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Welcome to The Master Pathogen Christmas Special. While our main story is on hiatus until next year, @leatherpunk16 and I decided to post a short aside piece as a fun one-off to tide everyone over until we start the story back up. I hope everyone enjoys the short series and feel free to comment and share your thoughts. We will be posting each day until it's finished on Christmas Eve. Below is a link to our original story and source material... The Master Pathogen And without further ado, here is a teaser of what's to come: --------------------------------------- Prologue: Twas the Snowstorm Two Weeks Before Christmas... Snow drifted in gentle spirals over the Merrydale Christmas Tree Farm, settling on the endless rows of evergreens like powdered sugar. The lights strung along the pathways glowed a soft gold, illuminating smiling families carrying bundled trees toward their cars. Laughter chimed through the crisp winter air, warm and bright despite the cold. Grace Turner stood at the end of the main lane, watching the final visitors depart. She breathed in the scent of pine, her chest lifting with a feeling that was almost too big to contain. Everything around her felt peaceful—settled—as though the world had finally aligned in exactly the way it should. She turned toward the man standing beside her. Cole Henderson waited with his hands tucked into his coat pockets, a shy, contented smile on his face. Snow dusted his shoulders and dark hair, giving him a quiet, gentle glow. His presence was as steady as the old farmhouse behind them—solid, dependable, safe. “Today was perfect,” Grace said softly, her voice touched with wonder. “I—I didn’t know it could feel this right. Staying here. Being here.” Cole stepped closer, his breath visible in the cold. “It’s because you made it that way.” He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek. “You brought life back to this place.” Grace let out a shaky, emotional laugh. “I thought I needed skyscrapers and boardrooms to be happy. But… standing here now, I realize I was always running in the wrong direction.” Cole smiled, warm enough to melt the snow between them. “Sometimes you don’t know what you’re missing until you come home.” She looked up at him, eyes shining. “I ended things with Andrew,” she whispered. “For good. I’m not going back. I don’t want that soulless corporate life anymore.” The words hung in the air—not dramatic, just true. Cole touched her face, gentle and sure. “You deserve a life that feels like yours.” Snow swirled around them as she leaned into his touch, emotion thick in her throat. “I want to stay,” she said. “Here. With you.” Cole’s forehead rested against hers. The background lights blurred softly, turning the world warm and golden. “Then stay,” he murmured. “Stay, Grace.” She closed her eyes. “I will.” Their lips drew closer—slow, inevitable, filled with quiet certainty. The world around them seemed to hold its breath. Rows of trees whispered in the wind as the last light of evening glimmered over them. Grace stepped forward, heart full, ready to— — Grace Turner’s frozen, love-struck face lingered on the TV screen for barely two seconds before an avalanche of popcorn and empty beer cans pelted the image. Groans erupted from every corner of the room. “BOOOOOO!!! TURN THAT SHIT OFF,” someone yelled. But it was Bran Coletti, Chapter President of Phi Alpha Gamma, who truly commanded the chaos. Towering over the others even from the couch, Bran had a voice that operated at only two volumes—loud and louder—and both were currently in full force as he pointed accusingly at the screen. “Who in the holy hell requested we watch this?” he demanded. “Seriously. Whose emotional support movie is this? Stand up. Confess.” The rest of Phi Alpha sprawled around him in varying states of drunken festivity. Evan Marsh hovered near the window like a nervous bird, mumbling about the storm. Ty King, already shirtless for no reason anyone could identify, lay half-asleep on the floor. Zach Dempsey, eternal skeptic, looked personally offended by the movie’s existence. Derek Vance lounged with a smug smirk, clearly proud he’d thrown the empty beer can that hit “Grace” between the eyes. And Paul “Porkchop” Carter—adorably sentimental and two drinks past capacity—was sniffling into his sleeve. “Oh my god,” Zach muttered. “Is Chop actually—?” Porkchop shot up, cheeks flushed. “Shut the fuck up guys,” he snapped, voice thick with emotion. “She… she should be able to spend her life how she wants, okay?” Dead silence. Then the entire room detonated with laughter. “CHOP IS CRYING!” “Bro’s fuckin’ HAMMERED.” “Oh my god, someone take his schnapps