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Yes, lots of guys began approaching me after they heard that I liked sucking cocks. Naturally, I rejected some guys because I didn't like them, but others, especially those who were attractive, physically-fit, and polite, I did give them the attention I believed they deserved, and they did appreciate what I had done for them, and I didn't hesitate to give them the pleasure they wanted again after my initial experience with them.

Chapter 7 - Jordan and Jordyn The man handed the license back and tapped it with a long finger. "You are Jordan Myers huh." Jordan nodded. What else was he supposed to do? "Like fuck you are faggot," said the man. "Now Jordan - that's a man's name in my book. You don't look like no fucking man - maybe a faggy boy but no way a man." He leaned across and grasped Jordan's wrist. His grip was like iron and proved that, whatever his age, the aura of strength and power given off by the man was no delusion. Pulling the smaller and weaker Jordan behind him the man strode round to the back of the store, out of the vision of anyone arriving there. Jordan didn't resist - resisting a man like that didn't seem either smart or likely to get you anything but big trouble. The back of the store housed the garbage dumpsters and then a space of empty land, grown rank with weeds. Beyond was the derelict works with its many windows all broken and redolent of desolation and decay. There was no-one around and no-one to see whatever happened here. "This is kinda my office for things like this," said the man, "nice and private." His smile wasn't reassuring. "Show me faggy boy - show me how you're claiming to be a man, to grade as a Jordan. Take off that fucking top." Jordan stripped off his top. He was too scared, too excited, too almost out of his mind to even think of refusing. This man had a natural authority, a gravitas that made Jordan himself feel so weak, so helpless, so insignificant. Some people controlled a situation and some lost control of it. That was just the way things were. It was terrifying but that didn't mean it wasn't right, that it wasn't natural. The cooler air made Jordan's nipples stand proud. The man nodded. "Flat chested bee-stinged bitch ain't ya but I'm saying you still way too weak and puny for anyone to call you a man. Lose the fucking pants and anything else you wearing down there - let me see what you got to offer." Jordan undid his pants and let them drop. His cock was hard even if it was a little too small to be obvious through his underwear. The man made a gesture and Jordan dropped them too. His little pink penis stood hard and at attention, almost a full three inches. The man looked at him and laughed. "See boy - you ain't no man. A man has a cock." He stepped forward and eased down his own pants and shorts. Oh fuck! Nine inches of thick coal-black cock and it wasn't even fully hard yet. Jordan saw that it was still growing and it didn't care about the cool air. It was ready to claim a hungry faggot hole. The man came up close to Jordan and put the hard warm meat of his cock against Jordan's tiny pink penis. "Now this is a cock faggot. What you have is maybe a clitty. So why are you pretending to be Jordan. Jordan is a man's name. Girls and sissy femboys they ain't called Jordan - they are called Jordyn. You hear me faggot. Spelled J - O - R - D - Y - N. Now you want me to treat you like Jordan or you want me to treat you like Jordyn. How you spelling it?" It was humiliating but the humiliation was an excitement in itself. Despite being overshadowed and disgraced his little penis was still hard as a rock. Besides, that story had been in his mind so much. The ruined femboi bride was called Jordyn and he so desperately wanted to be that dumb little sissy proudly wiggling his butt as he walked in heels to his total destruction. "I am Jordyn sir. J - O - R - D - Y - N." The man was smiling again but there was still no warmth in it. Just triumph and a certain satisfaction. "See boy - you are learning. Like I said your real education starts now. Next lesson is what is worth a fuck and what ain't no use to no-one." He hitched his pants back up but halted Jordyn's effort to do the same with a glare. Then the man reached in his pocket and withdrew something metallic. His hand went to Jordyn's little penis, bravely standing tall, and the young man felt the cold of the metal against his shaft. A cold liquid spread over his exposed flesh. Jordyn gasped and he felt his penis shrink. To a semi and then to a dangling useless worm in a few seconds. The man produced a thin elasticated belt of pink material. "Put that on." Jordyn obeyed. While Jordan might have hesitated