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It really depends upon my mood, but I'll always defer to the top. Ideal situation: being spit roasted and getting both simultaneously, butt I know that wasn't the question.

This is an incredible piece of writing. I felt like was in the hotel room with them, it was so vivid.

No one fucks me with a condom. It is just the way I am.

Never have, never will. I let every potential hookup know that I only take it bare. It is just who i am.

I am all about getting fucked and bred deep. Don’t care what you look like or how old you are. No questions asked. No condoms. Do not care how big or how small, just be hard and full of cum and be satisfied when you’re done.

text me keep me posted ‪(929) 400-7598‬

text me keep me posted ‪(929) 400-7598‬

@jockleomtl

I was at a bar downtown chatting with a guy named Rick and I told him that I just got the keys to my new apartment a few blocks away and he asked me about the building and what the apartments were like because he was looking in the area as well. I suggested going to take a quick look at it and he agreed. As we walked over I found out we were both a similar age in our late twenties. We got to my new apartment and I showed him around. The apartment was completely empty as I hadn't moved anything in yet so our voices quietly echoed as I told him about it. I was leaning up against the door frame going from the living room to the kitchen and he leaned up against the same side making sure his arm touched mine. I noticed it was quite deliberate and it took me a bit aback as I really didn't expect to hook up with this guy even though he was really cute with a nice twink build. At a slight lull in the conversation he leaned in and kissed me and I thought damn I should've grabbed a condom from the bar we were at so I could fuck this cutie. After a quick first kiss we got hot and heavy in no time, pulling off each other's shirts and wrestling our pants, underwear, and shoes off until we were just in our socks. We collapsed down onto the living room floor in a sixty-nine. Like me he had a six inch cock and we sucked each other for a few minutes until he pulled me up to my feet and backed up against the wall so I was pressing our cocks together as we passionately french-kissed. After a minute he turned around so he had his chest pressed up against the wall. I kissed his neck and ears as my spit-soaked cock nestled perfectly in his ass crack. I slid my cock up and down his crack and he stood up on his toes so my cock dropped down and came up against his hole and pressed against it as he lowered himself down on his feet again. I felt the head of my cock almost pushing through his hole as he wiggled his butt against it. I whispered in his ear that I didn't have a condom. He turned around and sank down to the ground, taking me with him. I fell on top of him and he wrapped his legs around my back and I started thrusting my hips against him as we made out. I wanted to fuck him but knew I shouldn't without a condom, but every time my dick slid against his hole I wanted to plunge deep into him. His hips shifted up slightly and my spit-soaked cock connected perfectly with his hole and started sliding in. He grabbed my head in his hands and bit my neck so hard it was painful and made my hips jerk forward and suddenly my raw cock was balls deep in his ass. An animalistic horniness took over me and I clenched his hair in my hands and drove my tongue in his mouth and started to furiously bareback this twink. He managed to get a hand between us and started to jerk himself off as his unprotected hole was ravaged by my cock. I knew how risky this was and I was opening myself up to a STI infection but I was so horny my only goal was to seed his hole. After only a minute or two of fucking he bit my lip and started shooting a load in between us and that sent me over the edge and my orgasm flooded his hole with my seed. I wrapped my arms around him and held him with my cock balls deep in him for a few minutes before slowly pulling out of him. A bit of my semen spilled out of his gaping hole onto the hardwood floor. Fortunately the only thing I had brought to the apartment was a roll of toilet paper, so I used that to wipe my cock off and to clean up the cum on the floor and his ass. We sat naked against the wall and chatted for a few minutes before getting dressed and going back to the bar, having successfully broken in my apartment.

When I was in Berkeley last Sept, a hot guy in the Mission District really wanted to have sex with me, and ordered me an uber to his place at 3am. Right when when I got to the door of the building where I needed him to buzz me in, he texted to ask if I party (the first mention of this), to which I responded that "I don't, but you can". He immediately blocked me and I was stranded with a low phone battery, little cash on me, with sketchy people around. Then a week later he hit me up from a new profile. I gave him a piece of my mind.

I know for me I'm a pig & a slut bottom, threesomes once and I always wanna be the only bottom! I don't care if it's 20 guys and that's my fantasy I wanna be that slut bottom who takes every dick.

I love using face down ass up for anons it's thrilling when I don't know what the person looks like, or color, all I feel is just his cock sliding in you. I had a encounter where 2 guys came and I didn't know cause my face was down and they both fucked me for awhile before I realized they were taking turns ... Loved it

@Yeasure20

Where do u live GA is like top central I wish I could move where u are sounds like heaven to me

