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I sucked off a guy in the toilet cubicle at a garden centre near mine. He spunked down my throat, we tidied ourselves up and when the coast was clear outside of the cubicle, we left quickly. I saw him walk over to a woman, who must have been late 40's, early 50's. She was stunning, it was his wife. I wonder if she knew he was bi or at least had just gotten his balls drained lol

A few weeks later... The flu....💦

I'm happy to watch. Also, would like to be watched from a distance while a Top fucks me (raw of course) standing in the showers at the bathhouse. Then makes me clean his cock after he's bred me.

I got 2 loads this morning from 2 guys at my local cruising place

What do you feel when you're called "faggot" by a top? turned on complete a good lay sexy like i'm home

Hell I call myself a faggot while getting pounded and fisted.

As a side note, I've found that a detergent booster with lipase enzyme (like cheapo Biz powder at Walmart) is good at getting vaseline / oil stains out of sheets / clothing. (That, plus spot-treating with Dawn dish soap, has worked for me.) I'm a fan of the feeling of vaseline while fucking, there's a little more friction than other lubes; it's a different sensation.

i havent gotten dick or took a nut since Sept

Do you ever travel and stay over in Newcastle upon Tyne? If so, I'd love to meet you x

Rolling around in bed I was hard as a rock and had that familiar feeling that life would be better if I had a thick cock inside me. My girlfriend was out of town and I had no plans for the night. I'd been playing with boys for years but had taken a bit of a break until recently. Once I started giving it up to horny gay boys I found a fire inside me that was endlessly hungry. So every time she was out of town for work I'd hop online and try to find a match. And so far she'd been none the wiser and I'd been having a great time. No harm, right? Tonight would be no different, I convinced myself, as I rolled over to grab my phone. What she also didn't know was that I'd been slipping up lately and going raw. Before I was in a relationship I always played raw, on prep. Since dating I'd gotten off prep and not given it much more thought. But I didn't play all that much so it didn't seem worth the trouble and potential explaining. Hard as a rock and very much in heat I began scrolling through profiles, looking for a top to play with me. Before long I found one nearby, online. His profile name was just a scorpion, no photo. Kinda odd, kinda hot I thought. Didn't think much of it. His profile was pretty sparse except for some stats (that fit my desires) and one line "Say the word and I'll make you mine". Why not. I messaged him. "horny af here, need a top to make me his tonight. i'm hosting." added a sexy photo and sent it. Waited, waited. Nothing. Fuck. Started scrolling again when a message popped in "i bet you do. send location. be naked and ready to fuck, boy" with a photo of his hard, thick cock. I didn't hesitate. I was rushing around with anxious energy getting my place tidy and stripping when i heard a knock at the door. I let him in. Tall, dark, handsome. Yum. He glanced me up and down and said "oh look at you. you're ready for it aren't you?". I nodded silently as he closed the door and began undressing. That's when I noticed the large scorpion tattoo on his chest. "you really like scorpions huh?" I asked shyly. He smirked and just replied "sure man". Feeling a little embarrassed I didn't press it further. Almost like he could sense my trepidation, he moved quickly towards me and kissed me. I melted in his arms right away. Things moved quickly to my bed, his body pressed against me, his hands exploring my body, his cock rock hard pressing against my bare ass. I was in heaven already. "you like it raw?" he moaned softly in my ear. I nodded vigorous. "good boy, im going to give it all to you". I moaned loud as he spread my legs. He slowly worked my hole, loosening me up, all the while driving me insane. By the time he had the tip in I was pulling him in deeper with my legs, begging for his cock. Fuck the lube, fuck the foreplay. I cant wait, I need it bad. He did his work well. That smirk plastered on his face as he gave me what I wanted, pushing deeper, and deeper. Finally buried deep inside me, he leaned in and started kissing me, moving from my lips to my neck. All the while pumping slowly in and out of me like his little fuck doll. I'm sure it wasn't lost on him how desperate I was for this. How bad I yearned for his cock every time he pulled back. "Mmm you love it boy. You ready for me to go harder", to which I simply replied "fuck me", sealing my fate. I didn't mind the lubeless pain. I just wanted him to fuck me. With this he started pounding me, his mouth still locked on my neck. Teeth digging in. I could feel the pain and suddenly had a little sense when I cried out softly "you'll leave a mark!". He paused his attack of my vulnerable neck only long enough to growl in my ear "more than one, I think". My body couldn't resist him so i gave in, letting him bite me hard as he plunged deep into me. "fuck it, you're ready" he said, pulling all the way out - to my great dismay. He commanded me to flip over, pulling my ass back towards him and without warning plunged right back in, knocking the air out of me. He pounded me deep and I could feel he was getting close. I didn't care. I was moaning like a whore. I wanted his load so bad. Needed it now. So did what any good bottom should and begged. He let out a dry laugh and grunted "you were never getting away" and pushed deep and shot it inside me. The feeling of his big hot load exploding in me was enough to send me over the edge into a shaking orgasm, wasting my cum all over the sheets. Panting, sweating, his cock still pulsing inside me, we laid there recovering for a few minutes. I asked him if he wanted to stick around and go again, but he had to head out. "I'll check back with you soon, and if you still need more I'll come pound a few more into you boy" and out the door he went. I was a bit puzzled by this, but I'd gotten what I wanted. I spent the rest of the evening jerking off while his cum leaked slowly out of me. Fell asleep still loaded with cum. Perfect. The next morning I woke up and looked in the mirror. Sure enough, one big hot hickey planted on my neck. It was only then his words rang back in my mind "more than one, I think". Glancing around my neck I didn't see any though. I wonder what that meant...and how I'll explain this hickey to my girlfriend...