or considered Jordyn had a much less complicated existence - he just had to obey. He stepped into the belt and pulled it up snug. There was a weird round metal ring and he wondered where ir was supposed to go. "Typical dumb femboy," laughed the man, "put your clitty and balls through it. Shouldn't be too hard with that tiny little thing." His balls were rather more difficult but after a little fumbling he managed it and then his soft meat followed more easily. What now? He was rather grateful for the cool air keeping his penis, sorry his clitty, nice and limp. The man had something else now - some sort of a device. He stepped up and with dextrous, practised, fingers fitted that something onto the ring and over Jordyn's cowering clitty. A couple of twists with a piece of metal and the device was locked into place. Jordyn looked down at himself with some shock. He had heard of cock cages but not like this. It simply left his exposed balls and then a flat pink metal surface perforated with holes. "What..." was all he could say. "No-one wants to see that little thing. No fucking use to anybody. Just a fucking distraction from what really matters. You femboys need to leave that clitty alone, to learn how boi fags truly get their pleasure. From now on if you with me or even if you just getting horny then you put that cage on." Jordyn thought about the consequences of that and felt his penis try to grow only to meet the firm unmoving restriction of his new cage. Didn't that prove just how weak he really was, why his pretending to be a real man was such a joke? Again he felt the curious and slightly uncomfortable feeling of his penis trying and failing to grow in his cage. "Yes sir," he said as he pulled his underpants up, looked down and saw the smooth front left by his new cage. Just like barbie! The man was watching his every move. It was intimidating - as if the man could read his mind. Perhaps he could if he had 'trained' lots of other little fag bois like Jordyn. "Now we dealt with that sorry excuse we'll try it again. Show me what you got to offer," Jordyn felt stupid. He didn't understand. "Dumb fucking faggot. Turn round, lean forward and grab that dumpster behind you." The man's voice was harsh, impatient. Jordyn didn't care. Now he knew what to do! He turned round, leaned forward and grabbed the dumpster. He heard a click and then glancing back he saw the man held a flick-knife with its wicked blade revealed. "No-one told you to cover up." A swift movement of the blade and his sole garment was on the floor, ruined. "Now let's see what you really got to offer - you saying this is a cherry hole boy." Strong fingers were on his butt, pulling his cheeks apart and leaving his asshole exposed and very, very, vulnerable. "Yes sir - cherry for you sir." He tried to keep the tremor out of his voice but didn't entirely succeed. He was scared down to his very marrow. This man was going to do just exactly what he wanted with him. "You know what a sweet little hole like this makes a real man want to do don't you BoiFagBarbie." "I think so sir." That dry smoker's laugh of his sounded behind Jordyn. "Makes a real man want to fuck it. You know that don't you fag boy?" "Yes sir." The tremor in his words was undeniable now. The man's right hand moved up Jordyn's body and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, forcing his head down towards the over-filled dumpster's opening. "Arch that back and spread them legs femboy. Let a man know you're here to be ruined." Jordyn did just that and the pungent sickly sweetness of the garbage hit his nostrils as his head was pushed further down by the man's strong right hand. Normally he would have been disgusted, maybe even have vomited, but now there were other things crowding all else from his mind. He felt the man move up behind him and he knew he was going to be fucked. For the first time in his life he was going to get fucked! By a filthy poz Black pervert old enough to be his grandfather! He gripped the trash can hard as he felt his legs weaken a little with the excitement. He flinched as he again felt the touch of cool liquid and then something else, the feeling of warm-flesh against his own. He knew what it was - the long, thick, hard, shaft of the man's cock as he pushed it over the perfect smooth curve of Jordyn's booty. The head of the cock nosed at his asshole and Jordyn tensed up hard. He waited to feel the pain as the man thrust home. He was rewarded only with that low rumble of a laugh. "Thass real sweet boi pussy you got there Jordyn. Might even be cherry like you say. Not many miles on it for sure but I can guarantee I'll soon change that. What you have here," he tapped his hard cock against