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It is very simply that. I lost my virginity bareback to a couple (lol I was destined to be a whore) but it just felt right and the incredible feeling of skin on skin and the cum inside me. Sometimes I feel a condom on a dick fucking me and it feels bad, rough, and disconnected. Bareback fucking and breeding to me is not a fetish it’s just how we are wired to fuck and share DNA and connection.

I don't think of breeding guys asses as a "fetish" - for us, it's simply the way we have sex. Sure, when hiv came along, it was either bag it or else. But the treatments came, we took them, and kept on fucking the natural way, just as we always have.

Oh the memories, Always had a great time cruising the toilets.

I've had a few CNC sessions that are amazing and always interesting. I've even set them up for other bottoms. In reality though deep down you know your limits might get pushed but in the end you will be fine. One experience I had was completely out of my control and extremely erotic. It was only my 2 or 3rd time renting a hotel room and hosting anon guys. At this time I was still playing safe and asked all guys to use condoms. It was getting late on a Friday and I had only had maybe 7 or 8 cocks that day. I was trying to cum while getting fucked but the last guy was too quick and left me even more horny. I didn't have much hope for another anon cock so I poured a couple drinks and started checking sites for one last fuck. After about an hour I got a message on squirt from a guy I had chatted with a bunch but never met. He asked if I was looking now and said he was free in a bit. I looked back at all our chats and his profile. He was a dom top and was super hot. Looking back at our chats I realized I had talked a big game as a bottom thinking I would never hook up with him because he was poz undetectable. He was 57yo, 6,2 225lbs with a fat tattooed uncut cock. I don't know if it was the drinks or i was just buzzed on cock but I agreed to play if he used a condom. We didn't talk much more about what was going to happen. He instructed me to leave the door cracked and not to look at him when he came in. I can remember the absolute rush hearing him come in put his things down and undress. He spent an hour tying me in different positions and feeding me his fat cock. He was very rough and I was on cloud 9 being tied and abused by this guy. Finally he had me tied tight on the bed face down. He stood in front of me stroking stroking his semi hard cock showing me the devil horns tattoo on his head with flames down the shaft. He rubbed his precum on my gagged lips and opened a condom from the night stand. I watched tied and helpless as he layer the unused rubber in front of my face and started to climb on the bed. He told me it wouldn't be a real rape if I got to make rules. Realizing now what he was going to do i tried to clench my hole to keep his semi hard cock out. He must have liked my resistance because he was instantly as hard as an iron rod and shoving into my well fucked hole. While he started pounding my hole I kept thinking he was probably just pushing my limits and would pull out. Soon after I realized he was cumming deep in my ass. He pulled out and stood in front of me showing me his cum covered dick. He untied me enough he could lead me around the room and have me collect every used rubber laying around with my mouth and set them on an end table. I was bent over ass up while he used his fingers to shove all the used condoms in my hole. After a good tongue bath of his cock and balls he tied me down for load 2. When he was done he untied me packed up and left. It took me a long time to unpack what happened.

From the tap

Hmmm... Tricky. In my culture/area it is expected for men to shave their cocks as soon as you start growing hair down there. Not sure exactly why... But it is expected, and frowned upon if you don't... Classic thing that everyone does since... ever, and no one knows why. I do it anyway as I've played several sports in my life, so, it's more comfortable... However, when it comes to sucking cock... As I've gotten older, I must say I've learned to appreciate a big, hairy cock. Trimmed ones are also fucking hot to me. Getting my nose buried in other men's cock hair can be fucking amazing. Not a big fan of massive bushes myself, but... Fuck, a cock is a cock, hairy, shaved, trimmed, or anything in between... And I'll get on my knees to deepthroat it and swallow that sweet load.