away.” “He’s got a fuckin hard on too!” “I am empathizing,” Porkchop insisted, with all the dignity of a man slurring. Bran—President, tyrant, self-appointed god-king of the house—clapped his hands sharply. “Alright! That’s enough. We are NOT ending the night on emotional tree-farm drama.” He pointed at Noah Vance, Derek’s younger cousin, the pledge, who was trying to disappear into his too-tight children’s Christmas sweater. “Rookie. Up.” Noah froze. “Uh… what?” Bran waved him forward with the authority of a drill sergeant who’d been given a candy cane and too much power. “Pledge task. Pick the next movie. And don’t fuck it up or you’re on toilet duty for the entire next semester.” Noah stumbled toward the huge mixing bowl on the coffee table, filled with folded slips of paper—the frat’s chaotic holiday watchlist. He stuck his hand in, swirled, pulled something out. Bran snatched it before he could read it. “KRAMPUS!” he yelled triumphantly. “Hell. YES.” The room exploded. “FINALLY!” “Murder time!” “Christmas is SAVED!” “Play it, Rookie!” Noah hurried to cue up the movie while Ty grabbed another beer and Derek mock-wiped tears from Porkchop’s face. As the opening music of Krampus started, Evan drifted to the window again, tipping aside a tangle of pathetic garland. “Guys… the snow is getting, like… really bad.” Zach didn’t look away from the TV. “How bad?” Evan pressed his forehead to the glass. “Like… campus-shuts-down bad. I bet classes get cancelled tomorrow.” A triumphant roar shook the room. “FUCK YEAH! SNOW DAY!!” “No exams!” “Long live Phi Apha!” Behind them, the Christmas lights blinked twice, then once more… a faint, hesitant flicker. No one noticed. Not yet. — Krampus was barely ten minutes in before Phi Alpha Gamma descended into the predictable chaos of a winter-night watch party. Bran Coletti, Chapter President and self-declared Emperor of Christmas Movie Night, lounged in the center of the couch like it was his throne, barking commentary at the screen every few minutes. Ty whooped every time something vaguely violent happened, and Derek yelled back alternate lines he thought the characters should’ve said. Porkchop, miraculously recovered from his emotional meltdown, shoveled fistfuls of cinnamon popcorn into his mouth at a rate science would consider dangerous. Noah, the pledge, sat wedged between two couch cushions, trying not to look like a frightened woodland creature. Outside, the storm still raged—but the power in the neighborhood hadn’t so much as flickered. Through the front window, rows of houses remained warm and bright; the streetlights glowed steadily beneath the snowfall. This, unfortunately, did nothing to reassure Evan Marsh. “Guys,” Evan muttered, forehead nearly pressed to the glass, “the snow is really piling up out there. Like, uh… aggressively.” “No one cares, Evan,” Zach said flatly. “No, seriously, look—there are weird footprints in our yard. Like… big ones. That’s not normal, right?” “Footprints?” Ty perked up. “Like Santa?” “No,” Evan whispered. “Like… not human.” Before anyone could mock him further, the movie hit a tense beat: a child screaming, Krampus bells jingling ominously. And then— Every light in the frat house died. Instant. Total. Silent. The TV blinked out. The Christmas tree went dark. The heater cut off with a dull, defeated sigh. But through the front window, all the neighboring houses remained lit. And the streetlights still glowed. For a moment, no one said a word. Then Bran’s voice tore through the pitch-black living room. “OH, WHAT THE HELL? Why is OUR house the only one out? This is bullshit!” Ty yelped, “My beer— I can’t find my beer!” which was approximately the least helpful observation possible. Zach groaned. “It’s a blown breaker, obviously. This dump is older than Porkchop’s browser history.” “Hey,” Porkchop sniffed defensively, “my history is— is tasteful.” Someone bumped the coffee table. Someone else tripped over a plastic reindeer. The house filled with the sounds of chaos and mild suffering. Derek launched an empty can in Bran’s direction. “Nice job plugging in that sketchy space heater again, Prez.” “It was COLD,” Bran snapped. “Now shut up. We just need someone to flip the breaker.” As if on cue, a faint whistle drifted through the room. A cold draft crept up from the hallway leading to the basement—icy and damp, like something breathing from below. No one noticed. Not even Evan, who’d pressed closer to the window again and whispered, “Guys… I’m serious. Those footprints are really fucking weird.” Noah lifted his phone, its flashlight cutting a small pale circle through the dark. Zach’s voice came from somewhere near the tree. “Pledge. Basement. Breaker panel. Go.” Noah