Jordyn's hungry hole, "is what we call a money-maker and its a money-maker that's in heat ain't it young Jordyn." "Yes sir," said Jordyn, his voice cracking now with excitement. "A little hole just aching to be ruined. I fuck you now and I'll rip you apart. You know that don't you." "Yes sir," whimpered Jordyn and he couldn't help himself, he even wiggled his sweet little butt a little. "You want me to fuck you, nut up you once I've torn you up good." "Yes sir," Jordyn's voice was quiet but not so quiet the man didn't hear him. Also not so quiet that Jordyn would ever be able to deny having said it. "Dumb little sissy fag," the man's hand landed sharply on Jordyn's exposed butt cheek. "Don't you know cherry neg hole is at a serious double premium. That's why I'm in charge here. Dumb horny in heat femboys ain't got no business sense. All they care about is getting their cherry busted and waiting on the fever." "Yes sir," admitted Jordyn. "But we both know this boi pussy is mine now. That you owe me the pleasure of ruining this little faggot cunt of yours. We both know that now don't we?" The man's voice had an authority that you couldn't even imagine denying. "Yes sir." "That's a debt you owe me BoiFagBarbie and I always collect on my debts. But for now I saw this inside and it made me think of you." The hand was off Jordyn's neck but the young man didn't move. A small open bottle was flourished in front of him. The label said, 'Dumb Bitch Juice.' The man's other hand landed softly on Jordyn's face, closing his left nostril. "Breathe it in fag boy." Jordyn tentatively sniffed. It didn't smell too bad. "Snort it hard - prove what a dumb bitch you are." The edge was back in the man's voice. Jordyn sniffed hard at the top of the bottle and this time it hit. Almost immediately. He gasped and felt the sensations flowing through his body, a strange heat and something else. The man had moved fast and before Jordyn knew it he felt the pressure on his hole again. This time he wasn't tensed and this time he felt something enter his body. He gasped at the sensation. There was pleasure there but it was also undeniable that it hurt. "Two fingers in that cherry butt femboy. Even with the lube it hurts don't it?" Jordyn nodded but he didn't try to pull away. Instead he tried to relax, to let the man's fingers explore more easily and freely. It did hurt some but it also felt really good. he was also aware that his penis was again trying to grow in its cage. Sensations of pleasure, pain and arousal seemed to be coming at his brain from every direction. "Yeah" said the man, "you just relax - let old Jerome inspect his new fucktoy." Jordyn did just that - felt the pleasure grow and absorb the pain. Felt the pleasure start to be the new reality. The man's free hand reached under him and found Jordyn's right nipple, hard as diamond with his arousal. Rough dark fingers grasped the pale flesh, mercilessly tugged and then squeezed it. Sharp lancing pain made the young man gasp even as he realised that it only made his arousal grow. The man's fingers moved in his new boy pussy, playing Jordyn like a musical instrument. Old Jerome had broken in a lot of young faggots. He knew what he had to do. His long fingers found the dumb little slut's fag button and exerted some gentle pressure. It didn't take long. "Oh my God!" Jordyn howled into the night as he felt his brain seem to explode and his legs shake uncontrollably. The man held him in place even as Jordyn felt his caged penis cum a long stream of weak boifag jizz down onto the cracked concrete. "Oh my fucking God." Jerome didn't let up on the little fag till he was real sure the boi had got the point but finally he asked, "Ever felt like that before?" "No sir," admitted Jordyn, his face still flushed. "Like I said - your clitty ain't worth shit. For fags like you the hole is where all the action is. You got that boi?" "Yes sir," said Jordyn. "Right - we got a little business to do next. Put these on and get in the car." He reached in his pocket and tossed to Jordyn a pair of pink frilly girl's panties. Jordyn pulled them on and admired the way his new cage made them look just right on him. He knew he really should be headed home but the man, who'd called himself Jerome, was holding open the door of a Lexus. Jordyn took a step towards the open door. "You ain't gonna put your pants on?" There was a certain humor in the man's voice but his smile was no warmer than previously. Jordyn rushed to pull on his pants and then scuttled across to get in the car. "Dumb little faggot," said Jerome as he ruffled the femboy's hair before closing the door and walking round to the driver's seat. They had places to go and people to see.

