All Activity

Chapter 5 Saturday, June 26, 1993, 08:21 PM A tercentennial storm sweeps in from the west over the Gunks, forcing us to scramble and pack away the gear for our gracious host. Soaked and shivering, we gather in the living room, our naked bodies dripping onto the floor. The Mentors pass out towels, their calm gestures easing our discomfort. The air shifts when Master’s voice cuts through, sharp and commanding: “Dom's, prepare the room.” It’s a call to battle stations, and the Dom's move with purpose, converging on a bookcase that slides open to reveal a hidden passage. They vanish behind it, the door sealing shut with a soft thud. A faint mechanical hum rises from beneath the floor, stirring a mix of wonder and anticipation in my chest. One of the Alphas catches my gaze, his wink laced with a promise of forbidden pleasures, his eyes holding mine with unspoken intent. Master somehow reappears from the kitchen and claps, his presence commanding the room. “Mentors, escort the pledges blindfolded with their packs,” he orders. My Mentor retrieves four blindfolds from a chest beside a celestial globe, handing them out with quiet efficiency. The soft fabric slips over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. Anticipation thrums through me, my trust in the moment unshaken as my Mentor tugs my leash, guiding me down a narrow staircase. The faint pulse of music grows louder, its throbbing beat setting a primal tone for what lies ahead. We enter a new space, and the Mentors position us one by one. The only sounds are the soft shuffle of feet and the rhythm of the music, wrapping around us like a pulse. A sharp clap from Master no doubt echoes, and my blindfold is removed. My eyes adjust to a hazy room bathed in warm, dim red light, the air thick with the promise of debauchery, the stage set for the night’s unraveling desires. The basement sprawls like a labyrinth, its stone and mortar walls forming a maze of shadowed chambers designed for carnal indulgence. Exposed wooden beams crisscross the ceiling, interwoven with plumbing pipes that lend a raw, industrial edge. Victorian-era iron pillars stand as silent sentinels, ready to witness the night’s unfolding desires. Mirrors and sultry red lights adorn the walls and ceiling, casting a seductive glow that amplifies every movement, turning the space into a theater of visual temptation. Leather slings sway from the ceiling, while fisting benches, bolted firmly to the floor, promise intense encounters. Along the walls, leather banquettes and over sized chaise lounges invite submission, their surfaces beckoning the most depraved fantasies into reality. In a dimly lit corner, a tiled chamber hums with forbidden allure. Steel rails, bolted to the ceiling and just above the floor, offer endless possibilities for restraint. A single drain in the center of the floor stands ready to catch the night’s excesses. Nearby, a mahogany bar with mirrored backing glows softly, its liquor bottles and glassware illuminated by the only white light in the space—a stark contrast to the room’s otherwise primal ambiance. Master’s voice cuts through the air, naming us with a deliberate edge: “faggot bindel, faggot o’connell, faggot colencheck, faggot worthington.” He commands us to crawl toward him. On hands and knees, we move in total submission through a corridor of our brothers, their bodies forming a living gauntlet leading to the bar where Master waits, a Scotch in hand, flanked by the Dom's. With a nod, he signals us to rise. “Welcome to the Licentiousness Lounge,” he declares, “where your darkest desires are not just accepted—they’re celebrated.” My eyes sweep the room, taking in a world both foreign and intoxicating. “This is the Licentiousness Lounge,” Master continues, “a sanctuary where what happens here remains unspoken beyond these walls—not as a secret among us, but as a pact against the outside world. The storm tonight has brought you here sooner than planned, but I feel you’re ready to begin.” The Dom's pass us drinks, their gazes lingering, appraising us with unspoken intent. Master’s voice softens but retains its authority. “Tonight, you remain faggots, bound by protocol. But know this: the next time you enter this space, you’ll stand as