froze. “Why me?” “Because you’re the pledge,” Bran said, as if that were the entire explanation, the law, the universe. “And because someone needs to fix this before my toes freeze off.” Derek added, “Basement’s right there, buddy. Don’t scream too loud. Krampus might getcha.” Laughter rippled around him—forced, shaky at the edges. Noah swallowed. He turned toward the basement door. A stronger gust of cold rushed up as he pulled it open—unnaturally cold, like winter had carved itself into the earth beneath the house. He hesitated. Behind him, Bran barked, “Go on, Rookie. We believe in you. Sort of.” Noah stepped down the first creaking stair, phone flashlight trembling in his hand. The basement swallowed the light. The whistle echoed again—just for a moment, just enough to raise goosebumps. But the guys upstairs were already resettling themselves, arguing about whether they should start where Krampus stopped or restart it entirely. No one paid any more attention when Noah disappear into the dark, each guy grabbing their cellphones to kill the time. — Noah descended the basement stairs with steady, reluctant steps, one hand gripping the railing, the other holding his phone high like a makeshift lantern. The narrow beam of light pushed weakly into the darkness below, illuminating dust motes that drifted through the cold air like tiny, suspended particles. The further he went, the more the warmth of the frat house disappeared behind him, replaced by a chill so sharp it felt as though the temperature dropped several degrees with each step. His breath fogged immediately, a thin white cloud that startled him—this basement shouldn’t have been that cold. The space opened before him in a low sprawl of clutter and neglect. Cardboard boxes marked XMAS DECOR leaned crookedly against the far wall, their corners softened by years of damp. Tangles of old Christmas lights were piled in plastic bins or strewn carelessly across the concrete floor like discarded serpents. A cracked inflatable snowman sagged in the corner, deflated and slumped over as if defeated by time. The air smelled of mildew and something sharper—an acrid, chemical bite that made Noah’s throat tighten when he inhaled too deeply. He swallowed and tried to focus. The breaker panel sat near the furnace, its metal face dull with age. Noah forced himself toward it, trying to ignore the uneasy sensation that someone—or something—might be watching him from the darker corners of the basement. The feeling wasn’t entirely new; the basement had always felt strange, but tonight the atmosphere seemed charged in a way he couldn’t explain. There was a stillness to the air, a heavy, waiting quality that made him quicken his steps. A cold draft brushed the back of his neck as he reached the panel. It wasn’t the casual chill of an unsealed window or a poorly insulated wall—this felt like a long, icy exhale. Curious and unnerved, Noah turned and swept his flashlight toward the far wall. That was when he noticed it: a narrow door he had never seen before, partly obscured behind a stack of storage bins. The wood was warped and discolored, the frame cracked, as though it had endured decades of neglect. The door hung open by perhaps an inch, swaying subtly with the draft that flowed from the darkness beyond it. A soft, wavering whistle escaped from the unseen space behind the door, a hollow sound that pricked at his nerves. He didn’t investigate. His instincts urged him to turn back to the breaker. With fingers that trembled despite his efforts to steady them, he flipped the tripped switch. The house above him responded instantly—lights came back on, voices erupted in cheers, and the muffled thump of resumed movie sound reached him from the ceiling. Relief washed over him so quickly it made him dizzy. He let out a shaky laugh, raking a hand through his hair. He headed back toward the stairs, eager to rejoin the brightly lit world upstairs, but halfway up he paused abruptly. Something in the corner of his peripheral vision tugged at his attention. He turned, hesitant, and his flashlight swept across the basement floor. The tangled string of Christmas lights he’d seen earlier was no longer sitting motionless. The entire strand was shifting, inching slowly across the concrete floor like a living thing. The bulbs flickered irregularly—green, red, green, red—in a pulsing pattern that reminded him disturbingly of a heartbeat. The sight rooted him to the stairs, caught between disbelief and a rising sense of dread. Before he could convince himself he was imagining it, something struck him across the face. It wasn’t a physical blow so much as a wet impact, a sudden splatter of warm, viscous slime that hit