I will never watch that garbage show. I played hockey when I was young, and I guarantee you that there are no gays playing ice hockey. And I guarantee you that every fucking guy playing hockey is a bully who hates fags. Pretending otherwise makes my blood boil. Pretending that they're like us, when in fact, they're the one beat us up.

Whatever a top wants to call it is fine with me. I refer to it as my fuckhole. But as others have said, all that matters is he fucks me and fills me. If the top enjoys using other derogatory terms, well he is the top, he is in charge.

Being a pig bottom that started getting bred in my early teens I think I should weigh in on this one. lol. My first “relationship” was with my step dad. It’s a long story but I was 13. He is hung. 9” and thick. When he started breeding me I was not aware that he was larger than normal. I just thought I was undersized. He showed me what it truly was to bottom. Because of the time it took to break me in I thought all tops were hung and this is what it was to bottom. Needless to say I took to it well and became insatiable. By the time I went to college and met my second long term relationship I had certain expectations. Lucky for me he was even bigger than my dad. So for the first 9 or 10 years of my sexual experience I was bred by very large cocked men. Now that I have had literally thousands of men inside me I can say with confidence it was worth it. I owe being a sloppy pig bottom to some special big dicked tops.

Yes It Is.

as long that I am getting my hole flooded I don’t care what anyone calls it. Bottoms should just enjoy everything a top wants to do to us. Any nasty toxic tops. Text me. 973 997 4934

I wish i could have been you. I never had the chance to be with someone my age when i was young and really horny.

The bass thumped through the floor, a deep, rhythmic pulse that vibrated in Alex’s molars. He stood at the edge of the dimly lit common area of The Steamworks, a labyrinth of tile and shadow he’d only ever read about online. The air was thick with humidity, chlorine, and a musky, anonymous scent. At twenty-two, this was his pilgrimage, his first step into the world his desires pointed toward, yet his body thrummed with a virgin’s paralyzing anxiety. He’d rented a small private room, a cubicle just big enough for a narrow cot, a locker, and his racing heart. The door had a simple hook latch, not a lock. He told himself it was for safety, for air flow. He lay down on the stiff vinyl, listening to the muffled laughter, the slap of sandals on wet floor, the relentless, enveloping music. His plan had been to gather his courage, to venture out, to maybe just talk to someone. But the sensory overload was immense. The thumping bass began to feel like a lullaby for the overwhelmed. His eyes, gritty with nervous exhaustion, grew heavy. The distant sounds blurred into a single, oceanic roar. He fell into a deep, sudden sleep. He didn’t hear the door sigh open. He didn’t feel the shift in the air as a larger, older body filled the doorway. He only began to surface from the depths of sleep when a heavy weight settled on him, a hand clamping firmly over his mouth. His eyes flew open to near-total darkness—the curtain had been drawn across the glass block window. A silhouette loomed, featureless in the gloom. “Shhh,” a voice, gravelly and calm, breathed into his ear. “Just relax. It’s easier.” Panic fired through Alex’s nerves, but his body was leaden, trapped in the syrupy residue of sleep and shock. He tried to buck, to twist, but the man was strong, practiced. Alex heard the soft, definitive *click* of the hook latch being secured. Trapped. The man’s other hand worked efficiently, impersonally. The violation was a quiet, methodical theft. There was no passion, no desire, only a cold, crushing exercise of power. The music swelled in the hallway, perfectly masking any stifled whimper, any rustle of the vinyl cot. Time distorted, stretching into an eternity of helpless shame. The man finished as quietly as he had begun, adjusting his own towel. Before he left, he leaned close again, his breath smelling of mint and stale coffee. “Leave the latch open,” he whispered, a grotesque parody of advice. “A nice boy like you shouldn’t sleep alone. Let the party in.” Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving Alex curled into a tight, trembling ball, feeling shattered and filthy. For long minutes, he couldn’t move. The act itself was a nightmare, but the words… *Leave the latch open*. They echoed in the hollow space where his courage had been. He felt a desperate, irrational need to defy the command, to lock the world out. Shakily, he pushed himself up and fumbled for the hook latch. His fingers, slick with sweat, finally managed to secure it. *Safe*. He leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the locker, taking ragged breaths. He just needed a moment. Just a moment to think, to process the incomprehensible. A soft knock at the door, barely audible over the music, made him jump. Then another. More insistent. Confusion cut through his shock. Had the man come back? A wave of nausea hit him. He remained silent, frozen. The knocking stopped. He heard a faint shuffling in the corridor. Then, a sliver of light appeared at the bottom of the door as the hook latch, from the outside, was quietly, expertly, lifted and pushed open. The door swung inward. Standing in the hallway wasn’t the older man. It was a stranger, younger, with a towel slung low on his hips. He looked at Alex’s tear-streaked face, his hunched posture, and his expression showed no surprise, only a casual, waiting appraisal. He didn’t enter. He just… waited. And then Alex saw past him. His blood turned to ice. Behind the first man, illuminated in the gloomy red hallway light, was another. And behind him, another. A silent, patient queue of silhouettes stretched down the tiled corridor, a line of men waiting their turn. No one spoke. No one met his horrified, darting eyes. They just stood, a procession of shadows, having been instructed, by the monster who started it all, that the door to room seven would be open. That the new boy inside was available. The last thread of Alex’s reality snapped. The thumping music was no longer a beat; it was the drumming march of his own doom. The line did not advance. It simply existed, a living, breathing testament to his violation and the disease—both physical and existential—that had just been seeded in his blood. The horror was no longer a single act in the dark. It was the future, waiting in the hall, and it had already formed an orderly line.