3 hours ago a fuck buddy friend was driving me home but he pulled over into a resting area , and was fucking me in the backseat door wide open, multiple men saw and got in line, I got like 15 different cocks and loads in my ass

More to follow. Hopefully, tonight.

Chapter 4 He was home, but not in the way he’d understood the word for forty-one years. This wasn't the house in Preston Hollow; this was a state of being. The real Nate, the man buried under layers of tailored suits, stock reports, and suffocating grief, was finally clawing his way out of the gauze. The chrysalis of his former life had cracked, and he was emerging, wet and trembling, into a new and brilliant light. And the first thing he needed to do, the only thing that mattered, was to get to know the magnificent son he had made. Geoff, ever the willing vessel, climbed back into the sling, his body limp and radiant from the intensity of his own experience. Nate approached him not as a conqueror, but as a worshipper. He knelt, his knees touching the cool tile floor, and began to cover his son. He pressed his lips to every inch of skin he could find—his ankles, his shins, his knees. He kissed the powerful muscles of his thighs, the hard planes of his stomach, the sensitive skin of his chest. He kissed the state championship medal that still hung around Geoff’s neck, then moved to his neck, his jaw, his closed eyelids. It was a baptism of kisses, an anointment, a father rediscovering his own creation. Slowly, reverently, Nate worked his way back down. He bypassed the jutting cock, still slick from their earlier union, and continued lower. He pushed Geoff’s legs back, exposing the beautiful, slightly swollen, well-used boihole. He had never known. He had never even imagined. He leaned in and inhaled the musky, primal scent of his son, of his own seed mingled with his brother’s. He tentatively stuck out his tongue and tasted. It was a feast. A salty, metallic, deeply personal feast that was more intoxicating than any drug. He lapped at the tender flesh, his tongue probing, tasting, claiming. He was devouring his son, and in doing so, devouring the last of his own inhibitions. Rising to his feet, his own nine-inch cock throbbing with a need that was almost painful, Nate positioned himself at the entrance to this new heaven. He looked into Geoff’s eyes, which were now open and watching him with an expression of pure, unadulterated love. There was no urgency, no frenzy. This was something else entirely. He entered his son ever so gently, a slow, deliberate slide that felt like coming home for the first time. The well-used hole welcomed him, yielding to his length, the heat enveloping him completely. They made love like a father and son should. Nate’s thrusts were deep and measured, each one a promise, each one a declaration of a love that transcended all societal boundaries. He wasn't just fucking his son; he was healing him, and healing himself. Their bodies moved in a sacred, synchronized rhythm, a dance of creation and reunion. The world outside the room ceased to exist. There was only the sling, the two of them, and the profound, soul-shattering connection that flowed between them. The pressure built not in their loins, but in their hearts, a crescendo of emotion that could no longer be contained. Nate felt his climax rising from the depths of his soul, and he saw the same awareness dawn in Geoff’s eyes. As one, they cried out, their voices mingling in a single, perfect chord of release. Nate’s cock pulsed, flooding his son’s body with a second, even more potent offering of his essence, while Geoff’s own cock spurted thick ropes of cum across his heaving chest. They climaxed in unison, a perfect, synchronized explosion of father and son, their bodies locked together, their spirits finally, irrevocably, one.