with enough force to make him stumble back a step. He gasped as the substance slid down his cheek and jaw, its sickening chemical odor flooding his senses. His eyes burned from the sudden contact, and he instinctively wiped at his face, only smearing the slick fluid across his skin. Behind him, from the direction of the warped basement door and the creeping lights, a low growl rolled through the darkness. It was deep and resonant, carrying a weight that vibrated in the air around him. Noah froze on the stairs, heart pounding wildly in his chest. The growl shifted, curling upward into a sound that was unmistakably a chuckle—wet, guttural, and inhuman. His phone screen flickered violently as it crashed to the ground. The flashlight dimmed. The last coherent thought Noah had was that he needed to run. But his legs were already buckling beneath him as the world went black. — For the first twenty minutes after the power returned, none of the Phi Alpha Gamma brothers gave Noah a second thought. The movie was back on, the lights were on, the beer was flowing, and the living room had snapped right back into its rowdy rhythm. Bran restarted Krampus “properly, from the beginning, because cinematic excellence deserves respect,” and everyone groaned but went along with it. Ty sprawled across the rug with his head on a pillow shaped like Santa’s ass; Porkchop got emotionally invested in the opening scenes for reasons no one understood; Derek heckled the movie nonstop; Zach critiqued the pacing; Evan sat close to the window, flinching at every rattling gust of wind. Noah’s absence barely registered at first. He’d only gone to flip the breaker. A two-minute job. Maybe he’d stopped to check the Wi-Fi. Maybe he’d taken a leak. Maybe he’d found a dusty treasure trove of weird old frat history down there. And the movie was good. So good they didn’t notice how long it had been. Thirty minutes passed. Then forty-five. By the time the movie hit its midpoint, the guys were laughing, shouting, deeply engrossed—and Noah had been gone long enough for a quiet unease to slip into the edges of the room. It showed first in Evan, whose nervous habit of glancing at the basement door had become more frequent. Between flickers of lightning outside, he kept pressing his forehead to the glass, watching the snow pile into white drifts that swallowed the yard. Streetlights still glowed; nearby houses were still brightly lit. Their house remained the odd one out. The storm grew louder—wind scraping at the siding, rattling the gutters—and still the pledge hadn’t come back. When Ty finally muttered, “Damn, Rookie’s been down there forever,” it broke the spell over the room. Zach paused mid-sip of beer. “Huh. Yeah. He really has.” Bran frowned at the screen, though his gaze wasn’t quite focused anymore. “He’ll come up in a sec. Probably wiping cobwebs off the porn stash Derek keeps pretending isn’t his.” “They aren’t mine! I wasn't even alive to have that old of Playboys, you jackasses!” Derek barked, because that was the law of the universe. The laughter was weaker this time, the timing off. Another ten minutes passed. The snow outside grew deeper. The storm howled harder. The movie played on. And Noah remained conspicuously absent. Eventually, Porkchop sat up, frowning blearily. “Guys? Seriously. He’s usually back fast. Like… puppy-returning-with-the-ball fast.” Zach scoffed, but it didn’t carry the same confidence. “He’s fine. Probably went down a TikTok rabbit hole.” “Noah doesn’t even have TikTok,” Evan said quietly. The room went still again. Bran shifted forward on the couch, elbows braced on his knees. He looked toward the basement door, the only completely dark spot in the entire house. Something about it—the angle, the stillness—felt wrong, as though the darkness there was heavier than natural shadow. “How long’s it been?” he asked, voice lower now. Ty checked his phone. “Uh… like an hour? Maybe more?” An uneasy silence rippled through the room. “That’s… not normal,” Porkchop mumbled. Evan swallowed hard. “If he slipped or passed out or something—we’re gonna be in so much trouble. You know campus security already thinks we’re on probation even when we’re not.” No one argued. The paused Krampus frame stared back at them from the TV, claws raised mid-swipe, frozen in a way that made the air feel suddenly colder. Bran stood, breaking the tension with a crack of his knuckles. “Alright. Enough. Someone go down and get him.” The others looked at one another. No one moved. Not a single person volunteered. The basement door loomed in the far corner, a dark rectangle swallowing the soft glow of Christmas lights. And for the first time all night, even Bran didn’t bark an order.