And Tom? Are you tested?

Heated Rivalry was not for Breeding.Zone community. They didn't use condoms, but they didn't "fuck" either. This was not porn as the female Intimacy Coordinator was a few feet away. Hudson was injured in their first sex scene in Las Vegas. Each wore the "cock-sleeve" during filming, but Hudson declined the extra protection for his rear and Connor's balls were slapping up against him. Connor had to use a bigger pad. It was not eligible for an Emmy because Jacob kept it 💯 Canadian and funded with Canadian tax dollars. Series of books written by Rachel, but the TV show was written by Jacob. Rachel was involved throughout the process including the first 2 screenings in Toronto and Montreal. Jacob shopped around Hollywood and promoters said no sex scenes until the 5th episode. It would have been very different and not the Novelty it became. It did win TV series at the GLAAD Awards last Sunday Night in LA after Connor hosted Saturday Night Live in New York the day before. Hudson made a brief cameo and gave Connor an emotional hug at the end. Jacob and Connor's mom and sister were in the audience. Hudson missed the awards show, but Scott, Kip, Ilya and our 3 supporting female actors attended with Jacob accepting the award. There were no sad storylines or tragedies but took the viewers on some emotional roller-coasters and brought gay characters with depth and reality to the general public. We were represented as full individuals and not just 1-2 character types. The 3 "Empty Netters" did an excellent review with notes and commentary for each episode, though they did not show any scenes from the TV show. They work on scripts/productions in LA and comfortable with the storylines. Good news for fans is everyone has signed on for season 2 with filming to start August 2026 and set to air in spring 2027. It is still a Crave production filmed in Canada. Will HBO pick it up again? HBO is part of Warner Brothers and being merged into Paramount.

Unprepared For Stealthing

I only got fisted to the elbow one time. My top was extremely skilled at gently coaxing-open my colon. He was also my dealer who had just gotten me higher than I had ever been. As a result I begged and begged him to fist me. But we weren't prepared and there was no lube or vaseline or any lubricant in the house at the time. Nonetheless, I went into the shower and cleaned out, tripping on how the water douch was doing a mental trip. Anyway, we then got into position for the fisting, me on the floor on my hands and knees, him behind. He had fortunately found a new bottle of poppers and so we began. His technique was to enter the asshole and gently tap and tickle open the passageway, and once he got a section open he would work it in and out until that new section was completely loose, before advancing to the next section by the tickling and tapping. And of course I would use the poppers when I felt he was advancing to a new section. He commented several times at how loose my hole was. The Tina had now passed through my system and arrived in my hole! But I just remember how each section felt like an accomplishment for me, but really thinking back it was easy. I think he was only about 6 inches deeper that I normally go. But after he got to the elbow, he asked our friend to come see and he took a photo of the fisting event. He asked me if I wanted him to keep going, but I was a little worried about not having any lubricant and plus he had been inside me for almost an hour at that point. So that was a long time ago now and I haven't been fisted in ages. I do keep opened-up with my long dildos and dongs tho, and I look forward to someday getting back into it

I asked ChatGPT for an answer on this. It waffled a fair bit, but I pressed it for an answer. Here's what it finaly said:

One thought. The urinary incontinence issue may be a major issue for some partners. 25+ years ago as an escort, I arrived at a client's home. The first thing he asked: "are you into watersports?" I said I wasn't. His next question: "Ever wanted to try it?" Me: No thanks. Turns out he'd had radical prostate surgery causing constant (albiet gradual) dribbligns from his dick. When he orgasmed it came out in a giant stream of urine. It wasn't my scene and I would have left earlier had I not been paid by the hour. I have no idea what the surgerys are like today and what percent chance there are of certain side effects. But you may find yourself very popular with certain aspects of the watersports community. I'm sure they'd love urinary orgasms. Good luck to you with your medical challenges.