Hey everyone — time for the next part! Mark is back, and this time Stefan, his brother-in-arms, stands beside him as they move to seal the deal. I can’t wait to hear what you think. Thanks so much for sticking with the story! Part 15: The Two-Headed God The elevator doors slide open, and the scent of the corridor hits you first—that sterile, lemony cleaner smell that always promises something dirty is about to happen. Your heart isn't just pounding; it's a frantic drum against your ribs, a primal beat of pure, unadulterated need. Room 714. You've been staring at that number on your phone for two weeks, tracing the digits with your thumb while you jacked off, imagining this exact moment. Now you're here, your cock already a hard, heavy line in your jeans, about to meet the two men who are going to poison you. This isn't something that's happening to you. This is something you're choosing. Every step down this corridor is a conscious decision to walk toward the fire, to finally feel the heat you've been chasing for months. You knock. The sound is loud, final. The door opens and your world shrinks to the man standing there. Mark. It's not just seeing him; it's a physical blow, a wave of pure emotion that almost buckles your knees. The air rushes from your lungs. All the weeks of waiting, of fantasizing, of aching for him — it all collapses into this single, overwhelming moment. He's shirtless, and your eyes drink him in like a man dying of thirst. That darkly-haired chest, the landscape of muscle and thick, wiry hair you've been dreaming of touching, is right here. He's wearing grey sweatpants, and the thought that he might be commando underneath, that his potent cock is just inches away from being free, sends a jolt of pure electricity through you. His bare feet on the carpet, the casual, domestic intimacy of it all — it's everything you've craved. This isn't just lust; it's a profound, aching sense of coming home. Your balls tighten with a desperate, possessive need, and all you want is to fall into his arms and never leave. He doesn't give you time to say a word. He grabs you by the front of your shirt, pulls you inside, and slams the door shut behind you. His mouth is on yours instantly, a hungry, possessive kiss that tastes of him — just him, that familiar, intoxicating flavor you've been craving for weeks. You've been starving for this, and you can feel he has, too. His hands are everywhere, gripping your ass, pulling your hips against his so you can feel how hard he is. "Great to see you! Fuck, I've missed this," he growls against your lips. "Missed you." When you finally break apart, gasping, you see him. Stefan. He's on the sofa, and even sitting down, his presence fills the room. Your eyes are first drawn to his face. His blonde hair is styled neatly, with a slight wave that softens his strong jawline and warm, expressive blue eyes. He looks like a man at ease — relaxed yet alert, powerful yet approachable. A slow, knowing smile plays on his lips, as if he can read every filthy thought running through your head. Your gaze travels down, over the simple white tank top that exposes his broad, muscular shoulders, the material stretched tight across his well-defined chest. It's so thin you can't miss the glint of fat nipple piercings — not typical straight barbells, but big chunky rings that highlight his prominent, pinky-sized nipples, a testament to years of heavy tit play. Then, you allow yourself to look lower, to the powerful, muscular legs exposed by his silky white boxer shorts. But it's the heavy, distinct bulge in the front that makes your breath catch. The fabric is tight enough to promise a formidable weapon even at rest. As you watch, mesmerized, you see it — a slow, thick pulse. A single, powerful beat of his heart making his heavy cock throb against the thin silk. It's a silent, arrogant display of potency. You can't see the scorpion tattoo yet, but you know it's there, coiled and ready at the base of that impressive shaft, a promise of the power he's about to share with you. Every inch of him screams that he is a man who knows exactly how to use the weapon he carries. He rises with an easy grace and crosses the room toward you. His face breaks into a warm, genuine smile, and when he reaches you, he pulls you into a firm, welcoming hug. His strong arms wrap around you, and you feel the hard warmth of his chest against yours, those chunky nipple rings pressing into your skin through the thin fabric. But it's not just his chest you feel. Lower, unmistakable, the heavy weight of his cock presses against your thigh, thick and warm even through the silk of his boxers. It's not predatory. It's not sizing you up. It's the embrace of a brother welcoming you home. "Finally," he says, his voice a low, resonant rumble that you feel in your chest. "Mark hasn't shut up about you for weeks. I feel like I already know you." He holds the embrace a moment longer, his lips brushing your ear as he adds a whisper meant only for you. "Wanna feel my scorpion sting you from the inside. Poison you for life." As he says it, you feel his bulge give a slow, powerful throb against your thigh, a silent, filthy confirmation of his words. Then he pulls back, his hands still on your shoulders, his blue eyes warm and sincere. "Welcome. Truly." You feel it instantly—the same ease, the same connection you feel with Mark. There's no awkwardness, no jealousy, no competition. Just filthy warmth. These two men are a unit, and they're opening that unit to include you. "He's been excited," Stefan adds with a knowing grin. He gestures toward Mark's sweatpants, and your eyes follow. There, at the front, is a dark, wet stain spreading across the soft fabric. Mark's cock is now visibly hard, tenting the material, and it's been leaking so much precum that it's soaked through. "We've both been saving up for you. Haven't cum in days. Our balls are fucking aching." Mark doesn't look embarrassed. He looks proud. He palms his wet bulge and grins at you. "All for you. Been saving up every last drop. My viral load's been climbing. Fucking potent right now." "Let's get you comfortable," Mark murmurs into your ear, his breath hot. His hands move to your jacket, and then your shirt, pulling them off. Stefan's hands go to your jeans, deftly undoing the button and zipper. They work in tandem, a seamless, silent team, stripping you down until you're standing in just your underwear, a black v-neck t-shirt with matching black underpants, your skin tingling, your cock straining against the fabric. Then they guide you to the sofa. The heat in the room is a palpable thing, a warm, living presence that seems to radiate from their bodies. They sit first, and Mark pulls you down between them. You sink into the soft cushions, and immediately you're enveloped. Mark's muscular arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you tight against his bare, hairy chest. You can feel the steady, strong beat of his heart against your back. Stefan scoots close on your other side, his thigh pressed firmly