equals among us, brothers in a tribe where masks conceal identities and unleash our true selves. Here, you may indulge without restraint.” He tugs our leashes, two in each hand, guiding us through the lounge’s offerings. “These are slings, Faggot bindel,” he says, a knowing glint in his eye. “You remember these, don’t you?” I nod, a smile breaking free. “Yes, Sir.” He gestures to the fisting benches. “These aren’t for you yet.” We pass a St. Andrew’s Cross, its arms ready to bind and expose, and a sitters’ sling that seems to hum with promise. “Restraints, floggers, ropes—every tool for pleasure and pain awaits you here,” he says. We pause at the watersports room, its tiled expanse both intriguing and unsettling. “If you need to relieve yourself,” Master explains, “and a brother kneels or lies before you, share your warmth. Don’t waste it.” The idea stirs a mix of confusion and curiosity, my gaze lingering on the drain as I grapple with its implications. The tour continues to a lounge area where U-bolts gleam above leather banquettes, their purpose clear in the dim light. Oversized chaise lounges and ottomans, scattered purposefully, whisper of past encounters—each piece a canvas for unspoken debauchery. As Master explains their functions, a new world unfurls before me, thrilling and terrifying. I’m eager to surrender to this brotherhood, to explore the depths of my desires in ways I never dared imagine. The tour ends where it began. Overwhelmed with lust and reverence, we four kneel before Master, our leashes extended in offering. One by one, we declare ourselves to the room. “I am faggot bindel,” I say, voice steady despite the fire within. “and I am a worthless faggot. I seek discipline, training, mentoring, and respect Sir.” Danny, a towering figure of raw strength, succumbs to Dom Igor’s commanding presence, his eyes locked in a blaze of arousal. Kneeling without breaking eye contact, he grips my leash and offers both to Dom Igor as a tribute. “Please, Sir,” Danny declares, his voice steady with devotion, “accept my submission. I am a hole for your pleasure, ready to serve, obey, and be used as you see fit.” Dom Igor, flanked by an Alpha and a Beta, surveys us with approval, their expressions gleaming at our growing understanding of our place. With a clink of metal links, they claim our leashes and lead us from the lounge’s sultry warmth into a stark, tiled chamber—their chosen arena for testing our surrender. The cold floor bites our knees as we’re restrained by ankle cuffs near the ground, our leashes tugged upward to meet the silhouettes of Dom Igor, his Beta, and the Alpha. “Position one,” they command, “mouths open.” We kneel, anticipation pulsing through us. A warm stream cascades over our faces and backsides, their urine marking us one by one. Our bodies quiver with a heady mix of shame and thrill, embracing this shocking act of submission. We lap up the acrid warmth, savoring every drop, the filth igniting a strange, intoxicating surrender. A dominant steps forward, slapping my ass and signaling position two—bent forward, exposed. His lubed finger circles my entrance, preparing me with deliberate care. Beside me, Danny’s eyes burn with need as a tongue explores his hole. Our moans echo, tempting the men, our bodies trembling with desire. A thick cock enters me without warning, the pleasurable pain tearing a cry from my throat that electrifies the room. Spurred by my reaction, the dominant slaps my ass again, my spasms tightening around him as he claims me. Danny mirrors my surrender, lost in his own ecstasy. A new sensation builds as the man inside me pauses, a warm flood filling my core. Unable to clench tightly enough, I feel his urine spill, trickling down my taint, over my balls, and along the sides of my slender legs. (I’m a disgusting pig), I think, (and I’m exactly where I belong). Another dominant seizes my face, thrusting into my throat. His urine overflows, streaming down my chin and chest, marking me as his. Spit-roasted, I revel in my depravity, my moans of ecstasy resonating through the tiled chamber. Danny, transformed beside me, laps at the dripping offering before pressing his lips to a man’s hole, eager to prove his worth. Our moans, entwined with the men’s