I keep getting this message on the home page. And I cannot access the site. I constantly have issues with access to this site and find it very slow to respond. I often wonder if it's because I live in Australia. Will I get credit for the days I have been locked out? David

Actually, its a shared labor with @leatherpunk16. We've been working on this since June. Both of us writing and proof reading each other's contributions. Both of us are the authors. 🙂

Then he is not worth of you

He'll definitely cum deep in you next time.

Freshman Project: Jason (Part 9) Blake woke up on Sunday afternoon and reached out to wrap his arm around Jason, but the bed was empty. Conflicting thoughts ran through the jock’s head. He remembered almost everything that happened the night before and he was both excited and a little concerned. Ecstasy always made him a little emotional, but he had never before told anyone he loved them, not even Coach. Coach was the man he had devoted his life to and done whatever the man had ordered him to do, but he loved Coach like a father, not someone he loved as a partner. Blake had a bond with Aiden, but he didn’t love the sophomore. The boy had been fun to take under his wing and turn into a slut, but it was not the same connection he had developed with Jason. Did he actually love Jason, or had that just been the drugs talking he wondered. Did Jason love him, and would the boy still feel the same way this morning about taking multiple toxic loads from him last night? Had Jason run off this morning in regret as soon as he woke up? So many questions were running through Blake’s mind, and many of them were new territory of him. The jock got up and exited his bedroom. He heard some noise from the kitchen, which did not take much in his small one bedroom apartment to notice. Apparently Jason had not fled. Blake wiped the sleep out of his eyes as he entered the kitchen. “Good morning, Master. Coffee is ready, I’ll get you a cup, and the bacon and eggs will be ready in just a few minutes,” said Jason. The boy was naked except for his chastity cage as he slid along the counter to the coffee pot and poured a cup of coffee for Blake. He added just a small amount of cream, which is how Blake liked his coffee, then turned and brought the cup to Blake. Blake grabbed the coffee and took a drink. He hoped it would jump start his mind and allow him to figure out what was going on. “Good morning, Jason,” he finally managed to get out. “Did I put your cage back on last night?” he asked. “No Sir, but I when I work up this morning, I figured you would want it back on since you only took it off me last night so I could play with myself on the E. Thank for that Sir. I’ve gotten used to the cage and I like it on because it reminds me of my place as your Boy, I hope I didn’t do anything wrong Sir?” said Jason, hoping he hadn’t done anything wrong. “No Boy, it is fine. I’m glad you put it back on, you saved me the effort,” said Blake trying to cover for his surprise at finding it on Jason. “I’m going to go take a shower, have breakfast ready for me when I get back and we’ll talk more over breakfast,” said Blake as he tried to regain control over the situation. “Yes Master,” responded Jason as he turned back to the stove and tended the eggs. Blake’s eyes lingered over the V of the boy’s back as it joined his ass. He shook his head to break the spell this twink had apparently cast over him and headed to his shower. He entered his bathroom then warmed up the water till it was comfortable, then jumped under the spray. As he stood under the spray of the shower he thought about why he had gotten so attached to Jason. He was self aware enough to know to that he had a strong connection with each of the college boys he had converted, but none had been like this. He still occasionally saw Charlie and Ian as he supplied them with drugs to sell and collected their proceeds, but both young men had gone on to be sluts in different ways. While they still worked for Blake and Coach as dealers and whores under Blake’s direction, Blake was not fucking either one regularly. They both had found older Daddies that were their focus sexually. Aiden was still someone he would consider his Boy, but as Blake showered and got that clarity that sometimes come with shower thoughts, he realized that Aiden would be just fine without him. Jason on the other hand needed him in a way the others never had. The boy was just so naturally submissive and there was something that appealed to Blake in that regard. He had been unlocking the inner slut in boys these last few years, but he had been doing it because Coach told him to, now though, there was something about Jason that just hit differently. “Master, your breakfast is ready,” called Jason from the kitchen. The boy’s call broke Blake out of his deep thoughts over the Jason and the other boys. He quickly finished rinsing off then dried himself off with a towel. Before heading out to the kitchen naked, he went back to his room and pulled two bottles out of his