against yours. It doesn't feel like being trapped. It feels like being held. Like being home. The room is cozy, lived-in. A bottle of whiskey sits on the coffee table with three empty glasses, and the faint, sweet smell of cannabis hangs in the air. Mark picks up the bottle and pours three generous measures, the amber liquid catching the warm lamplight. He hands you a glass, and you take a sip. The whiskey is smooth and peaty, with a hint of smoke that reminds you of campfires, of late nights with close friends, of secrets shared in the dark. It tastes like trust. Like belonging. Mark picks up a joint and lights it, taking a deep drag before passing it to you. You inhale, the sweet smoke filling your lungs, and the buzz starts to creep in, loosening your muscles, quieting the noise in your head. You pass it to Stefan, your fingers brushing, and he takes a long, slow pull, his blue eyes crinkling with a smile. "To us," Mark says simply, raising his glass. His free hand finds yours, squeezing gently. "To our shared poison," Stefan adds, his voice a low, warm rumble, his eyes locking with yours. "To the gift," Mark corrects with a grin. You raise your own glass, and for the first time in longer than you can remember, you feel like you're exactly where you're supposed to be. "To the gift," you say, and you mean it with every fiber of your being. The clink of glasses is the only sound needed. The words hang in the air for a moment, and then the silence returns, filled with a new, thicker kind of electricity. The talking is over. But beneath the words, there's a current of electricity. It starts with Stefan's fingers tracing a prominent vein on your inner thigh, each hair he is touching giving you goosebumps of excitement, a slow, deliberate path upwards that makes your breath hitch. At the same time, Mark's hand slides under your t-shirt to your chest, his fingers combing through the hair there, his thumb circling your nipple, teasing it into a hard peak. A sharp bolt of pleasure shoots directly to your cock, and you feel a sudden, warm wetness as you leak precum into your underwear. Emboldened, you reach across, your own fingers exploring Stefan’s tight stomach, feeling a solid six-pack beneath the thin fabric of his tank top. You brush against the hard metal of his chunky nipple rings, teasing them just as Mark's teasing you. A low groan rumbles in his chest and you feel it—the heavy bulge in his shorts gives a powerful, answering throb. You lock eyes with him, a deep, silent acknowledgment of the power you all hold over each other. Stefan's gaze drops from yours, down to your crotch. He sees the dark, damp spot spreading on the front of your black underwear. A slow, wicked smile spreads across his lips. He moves his hand from your thigh, his finger pressing directly over the wet fabric, feeling the heat of your leak. He holds your gaze as he brings his finger up, glistening with a smear of your precum, and extends it toward Mark. Mark leans in, his eyes never leaving yours. He first takes in the smell of your cum, then takes Stefan's finger into his mouth, sucking your precum off with a soft, possessive hum. Stefan's eyes twinkle with devilish delight as he pulls his hand back. "I think he's ready for our treat," he murmurs, his voice a low, conspiratorial rumble. "Time for show and tell." Mark stands, and with a deliberate, almost ceremonial slowness, he pushes his sweatpants down just enough to reveal his neatly trimmed dark pubes and the top of his cock, which is straining to break free. He takes your hand and guides it down, pressing your fingers into the wiry hair at the base of his shaft. "Feel it," he murmurs. You explore the warm skin with your fingertips, and then you feel it—a slight, raised texture. You lean in closer, your breath catching. There, almost invisible unless you're touching it, is a small, black biohazard symbol. It's not a loud, proud brand meant for the world to see. It's a secret, a quiet affirmation, the lines still sharp and dark against his skin. It's a testament. A declaration. He went from shame to pride, and this is the proof — worn not on his sleeve, but in the most intimate place he has, a promise made only to himself and to the men he shares this with. Visible only to those who are close enough, willing enough, deserving enough to know. "My new testament," Mark says, his voice soft with emotion. "I got it last month. For me. For us. For what we are." Stefan rises next. He grabs the hem of his white tank top and peels it off over his head in one smooth, powerful motion, tossing it aside. The movement reveals his broad, muscular chest covered in a thick golden fur and the impressive nipple rings. He turns slightly, giving you a profile view, but his eyes are locked on yours. "This one," he says, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, "you have to feel in motion." He takes your hand—not gently, like Mark did, but with a firm, possessive grip—and places it directly on his hip, over the large, bold scorpion. The black ink is stark against his warm skin. He then uses his own hand to guide yours, forcing your fingers to trace the thick, raised lines of its body. He makes you follow the curve of its tail, an unmistakable arrow pointing downward. "Mark told you about my stinger, didn't he?" he murmurs, a wicked glint in his eyes. He guides your hand all the way across his six-pack, down his trimmed pubes, pressing your palm flat against the heavy, throbbing bulge in his shorts. "Feel that? That's the power behind the poison." He releases your hand, but you keep it there, mesmerized by the heat and the pulse. He taps the tip of the scorpion's tail, right where your hand rests. "Got it the year I was diagnosed. It's been pointing the way for every toxic load I've ever given. And tonight..." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "...it's pointing right at you." They both look at you. It's your turn. But you don't move. Stefan does. He closes the distance between you, his eyes holding yours. He doesn't kneel; he just squats slightly, his hands hooking into the waistband of your black underwear, pulling them down in one slow, deliberate motion. Your cock springs free, semi-hard from the charged atmosphere. And there, glinting in the warm light, is your heavy stainless-steel Prince Albert. A thick, 00-gauge circular barbell, the weight of it pulling your cockhead down slightly, the metal warm from your body heat. Stefan reaches out, not to touch the metal, but to cup the weight of your cockhead in his palm, feeling the heft of it. "Fuck," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine awe. "That's some serious metal." "My testament," you say, your voice steadier than you expected. "I got it years ago. It's always felt like a mark of who I am. Who I want to be." Mark moves behind you, his chest pressing against your back, his chin on your shoulder. He reaches around, his own fingers tracing the warm metal ring, a reverent touch. "I've always wanted to feel one of these from the inside," he growls softly in your ear. "Maybe next time. Because tonight... tonight is all about us breeding you." Stefan's gaze is intense, analytical. He uses his thumb to gently flick the heavy barbell, watching your cockhead bob in response. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. "It's the perfect tool for breeding," he says, his voice a low, confident rumble. "That heavy ring is solid steel — harder than any cock. When fucking, it'll clap against the bottom's prostate with every thrust, milking him from the inside, sending him into heaven while at the same time causing some serious damage. Ripping you open so the poison takes hold for good." The image is so potent, so filthy, that a fresh bead of precum wells up at your tip, gathering on the steel. Stefan looks from your cock, up to your eyes, and while looking over to Mark, licks it off with his tongue. A new kind of intensity crosses his face, a decision being made in real time. "I'm getting one," he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. It's not a question. It's a declaration. "To match these." He flicks one of his own chunky nipple rings, making a soft tink against the metal. "We'll all have steel. A matching set. A triad of toxicity." Mark's eyes light up, tightening his arm around you from behind. "Fuck yes," he growls, his voice thick with emotion. "Us. Forged in steel." Stefan releases your cock and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small plastic bag. Inside are three home HIV test kits. Your stomach flips. "But first," Stefan says, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, "a ritual. We need to know where we all stand." He hands out the kits, and the three of you sit back down on the sofa, side by side, performing the tests together. The prick of the lancet, the drop of blood. Nobody speaks. The only sound is breathing. The silence is thick as the liquid creeps across the test strips. Stefan's result comes first. Two lines. Bold, prominent, undeniable. He holds it up, and you feel a jolt go through you — not of surprise, but of finality. This is real. All the talk, the bravado, the stories of him being a potent giftgiver... it wasn't just a fantasy. He wasn't just bragging. Here is the proof. Mark's is next. Two lines. Just as clear, just as strong. You've seen his before, but seeing it again now, next to Stefan's, feels like watching two pillars of a new world being erected. And then yours. You stare at the strip, praying for a second line to appear. But there's only one. A single, stark, mocking line. Still negative. Still on the outside looking in. The disappointment is a familiar, bitter taste in your mouth, a knot of failure in your gut. You've tried so many times, and still nothing. Your body is a fortress, its gates locked tight, and you hate it. Stefan takes your test strip from your trembling hand. He holds it up next to his and Mark's, the contrast stark and undeniable. Two bold, confident lines on theirs. One lonely, pathetic line on yours. Black and white. Poz and neg. The evidence of your separation, displayed for all to see. A stark reminder that you are the one who is still empty. Stefan leans closer, his blue eyes boring into yours. Mark pulls you back into his arms, his warm palm on your chest, holding you in place. "You can still walk away," Stefan says, his voice a low, intense whisper. "Right now. Go home, stay negative. Live your normal life. No one will judge you." He pauses, letting the words sink in. "Are you really sure you want to move on?" Your heart hammers against Mark's palm. You look from Stefan's piercing eyes to the torn pieces of your test strip on the floor. "Yes," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm sure." "This isn't a game," Mark murmurs into your ear, his breath hot. "What we're about to do... it changes you on a cellular level. It rewires you. The second line – once it is there, it will never disappear. There's no undoing it. Ever. Are you ready to be poz for life?" The finality in his voice makes your cock throb. "Yes," you say, louder this time. "I'm so ready." Stefan's gaze doesn't waver. He holds your eyes captive. "Once you take our seed, you take our strain. You become part of us. Our brother. You'll carry this with you forever. Is that what you want? To be ours?" "Yes," you breathe, the word filled with a desperate, aching need. "I want to be yours." Instead of pulling back, they both press in closer. Stefan's hands grip your thighs, while Mark's arms tighten around your chest, trapping you between their bodies. Stefan's intense expression softens into one of knowing, predatory understanding. "We knew you would answer like that," he says, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "We knew you would commit. You've already gone too far. You've felt the thrill too many times. "It starts with the thrill of a stranger's raw cock in your ass, doesn't it? That moment of surrender where you throw away the condom and feel his skin against yours, every thrust a gamble. You're not just getting fucked; you're playing Russian roulette with your own blood, wondering if this is the one, if his load is the winning ticket. "Then it evolves. It's no longer enough to just risk it. You start actively seeking the poison. The thrill of taking a poz load and feeling it burn inside you, that warm, toxic heat spreading through you, marking you from the inside. You lie awake at night replaying it, your hand on your hole, trying to feel the ghost of his cum still inside you, praying it took hold. "And the obsession consumes you. The thrill of jerking off for weeks afterward, not just to the memory, but to the symptoms. Every little cough, every fever, every swollen gland becomes a sign, a miracle. You're not just praying to get sick anymore; you're worshipping the virus as your new god. You're praying for the conversion flu, for the moment your body finally surrenders and is reborn. There's no going back to safe sex for you anymore. This isn't a choice; it's an inevitability. You are more than ready. You're already one of us in your head. We're just here to make it official." A slow, warm smile transforms his face. He nods, a gesture of profound welcome. "Good," he says. "Then let's get started." They guide you to the bed, and the atmosphere shifts from ritual to something rawer, more primal. You're already naked from the reveal, your skin prickling with anticipation. Mark sheds his sweatpants, freeing his hard cock —t hick and veined, the familiar weapon you've dreamed about for weeks. Stefan strips off his shorts, his massive cock springing free, and settles at the edge of the bed. He wraps his fist around the thick shaft and strokes slowly, his gaze never leaving you, watching you like a gift he's about to share. Mark lays you down on the soft sheets and positions himself between your legs. He reaches for the lube on the nightstand and slicks himself up, his eyes never leaving yours. "I've been thinking about this," he murmurs, positioning the head of his cock against your hole. He doesn't push. Not yet. He