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"Some countries limit entry for people with HIV. However, the number of countries restricting travel by people with HIV has reduced in recent years. Short-term trips usually have fewer restrictions and checks may be less consistently carried out. The rules tend to be more strictly enforced for longer-term stays, such as those requiring a work visa." Here's an overview of the above quoted summary of countries policies on HIV+ covering travel and residency. [think before following links] https://www.aidsmap.com/about-hiv/travel-restrictions-people-hiv

verbal and dirty!

If my bottom says "stop" I'll stop then and there. If he says "don't cum in me" that is always for me as a maybe. More often than not "don't cum in me" changes to "don't stop".

Prologue The first warm days of spring. Everything tingling. Hormones. Naughty thoughts. A profile – his profile. Few words, but strong energy. I message him. Just like that. “Hey hey.” He replies fast. “What are you into? What's your status?” I type back without thinking: “Tested negative for HIV. Not taking Prep. Raw. Mostly bottom. Risk turns me on.” I’m hard instantly. How will he respond? Will he even reply? I’m 45. He’s maybe 35. “I’m poz, on meds. If that’s your thing, I’ll make sure you’re dripping with my HIV cum after. Real. Raw. No protection.” I read it twice. Feel the pressure building. A fantasy wakes up. We write more. Pictures: He looks attractive, normal build. A handsome, and a poz guy. Myself, average build, naked in the woods, bent over a tree trunk. Exposed. Words that hit. No small talk, no games. He says he’ll be in my city soon. Business trip. Wants to know if I’m truly in. If I’ll show him I’m ready. I nod – even though he can’t see it. Mail after mail, the tension grows. He writes: “If we lock this in, I want it real. I will stop my meds then. No halfway bullshit.” I’m rock hard. Finally. Someone who means it. “I want to be your poz Dad, Boy. So you'll make a test. Just before I'm fucking you.” One sentence. And my mind explodes. Pre dripping. Nothing’s certain yet. But the thought is there. Deep. Three weeks later. You're in town. You stopped your meds two weeks ago. I'm still off Prep. It becomes real. Today. 2 p.m.

Perhaps most significant as I read were your words "drop anchor". Isn't that what "home" is? Isn't "home" not only where we live, but the life we're living?

Obviously we might choose to take up residence elsewhere. At least, for now we have some freedom of choice about that. There are ExPats from every nation including the US from all over the world. For me, US is home. Three quarters of a century here. I've owned a home in Central America for more than a decade, sold, thankfully, just before Covid lockdown. Maintaining awareness of how that government worked (a simpler system than the US) and the effects on that comparatively smaller scale of ill considered political decisions informs my view on what is unfolding in the US as I write this. There are plenty here who wish to intrude to our private consensual decisions with each other. Rather than see that continue to erode here it seems time to put an end to our current trajectory.

What a story-it reminds me of several of my older hook ups one in particular. He did the same to me invited me over to talk musicals(my passion) and plied me with drink cause he said I was nervous & there is no need. Next thing I'm naked on my back being fed his huge 10" dick and he never used lube just worked his fingers in & stretched me constantly advising me what a pretty ass I have & how he wanted to make it feel real good. I got loaded that time & went back for more-sadly my heart scare stopped play & whilst I'm in contact with him he has moved on & has others he 'plays' with. I still think of the massive loads though..... keep writing its getting so intreguing buddy

I'd settle for an interview! Definitely ready for more of this @roguematrix!

I need a guy like Ripper.

Have to admit this is the hottest thread on bz!

Absolutely, right after your South Afrika Trip, where you collect a lot of nasty cum. Then you can start your career as a whore in Germany, I will support that.

