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@Pozguyinchi would you remind me of when this was? I think it is relevant what year we pozzed in our overall experience of it. Two years in for me and starting out poz when HIV is pretty well understood, with a whole lot of options on how to manage it. WRT Fuck Flu - truly at this point my big concern with the whole Fuck Flu conversation is that only about half of us infected ever experience. HIV manifests in each of us differently, sometimes profoundly differently. I have some concerns when it sounds like guys are using "Fuck Flu" as their indicator they are infected.

This sounds so similar to my own relationship with Rich. We've been together more than 25 years now. But very early in our time together we made our relationship sexually open. It isn't that we're out there "all the time" getting hot dates. But it is OK if we have sex with someone else. Neither of us has imbued sex for us as having magical powers. It is equally OK for us to have sex with ourselves. Again, no magic. We care for each other in more important ways. Available with each other. Participant in each others lives. We are each others immediate family. Siblings family, but less immediate. And including a family of friends. We're participants in our community, me more than Rich because he still works whereas I've been retired for the better part of a decade. @Philip wherever you two take this; he sounds like a good one to keep close.

Agree w/ @foryouruse that the portable slings aren't that comfortable. However, Fort Troff has one if you want to try it out.

Only once when I was 19. A guy assumed we were exclusive whereas I thought we were just friends who occasionally fucked. That ended messy when he ran into me getting fucked in a toilet stall. Nowadays I would never enter into an exclusive relationship to begin with.

This is hot!🥵

Hot story! I love the gradual increase. Perhaps he could get his first fuck accidentally by a random guy.

Awesome story!

Stumbled onto this again and loved how he not only converted but went from having a bitch to becoming the bitch!

Wow, what an initiation into gay sex. Lucky boy.

Just noticed a "newish" story is gone and was really hot to read, "Newly Single". About a guy named Reid getting bred by men, and slowly converting all week but not realizing it . Any idea where it went?

To the memories we will all cherish one day. I met Phil for the third time today, two weeks after our last catch-up. Again, it was at his place. We kiss and cuddle when I step out of the car, and again once the door closes in his apartment. We lay there on the sofa, catching up on what’s been happening in our lives, even though we’ve been texting each other daily. It feels nice to have him in my arms. After a while, we get up, and he suggests we smoke some weed. We planned this ahead of time—it’s my first time—so we do. I don’t feel anything at first. Then it hits me. We go to the bedroom. Clothes off. Skin to skin. He sits on my cock and rides it like a pro, but there are voices in my head that get in the way of my enjoyment. I have a confession to make. I don’t usually top. I’m mainly a bottom, but I have topped before in past relationships. I remember, back then, I had a lot of trouble getting hard—performance anxiety—but I overcame it because I loved him. I wanted to make love to him. I’ve topped other guys before while cruising too, rarely, and I managed to get hard by thinking they’re nothing more than just a body. A body to use. A body to get off. But Phil—he’s different. I’ve set a ceiling on my emotions to protect my heart, so I can’t fuck him like he’s the love of my life. At the same time, he’s more than just a body I can use and throw away. So my head is stuck. In a space I can’t define. The effect of the weed makes it worse. And sure enough, I get soft mid-fuck. We stop. Cuddle. Kiss. And in the back of my mind, I’m disappointed with myself. I really wanted to finish inside him. To make him mine. And it didn’t happen. I end up making a series of bad decisions after that. Just to see how far I can push my body. Turns out—not very far. I mix white wine with pear cider. I smoke more. My body shuts down and Phil has to carry me to bed. We fall asleep in each other’s arms until the morning, where we just lay there and talk about life. I ask him how he feels if I start dating other people. He’s cool with it. After all, he was the one who set the boundaries—friends with benefits—and it’s not fair if that holds me back from being with someone else. He asks me how I’d feel if he starts dating someone new. I tell him I’d be happy for him. As long as he calls me if that guy doesn’t treat him right, and I’ll personally beat that guy up for him. Sweet, Phil says. I confess that I like him. He asks me what I like about him. I tell him: I like that you’re beautiful. Beautiful on the outside, yes. But more so on the inside. I love the way you think. Your philosophy on life. The way you move through the world. And any guy who dates you next—whether it’s me or anyone else—he needs to know this side of you. The beautiful side. And he needs to appreciate it. He has to. Then Phil gets shy. Smiles in that way only a few people get to see. That vulnerable side. And I know I did good. I know I said something that stuck with him. So there it is. I lay all my cards on the table. I’ve confessed how I feel. I let him know that once he’s done healing, if the universe aligns and we both happen to be single, I’m happy to give us another shot. I feel like I’ve set up all the dominoes in a beautiful way. Now it’s up to him if he wants to knock them down and start an adventure with me. Or maybe not. In the meantime, we live our own lives. Our lives don’t pause for each other. They keep moving. We won’t text each other daily anymore. We don’t have to. The foundation we’ve built is strong. Solid enough that it doesn’t need constant reinforcement. We won’t see each other as often. That’s okay too. I hold him tight in my arms. I give him a hundred kisses. Because I don’t know how many more times we’ll get to do this. If we both find someone else, then the cuddles, the kisses, the hand-holding, his head on my chest—someday it’ll fade. Someday it will all just be a distant memory. And it’s sad to think like that. But that is life, isn’t it? I drive home. I think this is the closure we both needed. A breather from each other. I think I’ll see him again in a couple of weeks, just to see where life takes us. I think we’ll be different people by then. A lot can happen in a few weeks. We’ll have new stories. New experiences. New outlooks on life. Let’s see where this wild road takes us, yeah?

Now that's the perfect way to be introduced to gay sex. Great story!

Looking for a story of a straight bf and gf go to a house, get separated and while unbeknownst to him at the time, she is getting fucked, he too is getting drugged and fucked. Eventually, he is taken to another room with a black dude who trains him to suck and fuck in the shower. All of this is being recorded for a production of boys getting turned out.

Fuck! Can't wait for him to get his first toxic load.

Funking hot!! Can not wait for more.

Lovely story - it almost felt real and reminded me of BullBar in Berlin 🙂

I am so horny and came 2 please cuntinue

I didn’t recognize mine at first. My mom that was a hospice nurse did. I was sort of in denial. Looking back I was sick (achy, chills, fever, etc.) in the middle of summer. Not typically when you get a flu like that. My mom told me to go get tested and I did. I had been chasing so it wasn’t a big surprise when it was confirmed. I had a faggle of bottom friends that were really supportive. Most were poz already themselves. I would say because I was young my flu was short lived. Only one full week of bed rest and another week of laying around feeling tired and worn out.