Chapter 3 The rhythm of Brandon’s hips grew more urgent, his powerful thrusts driving deeper into the sling. Geoff was no longer just moaning; he was sobbing with pleasure, his body taut as a bowstring. Brandon reached down, wrapping a hand around Geoff’s cock, which was already leaking a steady stream of fluid. With a few expert strokes timed perfectly with a final, grinding thrust, Geoff’s entire body seized. He let out a raw, guttural scream as his cock pulsed and erupted, not with a normal ejaculation, but with a full-body, prostate-shattering assgasm that left him trembling and spent in the leather harness. Brandon slowly withdrew, a look of profound satisfaction on his face. He turned to Nate, who was still frozen against the wall, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and raw desire. Brandon gestured him forward with a crooked finger. As Nate approached, Brandon took a long, deep hit from the pipe, then leaned in, pressing his lips to Nate’s. Nate, startled but pliant, opened his mouth, and Brandon exhaled the thick, acrid cloud directly into his lungs. Nate coughed, his head spinning, but then leaned back in for more. They shotgunned back and forth, sharing the potent smoke, their mouths lingering, the line between uncle and nephew, brother and brother, blurring into a hazy, chem-fueled intimacy. “He’s yours now, Dad,” Brandon whispered, his voice husky. “Make it count.” He stepped aside, leaving a clear path to the boy in the sling. Geoff, recovering from his intense climax, looked up at his father, his eyes glassy and full of love and want. Nate felt a tremor run through him. This was the ultimate [banned word], the final wall. He dropped his towel, his own cock achingly hard. He stepped between his son’s legs, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He guided his cock to Geoff’s well-used, puffy hole, still slick with lube and his uncle’s load. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, the heat and tightness a revelation. A profound bliss washed over Nate, a feeling of rightness, of coming home. This wasn't just sex; it was a connection deeper than any he had ever known. He began to move, slowly at first, then with more confidence, his hips finding a rhythm that was ancient and primal. Geoff wrapped his legs around his father’s waist, pulling him in deeper, their bodies moving as one. The long, deep fuck melted into a timeless, blissful union, a silent conversation between father and son, spoken only in the language of flesh. Nate’s entire world had shrunk to this room, to this feeling, to the perfect union with his firstborn son. After an eternity, Nate’s movements slowed. He pulled out, his body glistening with sweat. He looked at Brandon, then at Geoff, a new understanding dawning in his eyes. It was his turn. Without a word, he climbed into the sling, his powerful, muscular body settling into the leather. He felt a strange mix of terror and exhilaration. He was exposing himself completely, not just physically, but emotionally. He was about to give up the one thing he’d never shared with anyone. As he got comfortable, Brandon moved to the backpack. He returned not with a syringe, but with a nice-sized shard of crystal, glistening under the dim light. He knelt behind Nate, who watched him with wide, questioning eyes. Brandon gently spread his brother’s virgin ass cheeks and, without preamble, slipped the shard deep inside Nate’s tight, untouched hole. A sharp, burning sensation immediately began to bloom, a fire that promised to become an inferno. Brandon positioned himself, his own cock still hard and ready. He looked Nate dead in the eye. “Time to join the family, brother.” With one powerful, relentless thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, breaching Nate for the first time. The pain was immediate and intense, a white-hot fire that ripped through him. But beneath it, the shard was already dissolving, sending a wave of pure, crystalline pleasure directly into his bloodstream. The pain and pleasure collided, fused, and exploded into a sensation so profound it was agonizing. Brandon went in for the kill, his hips pounding, claiming his twin’s virginity with brutal, loving force. Through the haze of tears and overwhelming sensation, Nate saw Geoff get up from his chair. The boy approached the sling, his face a mask of love and lust. He leaned down, his lips finding his father’s. As Brandon continued to ravage his newly broken hole, Nate and his son curled into each other, a kissing, crying, blubbering mess. Nate was sobbing openly, the last of his old self shattered, his virgin hole taken by his twin while his son claimed his mouth in a soul-searing kiss. He was no longer just Nate, the buttoned-up hedge fund manager. He was theirs. He was home.

