All Activity

It was incredible. We first started out as a hookup and then started dating etc. we would play with other people. Where and how he got the idea to do this I really don't know 🤔

I've had that before, but only on my phone. OS was Android. Doesn't happen on my laptop.

YES🍆

YES

It depends on the situation. Am I sucking him on my lunch break? It really needs to be fairly quick, probably like 10 minutes or less. If I don’t have anywhere I have to be then I think the 30-45 minutes is the sweet spot for me.

i've watched some of the televised cabinet meetings the White House put out, kinda creepy how everyone around the table seems to take turns fawning on Trump.

I think it would be hot to make this a series of Joe's conquests

In a ice fishing tent on display inside cabelas

sounds hot - enjoy

When I attended on Naked Nights. I never got any action. 😞

Part 16: The Bathhouse Ledger and the Final Score VI The world returns with the familiar, jarring click-clack of your key in the front door. The air inside is still and quiet, a stark contrast to the humid, chemical chaos you just left. It feels sterile. Every muscle aches with a deep, satisfying soreness. You feel the dried stickiness on your inner thighs, the phantom sensation of still being open, still being used. You are a vessel returning home, filled to the brim. He's there, sitting on the couch. He looks up as you enter, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. He rises, crossing the room to pull you into a hug. His arms feel both like a comfort and a question. "Rough day?" your husband asks, his voice a low murmur against your hair. "You have no idea," you reply, your voice hoarse. You pull back just enough to look him in the eye, and then you kiss him. It's a deep, possessive kiss that leaves no room for doubt. You taste the lie on his tongue, the secret. And yet, you love him more than ever. He knows where you were and what you did, but he has no idea that you know he was there too. Moreover, he has no clue that you know what he was up to at the rest stop the other week. You are again the one holding all the cards, and the power feels more intoxicating than any load you took tonight. You smile, a genuine, radiant smile, and pull him in for another kiss. Later, you're in bed, the day's events replaying like a fever dream. Your husband is asleep beside you, his breathing soft and even. The house is dark and silent. Your phone, face down on the nightstand, buzzes once, lighting up the room. You pick it up. The screen's glow illuminates your face. It's a message from a group chat with Mark and Stefan. It's a photo. At first, you just stare, your heart pounding. It's not a selfie. It's taken from between your spread legs, while you were still in the sling. Your hole is open, a glistening rosebud leaking cum. Mark and Stefan are on either side of you, their faces turned to the camera, giving a thumbs up, their smiles tired but proud. You have a vague memory of this, of someone holding up a phone, but you were too exhausted to register it. It's only now that you notice the background. Behind you, hanging on the wall, is the blackboard. Your heart hammers. You zoom in, your thumb trembling, the pixels snapping into clarity. You can see the chalk marks perfectly. You scan them, counting the night's toll. There, many marks under POZ, some even under TOX. And then your eyes find it: a single, stark line under AIDS. You remember that one well. Then you see the NEG column. Surprisingly, only two marks. One is clearly from the young guy at the end, the triumphant, mocking ?. But what about the other one? A simple, clean mark with no question mark. A chill runs through you. Was this your husband? Or is he among the poz, maybe even toxic, a secret he keeps from you? The thought is dizzying, a sudden, terrifying shift in the power dynamic you thought you controlled. You stare at the image—your own transformed, debased self, your two brothers, and the proof of your journey, now riddled with a new mystery. Below the photo, Stefan has typed a single line: "Our brother. Forever." A slow, tired smile spreads across your face in the darkness. It's a vow. It's the final confirmation. This wasn't just a scene. It was an initiation. You look at your sleeping husband, then back at the glowing screen, the mystery of his mark burning in your mind. You are part of a brotherhood now, a secret tribe bound by a shared, toxic journey. Your body is a temple to their gifts, a testament to the night. And you have never felt more powerful, or more safe, in your entire life.