just rests there, the hot, spongy tip kissing your entrance. You feel a warm slickness begin to spread—his precum, leaking steadily onto your vulnerable skin. "Feel that?" Mark whispers, his voice thick with lust. "That's my precum. Already toxic. Already soaking into that thin skin around your hole. My poison is touching you right now, seeping in before I even start fucking you." He circles his hips gently, smearing more of his slick fluid around your opening. The sensation is maddening — so close, but not yet inside. "One last time," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Are you fine with this? Are you aware of what's about to happen? Once I push in, I will not pull out anymore before I cum. There's no going back. My charged cock is going to be inside you, leaking poison with every stroke. Is that what you want?" "Yes," you breathe. "I want it. Please." He pushes forward, and you gasp as the head of his cock breaches you. It's slow, deliberate, savoring. He fills you inch by inch, and you feel every ridge, every vein, every throb of his heartbeat through his shaft. Then he stops. You can feel him pressing against your inner ring, that second gate that guards your deepest places. The stretch is intense, and your body instinctively tenses. Stefan moves then. He rises from the edge of the bed, his hard cock bobbing as he climbs over to your side. He lies down beside you, his warm body pressing against yours. His palm finds your chest, fingers threading through your fur, feeling the rapid hammer of your heartbeat. "Breathe," Stefan murmurs, his voice low and soothing. His fingers find your nipple and begin to play with it, rolling and tugging gently. "You know you want this. You've wanted this all along. Your body knows. Just let it happen." He leans in and kisses you, soft and slow, his tongue exploring your mouth with a tenderness that contrasts with the pressure inside your gut. You melt into the kiss, and you feel your body responding — your inner ring relaxing, widening millimeter by millimeter, surrendering to the inevitable, the inevitable Mark. "There you go," Mark whispers, and he begins to sink deeper, gliding through that second gate, filling you completely. When he's fully seated, his balls pressed against your ass, he pauses, letting you adjust, letting you feel the weight of him inside you. "There," he whispers. "Right where I belong." He starts to move. First slow and short strokes, barely pulling out before pushing back in, letting your body adjust to his presence. Then longer, deeper strokes, his rhythm building. It's everything you remember. Passionate, rhythmic, intimate. He maintains eye contact, whispering endearments, telling you how beautiful you are, how perfectly you take his charged cock, how much he's missed this. Stefan stays at your side, his hand still on your chest, his lips near your ear. "That's it," he murmurs. "Let him in. Work for his gift. Squeeze his cock. Milk his poison out of him." His words send shivers through you, and you clench around Mark's shaft, drawing a groan from him. Mark's strokes are deep and measured now, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groans, his pace quickening. The room fills with the wet sounds of fucking, the slap of skin against skin, your mingled moans and gasps. Stefan watches, stroking his own cock slowly, his eyes burning with hunger. "I'm close," Mark warns, his voice ragged. "I'm going to fill you up. Going to knock you up. Once more — really last chance: You want that?" "Hell, yes," you gasp. "Give it to me. Now! Please ..." He buries himself to the hilt and freezes, his whole body shuddering. You feel his cock pulse inside you, feel the hot flood of his toxic seed coating your insides. He groans your name into your neck, his hips jerking with each spurt, pumping you full of his poison. His body shudders to a halt, but he stays buried inside you. His cock remains a rigid, pulsing spear of flesh, so engorged with blood that deflation is a distant thought. He resumes a gentle rocking, his strokes no longer for pleasure but for purpose. He's massaging his seed into you, pushing it deeper, churning it into your guts until every drop is settled where it belongs. "Let it soak in," he whispers against your lips. "Let my babies find their new home." Only when his cock finally begins to soften does he slowly, reluctantly pull out. You feel the emptiness immediately, the loss of his presence. But you also feel the warm, heavy weight of his load settling deep inside you, exactly where it belongs. You feel the emptiness immediately, the loss of his presence. But it doesn't last long. Stefan is already moving, his eyes blazing with a dark fire. He's been stroking himself slowly on the edge of the bed while watching Mark breed you, and the sight has clearly pushed him to the brink. He loves this. Loves sloppy seconds, loves churning another man's toxic load into a willing hole. "My turn," he says, his voice a low growl, thick with lust. "On your stomach. Now." The command is sharp, and you obey instantly, flipping over. Mark, recovering but far from finished, moves in front of you. He sits back against the headboard, his legs spread, and pulls your head into his lap. His softening cock rests against your cheek, sticky with his own cum. He strokes your hair, his touch gentle, grounding you. Stefan doesn't use more lube. He doesn't need to. Mark's toxic load is already inside you, slicking your channel, preparing you for him. He kneels behind you, lines up his massive cock, and pushes forward. The angle is deeper, more intense. You feel every inch of his intimidating girth forcing you open. "Fuck," he breathes, sinking in to the root. "So wet. So sloppy. Mark did a good job priming you." He starts to fuck you, and his style is immediately different. Harder. More assertive. His strokes are powerful, almost punishing, driving deep into your guts with each thrust. The sound is obscene — a wet, squelching, churning noise as his cock pistons through Mark's load, pushing it deeper, mixing it. Mark tilts your head up and kisses you, soft and deep, a stark contrast to the brutal fucking you're receiving from behind. "That's it," he murmurs against your lips. "Take him. Let him churn my load into you. Feel how deep he's getting? Let him seal your fate!" "You hear that?" Stefan grunts, his hips snapping forward. "That's the sound of conversion. I'm stirring his poz cum into you. Pushing his babies right up against your gut. And then I'm going to add mine. We're going to mix our strains inside you and create something new. Something that's part of both of us. A part of you." Suddenly, Stefan slows his thrusts. "Mark," he grunts, a command in his voice. "Get under there. I want you to taste this." Mark moves with a fluid grace. He releases your head and slides down the bed, maneuvering his body until he's lying on his back, his head and shoulders nestled between your thighs and Stefan's knees. His face is now directly beneath your hole, and his hardening cock, still sticky with