Naked always

Thank you for all the responses and feedback. here is the next part of the story. Let me know what you think and post what you think happens next. For the next couple of weeks. I tried to hook up with women. I would pick up chicks at bars, bring them home, and try to fuck them. I found that I wasn't getting hard enough, and the feeling wasn’t the same. I even booked an escort, and the same thing happened. I thought it was because I needed to fuck a sloppy, used hole. So, I organised my mate from the other night to come over and bang a bird with me. He was hesitant. He was married with kids, but we both knew he fucked behind her back. I fucked the bird after he had blown in her dozens of times, but my mind went to that boy’s beautiful, smooth body, perky white arse being fucked by a stranger… An older man. I went to my dealer. I needed what I had that night, which I learnt was meth. I asked him about poppers, and he, of course, knew what they were and had supplies. ‘Poppers.’ He said. ‘Yeah. I think that’s what it was called.’ My dealer just rolled his eyes. ‘How strong?’ ‘You sell it?’ ‘Yeah. I do. How strong?’ ‘Strongest you got.’ At first, it was casual. A smoke here, a smoke there. Weekend business. I’d still try to fuck girls, still go through the motions, still pretend my body was listening to the script I’d been handed. It never hit right. The release was there, but the spark? Dead on arrival. Then one night, I wandered back to that back room. Same door. Same low light. Same sense of stepping sideways out of the world. Inside, it was wall-to-wall blokes—old, young, built, broken, confident, desperate. Sweat, smoke, sex hanging in the air like a storm about to crack. I was raging hard, off my face, heart thumping like it wanted out of my chest. Whether I’d timed it perfectly or whether it was always like this didn’t matter—there was fucking everywhere. Bodies pressed, hands roaming, breathy sounds swallowed by the dark. Part of me still flinched at the idea of men on men. Old wiring dying slow. But I’d heard about glory holes. Urban myth made flesh. I shut myself into one of the booths. Tiny. Private. Loud in my head. I sat there for a moment, brain floating somewhere above the ceiling, cock heavy in my hand, answering a call I’d been dodging for years. Then— “Hey… can I suck it?” A whisper. Low. Close. Not from behind me. From the hole in the wall. I ignored it at first. Let the moment hang. Let the pulse build. Then something inside me finally unclenched. A quiet voice saying, stop fighting it. I never saw who it was. That was the point. Just a wall between us, solid and anonymous. I stood, guided myself forward, and pushed through the opening. The response was instant. Warm. Wet. A mouth closing around my cock with intention, not hesitation. Fuck. Whoever was on the other side knew exactly what they were doing. Took my cock deep, no theatrics, no mercy. No woman had ever handled me like that—so sure, so unafraid. My body answered before my head could catch up. I started moving. Slow at first. Then harder. The wall thudded as I lost rhythm, lost restraint, hips snapping forward like I was trying to disappear into it. The mouth didn’t retreat. If anything, it met me, took everything I gave. A hitch of breath. A gagged sound. Slicker now. Messier. Still there. I dragged the poppers under my nose, long and greedy, the room dissolving as I floated higher and higher. Everything narrowed to sensation. Heat, pressure, surrender. I didn’t last. Couldn’t. When it hit, it was violent and unstoppable, my cum spilling into the dark, erupting into a stranger who accepted it without a sound. No faces. No names. Just release. My worries about playing with men didn’t vanish overnight, but they thinned out, lost their grip. Curiosity outpaced fear. Before I knew it, that back room had me clocked as a regular. Familiar nods. Familiar heat. I started branching out—other cruise clubs, other shadows—and that’s where I learned about beats. Different geography, same hunger. I let blokes suck my cock without overthinking it. Watched men get fucked like it was live theatre, raw and unfiltered. No shame, no curtains. Just bodies doing what they wanted. My first time at a sauna was strange in how normal it felt. Like a football change room after training—same steam, same casual nudity, same sideways glances—except this time there was fucking and full-blown gay debauchery unfolding in every direction. And honestly? I didn’t hate it. I found myself studying physiques, appreciating strength, shape, presence. It felt honest. Unpretentious. Eventually, I wasn’t leaving the house for much else. Football coaching or cruising—that was the whole operating model. Everything else felt like admin. Busywork. Noise. My place was littered with paraphernalia. Pipes, baggies, the quiet evidence of a life slipping its leash. Control wasn’t gone yet, but it was wobbling. There were nights I turned up to football training high on meth—eyes sharp, patience