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Haha, you were maybe braver than me going after the practical/economic side of this question. Really, we have to go there eventually to answer the question? i think with the underpinning principle of "grace" (for lack of a better term? you do seem to get where i'm going with it though). i left a culture of religious absolutism (fundamentalist christianity), so i'm molded by my history, and response to it. In that case their 'trump' was "God," and good luck winning a disagreement with "God." But i see that same attitude of absolutism everywhere (for instance, i've met more than a few fundamentalist atheists). To me, it's mostly an emotional disposition that creates rationale to support it. Sorry, seems like i'm getting into the weeds, but i see this as foundational. As i see it, the notion that i know and you don't removes the opportunity for true debate, because at least one side cannot be engaged (i.e, because they already know the answer/s, so the only think left is for the other to agree or capitulate to the truth. To me, it comes down to actions born of personal responsibility that derives from "pain only a moral person would feel--doing nothing." Your wrote: "Society is 'a system' and systems need to be as self-sustaining as possible either independently or in groups. The human body is a great example of inter-related systems to provide an analogy...simply: it's better not to need a ventilator to breathe than to need one. Most times, government programs are the ventilator." i'll add to your analogy, maybe break it down further. If "government programs are the ventilator," then governors/police/judicial etc., are the doctors that decide one needs the ventilator. And they can be "wrong," inadvertently or by intentional corruption. Of course, we've developed a system to deal with that too, but it always seems to come back to balancing act between trust and grace. It is likely best not to need a ventilator, but our systems all seem to rely (ultimately) on a degree of trust/grace to be self sustaining, and i think that is where things often end up broken(er?) in an already imperfect society. So, i'm nodding my head at "Financial market regulation is an absolute necessity due to greed and market manipulation," while simultaneously wishing it was a ventilator we didn't need. i find myself wondering if we've not upset homeostasis in how wealth is currently distributed in the US. In that vein, i appreciate this simplified assessment of division of wealth. Of particular interest (to me) is a graph he uses throughout his assessment of low, middle and high earners and how all three are increasing income at a similar rate along side the growth of the economy. Towards the end of the analysis, he shows how that has changed (dramatically).

The Slammer in LA and their newish Club 541 in Palm Springs are pretty much the same, they do have small areas where phones are allowed, but I have witnessed guys getting kicked out for taking their phone beyond those areas. I haven't been to a bathhouse or fuck venue that generally allowed cameras, there have of course long been exceptions for special events where they made sure you knew filming was occuring and you had to sign a release before entering. Unfortunately while Slammer and 541 are great for "balls-out sex from stem to stem," it is pretty much unheard of anywhere within 500 miles of the Canadian border and the Pacific Coast. We do see a lot of fetish gear, and the puppy mask thing seems to be popular with the younger generation, and as such the only guys doing any fucking with masks on.

Add me @AmberBbcQueen

Definitely 100% rutting your hole deep and unloading as deep as I can - like it or not it's going balls deep. And fucking it in you for a good bit after too!

For clarity, no telephones, no cameras are allowed at Slammer. You must fill out a form, and surrender your phone (unless you left it in your car, which I do, turned off.) They have lock-boxes behind the counter, and many guys hand over their wallets, phones, etc, for security purposes. Slammer doesn't have their own cameras (that I know of anyway). It's too dark in most of the areas. To the puppy masks issue, there's not much in the way of erotica (puppy masks, etc) at Slammer. It's just balls-out sex from stem to stern. I have heard that there is some "gear" used at the Eagle, though. But, it's a "Leather bar", so that wouldn't be surprising. I've been there, but around here it's just too hot to wear much "gear". Plus, parking is a nightmare in that area.

Any highlights? Did any one night stand out,?