To the corners we have yet to explore. There are spaces in my life that are currently evolving. Spaces I’m stepping into— not for the first time, a space filled with fog. I can’t quite see what’s around me, only feel the shape of change brushing against my skin. But every day, when I talk to someone new or read a line that lingers or watch a video that jolts something loose, I learn a little more about this space. A step closer to the clearing out of the woods One of these evolving spaces is travel— and I want to save that for another day. Because today, I want to talk about the shifting space of my career. I left Michelin about two weeks ago. It was bittersweet. Sadness, yes. But also a wild pulse of excitement— the kind that dances behind your ribs when you’re about to leap. A sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in a long time. I didn’t really have a solid plan. Just a loose sketch of doing a bit of content creation, teaching fitness classes on the side, with the ultimate dream of becoming a personal trainer on a cruise ship. And now that I’ve tasted that freedom— really tasted it— I’ve realized something painful but clarifying: I’m not cut out to be an entrepreneur. I had a hunch before I left. Because I’d tried it ten years ago, as a personal trainer, a sole trader, and I knew even then that it wasn’t in my blood to be that lone wolf chasing his own brand. But I figured—hell, maybe a decade has changed me. Maybe I’ve grown enough, sharpened my tools enough to carry that weight now. But these past two weeks have done nothing but confirm what I already knew in my gut— I work better as a co-pilot. A collaborator. A gear in something greater than myself. I also realized that Michelin was more than just a job. It was an anchor. A sanctuary. A goddamn playground. It was where I moved my body, lost myself in music and podcasts, laughed with coworkers, mucked around, and somehow got paid to be present. And most days, it didn’t even feel like work— it felt like play. Right up until the very end. It was also a place I went to to unravel my thoughts, dissect them, and stitch them back together before the end of each shift. A ritual I didn’t even know I had until it was gone. And now, without that anchor, I feel adrift. I sleep in. I waste time. I spend half the day doing absolutely nothing, then try to cram some productivity into a fleeting two or three hours. And I feel—truly— a part of my soul shrinking in this air where others seem to thrive. But to me, this much freedom isn’t a gift. It’s suffocating. And so, I’ve realized something else— something I wish more people would say out loud: I work really well under time restraint. One of the best things about Michelin was that it took away eight hours of my day. Another eight went to sleep. Which left just eight hours to live— to create, to connect, to dream. And that restraint? It fueled me. It gave me urgency. It made me move. But when you hand me twenty-four hours of freedom, I unravel. Because I’m too efficient when I need to be. I know I don’t need the whole day to make something great— I only need two or three hours. Which means the rest gets wasted. I get wasted. Time gets heavy when it isn’t held. Which is why, next week, I’ve decided to walk back in. To that factory. To that space. To drop anchor not as a step backward, but as a strategy. Ironically, I need something stable to set my sails free. To move forward into this ocean of freedom with something steady beneath my feet.

This is what I like about this site. Sometimes you feel you are the only one and then you see posts like this. When I was youn I started to have my sexual awakening with my step dad. Yes it was not appropriate but I have no regrets. When I was about 16 he said to me after one of your sessions where I was insatiable and couldn’t get enough, “ you are an addict.” That stuck with me and for many years I thought because I needed to be bred all the time that there was something wrong with me. It damaged my self worth. My first long term relationship (outside of my dad) was with a man that pozzed me and shared me for drugs with many men for years. That along with my appetite for sex made me feel I was just a couple of holes to use and nothing more. I am now in my 40’s and I am just starting to emerge from that stigma that started so many years ago. I have embraced my sexuality and know that men are men. Our needs are simple. The norms of society have only made me feel less valued. Thank you all for posting your stories. It helps.

LoL.. Raw cock goez inn.. CUM followzz!! ALLWAAYZZ!!

(Hand raised) pick me!

I love this idea. Maybe it's time for me to visit Germany.

Yes... Brexit was a terrible decision in my humble opinion!

Sending DM.

Hell, when I go to my favorite ABS glory hole, I'm not only on my knees; I've got the door wide open any my ass hanging out bare and ready...

I've always had an okay time at Bunker but if you've seen an ad for a 'specialist' theme or party, be aware that they often have two or three overlapping things advertised. For instance Roadworks (worker hivis gear) overlaps with Skinheads and Smart business suits. Apart from advertising, they don't do anything much to make the events different or stand out. The videos they show in the play areas are random. This means that events are somewhat diluted. For me, its location and event timing means an overnight stay in a local hotel. This cost is hard to justify with a 'diluted' event. I would go more often if the trains home ran past midnight.

Just out of curiosity, are there facilities to clean yourself in case ?

If you are unmedicated poz top or unmedicated poz vers tops down on your luck, need a place to stay for a few days to get your feet on the ground, and willing to pump some raw loads in me hit me back. Age, race, looks, and size means nothing, sharing unmedicated poz cum means everything. Even after I get infected, I still want various different strains pumped in me. The same holds true for any other STD but they must be untreated.

I knew about Cheshire Motor Inn but not the Red Roof Inn. Cheshire Motor use to be so much more active, they have toned it down. Is there any good cursing places in Atlanta?

Sounds like a kinky combination 😈🤣

My mom has dual citizenship for US and South Korea. It is my understanding she does not pay taxes for SK. She gave me aspirations to get dual citizenship with Australia. Personally I have enough of living in America. It is dysfunctional.