his seed, rises right in front of your lips. Stefan resumes his powerful rhythm, and the moment he pulls back on an outward stroke, a new, shocking sensation electrifies you. A wet, firm pressure. It's Mark's tongue, laving over your stretched rim and lapping at the base of Stefan's cock, relishing in the cum being pulled out. You gasp, your mouth falling open, and Mark takes the opportunity to push the head of his now-hard cock against your lips. The taste of his dried cum on his skin is intoxicating. Stefan slams back in, driving the air from your lungs, and the cycle begins. On every inward thrust, you're filled with Stefan's massive cock. On every outward pull, Mark's tongue is there to worship your hole and clean Stefan's shaft. It's a relentless, overwhelming rhythm. "Here it comes," Stefan warns, his rhythm becoming erratic. "Time to seal the deal. Going to add my load to his. Make you ours forever." He slams deep and holds, his cock swelling, and then you feel it — the hot pulse of his cum, jet after jet of toxic seed flooding your already-full channel. He grunts with each spurt, a deep, guttural sound of primal satisfaction. As he floods you, Mark's tongue laps at your stretched rim, trying to catch the overflow, desperate for every drop. When Stefan finally pulls out, you don't feel empty. Mark's mouth is immediately there, his tongue plunging into your gaping, well-fucked hole, sucking and swallowing the combined loads that are now pouring out of you. He's not just cleaning you; he's feasting on the evidence of your breeding. Stefan, still kneeling behind you, watches with a look of profound satisfaction. He reaches down and runs a hand through Mark's hair, a gesture of affection and ownership. "Just like in the toilet," Stefan says, his voice a low, rumbling memory. "Remember that kid, Mark? The first one we bred together? How you felched our combined toxic juices from his hole?" Mark moans into your ass, his tongue working even more frantically, his answer clear without needing words. He's reliving that moment, that first time they shared a hole and feasted on the result. This is a ritual for them, too. A dark sacrament they are performing again, this time with you at the center. After a long moment, Stefan gently pulls on Mark's hair, guiding him up. "Come here," he murmurs. "Don't be greedy. Share." Mark rises, his face slick and shining with a mixture of lube and cum. He moves towards you, and you turn your head to meet him. Stefan leans in from the other side, his face close to yours. You are now the center of their attention, caught between them. Mark presses his lips to yours, and you open your mouth to receive his gift. The taste is immediate and overwhelming — salty, metallic, and profoundly intimate. It's the combined essence of all three of you. He pushes the thick, warm load into your mouth with his tongue, and you accept it willingly. Before you can savor it, Stefan's lips are on you, too. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then captures your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue dives in, chasing Mark's, gathering the shared cum, and swirling it together. It's a three-way exchange, a messy, passionate tangle of tongues and lips and shared poison. The load passes back and forth between you, a sacred toxic cocktail being shared and tasted by all. It's the ultimate act of brotherhood. You are no longer separate individuals, but a single entity joined by spit and seed. You are finally, truly, one of them. The three of you collapse together on the bed, a tangle of sweaty limbs and satisfied sighs. The room smells of sex, smoke, and skin. Mark reaches for the joint on the nightstand, lights it, and takes a deep drag before passing it to Stefan. The smoke curls toward the ceiling as you come down from the intensity of the fucking, your body buzzing and boneless. "You took that beautifully," Stefan says, his hand resting possessively on your stomach. "Both of us. Like you were made for it." "He was," Mark agrees, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your chest. "I knew it the first time I saw him. Knew he was one of us." The praise washes over you, warm and intoxicating. You feel claimed, cherished, part of something bigger than yourself. The three of you lie there in comfortable silence, passing the joint back and forth, trading soft kisses and softer words, letting the smoke and the high rebuild your energy from the inside out. It doesn't take long. The post-fuck clarity is replaced by a new, hungry hum. Mark's hand drifts down from your chest to your cock, which is already stirring against your thigh. He strokes it lazily, and you feel yourself responding instantly, your flesh filling his palm. Stefan watches, his own cock twitching back to life against his thigh, a clear, thick monster already rising again. "That hole of yours must be feeling lonely now," Mark says, his voice low and teasing. "Ready to be filled again?" "Always," you breathe, the word a promise. Mark lies back on the bed, his cock standing proud and hard against his stomach. He reaches for you, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips, and as you position yourself, it's Stefan who guides Mark's cock to your slick, gaping entrance. You sink down onto him, and the feeling is indescribable. You're so wet, so loose from their breeding, that he slides in effortlessly, filling you completely. You settle onto Mark's chest, your heavy PA resting against his stomach, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "Just stay there," he murmurs. "Feel me inside you. Feel how full you are." You feel Stefan moving behind you, positioning himself between your spread legs. You assume he's just getting a better view, maybe preparing to take his turn again. You rest your head on Mark's chest, content to feel him pulsing inside you, enjoying the fullness. But then, a new pressure. Stefan's slick cockhead presses against your stretched outer entrance, right where Mark's shaft is already buried inside you. The pressure is immediate and intense. Your entire body goes rigid. A jolt, not of pleasure, but of pure electric alarm, shoots up your spine. You tense up, your body instinctively resisting the impossible intrusion. "Shhh," Mark soothes, his hands stroking your back. "Breathe. Relax for us. Let him join us." He produces a small brown bottle from somewhere and holds it under your nose. "Take a deep hit for me." You inhale, and the poppers hit you like a wave. Your head spins, the room tilting, and a wave of heat washes over your skin, making every inch of you feel flushed and alive. Your muscles loosen, and a warm, buzzing pleasure spreads through you. You want this. You feel yourself opening, but it's not enough. Stefan pushes, and the pressure at your outer ring is immense, a burning wall of resistance. "Again," Stefan commands, his voice tight with strain. Mark holds the bottle to your other nostril. You take another, deeper hit. The world dissolves into a haze of lust. Your body goes limp, your entrance