Since the topic is jerking out a load, I'll re-mention (from a thread quite a while ago), that saving your jacked load(s) in a "pony" glass, and then cover tightly with plastic wrap, then tuck in the back of your freezer, will prove a most productive act. Be sure to cover it with a layer or two of tightly stretched plastic wrap. If it's not entirely filled up, it can be "topped off" with a second or third load at some future point. The frozen sperm is called a "devil's dick". It will be preserved, in the ideal (frozen) form to lube up a hungry hole at some point. To use, merely hold the glass in your hand for a few minutes, or tip the glass and run warm water on the outside (tip it slightly, so no water touches the load(s). Tops find this particularly useful when their bottom is denied sight, in a sling, ready and waiting. Top returns to the slingroom, asks the bottom if he's ready (and obviously receives an affirmative reply), Top slides the frozen loads out of the glass, into his mouth, and (small end first, obviously) shoves the dd up the bottoms hole with his tongue. It's amazing how well preserved the load(s) is/are. You can even give the empty glass to the bottom, to lick any residue out.

Maybe I'm a little bit "spoiled" living in this area, but I haven't so much as seen a rubber in the 15 or so years I've lived here. Not in any of the fuckjoints, not in any of the tubs, or private events. No one so much as mentions them. During covid, some guys would wear those paper face-masks that covered their mouth & nose, and that was it. I'll bet those vending machines in the gas station restrooms have rusted away, thanks to disuse.

@tallslenderguy Wow... so my entry to that question was on the economic side, grossly practical. The exercise I gave myself was breaking costs down -- and damn did I spend a LOT of time back then. A tip of the iceberg was UHC, slightly included in my answer above. The lecturer, to us all was like, "you fools, here's the answer" briefly written at the start of my last post here. Of course, that was the intent on his part. You took the philosophical route... and it's used there too (like many similar questions). I think there are similar themes. 1) you said as part of your stated "prime directive" was, "...that 'I' can be wrong..." I think philosophical idea fits into the concept in the economic space that, no matter how much you have, you can make both the wrong decisions, and by helping "over here" you can implicitly hurt "over there." For instance, the minimum wage increases over the last decade. It does help those getting the increase (esp. initially), but it's also helped to drive up general prices as people trade up, and it definitely creates a separation of those who can't work (temp or perm) reducing the help from other government programs provide (i.e., $0->$8 is a lot less than $0->$15), etc. Whether you agree with the specific, the connecting idea is that every decision is a trade-off and you can never know the consequences. 2) you said, "grace in the process of decision making" this gets to the actual answer of the question, I think. In that, using a level grace is to accept emotional pain. And, given the answer to the experiment, it's only pain a moral person would feel -- doing nothing. Curious as to your thoughts after reading the answer.

My main concern when I posted this thread, was that the fuck venues would start allowing phones/cameras and finding footage where I was identifiable on the internet. Luckily so far I haven't seen that happen in the two and a half years since, at least in North America. I find it slightly interesting that you aren't seeing guys in puppy masks in Florida, they are extremely common at the fuck venues in the PNW, and I have seen a few in other parts of the US and Canada as well. While we do see the occasional blindfolded bottom here in the PNW, we unfortunately don't have much acceptance for the whoring out type scenes, so that is somewhat limited.

This more than just my last load because for the first time in my 20 years of taking loads I managed to have 5 different guys breed me, one guy for each night last Monday through yesterday, Friday. I’ve had that many in a night, actually more, but this was the hottest, most pleasurable and sluttiest week I’ve ever had. It’s been nothing but a real confidence booster to my psyche as well. Being a bareback cum dump isn’t for everyone, but it’s what I am and I’m really a peace with it. Cheers.

To the OP though, the only times I've seen masked guys at the fuckjoints, is when they were Leatherboys, being whored out by their Dads. While masking (with no eyeholes - i.e. removing the ability to see), the bottom helps him focus on fulfilling his purpose, it also allows him to create filthy fantasies, since he can't see the men who breed his hole. It's one of those "win/win" situations for the bottom.

Well written, and I really identify with the cluelessness. I just wish I'd ever gotten an invitation like that.

Even as a bottom I want to eat out and fuck the gorgeous hole.

Interesting. There's certainly something I'm missing out on by only being a bottom, but I just can't bring myself to want it. I would love to try to change your mind about blowjob orgasms

I wouldn't call it abduction, and I've come to expect it, but often I'll be just hanging out at home and my bf has called people over. They'll show up and just take me. I love it when they pick me up over their shoulders and take me to the bedroom or sexroom never asking or saying anything that isn't derogatory or demeaning

You'll be eligible for Medicaid, which should cover your expenses. Look into local LGBT support centers for better local information like additional resources from your state. Here in NYC they take very good care of you after you have a POZ diagnosis.

