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@bostonjamie69 here

Reading the option number 1 - easyjet cumdump, made my dick hard. I'm definitely into easy cumdumps. Knowing theyd let anyone dump a load in them and begging for more turns me on. The more sexual partners they had, the more I enjoy.

Toilet of a roadside diner Little sweaty middle aged guy, used to smell of sweat and greasy food, pumping his load into me before going home.

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.