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just got bred by a hot argentinian guy in my hotel room. if anyone's in town, hmu. no loads refused from this site

I am looking for people for my fist gangbang. I live near palm springs and I'm open to anyone who would want to help me experience it. Message me!!!

Just took a load from a guy that hasnt cum in two weeks. Big 6'6 tall hairy bearded bear, he was so hot and horny, pounded my ass and busted balls deep, it felt so good...he wants to do this every time he comes to town to visit his family...Good FWB!

When he fuck well and i handle it

There seems - according to Financial experts - to be a "crash" on the way affecting the "new technology" companies that started-up at the end of the 1990s./2000s Their bubble is about to burst?

Rick's finger was in me hitting that spot. My legs opened automatically. My breathing started to get more intense. My cock was getting hard again. "I know you wanted this. You have wanted this from the first time we met, from the first time I touched you at the pool" Rick said as his finger was working its magic in me. "No I don't want to get sick and I don't want to get HIV" I said back trying to remain in control. But it was difficult his finger was making me ache inside. "Then answer this. Do you want my cum in you" Rick asked as he pulled his finger out of me. I gave him a look as I really wanted his finger back in me. I was so confused. "Do you want my cum in you" Rick asked as he started to stroke his huge now erect again meat. "I don't know. I am confused." I said "I need to go to bed. I think that would be best right now" I said further "If you want that's fine." he said "But lets clean up your cum first on my couch" Rick said sternly I felt I didn't have a choice. He leaned down and licked it up with his tongue. Savoring it he said, "Damn boy you taste so good" he said swallowing. "Go ahead and lick it up." he followed up "I leaned down and licked up my cum. It did taste good, I started to suck and lick it up off the couch. He patted my head, "Good body lick it all up", he said. After I was done I looked back up. He took his finger that was in my hole and stuck it in my mouth. "Taste us together. This is what we taste like together." he said staring at me eye to eye. I acquiesced. I sucked and licked his finger like it was his cock as usual. It tasted strangely good. It shouldn't. His finger was up my ass. It had a funky, salty taste with a hint of iron. He pulled his finger out of my mouth my tongue following it out wanting it back in. He smiled. He leaned over and softly kissed me on my lips and said it was time for us to go to bed. I walked out confused and still aroused. I went back to my bedroom, it was now 2:30am. I was tired but still horny. I lay in bed reflecting on what just happened. I let a man with HIV possibly AIDS fuck me and cum in me. I didn't want HIV. But I still was on his last question. Did I want his cum. A part of me did. Watching him and Jeff and the gay porn of those bottoms taking cock and cum made me think about it. I started to get horny now and started to stroke my cock. But I wanted more. I spread my legs and stuck my middle finger in me. I moaned. I moved up my bed leaned against the wall and spread my legs with knees back towards my chest. I got more of my finger in me and started to stroke my hard cock again. OMG is felt incredible my finger my cock my ass my pussy. What my pussy? My ass....OMG...i started to shoot all over my chest and came hard. I could feel my ass clench around my finger. As I calmed down I cleaned my self off licking up all my cum. I hesistated but then sucked on the finger which had been in my ass. I started to like the taste. I stuck my finger back in and moaned. I pulled it out and looked at it. It had cum and a tinge of red. It was blood. That was the iron taste. OMG my hole ripped and is bleeding. And I have HIV cum in me. I was excited and nervous. I calmed down and lay down on my bed. I fell fast asleep.

Fuck thats hot!

Interesting. A pro-worker / pro-manufacturing strategy? How will people who want to travel -- city-folk -- take to paying higher prices for international travel? [think before following links] https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/czjg2rlyvyzo

Caved last night, cheated, and took two loads last night. Second guy gave me a 3 week load. Felt amazing.

Shane Diesel Dildo

My Birthday, Weddings, got fucked right after I got my 1st Job when I was 16, when I was getting surgeries regular id go get cock right after getting stitches/ staples out

Usually I prefer all the cum to be deposited up my ass. But in the case of being spit roasted, when I already have a dick in my ass I'll take a load or two in my throat. Not going to push one from my ass just to get another one.