nightstand. There were eggs, bacon, buttered toast, a fresh cup of coffee, and a glass of orange juice sitting on the table for Blake when he entered the kitchen. It was set for one person, even though there was enough food on the plate for two. Blake sat down in the chair. As soon as he was seated, Jason knelt down beside him, “I hope Sir likes.” Blake set the bottles down on the table, then looked down at the twink that was on his knees next to him, “Yes, I do like it Boy. I could get used to waking up to this. But we need to talk, please sit at the table with me and grab yourself a plate. We need to talk about last night, not as Master and Servant, but as friends, hopefully.” Panic flashed across Jason’s face, his first instinct was that now that Blake had fucked him, he was going to dump him. He tried to regain his composure as he pulled himself up off the ground, grabbed a plate from the cabinet and then sat in the chair opposite of Blake at the small table. He couldn’t bring himself to speak and stared down at his empty plate. Blake grabbed the two pill bottles and pushed them towards Jason. “We touched it on last night, but I feel we need to talk about this now, when both of us aren’t rolling. I’m HIV positive and I haven’t taken any medications in a few months, so I’m infectious. I care for you and I want to make sure I am not pressuring you into anything you don’t want. So these pills, which Charlie got me from the health clinic, are a full course of PEP, post exposure prophylaxis. I remember putting at least two loads into you last, and there may have been a third. You said you wanted them at the time, but now in the cold light of day, I’m offering you the opportunity to treat yourself, just in case I infected you last night and you’ve changed your mind.” Jason gave Blake a confused look, “I knew what was happening last night, I wanted it. Do you no longer want me?” “I want you, I want to be with you, but I don’t want you ever regretting your decision. I don’t want you, years from now blaming me, and saying I took advantage of you while you were high, I never want you to ever regret what we did,” explained Blake. “Blake, I will do whatever you say, including taking every toxic load you will give me, but I want you to know, I’m doing so because I want to. I want to obey you, it makes me feel like I’ve found my purpose in life. I’ve spent my life obeying my father, his Pastor, my mother, my teachers, basically anyone with authority. I know what it feels like to obey someone when you don’t want to, with you it feels different. With you I’m not just obeying you, I’m submitting to you, willingly. It feels right for the first time in my life. I feel like I’m no longer pretending to be someone else. I’m my true self finally. I don’t just not care that you are infecting me, I want it. I want to belong to you, I need it. Now, being honest, if you are just using me and want to make me another mark on your scorecard, if you don’t care about me the same way I care about you, if you don’t want to own me, now and forever as you said last night, well I’ll take those and we can go our own ways. I hope you will still by my friend and maybe help me find someone that will want me to be theirs. If you do want me to be yours though, now and forever, then go ahead and dump those down the drain cause there is nothing more than I want, than to have a part of you inside me forever, even if it is a potentially deadly virus. I want to be yours, now and forever,” said Jason, as he fought back tears in his eyes. Blake’s cock was rock hard. “Boy, grab those bottles, open them, and take out one pill from each bottle into your hand,” said Blake, his voice clearly indicating he was back in ‘Master’ mode. “Yes Sir,” answered Jason still not sure exactly what Blake’s answer was. Even though he wasn’t sure what was going on, he obeyed. He opened the bottles, and took a pill from each in his hand. His mind was racing, was this Blake’s way of dumping him, was he going to order him to take today’s dose of PEP instead of just coming out and saying he didn’t want him. “Now go over to the sink and turn on the water,” Blake commanded. Jason did as he was order. As soon as the boy got up, Blake grabbed the bottles and followed Jason to the sink. Jason turned on the water, the pills in his hand. He was devastated as he felt that Blake was about to order him to take the pills as the older boy’s way of letting him know that he had just been using him. Instead, Blake used his left hand to push Jason’s torso down, bending the boy over the sink. He set the bottles in his right hand down on the counter next to the sink, then used the hand to line his cock up with Jason’s hole. He roughly shoved his dry cock into Jason’s asshole. “You’re mine Bitch,” growled Blake as worked his cock all the way into Jason’s tender ass, which was still a bit sore from last night. Still it had the remains of Blake’s cum and the lube from the night before which helped a bit to ease the passage of Blake’s thick nine and half inch cock into the