thin, confidence blown out to dangerous proportions. I knew I was fraying. I just didn’t give a fuck. Finals were looming, and the team was humming. We were genuine contenders to take the season. On paper, everything looked solid. In reality, cracks were everywhere—especially with Scout. He wasn’t himself. Or maybe I was seeing him too clearly. I pulled the green light on him. Went hard. Harder than necessary. The team started whispering that I was favouring him, so I overcorrected—stares that lingered too long, pressure dialled up every chance I got. Punishment disguised as discipline. A few weeks out from the grand final, another training night rolled around. It was pissing down rain, cold and relentless. I didn’t soften it. Didn’t adjust the plan. I ran them into the ground anyway. By the end, they were wrecked—soaked, filthy, mud ground into skin and jerseys. Scout mouthed off. Pushed back. A fucking prick about it. I sent the rest of the team to the lockers, told them to clean up. Then I made Scout wait. Alone. Standing there in the rain and mud, while I let the silence do the work. “What the fuck’s going on, Scout?” I barked. “Finals are breathing down our necks and you’re acting like a complete wanker.” He just stood there in the rain, head bowed, water streaming through those sandy-blond curls. I clocked it. Hated that I clocked it. The night was doing strange things to my focus. “Scout.” “Mum’s pregnant.” That wasn’t on the training plan. “Oh.” I recalibrated. Corporate pivot. “That’s… that’s not a bad thing, mate. Why’s it got you this rattled?” I stepped closer, close enough to feel his heat through the cold. Grabbed his upper arms, gave him a small shake—half frustration, half something I didn’t have a label for yet. “Look at me.” He lifted his head. His eyes were wrecked—crystal blue, wet, lost. Not weakness. Confusion. The kind that pulls you under if you stare too long. “It’s yours.” “What?” “I saw that night. You were there.” My stomach dropped. Freefall. “Scout,” I said carefully, voice low now. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Adults fuck. It doesn’t mean—” “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Dad can’t have kids.” Silence punched in between us. Rain filled the gap. “Oh. Shit.” Before I could regain control—before I could coach my way out of it—he leaned in and kissed me. Soft. Brief. Electric. I froze. Thirty-plus years of rules, titles, and self-control screaming at once. Coach. Authority. Fucking adult. My body, however, missed the memo. He was 18. Yes. Legal age. But something felt wrong about it. Yet so right. Time slipped. Then snapped back. He pulled away first, eyes wide, already panicking. I was still standing there, rain dripping off my chin, pulse hammering in places it shouldn’t. “I—” he started. I should’ve stepped back. Should’ve shut it down. Instead, I bent forward and kissed him back; slower this time, deliberate, just long enough to admit the truth neither of us was saying out loud. The rain kept falling. And nothing was simple anymore. I poured a double rum over ice and necked it like it owed me money. Rolled a fifty, and laid out two lines on the marble bench. Snorted them without ceremony. The music was up, heavy metal, all distortion and threat, when the knock came. “Fuck. Not now,” I muttered. “Neighbours can fuck right off.” Another knock. Louder. My brain did the math at speed and came up with one answer I didn’t want. Scout’s dad. Holy shit. Either he was here to tell me I’d knocked up his wife… or to rearrange my face over what happened in the rain with his son. I poured another rum, swung it back, felt it burn all the way down. Liquid courage. Corporate risk management. I walked to the door, heart kicking, and pulled it open to whatever was coming. It wasn’t his dad. It was Scout. Soaked through. Hair plastered to his head. Rain dripping off his nose, his jacket, pooling at his feet like he’d been standing there longer than he should’ve. “Ah—Scout,” I said, buying time. “What are you doing here?” He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Words clearly stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat. “Come in.” I didn’t wait for permission. Threw an arm around his shoulders and guided him inside, quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Door shut. The lock clicked. The coke chose that moment to fully light me up. “Mate, you shouldn’t be here,” I said, too fast. “Fuck—you must be freezing.” I grabbed the throw rug off the big leather couch and tossed it at him. He caught it awkwardly, still half somewhere else, eyes darting around my place like he was already cataloguing the mess of it. Music thumping. Drugs humming. Rain left outside—but not really. The night had just escalated without a meeting invite. “I needed to see you.” “Shit… um. Now really isn’t a great time.” I glanced around the living area—drugs out, empty bottles everywhere, the place telling on me before I could. Scout drifted to the floor-to-ceiling windows, rain-streaked glass framing the Melbourne skyline like a postcard I didn’t deserve. “I knew you had a nice place,” he said, almost smiling. “Didn’t realise the view was this good.” “Yeah. Sorry.” I busied myself, scooping up empties, sliding a glass pipe off the coffee table like it hadn’t been there all along. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. What… what are you doing here?” He stepped in and tried to kiss me. I pulled away, heart punching, and retreated down the hall toward the kitchen. He followed. I dropped the bottles on the marble bench a little too hard. The coke was buzzing now, skin humming, thoughts outpacing judgment. He came up behind me. Close. Too close. His arms circled my waist; his hands slipped into my shorts. I wasn’t wearing jocks. He grabbed a hold of my shaft. I moaned at his touch. He squeezed slightly. My cock stiffened slightly. Intense, grounding and dangerous all at once. I sucked in a breath despite myself, my body reacting before my head could throw a flag. A low sound escaped me—half protest, half surrender. That was enough to snap me back. I caught his hands, untangled myself, and turned to face him. Put space between us. Not much, but deliberate. “Stop,” I said, quieter now. “We can’t just… do this.” The room felt smaller. Louder. Charged with everything we weren’t saying. “Yes,” he said, breath unsteady. “I want you. I always have.” He swallowed. “I’m in love with you, Coach.” “Scout… I’m not—” The words stalled. Weak. Unconvincing. “I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he pressed on. “After training. In the showers.” Not accusing. Certain. “Fuck.” My jaw tightened. “Scout, has anyone else seen you?” “No.” A pause. Then, softer—deadlier. “It’s our little secret. You… you open my eyes, Coach.” I turned away and headed back toward the living area, needing space, needing air. “You’re young,” I said, reaching for a reason like it might save us both. “You’re figuring yourself out.” He followed me. “I’ve done things,” he said behind me. “You know. I’ve… experimented.” I stopped. Looked back at him. “Done what?” He hesitated, then lifted his chin, defiant now. “I’ve sucked guys off before.” The admission hung there, quiet, deliberate, irreversible. The room felt tighter. Like a door closing somewhere I couldn’t see. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Scout started to tell me how he started fooling around with boys his age. But then his stories grew a little darker. He told me he has been going to beats and cruise clubs, and while he has not done a lot, he has sucked a lot of guys off. I was concerned for him. And I was. At first. But as he spoke, my body betrayed me. My cock was pushing through my shorts. Scout noticed. He told me how he met a guy close to my age; they didn't chat much. The guy gave him a smoke from a glass pipe, similar to what I had tried to hide. One thing led to another, and the guy took Scout to a private room, pulled his shorts down and ate out his arse. That surge of horniness rushed through him. In that moment, he wanted more. He hoped the guy would fuck him. The guy moved to Scout’s cock and blew him. Deep long strokes with his old man mouth. Scout felt his orgasm simmer, but he didn’t want to cum, so he pushed the old man off his cock. The man misread the moment. Or maybe read it exactly how he wanted. Scout described it like he was narrating a film he’d watched too many times, detached, oddly proud. Scout grabbed a hold of the old man’s boner sticking out from his aged body. Looked past the hairy belly and chest, and up into his drug-peaked eyes, then drove his dick balls deep down his throat. He reckons it was what he smoked that allowed him to go so deep. He had never done that before. The old man took it as a sign. Grabbed Scout by the back of his head and throat fucked him. There was a moment, he said, when he thought he might pass out. He remembered being so high that he didn’t care how the man was treating him. The man just fucked his throat, occasionally pulling all the way, then slamming it back in. Mucus puked everywhere, and Scout used all his willpower to push through and let the man fuck. The old man kept driving it deep. Scout felt his throat stretch open at every thrust. The old man moaned and announced he was going to blow. Scout thought he was going to shoot down his throat. Scout was prepared to get a good flood of this man’s cum, but he pulled out instead and unloaded over Scout’s face. My cock twitched at the thought of cum splattering over his beautiful young face. The story got me fucking horny, and the cocaine intensified it. I was sweating. I adjusted my cock. I noticed Scout. “Holy shit, Scout,” I said quietly. “Do your parents know you’re… gay?” “No. At least—I don’t think so.” He hesitated. “Dad wouldn’t take it well. He’s always going on about how dangerous gay men are. Says they don’t care who they hurt, who they infect. Talks about the seedy side of it like it’s all rot and disease.” “Because