I was around 13/14 when I started taking strangers cocks in random places all the time

Part 13: The Biohazard Number and a Husband's "Hey Honey" The evening finds you in bed, a knot of conflicting emotions so tight you can barely breathe. The day's events replay in your mind on a relentless loop: the disappointingly negative test result, the doctor's cold rejection, his seething confession, the way he forced your hand against his toxic bulge. Then the bathroom stall, the anonymous student, the feeling of his load of questionable status filling you. And finally, the doctor's return, his possessive rage, the intimate, terrifying connection as he flooded you with his essence. Your hand drifts down between your legs. Your hole feels wonderfully puffy, swollen, used. You press a finger against it, feeling the tender, bruised flesh. You can feel the wetness inside, a mixture of two distinct loads, a potent cocktail of student and doctor, still resting deep in your guts. The thought of losing even a drop is unbearable. You reach over to the nightstand and pull out your favorite dildo, a thick, veined thing that always hits the right spot. You skip the lube; there's more than enough left inside of you. You guide it to your sore hole and push it in slowly, a deep moan escaping your lips as it sinks home. You're not fucking yourself for pleasure; you're performing maintenance. You work the dildo in and out, shoving what is left of the precious, toxic loads deeper, making sure your body absorbs every last remaining drop of their gift. As you work the dildo, your mind races, fixating on the student. You replay the encounter in your head, trying to decipher his true nature. Was he just a horny kid exploring his newfound freedom at college, chasing the thrill of anonymous bareback risk? Is his excitement about the unknown just a newfound kink, a horny reaction to walking the edge of a cliff? Or is he something more deliberate? A calculating hunter, excited by the possibility of a permanent change, even if he doesn't know what he carries? But then the doctor's voice cuts through your fantasy, cold and clinical. That kid was negative. The doctor would know; he knew his lab results. And as much as you wanted to believe the kid was a secret legend in the making, you had to trust the doctor's diagnosis. The student was just a gateway drug, not the main event. A fun, dirty, but ultimately temporary stepping stone. Then you think about the doctor. He wasn't a bugchaser; he was a man who was pozzed unknowingly by the man he loved, a victim of betrayal. But in that office, something shifted. It wasn't your defiance that changed him; it was your submission. Your desperate, shame-filled honesty, your complete inability to hide your fear and desire—you didn't just challenge his medical authority; you laid your soul bare at his feet. But there was something more, something undeniable. Even in the midst of his rage, you were aroused by him. You couldn't stop staring at the bulge in his scrubs, a fact he couldn't have missed. And when he confessed his status, that he was poz and highly toxic, your own cock didn't shrink in fear. It throbbed. He saw it. He saw the raw, undeniable proof of your desire for the very thing that had destroyed his life. In your pathetic vulnerability and your unmistakable arousal, you showed him a new way to see his condition. You weren't horrified by his poison; you were drawn to it. You helped him discover that his "life sentence" could be wielded as power, that his poison could be a gift. You didn't just awaken his rage; you awakened his inner god. He wasn't just a man broken by it; he was a true toxic titan, reborn in that moment. Your eyes drift to your phone, lying on the nightstand. The memory of the biohazard symbol on the toilet wall flashes in your mind. The phone number written beneath. Who would leave a number like that? The possibilities are endless. A fellow bugchaser, looking for a connection. A true giftgiver, a dispenser of destiny. A poz guy who just got his own positive result and is looking to share the "good news." Or maybe it's just a troll, someone's idea of a sick joke. The uncertainty doesn't deter you; it intoxicates you. The thrill of the unknown pulls at something deep inside you, a primal urge to explore who’s at the end of the line. Your desire overrides your caution. You leave the dildo buried deep inside you, a constant, full reminder of the day's events. You grab your phone, your hand slick with your own leaking precum, and open your photo gallery. You find the picture of the number. Your heart hammers. A reckless, desperate urge takes over. You need to know. You need to hear the voice on the other end. You don't save the number. You don't give it a name. You just manually type the digits into the keypad, your thumb hovering over the green call button. This is it. An anonymous connection. A step further into the abyss. You start to stroke your cock. You are hard as hell, massaging your cockhead with the precum flowing from your piss slit. You are building up to a climax. You press it. It rings once. Someone picks up. "Hey honey." The world stops. It's his voice. Your husband's. The shock is so profound, so absolute, that it triggers a physical response. Your balls tighten, your ass spasms around the dildo, sucking it in to the hilt, your cock jerks, and you erupt. A thick, powerful rope of cum shoots from your slit, splattering across your chest and stomach. You almost drop the phone. It's a dry, shuddering, soul-crushing orgasm that feels more like a seizure than a release. You're gasping for air, your body convulsing on the bed as the waves of pleasure and horror crash over you. "Hey," you manage to choke out, your voice a strangled whisper, still panting from your unexpected climax. "I... I think I butt-dialed you. Sorry." There's a pause on the other end. "Oh, okay," he says, his tone completely normal, utterly unaware of the seismic shock and the simultaneous orgasm ripping through you. "No worries. Everything alright? You sound weird." "Yeah," you lie, your throat tight, your own cum cooling on your skin. "Just... tired. I'll, uh, I'll see you at home on Friday." "Okay, love you." "Love you too." You hang up. The screen goes dark. You're left in the silence of your bedroom, the phone feeling like a lead weight in your hand, your own load as damning evidence on your chest, the dildo still buried deep inside you. You're not just shaking; you're vibrating. The realization doesn't just hit you—it unravels you. You knew he was a slut like you. You saw him at the rest stop, heard him beg for a toxic load. That's your shared sickness, your unspoken bond. But this... this is different. The rest stop is a playground. The clinic is a reckoning. He wasn't just there for a quick, anonymous fuck in the dark. He was there in the light of day, sitting in the same waiting room, filling out the same forms. He was there with a purpose. The questions flood your mind, each one more chilling than the last. Was he there for PEP, trying to crawl back to safety? Was he on PrEP, building a wall against the very gift you both crave? Was he just treating another bug, a simple hurdle on the path? Or was he there for confirmation, just like you, and was he may be more successful? You have no idea. The ambiguity is a chasm of uncertainty, and you are falling into it. The rest stop made you partners in sin. But this... this makes you competitors. The clinic is no longer just a buffet; it's a race. And you have no idea who's ahead, or even what the finish line looks like for him. You lie there in the dark, the ghost of his casual "Hey honey" echoing in your mind, your own cum drying on your skin. But then, a new thought cuts through the haze of panic, sharp and cold. In this race, you might just have the advantage. You know about him. You've identified him at the rest stop, and now at the clinic. You've seen his secret life laid bare. Does he have any idea about you? As far as you know, you're still just his husband, his safe harbor. The thought sends a dark thrill through you. You're not just racing him; you're hunting him. And he doesn't even know he's being hunted. The call wasn't the end. It was the starting gun.

