grade or two under me. I suppose that’s where I started having an “thing” for younger Guys. Unfortunately, I never fucked any of them. I was in college when I finally fucked my first real romantic relationship BF.

So true. Love it bare and real.

After last night’s pounding

I was about the same age - playing sports - having fun - one of my friends - same age seems more educated - knowing more ! Then , several times drinking beers - camping out a bit - one thing to another - he invited me his older brother party - getting a bit wild - naked - j.o. sessions - my buddy taking control of me ! Apparently his Older brother teaching about Sucking - Fucking - then I started to learning and enjoying it !

Can't wait until you wake up with the fuck flu and start taking loads from your friends while ill and feverish

Here in mainland Europe, whoever wears a jockstrap signals that he is a bottom and wants to be fucked. No questions, no doubt, no misinterpretation. If whoever wears a jock wants to fuck, a cock out and into someone's hole will be just fine. That means that the guy just felt like fucking, and that's that. The "shy" tops usually wear full briefs, underwear, speedos, etc. But they do not expose their butt. End of story. Men in other regions may have a different view, of course. Or tops with a fetish for a jockstrap. However, a jockstrap usually means: Hole available for fuck.

Once you know a man has spilled his seed in you, you can never go back to using condoms, never.