he works for the AFP,” I said. “Pretty much.” That did it. The buzz faltered, just enough for reality to punch through. I hadn’t thought about it before. Not properly. The risks. Infections. Consequences that don’t show up immediately but linger, waiting. I’d spent years convincing myself danger belonged to other people—reckless people. I stared at nothing for a moment, mind spiralling, and wondered, too late, too honestly, what you could catch just from letting someone get that close. Scout was shaking a little. Still wet. “Hold on, I’ll grab a proper towel.” I went to the bathroom and checked myself in the mirror. Fuck, I looked like shit, stubble beard, bloodshot eyes, sweating, dripping down my shirtless body. My cock. Raging hard. I knew I shouldn’t feel this way about him. Scout was only 18. But he was such a beautiful boy, I couldn’t control it. I walked back in with a towel and found Scout naked, sitting on the couch, with a glass pipe in his mouth, heating the bulb and sucking in deep. “Fuck! Scout. What are you doing?” “Relax. Coach. Join me. I know you want to.” He stood up I admired his beautiful, young, masculine, smooth body. His six-pack framed by his V-cut, pointing down to his perfect, uncut, semi-hard cock and low-hanging balls. I must have been daydreaming. “Coach.” He handed me the pipe and lighter. I grabbed the pipe, holding it steady as I locked eyes with him. His pupils were blown wide now; the drug was catching up, sinking its hooks in. I lit it and drew slow, deliberate, smoke curling between us. Scout dropped to his knees. The movement alone sent a jolt through me. I pushed my shorts down just enough to feel the air shift. My cock flung up. Raging. My knob pulsed. My body answered before my head could intervene. Everything in me was awake, pulsing, unapologetic. I took another drag and looked down. My cock was hovering just above his head. Just below his blue eyes and slightly floating above his perky lips. Blue eyes, glassy, fixed on mine. Breath shallow, like he was waiting for permission that neither of us was brave enough to name. Time slowed. Smoke hung. The room held its breath. Nothing touched yet, and somehow that made it worse. He opened his mouth and pushed it over my cock. Soft lips, moist mouth massaged as he went deep. My mind was in all sorts. Between a daydream and reality. It was hard to tell. Guys have sucked my cock. But that was through glory holes. I’ve never watched a guy actually suck my cock. And Scout. He wasn’t a guy. He was a young lad, 18. Devouring my cock like a starved animal. Blue eyes locked on me. Spelling the words with his dilated pupils, I belong to you. Long, deep strokes. He kept his pace. He didn’t slow down. Kept pumping my cock deep down his throat. The drugs were peaking through my system, and I wanted more. I grabbed the brown bottle from the coffee table. Undid the lid. Instantly, the aroma aroused my senses. I noticed Scout's eyes shift for the first time. Still deep throating my cock, making it slick with his saliva and mucus, he took an interest in what I had in my hand. His eyes followed as I moved the bottle to each nostril and took in two long, drawn-out sniffs in each. The instant rush hit me. Scout didn’t have to say a word for me to know that he wanted what I was having. I lowered it to his nostrils. He repeated what I did without removing my cock from his mouth. I was in a rush. Scout’s eyes burned through phases. First that pearl halo, until the whites went raw and veined, like the drug was repainting him from the inside out. Awake. Gone. Claimed by poppers. I needed more, so I had another sniff in each nostril. I was peaking off my face. In a haze, and I knew Scout was at that same level. My concerns about being sucked off by a man evaporated. I was hungry. Aggressive. I just wanted to fuck. I grabbed Scout by the back of his head and pushed my cock down his throat, feeling it break past his tonsils and down his throat pipe. I was too far gone to be concerned with his comfort and fucked. Hard. I pumped, driving it deep with every thrust. Planting Scout’s face into my pub, crushing his nose into my musky sweat odour, ensuring he could not get away from the potent aroma. He didn’t pull away. He loved it. Bathed in it. He gagged. I watched his body reflex as he held back a spew. I kept going. It turned me on. I wanted it. I wanted him to puke as I skull fucked him. I took it up a level. It hit the mark. Scout puked as I face fucked him. Stomach fluid expelled out from around his lips past my thrusting shaft, exploding over his beautiful young face, slashing up my torso. There was an obscene amount, and it flowed. Scout never closed his eyes. His face was covered in his own fluids. It was getting too much for me. I felt my balls tighten. I wanted to keep going, but I didn’t want it to end. I used all my willpower to stop and pull out of his mouth. Scout coughed instantly. He was air-deprived that whole time. “Are you okay, Scout?” He kept