fluttering, trying to obey. You push out, trying to open, and you feel yourself stretch a little more, but the thick head of Stefan's cock is still being held back by that final, stubborn gate. "One more," Mark whispers. "Give us one more. You can do it. Let us break that first gate together." You take a third, desperate hit, and this time, the poppers overwhelm you completely. Your mind whites out. Your body is no longer your own. You feel a dissociative thrill, a sense of floating outside yourself as you feel your outer ring dissolve, melting away in a wave of chemical heat. You push out with everything you have, a deep moan escaping your lips. And then it happens. An incredible, overwhelming slide. The head of Stefan's massive cock pops past the ruined muscle, joining Mark's inside you. You cry out, the sound somewhere between agony and ecstasy, as your entrance stretches beyond anything you've ever experienced. He slowly slides in, the channel slick and open, sinking several inches of his thick shaft into you before he stops again. A new, even tighter pressure deep inside. Stefan has hit the second gate. Your inner sphincter, the one that barely yielded enough for Mark's cockhead to pass, now clamps down defiantly preventing the entrance of a second invader. "Fuck, there it is," Stefan grunts, his voice a mix of frustration and awe. "The inner gate. The last wall of your neg body." "We knew this would be the hard part," Mark says, his voice calm and reassuring in your ear. "But you can do it. We can do it. Together. We're ripping you open from the inside, tearing down that wall. Making it easier for our babies to take hold." He kisses your temple. His lips are soft, a stark contrast to the brutal pressure at your core. "Just like before. Open for us. Let us break this last gate. Let our mushroom heads kiss inside you." "That's it," Stefan adds, his voice a low, encouraging rumble. "Push out for me. Let me in. I want to feel my cockhead kiss Mark's inside you. When they kiss, we'll release our toxic babies together. My bug and his... they're a team. Gonna conquer what one alone couldn't. A joint load, shot with the force of both of us..." The words send a primal terror through you, a desperate, overwhelming need. It's a full-body craving, a psychological hunger so intense you start to lose awareness of yourself, your entire being focused on the single point of impossible pressure inside you. "Yes!" you cry out, your voice ragged. "But I need more! Please, two more hits! I need the poppers to open the final gate! I need you both as deep inside as possible!" "Anything for you, for us," Mark murmurs, and he brings the poppers back to your nose. "Two big hits for this one. The final gate. Open it for us. Let us in." You inhale deeply, the chemical rush so powerful your vision tunnels. You hear them both talking to you, a chorus of praise and encouragement. "That's it... almost there... such a good boy... open up... let us in..." You take the second hit, your body trembling, and then you bear down with every fiber of your being. You feel the slick sweat on your brow, the burning in your thighs, the taste of blood on your lip from biting it so hard. You feel it—the inner ring giving way, tearing open, surrendering. Stefan slides forward the final inch, and you scream as their two cockheads push past, finally meeting deep inside you. You are impossibly, wonderfully, terrifyingly full. It's not just fullness; it's a feeling of being fundamentally reshaped, your guts rearranged to accommodate their combined mass. You can feel their two different viral loads already leaking from them, coating your insides, a toxic, warm balm preparing you for the main injection. Two cocks, two shafts, two sets of veins pulsing against each other inside your overstuffed channel. "There," Stefan breathes, his voice thick with awe. "We're in. Both of us. We broke your gates. Fuck, you're incredible." Now Stefan is doing all the work, moving his spear back and forth ever so slightly. With each tiny movement, their two cockheads grind together deep inside you, the most sensitive parts of each rubbing against the other in a slick, electric friction. The friction is so intense it’s like a live wire wired directly to your soul. All the while pressed closed to one another in the tight space of my inner chute, tighly held together by my inner ring. The dirty talk, the impossible fullness, the knowledge of what they're doing to you — it's too much. You feel your own cock, untouched, throb in time with their grinding, a droplet of fluid leaking from the tip, a physical testament to the pleasure building in your ass. You feel your orgasm building, a deep, primal pressure that has nothing to do with your untouched cock. It's coming from somewhere deeper, somewhere that their cocks are hitting with every stroke. "I'm going to cum," you gasp, the words surprising even you. "Without touching myself. I'm going to —" It hits you like a freight train. Not a wave, but a white-hot nova of pleasure exploding from your core, radiating outwards until every nerve ending in your body is firing at once. Your cock, pressed between your stomach and Mark's, erupts without warning. Hot, thick ropes of your still-neg cum spray across Mark's chest and stomach, painting him with your seed. Your hole clenches around both cocks, milks the double sword inside of you, the rhythmic, uncontrollable spasms so violent they feel like they might tear you apart from the inside out. The sensation is so intense you see stars. "Fuck!" Mark cries out, and you feel his cock pulse inside you. "Take my strain! Take it deep! Get pregnant with my bug!" You feel the hot, distinct pulse of his load as it shoots into you, a deep, primal warmth. The feeling of Mark‘s orgasm, the trembling of his whole body, the pulsing of Marks cock, the toxic wetness that is spreading deep inside of you triggers Stefan, and with a roar, he slams deep and unloads. "And here's mine! My viral load knocking you up! Sealing the deal! You're one of us now!” You feel a second, even hotter flood join the first, the two of them mixing, filling you so completely you feel it in your throat. The three of you are frozen in a tableau of ecstasy — Stefan buried to the hilt, Mark pulsing beneath you, your own cock still dribbling the last of your load onto Mark's cum-splattered chest. When the waves finally subside, a profound bone-deep exhaustion sets in, your muscles liquefying until your body feels like a ragdoll. Stefan carefully withdraws, and you feel a river of cum pour out of your gaping hole. Mark slides out next, and the flood intensifies, soaking the sheets beneath you. You collapse onto Mark's chest, utterly spent, utterly wrecked, utterly perfect. You're so thoroughly wrecked that you don't even close up. You stay open, a hollowed-out vessel, and in the quiet that follows, you feel the cool air of the room soothing your cum-slick inner walls—a stark, blissful contrast to the blistering heat that just filled you. Mark's hand moves through the puddle of your cum on