Part 16: The Bathhouse Ledger and the Final Score V The poz troll shuffles away, the crowd parting for him once more, leaving a void of silence in his wake. The air still feels thick, charged with the finality of what just happened. You lie in the sling, trembling, Mark and Stefan's hands a comforting anchor on your own. You're still processing the fire that's now burning inside you, a warmth that promises to become a part of you forever. Then, movement. You hear a hesitant step forward. The crowd, which had been murmuring amongst themselves, goes quiet again. "I'm next," a voice says, young and shaking with adrenaline. "I... I have to." You feel him step between your legs. He's different. Where the last man was all bone and papery skin, this one is all youthful vitality. You feel his smooth, toned thighs as he positions himself, the skin taut over firm muscle. He's lean, probably a runner or a swimmer. When he leans over you, you feel the soft, fine hairs of his treasure trail brush against your stomach, and his clean, soapy scent—a stark contrast to the acrid smell of sickness and sex that still lingers in the air—is almost shocking. He is gentle. His hands aren't just grabbing; they're exploring. He touches your chest with a reverence that feels completely out of place, stroking the fur, feeling your nipples with a curious thumb. You can almost feel his eyes on you, admiring your body in this ruined state. They move down to your thighs to grab hold, but it's a careful, almost hesitant touch. He turns his head, his voice still trembling but clear. "I'm neg. Not on PrEP. May I fuck him anyway? I know you prefer toxic guys, but I just have to… too hot to pass." "Fuck, look at this kid," someone in the crowd whispers, a mix of pity and fascination. "He doesn't know what he's doing." "He knows exactly what he's doing," Stefan's voice rumbles beside you, a proud, dark amusement in his tone. "He's seen the promised land, and now he wants a taste. Go ahead. Enjoy!" A collective, sharp intake of breath from the crowd. This is no longer a spectator sport for him. You feel his cock, hard and eager, at your entrance. It's a perfect, healthy specimen, and for a moment, a flicker of something like guilt cuts through your haze. But it's instantly extinguished by a wave of dark pride. He's choosing this. He's choosing you. He pushes in, and you hear him gasp. It's not a clean entry. You hear the wet, sloppy sound of his perfect cock displacing the gallons of cum already inside you, feel some of it being pushed out to run down over your balls. He's not just fucking a hole; he's baptizing himself in a toxic swamp. He fucks you with a wild, desperate energy, his strokes short and frantic. He's not trying to get off; he's trying to feel. He wants to feel all the toxic cum coating his own perfect, healthy cock. He's chasing the poison, bathing himself in your filth. His body starts to shiver uncontrollably from the sheer intensity, the overwhelming mix of pleasure and terror. Seeing this, Stefan moves behind him, his own cock hard, bobbing with predatory arousal as he closes the distance. He holds the young man firm, his strong arms wrapping around the trembling frame to comfort him, his rigid shaft nestling between the young man's taut ass cheeks. It's a gesture of comfort that is also one of absolute possession. "Easy now," Stefan whispers, his voice a dark, seductive lullaby. "Enjoy this fuck. Go slow. Feel how all this toxic spunk inside my brother's ass coats your beautiful cock. Don't just feel it, see it in your mind. See the bugs crawling all over your shaft, your cockhead, down your slit, looking for a way inside you." "Look at him," Mark murmurs beside you, his voice thick with possessive pride. "He's not just fucking, he's chasing that thrill. The one that changes you forever." That line hits you like a physical blow. The thrill that changes you forever. You know because you've been there. Suddenly, you're no longer in the sling. The memory drags you under, so vivid it's like you're there. A dark room years ago. Your first time. A poz bottom begging for your load. You remember pulling out, your own neg cock slick with his charged-up cum. The same terrifying thrill, the same cold sweat, the same dizzying knowledge that you'd crossed a line and could never, ever go back. It was the ultimate thrill, the one that ruined you for safe sex forever. It was the fuck that started you on this path, the one that led you directly to this sling today. And now you're watching it happen to someone else. The circle is complete. He doesn't last long. The sheer intensity of the moment overwhelms him. He cums with a strangled, sobbing cry, his body tensing as he adds his own healthy, neg load to the poisonous mix inside you. But his shout isn't one of pleasure; it's one of revelation. "I can feel it! I can feel the toxic cum on my dick!" he yells, pulling out. His cock emerges from you, glistening and obscene, a thick rope of cum connecting your hole to his tip before it breaks and drips down over his balls. He stumbles back, panting, his mission accomplished, staring in awe at his own cum-slicked member. The sight is too much for Stefan. With a groan, he grips his own cock and aims it at the young man's crotch, shooting his own thick, powerful load all over the glistening, cum-dripping dick. It's a final, possessive anointing, marking the young man's cock with his own toxic seed. The young man gasps, looking down at the scorpion tattoo on Stefan’s body and the double load covering him. A slow, blissful smile spreads across his face. He relishes the sight, using his hand to stroke his cock once more, spreading the mingled cum from his base up over his stomach and chest. Finally, he brings his dripping fingers to his lips, licking them clean with a look of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Stefan, kisses him gently on the forehead, a benediction, a welcome, and then lets him go, his face a mask of ecstatic bliss. Mark rises, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across his face. He walks to the board. You hear the chalk scrape as he puts a mark under "NEG". But he's not done. With a final, dramatic flourish, he adds a question mark right next to it. As the young man stares at the board, Stefan puts a comforting arm around his shoulder. "Don't worry," he says, his voice a promise of beautiful decay. "That question mark is just temporary. We'll be scratching it out and moving you up top soon enough." The message is clear. Another conversion has begun. The energy in the room slowly deflates, the spell broken. The audience begins to disperse, their whispers fading into the humid air. You are floating, adrift in a haze of exhaustion, overstimulation, and profound satisfaction. Every nerve in your body is singing a final, discordant song. Mark and Stefan are by your side, a grounding force in the swirling aftermath. The distant thrum of the bathhouse music, the hiss of a distant shower—it all fades into a dull, meaningless roar. The last thing you feel is Stefan's hands on your ankles, unstrapping you with a gentle, practiced touch. Then, nothing. The world goes black.