pleasure, freeze us in a moment of pure surrender. Our neglected cocks drip uselessly onto the cold tiles, our bodies aching with need. A silhouette approaches, drawn to our filth, and unleashes a fresh shower of urine as we’re used at both ends, our bodies trembling like a depraved altar of service. “Next,” he growls, and my hole twitches in anticipation, clenching to hasten the man inside me. Danny mirrors my urgency, enticing our tops to climax. Their cocks pulse, filling us with warm, creamy seed. I savor the softening cock within me, clenching to hold its gift, a perfect lubricant for the next. The man in my throat releases, his cum flooding my mouth, satisfying the craving I’ve come to embrace. As he withdraws, I catch sight of Harry and Arthur on leather chaise lounges, railed mercilessly, with more men waiting their turn. My mind reels at the depravity surrounding us. Left alone, Danny and I crave more. We collapse ourselves into a sixty-nine position on the cold tiled floor, greedily sucking the potent cum from each other’s holes which we gladly spread ourselves open for each other, the taste so rich and overwhelming. A new dominant enters, his stream spraying us like a suburban lawn going side to side while adding to the puddle of waste around us, but he doesn’t dare interrupt our fervor. Content in our filth, we call out, our muffled voices a raw offering to the room. Dom Igor thoroughly pleased how we've embraced our submission, orders us to stand with our arms up as he removes our ankle restraints. Unshackled now, we stand chest to chest, as he hoses us clean with icy water that jolts our senses. He throws us a towel each watching us pat each other down Once dry we're led to the fisting benches, we obey the command to lay down. Danny’s panting betrays his calm still, as a tongue is at his hole, and I glance back to see him spreading himself for the masked dominant, savoring the remnants of my slobber and the cum within. Once hesitant, Danny now craves the cock that fills his newfound void, just as I do. From shy newcomers drawn by a cryptic ad, we’ve become cumdumps, bound by our shared hunger, eager to serve the desires of our brothers. In the haze of the dungeon, danny the reserved hulking member of our group, sweat-slicked muscles taut, eyes burning with lust, with shadowy figures beginning to circling us, he reaches back with both hands to spread his cheeks apart, fully on offer as a beacon of desire. Like me, he’s discovered the void within—a hunger only a raw cock can fill. Last night, he surrendered to men who claimed him with fierce love, and I beam with pride for my lifelong friend. We were shy boys once, guarding our secrets, but together we’ve become cumdumps, eager for any man’s pleasure. Just then, harry and walter are carried over to the slings in front of us. Arthur and I lock eyes as our faces are hovering over each other, we know exactly what the other is thinking, we're both glad I responded to that ad. arthur and I infinitely excited by our predicament begin kissing as a bottle is offered to our noses, we both breathe deeply from its emissions. Now lust fueled on poppers, we begin to kiss with desperate need. Suddenly, and as if ordained, both of our holes are suddenly filled by generous thrusts of sizable mention. While locking tongues, we start to moan in each other's mouth as our hands grab furiously at each other heads. I then extend my left hand out as if in search of my glasses and notice harry and danny doing the same as arthur and I. Again, the four of us, youthful and barely experienced twinks, united again with our holes out on offer being pounded out by many unknown men. With poppers constantly being fed to us, we are insatiable in our wants as we don't dare to stop these strange men from having their way with us, completely willing to be used and abused in any way these men desire. We have found Shangri-La, and it's inside of each of us, and our submission is the pathway that leads us there. Content as a Buddhist monk in our enviable bliss, which is unmatched by any previous experience we’ve had before. (I'm so glad I had the courage to face my desires, together with my friends we will explore every dark corner of each others raw desires.) End of Chapter 5