his chest. He scoops some onto his fingers, brings them to his own lips, and tastes you. His eyes flutter closed, savoring. "Beautiful," he murmurs. "Even your neg cum tastes like it's ready to change." He offers his cum-slicked fingers to you, and you lick them clean, tasting yourself, tasting the salt of your own desire. Then he gathers more, reaching past you to offer them to Stefan. Stefan leans over you and takes Mark's fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean, his blue eyes locked on yours. And then, as if choreographed, the three of you come together for a kiss. It's not a simple kiss. It's a communion. Three mouths, three tongues, sharing the taste of your cum, passing it back and forth in a wet, intimate, filthy exchange. You taste yourself on their lips, taste whiskey and weed and something deeper—the taste of belonging, of being claimed, of becoming part of something bigger than yourself. When you finally break apart, you're all breathing hard, foreheads touching, sharing the same air. You lie between them, your body aching in the best possible way, their combined loads slowly leaking from your used hole. Mark strokes your hair, and Stefan's hand rests possessively on your hip. "Tonight was just the beginning," Stefan says, his voice soft but full of promise. "Our welcome. Our reconnection. Our first steps together." "Tomorrow night," Mark says softly, picking up the thread seamlessly, "is something different." You look up at him, curious, exhausted, already hungry for more. "We're taking you out," Stefan says, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face. "We're going to a bathhouse. One of the big ones in Frankfurt city." Your breath catches. A bathhouse. Public. Anonymous. The thought sends a jolt of pure adrenaline through your exhausted body. "We've been on the apps and forums all day," Mark explains, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "We posted an open invitation for a group breeding session on the regular forums like Romeo. In Romeo’s bareback and poz communities and on Buddy, we were even more explicit." His hand tightens slightly on your shoulder. "No loads refused. Poz and toxic preferred for maximum impact. Age and looks don't matter. Only cock size and viral load count. Last, we've been hitting up every toxic top we could find to make sure they get the message. One guy, his profile pic was just his AIDS-wasted body — he was so dedicated he even put us in touch with two of his friends who were obviously deep in their journey. The response has been... overwhelming." "We've booked a sling room in the most trafficked area," Stefan adds. "You'll be in the sling, blindfolded. You won't see who comes through that door. You won't know their names, their faces, anything about them. All you'll know is that they're there to breed you, many of them poz, some highly toxic, and that we are there to watch you and watch out for you." Your cock twitches despite your exhaustion. The thought of it —anonymous, faceless men, one after another, using you, filling you with their poisoned seed while Mark and Stefan watch over you, guide you, protect you... "Tonight was about connection," Stefan says. "About us, the three of us. About quality." "Tomorrow is about sheer quantity," Mark finishes. "We're going to flood you with so much toxic cum that your body won't have a choice. Every load is a gift, and tomorrow, you're going to be opening so many presents. We're going to make sure you're properly gifted. That test is going to show two lines if we have to invite every poz cock in Frankfurt to make it happen." Stefan leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We'll be right there. We'll be the gatekeepers, choosing who gets to fuck you. We'll feed you poppers when you need them. We’ll give you a break, if we feel you need a rest. We'll take care of you in every way. We'll take care of your body, and we'll take care of your future. You'll be safe. You'll be ours, our pride, for everyone to see. And in between visitors, we'll enjoy all those anonymous random loads in your gut, while we fuck you too, adding our own to the mix, making sure the viral titer in that cum soup stays high and toxic, to do the job right. You close your eyes, their words washing over you like a promise, like a prophecy. Tomorrow. A bathhouse. A sling. Blindfolded. Used. Bred. The thought is terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. But then, another thought surfaces, "What if..." you begin, your voice hesitant. "What if someone I know shows up? Someone who recognizes me?" You ask the question, and the room goes quiet for a moment. Mark just looks at you, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face, but he says nothing. He just leans down and kisses you, a deep, possessive kiss that steals the breath from your lungs and answers you without a single word. "Rest now," Stefan whispers, pulling the covers over the three of you. "You're going to need your strength." You're pulled under, enveloped in an intense three-way cuddle. You're a warm, tangled nexus in the center of the bed, your legs intertwined with Mark's hairy thighs, Stefan's muscular frame presses against your back, and every inch of skin is in contact. You can feel the soft weight of their massive cocks and heavy balls resting against your own, a trio of spent beasts sleeping together, trying to merge into a single body of pure masculine heat. Their promise of tomorrow echoes in your mind, and just as you begin to truly relax, just as you float on the edge of sleep, you feel Stefan's hand trail down your spine. His fingers find your used, tender hole, circling the rim before dipping inside. "Wow," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're still open as hell and leaking. Can't have all those precious gifts going to waste. Gotta keep the seed inside where it belongs. Gotta let it take hold." He shifts, and you feel the nudge of his semi-hard cock against your entrance. With a slow, possessive push, he slides back into you, plugging you up. He brings his cum-slick fingers up to your lips, and you taste the three of you as Mark leans in, joining you for a final, good-night cumkiss. Two lines. Soon. Very soon.

That’s a great start

I'm also down for this summer, love being nude and in a sex positive environment there are so many possibilities

Interesting how that desire started for some of us when we were young. I was sneaking into an adult theater when I was 15. No one seemed to care. There wasn't a dark room, but a dimly lighted "lounge" in the basement. Just bend over one of the old, worn chairs and get fucked. It thrilled me not to know who fucked me. Still does all these years later.

NKP is back up but the video chat function isn’t working right

Another great chapter from a true master of pig erotica. The writing leaves my crotch covered in cum and my brain asking so many questions. Once again, Well Done.

@blackholesondisregard my comment earlier I completely spaced and responded to to wrong thing you were quoting.

True!