Part 16: The Bathhouse Ledger and the Final Score IV After a while, the two get you back in the sling, the blindfold back on your face. You hear the door crack open again. Then come the others. The ones the sign was truly for. The room quickly fills again, the air growing thick with a new kind of anticipation. One after the other, they fuck a load into your gaping hole. You lose count. But Mark and Stefan record each breeding in chalk on the board. You're fucked by a slow and gentle fucker. His rhythm is a stark contrast to the anonymous roughness before. His cockhead rubs against your prostate with a surgeon's precision. He's not a heavy fucker; he lets the sling do the work, his hand on your thighs, pulling you rhythmically onto his pole. You feel his hand, a manly hand—not that of a heavy worker, but of an office worker. He grabs your hand back and holds yours, a simple, intimate connection in the midst of the depravity. And then you notice it. A scent. It cuts through the miasma of sweat and cum, sharp and achingly familiar. It's a scent you know better than your own. Your mind races, trying to place it, a cold dread mixing with a confusing warmth. Mark notices your body tense. He hugs you, his voice a soothing whisper in your ear. "Relax, don't worry. This guy is a good one—husband material." Husband. The word hits you like a physical blow. The scent. It's your husband's cologne, the one you bought for him in Dubai. It's Friday. He was supposed to be home late. A cold, sickening wave crashes over you. Is he here? Has he now found out your secret, just like you found out about his at the rest stop? Your spiraling thoughts are shattered as his rhythm breaks. He cums with deep, strong strokes, a quiet groan escaping his lips. He pulls out, leaving you empty and reeling. No words. Mark adds a mark to the board, but you don't know which column. Before you can think about it further, the next guy is already there. Mark's voice is in your ear, urgent and excited. "Wow, you are in for a real treat now!" He puts poppers under your nose. "Take three deep hits. You will need them!" You sniff, holding the hits until your lungs burn. You're flying. You feel a massive cock enter you, followed by the smell of smoke and faint leather. He's hard as rock, with an upward curve that hits your prostate, harder than anyone else. There's something to his cock, a texture, a presence, that is giving you an intense pleasure different from any of the others before. He leans over, his voice a low, possessive growl in your ear. "Recognize this PA tearing you open for my bugs to take?" The biker. The leather biker from the rest stop. The one who coached you there to breed a random bugchaser—the one you later found out to be your husband. The biker who loaded you at the same time, twice, with toxic juice. The only one who knows your shared, twisted secret. He pounds into you, churning the cum inside you into a frothy mess. "Love churning up the load of your husband inside you! Did you recognize his cologne? He bred you good before I got my turn." He pauses, his cock still buried deep, letting the words sink in. "But guess what... you're not the only one getting a toxic load from me tonight. I loaded him up about an hour ago, right before he came in here to breed you." The final piece of the puzzle clicks into place. The betrayal, the shared vulnerability, the fucked-up unity—it doesn't break you. It completes you. The fear evaporates, replaced by a profound, ecstatic hunger. You open up for him, for his load, for everything. As he finishes, you find your voice, breathless and desperate. "More," you gasp. "Get the most sleazy guys in here! I want the worst you can find!" Stefan chuckles, a dark, approving sound. "Oh, I think the guy you are looking for just entered." The crowd in the room turns to the door in a unified wave of awe. The air grows heavy, thick, and cold in a way that has nothing to do with temperature. He approaches the sling, and the crowd parts for him like a diseased sea. You hear his footsteps—not heavy, but a shuffling, scraping sound, like he's dragging his feet. When he finally touches you, his fingers are like bony claws, but it's the texture of his skin that's truly shocking—it's dry, papery, and hot, like old paper left too close to a fire. You feel his hairless, wasted chest as he leans over you, his weight surprisingly light. You feel