In the bustling heart of New York City, where dreams and desperation collide, I work in the shelter system, a world teeming with characters as diverse as the city itself. Each has their own tale of struggle and survival, and on one particularly fateful day, I encountered a young man whose story was just beginning to unfold. He sat alone at a table, his expression a mix of somber introspection and distant longing. Engrossed in the allure of fantasy websites, the glow of his laptop cast an eerie light on his face, hinting at the pornographic content that held his attention. Seeing an opportunity to connect, I decided to intervene, drawn to the silent plea in his eyes. With a casual "hey," I broke the ice, and he responded with a guarded "hi." Years of experience in this system had honed my instincts, and I could sense the depths of his story, the unspoken struggles that weighed heavily on his young shoulders. This boy had clearly been through a lot, and his demeanor suggested that life hadn't been kind to him lately. Being the asshole I am, I couldn't ignore the obvious need for a helping hand. So, I asked him to keep an eye on a few things while I stepped out for a cigarette, figuring he wouldn't be going anywhere soon. This is where our journey began. I started whisper-reading some of my stories and replies from this site to him, and I noticed his interest piqued. He would suddenly stop what he was doing, and I even caught him in a dreamlike state, lost in the words I was sharing. Before long, I decided to break the ice further and asked him to read a chapter of my work. His reaction was priceless; a mix of acceptance, relief, and excitement played across his face. Then, I asked him what he was reading on his laptop. To my surprise, he was reading trashy gay sex stories about fantasy characters. This was the moment he came out as a gay man, something he had never shared with anyone before. A sense of relief washed over him as he realized he wasn't alone and that it was okay to be who he was. In this environment, people often get their asses kicked for being a "fag," so many guys play it very cool and "down-low." But I could see right through him; I am, after all, a true predator. A friendship started to form, and soon, I was having him read all of my work. His reactions were utterly priceless; he had never been exposed to the ideas and explanations I had been putting down. I started telling him about my wild adventures from my youth, which inspired him to explore his own desires. He mustered up the courage to ask me, "How do you meet guys for sex?" I looked at him, realizing his need to experiment, and simply said, "Go type 'Sniffies' into your browser." He was puzzled, so I reiterated my suggestion as a command, which only excited him. This told me he was indeed a sub boy, and I didn't realize how hungry he actually was. Before long, this kid was on Sniffies around the clock, feverishly clicking away at his phone. Wanting to be a proper mentor, I went on my stealth account and looked at his profile, where I then had to stop him. "No, boy," I said, "you need a haircut. You should have a better picture to properly represent yourself to the world." So that weekend, I took him to a friend's place in Chelsea to get him properly styled. He was beside himself, not only for my kindness and generosity but also for that of my friend. In the hallway, I took a few pictures of him, and his youthful smile finally revealed itself thanks to a few smart-ass words coaxing it out. I showed it to him, and he couldn't believe it; he was smiling and proud of the way he looked. Now armed with a proper G-rated shot, he updated his profile and awaited his next adventure. On the way back, I showed him around Chelsea and the West Village, pointing out places of interest like porn shops with buddy booths and various bars. We eventually made it to the Leatherman, where I had him try on various leather harnesses and showed him other items I thought might be of interest. He really liked the floggers (hint hint). Afterwards, I explained the Stonewall riots as best as I could, but I think that little history lesson was lost on him as he was in full cruise mode. There was no denying that this boy was on the hunt, recording every word of mine that spoke of places to get some dick. The next day, I saw him at his usual table, fidgeting with his phone, and I heard that familiar chime from Sniffies. This kept up for a while as I observed him from afar during my patrols. Later that night, I got a text from him stating that he’s no longer a virgin. The next day, I saw him at his usual table, and the smile on his face told me all I needed to know as he shared the joys of feeling a man ejaculate inside him. His romanticization of having a load inside him made it clear that my stories had had an impact on him, for he followed my characters' love of cum to the letter. So the next day, I sent him to Callen Lorde to get on PrEP. A couple of days later, I was back at the site, and every moment he had to spare was dedicated to getting fucked. Fast forward to Thursday, 11/6, and again, he was absent from the