coughing for a moment, body shuddering, breath uneven. Then it passed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes still glassy. “No.” I paused. “No?” “I loved it.” “I like feeling dirty.” I grabbed a hold of my slick cock and jerked at the thought of Scout being a dirty boy. I was about to push my cock back into his mouth when he stood up and bent over the couch. He pointed his perfect pale peach of an arse at me. Legs spread, back arched enough that his cheeks spread open, revealing his tiny pink hole. Untouched. Young. Virgin. I had that moment of wonder. Am I dreaming? I never thought of myself as gay. I fucked women. So why am I so turned on by this young lad's arse? I had never felt such an intense drive build up from deep inside me like I did at that moment. Scout turned his head. Face coated in his own mucus and stomach fluids. Even in his messy, dirty state, he was perfect, sexy, handsome and fucking beautiful. He didn’t have to say it. I knew it. I knew what he wanted. Needed. “Are you sure?” His glassy blue eyes twinkled. “You have never been fucked. I am in my fifties. I am older than your dad.” He didn’t take his glassy blue eyes off me. I moved in close. My slick cock is only millimetres away from his pink bit. “You are about to lose your virginity to an old man. Is this what you want? How do you want to remember your first time?” I placed my knob at the entrance of his virgin hole. Spit moistened his entrance. I tossed him the brown bottle. I didn’t have to tell him what to do. He went to it like clockwork, taking two long whiffs in each nostril. As he held his breath, letting the poppers rush through his body. I pushed my knob against his tiny pink hole. The mucus from Scout’s throat allowed for perfect lubrication as I felt his pink break and expand over my knob. “Argh!” Scout moaned loudly. Letting go of the poppers in his system. I was raging. Wild like a wolf, desperate for a feed. I needed to be inside him. I didn’t stop. I kept pushing. Knob was well past his opening, and my shaft was driving deep. His tight pink hole was trying with all its might to grip on and stop me, but my strength overpowered it, and it gave way. I wasn’t going to stop. I was balls deep; Scout was moaning a mixture of pain and pleasure. I didn’t care that he was a virgin. When I fuck, I hammer, and that was what I intended to do. I power fucked from the get-go. Driving deep and pulling all the way out, watching his tight grip on my cock pull every time. He had no power over me, and I fucked. Scout moaned louder. He placed his hand against my thigh to try to get me to slow down. Maybe stop me. But I swatted it away and drove deeper. Harder. I grabbed the back of Scout’s neck and pushed his face into the leather couch. His eyes were crushed shut. Moaning in pain… Not Pleasure. Mucus spitting and splattering every time from each of his cries and pleas. I wasn’t going to stop. I needed to fuck. I needed to break the young lad in. “Mm, yeah… Take your coach’s cock. Feel it break you open. Ahh… No condom, boy. I’m inside you raw.” I was power fucking him. His moaning shifted to a scream of pain. His tone was a language of his feelings. Feelings of a moment, wanting to lose his virginity to his coach, to wondering if this was the right thing to do. The pain must have been overwhelming. The lad’s pink virgin hole went from a tiny button to an instant stretched out tunnel being pulverised. “Ugh. Fuck-” He moaned in pain, “Stop. It’s hurting.” I had no doubt the neighbours could hear. I didn’t give the young boy time to adjust. I was a starving animal finally devouring my kill. I had fucked a lot of pussy. But it had never felt the way his boy hole felt. My concerns about my feelings for the lad were gone. I was lost in a new sensation, and I wasn’t giving it up. I was deaf to Scout’s moans. The boy’s pink buttonhole was mine. I owned it. I had no idea how much time had passed. I was completely fixated on fucking. The sensation was building up in my balls. My cock was beginning to feel an impulsive eruption. Scout went silent. He surrendered to the invasion. He gave in to my power over him. No. I looked a little closer. He was weeping. I knew I was meant to feel sorrow, but instead it tipped me over the edge. I took him. I took his virginity. I broke the lad physically and mentally. The fear in his tears confirmed it. I lost control. “Ahh… I’m cumming, boy!!” I shouted from the rooftop. My balls tightened, and my cock erupted. I moaned. I jammed my cock inside the lad with every shot of my load, injecting inside him. I grip around his neck, tighten. The lad was limp. Turned into nothing but a hole for my use. It had been a long time since I unloaded the amount I knew I was injecting inside me. Women weren’t doing it for me, and I never got the power orgasm I was having in that moment. It was new, it was a sensation, it was like his hole was a vortex drawing my energy from my body through my cock and into it. I thought I owned it. But it