I often wear my jocks at the gym, mostly because they don't ride up on me during legs day. And it's entertaining to make the old straight men uncomfortable by walking around the locker room in just the jock. LOL But at a bathhouse, it's also about comfort. Going naked feels like I'm trying too hard. The towel isn't my thing, and frequently comes undone. So what are my options? Jockstrap. Shows the goods - a bulging pouch, and an available hole for those rare times a man actually has something to put in there. Can't say I'm successful with this method. For an attractive guy who has been in porno flicks, guys aren't interested in sex with me except for the kind that no one else wants to fuck, either. And I always end up breeding someone to get something out of the visit. I don't enjoy paying $40 just to do laps around the place for three hours when I could be at home, sleeping. My attire, or lack of, doesn't get me laid.

I have lost friends to AIDS …that was the stark reality….it would have been irresponsible of the government not to prevent someone else from dying. The Reagan administration did NOTHING, not even mentioning it, and when it was mentioned, it was jokes about people who had it.…. Safer sex at the time was the way to go. One could still be a slut but still do it ethically. Now most people are medicated, and it’s a good thing. Raw is law only because the science has caught up to the disease.

I kinda look at bareback sex this way: when you chase something, it often happens that you will catch up eventually with the thing you chase. Mind you, I seroconverted way before the advent of PreP. Nowadays, there’s the thrill of skin to skin without the fear of the virus transmitting to either participant. There’s also DoxyPrep, which should also be part of the panoply of prevention for barebackers. I also know that I should get around to getting a HPV shot, to prevent the virus from spreading. DoxyPreP isn’t 100% eff, but it reduces a lot of the worry. For those who play in saunas, it’s a great way of keeping STDs at bay.

Being bttm since I was 13, I was taught great skills, sucking and swallowing his sperm

When I wear a jockstrap to a sex club, it means my main goal is to get fucked and feel a guy's cum shoot deep in my ass. I'm cool with guys groping my bulge while they fuck me, but there's something so hot and dirty about wearing something that gives easy access to my hungry raw ass

Fucking HOT! Where do I apply for this gig!

True, but few of us have the opportunity to have random sex every day all year long. The doctor is trying to meet two opposing goals. The main one, reduce casual antibiotic use as that least to expanding drug resistance. The newer one, would occasional use of doxycycline for a couple of days when we've had sex with a stranger. If that is happening more than four times a year, then just test in some reasonable proportion to your play.

Fuck me bareback, i get your cum. Fuck me with a condom, i ALWAYS let them watch, as i get out my lube shooter, suck their cum up and shoot it inside my asscunt. Almost every time they will get hard again, just from watching. A few will change their mind about condoms and fuck me raw. The others will fuck me with a condom, just because they want to watch me push their cum inside me once again. Either way, i win...i get their seed inside me, where it belongs!!!

Indeed @NYBBGUY58. When are we going to stop obsessing over BBC and just obsess over BC? Does it really matter the skin color of our sex mates? Do we need a bareback UN? 😆

Hey guys ! New here, but I've already red a lot of stories and I enjoyed them so much. I red pratically of jaygusher's opera (lol). I was wondering if you guys knew other stories is that channel the same type of stories (old [banned word] with monster cock degrading a young boy) ; I wanna read them so much !!! Thanks !!

I presume no one is taking "doxy-PEP" daily. That would make no sense. Part of what we "sign up for" as barebackers though is that stuff is going to show up and we probably will treat for comfort. I was intending on not taking ARVs; and right now am thinking about how and when I'll get off that damned stuff.

Miss Tina always reminds me of that, makes me want to get used for the pleasure of dom pigs. I’m nothing more than a set of holes to be filled with cocks and cum.

Oh, yeah. Just thinking of the sound it makes as it slices through the air then smacks my ass is making me hard.

Generally speaking, I respect a bottoms request of wearing a rubber if he mentions it up front. However, if we hookup 2nd meet, I will immediately start working to get in him bare. Most often, guys want it raw thanks to the overabundance of bb porn. I also think most guys are keen to the idea that guys who meet up to fuck multiple times are more honest vs 1 night stands. On the flip side, I sometimes ask guys to rubber up only bc I enjoy the friction of the rubber and REALLY ENJOY when the rubber snaps. Only 1 dude pulled out and admitted what happened. Everyone else acts like all is good. Total mind fuck for them.

Generally speaking, wearing a jock at a bath is a good indicator you want to get fucked. With that said, I am probably among the few that actually uses the small gym a Clubs provided bc I enjoy being watched when i workout. I am more of a Dom Top but wear a jock out of necessity when working out and enjoy feeling everyone watching me sweat.

I want to be used like a teenage cum dump. I have HIV but I’d love to poz a few bros in Binghamton NY. Hit me up dudes. masc only. 6079401382

I remember jerking off to these blond guys late '90s - early 00's.

I am sure it would not surprise any of you that know me but I have had it both orally and anally (vaginally). Orally was not diagnosed right away. Even though my dr knows I’m a whore he thought it may have been strep or something at first. I also have had chlamydia in my throat a few times and it can go in noticed for a while. With gono there is a discharge and it has an odor. I have had it 4 times now. The sooner you get in the easier it is to treat.

I like to savor the taste, so I don't swallow right away. Some guys prefer shooting down your throat which isn't what I prefer, but I rather swallow it right away then watch a good load be wasted on the floor.