his thighs, mostly bone, no muscle, his skin hanging on his buttocks, seeming two sizes too large for his frail frame. He's seen better days, probably a muscular hunk in his prime, now a ghost of that man. But then you feel his cock, a shocking contrast to the wasted body it's attached to. It's not just big; it's swollen and unnaturally hard, like a piece of gristle. The shaft is thick and veiny, a roadmap of sickness, and at its base, you feel the cold, unyielding bite of a thick metal cockring, strangling the flesh and making it swell even larger. The head is a bloated, purple dome. You feel the rough, uneven texture of the warts that circle the rim, a crown of disease on this monstrous appendage. "Christ, he's hung for a sick guy," another voice murmurs. "A purple monster on his pale body! See those angry warts? That thing looks like a weapon." "Now you're in for the ultimate treat," Stefan whispers in your ear, his voice a dark, excited thrill. "This one's the real deal." You feel your heart hammering. What an experience, the ultimate thrill. He puts the tip of his monster at the entrance of your gaping hole. The crowd leans in, their voices a depraved commentary. "Is he really gonna fuck his seed into this poor guy?" "He asked for it… now he's gonna get it!" You can't stay silent. This is what you wanted. You moan, your voice raw with need. "Give me that toxic cock. Show me what a real plague feels like!" Your words spur him on. He leans in closer, his rattling breath hot against your ear. "You want this, you little chaser? You want my disease?" He starts to shove inside, starts to thrust, a wheezing, rattling sound with every push into your cum-filled hole. "Yes!" you cry out, your body arching in the sling. " I want your strain! Fucking convert me!" He laughs, a wet, broken sound. "Gonna knock you up for good, you dumb little ass. This ain't just a poz load, this is the jackpot. Here’s my gift! Here are my toxic babies to conquer you!" He leans in closer, his rattling breath a foul gust in your ear. "They've thrown everything at me, you know. Every drug they got. But my strain... my strain is special. It's resistant. It ate all their magic pills for breakfast. The docs say I'm a dead man walking." He gives a short, harsh laugh. "So yeah, I'm happy to take a begging little chaser like you with me. You wanted the worst? You're getting it. This is the load to convert you! You will never recover from this! You're getting my legacy." He doesn't last long. He cums with a shuddering, final gasp. Even with all the cum pooling in your chute, you feel his eruption, a load that has been brewing in his balls for quite a while. It feels like a fire being injected directly into your soul. You feel his thick, bug-laden sperm; it feels more permanent, more transformative, than all the others combined. It's a warmth that burns, a poison that feels like a cure. As he pulls out, leaving you empty and trembling, you feel strong hands take yours. Mark is on one side, Stefan on the other. They're not just watching; they're with you. They squeeze your hands, and you feel Mark's other hand gently stroking your forehead, his thumb wiping away sweat you didn't realize was there. It's a gesture of pure comfort, calming the shivers that rack your body. But when you hear their voices, the pride is unmistakable. "Shhh, we've got you," Stefan murmurs against your temple, his breath warm. "You did so good. We are proud of you!" "You took it for us, the three of us," Mark adds, his voice thick with emotion as he continues to stroke your hair. "You're one of us now. Truly." You hear the chalk scrape again, but it's not a single mark. It's Stefan, drawing a new, crude heading at the top of the board. You can't see it, but you hear the scratching of the letters. Then, a single, decisive mark beneath it. Mark leans in, his voice filled with a dark reverence. "He just made you a new category."

A storage container in the backyard of a run-down house, 1 of 3 residential vestiges amid a block of industrial buildings. It was cold--and sketchy, of course--and my buddy who picked me up had apparently been awake for a couple of days. He gave me his load, then immediately passed out. I was just kneeling there in the cold box with one of those extra comfy, Mexican blankets over my shoulders while watching porn on my phone until he woke up for round 2 then took me home lol