Jason’s ass. Once Blake had bottomed out in twink’s ass, he leaned in so his mouth was next to Jason’s ear. “I’m going to fuck you slow so that you have enough time to drop a round of pills into the garbage disposal each time I bottom out. I’m going to fuck you until both those bottles are empty. You understand me Bitch Boy?” He asked. “Yes Sir,” said Jason as he wiggled his ass, doing his best to adjust the position of his ass to accommodate Blake’s thick cock. He dropped the pills in his hand down into the drain with garbage disposal. “Good Boy! Here I’ll help you,” said Blake as he reached over and knocked over the pill bottles, spilling the contents over the counter. “Now grab some more and watch your chance at avoiding becoming positive go down the drain,” said Blake as he slide his cock almost all the way out. As soon as Jason grabbed a handle of pills, he started slowly thrusting back in and timed it so that he bottomed out with a hard extra little push as he saw Jason drop his handful of pills down the drain. “You are going to stay here the next couple weeks, only leaving to go to your classes, you’re quitting that shit cafeteria job; you’re my Boy now,” said Blake as he pulled back and waited until Jason had grabbed more pills off the counter. “Dump those,” he said as he started sliding back in the twink’s tight but no longer virgin hole. When Jason dropped the pills into the sink, Blake finished his thrust with a hard push, making sure all of his thick hard cock was up inside the twink. Jason was enjoying the rough slow fuck. Sure Blake was ordering him to drop the pills into the sink with each thrust, but Jason realized he was actually in control of this fuck. While his first handful had been whatever he could grab, by his third he was only grabbing a couple pills to drop with each thrust. By the fourth thrust, it was obvious to both of them what was happening and who was now driving this fuck as Jason was quickly grabbing one pill at time and throwing it into the sink as fast as he could. “Please Sir, give me your toxic load, poz me, convert me, make me yours forever,” begged Jason as he did his best to quickly drop pill after pill into the sink. Blake for his part was enjoying trying to time his thrust with Jason feeding pills into the sink. Eventually both young men gave up on the pretense of the scene as Blake started thrusting hard and fast into Jason’s ass. Jason for his part just swept the rest of the pills off the counter and into the sink. While Blake had come a few times last night, Jason had not. He had enjoyed himself and felt ecstatic bliss while getting fucked while rolling on ecstasy as he had several anal orgasms, but he didn’t have a true ejaculatory climax. This fuck though was doing it for him now that he was no longer tripping. Every time Blake thrust in he was hitting the boy’s prostate. The whole scene was so hot for both of them and Jason soon realized he was about to cum. “Sir, please permission to cum, please Sir,” he begged. “Yes Boy, cum for me, shoot that load, show me how much you want to be mine and carry my virus in you. Shoot for me Boy,” responded Blake as he started thrusting harder into the twink. It wasn’t long before he felt Jason’s asshole spasm around his cock as cum started pouring out of the boy’s caged cock. Blake reached down and grabbed the boy’s cock as soon as he started to feel the boy’s ass contracting around his cock. The chastity cage was on and keeping the boy’s cock from expanding outward, but the boy’s cock was firm and pushing the cage outward with most of the boy’s erection still inside the boy’s crotch. Blake collected the rest of the boy’s load into his hand. Once he was sure the boy was done cumming he brought his cum soaked hand up to Jason’s mouth. “Here Boy, eat one of your last negative loads. I’m going to be there and make sure you eat all your last negative loads before you are truly pregnant with my babies,” growled Blake as he place his cum covered hand over Jason’s mouth. Jason did his best to lick up as much of his own cum as he could. Soon though he felt his real reward as Blake grabbed his hips and thrust hard into him then held his cock there as the older boy started cumming. Jason smiled as he felt his Master’s cock unloading another toxic inside his unprotected ass. As Blake grunted and ground his crotch against his Boy’s ass, Jason reached over and turned the garbage disposal on to destroy the PEP pills.

Dads 50th birthday, dads wedding, brothers wedding… could go on. my favourite was missing brothers wedding whilst shaving his best mate who was also absent haha

Will write the final part soon. Before Christmas for sure. I've been busy with more important tasks, solidarity tasks. Writing, always, but it's for another cause.

Well it was a threesome bruh and if he doesn't like my performance he didn't text me and call me to meet privately and everytime he text me he ask me did i shaved my pubic hair

[think before following links] https://thisvid.com/videos/hot-muscle-stud-threesome-in-a-cabin-pt1/