owned me. It took me. I was the fly. It was the Venus Flytrap now sucking my life force through every ejaculation. I didn’t think it was going to end. The sensation was too overwhelming, and I was shaking, pushing on the edge of hurting. Eventually, it did. The vortex let go, and I was released. I slumped on top of the lad like a dead weight. Huffing and puffing like I just ran a marathon. Scout, he just lay there, weeping and with a look that clearly said. What did I do? I was sweating profusely. Drenched in my own moisture, dripping all over the boy. I slowly felt my breathing dialled down. As it did, my primal mind set reverted back to its normal state. It was here that I had my first concerning thought about Scout. Fuck. Scout. My cock is still solid and inside him. I lifted my weight off him. Pulled my cock back. Scout’s hole gripped tight. “Ah-!” Scout yelped. He was still so tight. My cock was wedged deep inside it. Scout cried. “Argh! It hurts.” I tried to pull back again, but his hold gripped tighter. Scout cried in pain again. “Scout. I need to pull out. Just push through the pain.” I moved slightly, and he cried in pain. I had no choice but to just pull back. Force Scout to just accept it. I pulled back. His hole gripped on. I watched my cock pull out with Scout’s tender red hole, dragging out with it until only my large knob was left inside. “Oh God. Please stop!” Scout yelped in a hyperventilating state. “Scout. My knob is still inside you. Your hole is gripped around it. The only way is for me to pull out and you release me. Just accept it. It will be over soon. Just-Just-” I didn’t give him a chance to answer, and I pulled out. His hole was forced to release my knob. Scout screamed. I watched his hole, and for a moment it remained wide open, unsure what to do with itself. Its lips were red, raw, puffy. My load had no barrier in that slight moment; it poured out like a river of white running down the back of the young lad’s smooth balls. Then it retracted. Scout’s hole closed in, leaving a tight, tiny, red, puffy hole. Broken in. No longer virgin. The sight of my cum layered over Scout’s balls was too much. That deep inner urge to eat pearly whites boiled over the edge. I knelt down and cupped them in my mouth like a suction cup and sucked them clean. Scout seemed to relax. His hyperventilation slowed down. After I cleaned every drop of my seed off his youthful ball sack, I planted myself on the couch close to Scout’s head, heaving a breath like I just ran a marathon. My cock was slick with Scout’s arse juices and my cum. Tiny streaks of red down the shaft. I did some damage to him. Guilty struck me. Fuck. Scout said no. He begged me to stop. I didn’t. Fuck. I’m an animal. Did I just do what I think I just did? Scout had not moved. His face was still planted on the leather couch, mucus-covered, with weeping eyes. His perfect pale peach arse was still sticking in the air. ‘Scout?’ Strings of mucus streaking over his lips flapped through each of his breaths as his adrenaline subsided. He mumbled from behind the spit, ‘Coach.’ ‘Scout. Are you ok?’ He didn’t answer. My guilt turned to worry. I think I did do what I think I did. There was a knock on the door. Fuck! The neighbours heard. I grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around my waist, hands shaking as I hauled the front door open. Old man Larry stood there, his wife tucked under his arm, both of them wearing that tight, polite concern people reserve for situations they don’t want details about. “Hi. Yes. Um… can I help you?” The words tripped over themselves. The towel barely stayed put. My hair was slicked to my forehead with sweat and product, skin flushed, pupils blown wide. I must’ve looked cooked. The air around me was heavy; The scent of sex wafted off me, which must have been overbearing for them. “Sorry, mate,” Larry said, clearing his throat. “We just… heard a lot of noise.” “We thought someone might be hurt,” his wife added gently. I froze. Full system shutdown. The silence stretched, thick and unforgiving. Then I felt a hand settle on my shoulder. Warm. Familiar. Scout stepped into view beside me, calm as anything. Naked. Unbothered. Like this was just another Tuesday night. “Everything okay here?” he said evenly. Larry blinked. His wife’s grip tightened on his arm. “Oh. Right. We—ah—sorry,” Larry muttered. “Didn’t mean to intrude.” “We should go,” his wife said quickly, steering him away. She glanced back once, twice, eyes flicking between us as they disappeared down the hall. The door clicked shut. Scout wandered back to the leather couch and dropped into it like he owned the place. Like nothing had just detonated. I stood there for a moment, breathing hard, adrenaline still fizzing through me. The room felt altered; charged, wrong, irreversible. I paced once. Twice. Then sat on the edge of the coffee table, close enough to feel his presence, far enough to pretend I was still in control. Neither of us spoke. The silence said enough.