Fuck yesssss...looking to read more!

i too am concerned about the importance of competition as a factor of growth, creativity and innovation. On the flip side, i think some things like pharmaceutical development could benefit from removing the 'middleman' profit taking element that often exists in a competitive dynamic. The current system of drug development by profit taking pharmaceutical companies is largely subsidized by our tax dollars. Why not take those same tax dollars and hire scientists directly to develop medications. We could incentivize competition by paying bonuses on things like finding cures vs med management of disease, to name just one area that pharma exploits for profit. Scientists can compete amongst themselves and incentives can be paid directly to those doing the research while eliminating the middle person who doubles cost in profit taking. i do not believe socialism should be universal, but is there a place for socialism with modifiers that encourages competition while eliminating non productive elements that simply profit off anothers efforts without producing anything of social value in return? "Indicators suggest that the biopharmaceutical industry, which is largely enabled by government investments in basic research, is thriving. From 2000-2019, U.S. spending on pharmaceuticals increased from $253 to $345 billion.... The increase in pharmaceutical sales has also generated enormous profits for the pharmaceutical industry. In another study, we recently showed that from 2000 to 2018, 35 large pharmaceutical companies had cumulative revenue of $11.5 trillion and net income (earnings) of $1.9 trillion. Moreover, that study also showed that large pharmaceutical companies had median net income margins of 13.8%, significantly greater than those of other large corporations in the S&P 500 (7.7%) and similar to those of other research-driven companies." [think before following links] https://www.ineteconomics.org/perspectives/blog/us-tax-dollars-funded-every-new-pharmaceutical-in-the-last-decade

[think before following links] https://xhamster.com/videos/straight-virgin-boy-popping-his-cherry-12000126?utm_source=ext_shared&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=link

I don't have an issue with AI stories. The human guidance is what makes it good. But AI images and video are boring. It's basically just animation...and there's already animation. I like people and their flaws.

Definitely continue, please!