cafeteria during dinner time. A few hours later, he came strolling in with that "I just got fucked" smile, holding a big bag of Popeye's. Naturally, I interrogated him, demanding to know where he had been, only to happily boast of yet another glorious cum-filled adventure. Where he tells me he whored himself out for... You guessed it, some Popeye’s. A 3 piece, two sides, a biscuit, and a coke. To be honest, their mac and cheese is pretty good. So as he was devouring his feast, he went on to say, he offered his twink hole to a guy for $20 saying that his Master ordered him to do that. So his story goes like this. He went over to this guy's place and offered himself up while reciting the submission speech from my story while putting my loaner collar on and then handed the guy his leash. The guy, obviously excited by having a boy like this, ordered him to strip and begin cleaning the bathroom. While he was cleaning the bathtub, the guy pissed all over his backside. The boy responded like my main characters with gratitude. The guy then said, "Clean yourself up, faggot." The boy then showered himself in front of the man, paying special attention to his backside. Once clean, he took the boy's leash and led him to the bedroom where the boy naturally assumed position three, face down ass up. The man began to slap his cock on the boy's hole while dripping lube on the target. The boy turned his head back and said, "My hole is yours, sir, please use me." The man then spit in his face and said, "Shut the fuck up, faggot," and poked his head in. The boy said he gasped, hoping for poppers, but none were offered. The man’s cock kept descending into him with lube drizzling, then out again. He said this went on for a few minutes, each entrance a blessing of pleasure and pain, until he threw a bottle of poppers and said, "Take a hit, boy." He said he took a double hit, then put the cap back on. The man took full advantage of his chemically induced openness and rammed his cock all the way in and out. He then slapped his ass and said, "What do you want, faggot?" The boy responded, "Your cum, sir, please use me, sir." The boy put his hands back, grabbing his cheeks and held his ass apart. The man buried his cock all the way in the boy's fuck-hole, with his face turned to the side, his youthful and innocent-looking face red from the pressure, slightly tearing up from the strain, said, "Thank you, sir." The boy said the man then slow-fucked him for a good five or six minutes until either the boy's whimpers or his wants made him pile drive the boy's hole. He said once the pile driving began, he lost control and begged in the most pathetic way he could think of for the man’s load. He repeated every phrase he read from my stories, "Oh yeah, fuck me, cum in my ass, my hole is yours, make me your faggot, sir." Over and over, the boy's submission to his cock deepened until that glorious moment where the man said in that excited way a top does, "What do you want, boy?" "I want your load, sir, please breed me, sir." The man then took both of the boy's hands, lifting him back then releasing his glory. The boy said, "I could feel his cock pump into me; he said he could feel his hole slightly expand with each pump as he felt a slight warmth enter inside of him. When the man released his arms, he looked back and said, "Thank you, sir." The man withdrew himself, then collapsed beside him, out of breath. The boy, under my expert tutelage, went over and cleaned the man’s cock off to ensure that every last drop of his essence was savored instead of being wasted. After a few minutes, the man got up and grabbed his wallet from his pants on the floor and threw a twenty-dollar bill at him and said, "See you next Thursday, faggot." The boy understood his place, redressed, and exited like the cheap whore he knows he is now. With his hole properly used and filled with cum, he went to Popeye’s and ordered himself a proper feast. Upon his return is where I saw him, triumphantly walking towards me with a shit-eating grin and feast in hand. Something about these small-town Midwestern boys, they are complete cum sluts once they hit the big city. Even as I type this out, I glance up and I see him on his phone, cruising for more cock. In the past two weeks after getting him his haircut, he has been fucked at least once a day. Amazing what a little support from a friend can do. For him, there is no turning back, for he has found himself and is accepted for who and what he is. No longer must he hide his true self. With me, he confides everything, and without judgment, I offer my advice to him so he can proceed safely in this new world of adventure. Once he figures himself out and gets past his initial slut phase, I’ll be taking him around the city, especially the Eagle. For the record, I let Daniel read this story before publishing it. So any words of encouragement will be passed onto him.

The Ryan White Program [think before following links] https://ryanwhite.hrsa.gov/ Also some states have similar programs

Man can I come over and have you breed me please Sir 😈 ☣️ 🤤. I'll be in the area at the end of the month for work.