I always have swallowed. Since I had my first cock in my mouth, back when I was really, really young. Can't imagine sucking/getting sucked without cum. If I put your cock in your mouth, it's because I'll swallow your cum... And I expect the very same treatment if you suck mine.

Kinda same here. I was very, very young, and he was... I don't know, 28-31 maybe? He had a really big cock and took the time and the patience to teach me from unzipping his pants to get my reward at the very end, and of course... How to suck. He insisted that I shouldn't use my hands at all, and that all I needed was my mouth and my throat... I still suck cock that way most times, deepthroat, lots and lots of tongue play on the cockhead, different levels of suction, and no hands. He also taught me to always swallow no matter what and no matter whom. Then, as months passed by, when he felt I was already mastering sucking cock he taught me how to worship a good pair of sweaty-after-work (or sweaty-after-some-beers) balls. Fuck. I remember it as an adult and I still get truly hard. No regrets at all. I may be mostly a top, but I can proudly say I'm a filthy, depraved, pig sub when it comes to sucking cock.

I had only been fucked a few times. Always with a condom. Still got tested after each time. Then I got stealthed. A tiny hole poked in the condom, but enough that the thrusts of his very thick very hard cock pumped his cum out like a jet coating the inside of my ass. He kept fucking me for about 5 minutes after he came. When he pulled out I was surprised to see thick white globs of cum coating the outside of the condom. And when I reached down to my hole, it was dripping. I pulled my fingers out and the smell of cum was unmistakable. A few months later I tested positive. I never wanted to use condoms, I would have preferred bare and bred with as much cum as possible. So a week or so later I went to the bathhouse and took all cummers.

I was very young. He was really big. Lol. Fortunately he was patient and gave me all the time I needed to service him. Over the course of the next few years I got very good at it and always swallowed. It’s a skill that needs to be honed for sure. I am told that I am very good at it now.

I am a shaved guy, don't like to floss while I eat. I keep myself shaved smooth so I prefer the same.

I personally do not, but I never stopped anybody from doing it to me. While hosting cumdump sessions I have had it happen many times. I thought it was just a normal thing.

Was 11 or 12, was with my best friend who was a couple months older than me. I'd seen it in porn mags so we played strip blackjack (didn't know poker rules yet). Once we were both naked the loser of each hand had to suck the other for 30 seconds.

I’m a poz pig Cumdump pig week in Fort Lauderdale in sling at pig poz party only. In sling for 3 days straight and being slammed with poz loads for 3 days. We had posted for over a month for the event. I had taking over 50 loads of toxic poz loads. Not caring who’s breeding me. Wasted poz cocks injections shared DNA while being high My gaping wide open loose cum sloppy cunt wrecked. I wanted more. I was slammed with cum at both ends. Drinking cum and breeding. I also went to 321 Slammers. Lotto cum dump event. I had taken well over 100 loads in 8 days. This beat my record from past years at Fort Lauderdale pig week.

I've read a lot about that match, not sure it really settled much with all the rumors of Bobby Riggs being in debt to the mob due to gambling losses. Let's just say perhaps Bobby Riggs was aptly named.