Chapter 2 The Texas night was thick and humid as they prepared to leave the house. The playful energy from the pool had been replaced by a charged, electric anticipation. Nate moved stiffly, his usual uniform of tailored slacks and a button-down shirt replaced by loose-fitting nylon shorts and a worn-out t-shirt from a long-ago charity run. It felt foreign, like a costume. Geoff, on the other hand, was in his element, his youthful body radiating a confident, almost predatory excitement. Brandon was the calm orchestrator, moving between them with a knowing ease. “Hydration is key,” he announced, handing them each a bottle of electric blue Gatorade. He then produced a small, unmarked bottle of clear liquid, adding a precise measure to each of their drinks. “And a little liquid courage never hurt anyone. Especially for your first time, big brother.” Nate took a hesitant sip, the sweet, chemical taste of the Gatorade mixing with a slightly salty, almost undetectable undertone. It was a jarring combination, much like the evening itself. He watched as Geoff and Brandon drank theirs without a second thought, their shared glance telling him this was a familiar ritual. The ride into Dallas in Brandon’s Porsche was a blur of city lights and thumping bass. Nate sat in the back, the leather seats cool against his skin, his mind racing. Midtowne Spa. The name itself sounded seedy, clandestine. He’d driven past the nondescript warehouse building a thousand times on his way to the office, never imagining what went on inside. Now, he was walking into the heart of it. At 9:30 PM, a line of men was already snaking out the door, a diverse mix of ages and builds, all sharing a similar look of intent. Brandon, however, didn’t even pause. He led them to a side entrance, rapping a specific rhythm on the metal door. It opened immediately, revealing a burly man with a thick beard. “Brandon, my man,” the man, Clark, grunted, pulling him into a rough hug. “Got it all set up for you. Sling room’s yours. Enjoy the party.” They moved through the dimly lit, labyrinthine hallways, the air thick with the scent of disinfectant, sweat, and something else… something chemically sweet and primal. The sounds were a symphony of grunts, moans, and the distant, rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh. Nate felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his gut. This was a world away from his carefully managed life of spreadsheets and stock tickers. The sling room was a small, private chamber dominated by a single, imposing piece of equipment: a black leather sling hanging from a heavy-duty chain in the center of the room. Shelves were lined with bottles of lube, poppers, and clean towels. Brandon tossed his backpack onto a bench, the sound of glass clinking together. “Alright, gentlemen,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Time to get comfortable.” He stripped off his shorts and shirt, folding them neatly before wrapping a towel around his waist. Geoff followed suit, his movements fluid and confident. Nate hesitated for a moment before following their lead, the towel feeling flimsy and inadequate. From his backpack, Brandon produced a glass pipe and a small bag of crystalline shards. Nate’s eyes widened. He’d assumed the “liquid courage” was the main event. He watched as Brandon expertly heated the bowl, the white cloud of smoke swirling and growing. He took a deep hit, then passed the pipe to Geoff, who did the same. Nate, figuring it was just some exceptionally potent pot, decided he couldn’t look like a prude. He took the pipe, mimicked their movements, and inhaled. The smoke was harsh and acrid, unlike any marijuana he’d ever encountered. It hit him instantly, a rush of euphoria that made his head spin and his heart hammer in his chest. Geoff, his eyes now glassy and dilated, grinned and hopped into the sling, settling his lean, muscular body into the leather stirrups. He looked like a beautiful offering, a sacrifice to a new god. Nate watched, mesmerized and horrified, as Brandon pulled a rubber tourniquet from the backpack and tied it around his son’s bicep. “What are you doing?” Nate breathed, his voice barely a whisper. “Relax, Dad,” Geoff said, his voice dreamy and calm. Brandon handed him a small syringe. With a practiced hand, Geoff found a vein in the crook of his arm and pushed the plunger. A small bead of blood welled up as he released the tourniquet. He threw his head back, a guttural moan escaping his lips as the chemicals coursed through his system. His body arched in the sling, his cock suddenly rock hard and straining against the towel. Nate was frozen, his mind screaming in alarm, but the drug coursing through his veins kept him anchored to the spot, a passive observer to the unimaginable. Brandon offered him the syringe. “Your turn, Nate.” He shook his head, a silent, adamant refusal. He did, however, accept the pipe when it came back around, blowing another cloud into his lungs, the world dissolving into a haze of intense, abstract pleasure. Brandon propped the door open slightly, an invitation. Then he turned his attention to the boy in the sling. He positioned himself between Geoff’s spread legs, his own formidable cock hard and ready. He entered him slowly, deliberately, a long, deep thrust that made Geoff cry out. Brandon began to move, his hips rolling in a powerful, hypnotic rhythm as he slowly drilled into his nephew. Nate stood by the wall, his own forgotten towel tented, his mouth agog. He watched his identical twin’s powerful back flex and tense with each thrust. He watched his son’s face, a mask of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. The sight of Brandon’s thick cock disappearing into Geoff’s willing body, the sounds of their shared pleasure, the raw, uninhibited masculinity of it all… it was the most shocking, most transgressive, and without a doubt, the sexiest thing Nate had ever seen in his entire life. The buttoned-up hedge fund manager felt a wall inside himself crumble into dust. The night, he knew, was just getting started.

"People infected with HIV must take antiretroviral drugs for life. But engineered antibodies appeared to suppress the virus for certain participants in recent trials in Africa and Europe" "In one of the trials—the FRESH trial, led by virologist Thumbi Ndung’u of the University of KwaZulu-Natal and the Africa Health Research Institute in South Africa—4 of 20 participants maintained undetectable levels of HIV for a median of 1.5 years without taking antiretrovirals. In the other, the RIO trial set in the United Kingdom and Denmark and led by Sarah Fidler, a clinical doctor and HIV research expert at Imperial College London, 6 of 34 HIV-positive participants have maintained viral control for at least two years." [think before following links] https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/new-trials-hint-that-functional-cure-for-hiv-may-be-within-reach-helping-some-patients-achieve-lasting-remission-180987767/

easily in the 100s, and that's not counting repeat fuckbuds, which in my 20s I had a lot. One of my fuckbuds when I lived in Queens back in the early 2000s was telling me after we rawdogged it at my apartment one night that he'd been to a sex party in Astoria a few nights before. Apparently I was the topic of conversation as I'd fucked or been bred by multiple attendees (and I wasn't even there!)

Amazing story! I'd love to get used like in a bar.