Years ago there was a Latino that I often saw at the sauna and he fucked me and bred me every time we met. He would usually first say hello and he would usually ask me until what time I was staying. He knew I barebacked and while he fucked me he would babble in Spanish stuff about giving me his milk (Leche), and when he was cumming he would yell "papito, papito...". It was pretty hot,

i bareback so i can take loads deep in my ass

Thanks guys. Indeed, it most likely is a combination of all three. Fortunately there is a big part of me that at least recognizes interest; even if MrHappy doesn't care to join me.

First time it happened I was being used by a group of 7 over summer lunchtime in their apartment near Central Park, some loads didn't go in my hole and they sprayed my face and hair alongside my body. when we finished I had 5-7 loads on me and the host decided it would be funny to kick me out like that. Oh well. was walking for a few blocks back to my apartment with soaked shirt and cum all over my face and clumped hair, feeling very proud of myself 🐷

OK. And he did that role unpaid and did so supporting a party which uncut one of his own businesses -- by eliminating the electric car subsidy. It's fair to call it idiotic but I don't understand the implied vitriol. Campaign finance sits in a the broader consideration of money and politics. That includes politicians who come to power promising to endless goodies. I've previous linked on this site the Penn Wharton analysis of Biden's school debt bill -- a $500billion give-away with the potential to surge past $1 trillion. Government and money go hand-in-hand. It's not great but the video's bias is also grossly evident. I couldn't watch the entire video, but did they even discuss the academic work summarized by the data-cliche: correlation is not causation? Here's an article I read awhile ago I was able to dig out: [think before following links] https://archive.news.ufl.edu/articles/2018/10/money-in-elections-doesnt-mean-what-you-think-it-does-1.html As for the Census article you site, I don't understand the math. If turnout was 65% -- a clear majority -- how can over half of the population -- another majority -- have not voted? I'm missing something or the article you're reading is missing a word... possibly, this line: "Over half of the adult population did not vote in 2024..." Maybe that should have been, "Over half of the adult population that did not vote in 2024..." so, the majority of those that did not vote did so for "x", "y", and "z" reasons. but they weren't the majority of the possible electorate. Maybe...IDK.