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My load soaked my fuzzy chest, firm pecs, all the way up to my well trimmed beard. I was surprised at the amount since this was my third load of the day, all produced while watching a video of the ripped 19 year old stud who was renting one of the smaller apartments in my building. On my computer screen, the webcam recording showed him going from fully clothed, to naked and hard, to shooting his hot teen spunk onto a pair of black lace panties(left on his bedroom floor by one of the sorority sisters who shared the 3 bedroom apartment above his). Every time I watched it, I always ended up cumming when he reclined on his bed and described fucking her in the stairwell only 5 yards from his landlord's (aka my) door. As the vid rolled on to his massive explosion, I began to get hard again but had to put it away before I rubbed myself raw. How did I find myself stroking to my hot, young buck-of-a-tenant? With a little luck, some careful planning and a bold goal. This was only stage one of my plan to transform Derek from a normal, innocent young ladies man into my personal plaything. It all began when he walked into my rental office and asked if I'd had a chance to look at his application for the smallest unit, hidden near the back of the building in the basement. Normally I do not rent to college guys, due in part to their irresponsible tendencies, and in part to my perpetual hardon whenever I am near one. Derek could see my reluctance before I spoke, and cut me off with a well thought out list of reasons why I'd be lucky to have him living there. After the usuals, like tidy habits, quiet hobbies, etc., he added that he was working two jobs to pay for school since losing his athletic scholarship due to a blown out knee. His warm smile, round cheeks, deep blue eyes and dusty blond hair made me want to say yes, but his tight tee shirt and shorts led me to say no. Still he persisted, practically begging, since his dorm was too loud to study and all the other apartments within walking distance of his jobs and the school were either too expensive or taken. I apologized and waved for him to leave, knocking down a stack of flyers accidentally. He bent to help me recover them, causing his sagging briefs to reveal his firm bvd covered buns. When he stood up, his shirt rode up, giving me a tantalizing view of the most chiseled abs I'd ever seen in real life. He moved in two days later, and soon his fan club included all of the ladies in the building as well. After he was let go from one of his jobs, I decided to take advantage of the situation, hiring him on as afternoon help in the office. Now that we were spending a few hours a day together, I discovered just how naïve Derek truly was. Everyday some girl would find an excuse to come interrupt us in order to check out Derek, but he would just blush and get shy. One of the smutty sorority girls from the third floor even came by in her bikini (on her way to the pool lol) and the only thing that proved he was alive was the obvious outline of hard teen meat in his pants. "damn those are nice tits." I said once she left. Derek was caught off guard but agreed whole-heartedly. "fuck yeah man, and what a sweet ass." he added while trying to discreetly readjust his hefty hard on. "wish she'd invite me out for a swim." "if you asked," I laughed at his innocence. "She'd let you tittyfuck her in the middle of times square." This began our free discussion of sex, which proved, as I thought, that Derek's experience was limited to some sloppy head from drunk party girls, and 4 sessions of missionary with a girl from his high school. Since he was too shy to approach girls outright, I suggested he try meeting them online. At first he seemed hesitant, until I told him about sites where girls with webcams would strip and masturbate if he found the right one. The next day was spent with him regaling me with tales of smutty bimbos creaming on cam, and his desperation upon discovering they'd do more if he had a cam too. Begin phase one: I offered to let him use the office computer after closing time as long as he was careful not to be seen. Meanwhile I downloaded security software so each of his sessions was saved for my pleasure. After a few weeks of scenes where he'd only whip it out at the end and usually cum off camera, I became proactive. The thing I should have mentioned before is my real profession: drugs. I make a tidy living selling to the local campus and surrounding area, with a select few of my employees living in the apartments, right next door to unsuspecting students and model citizens. One such employee was the same girl that gave Derek a fashion show in her string bikini, and she owed me big. A few months earlier she'd given in to temptation and spent 3 days with her ass in the air at a local frat house, getting gang banged and smoking almost 300 dollars in Tina, which she still owed me. She had no problem with my plan to work it off by seducing Derek and convincing him to perform a stroke show for her while she was "out of town." All it took was getting her to catch him at the computer one night and she had him. Friday night I could hear them fucking on every surface of his apartment, and from the sounds of it, he was talented. The following morning he was at my door by 7, recounting every glorious moment. "I could pound her cunt forever Mr. E," he praised. "it sucks that she is going to visit her family this weekend, but she wants to video chat tomorrow night. I want to make her squirt on the keyboard." "Then you better get some moves Derek," I said, leading him onto phase two. "Why don't you watch some dudes who jack off on cam for money, see what they do that works best, then copy it for her?" The result of his research was the video I can't stop watching, with another session the next morning. As expected, Derek became obsessed with getting her on his cock, which was difficult to fit in with his classes, afternoons in my office, evenings bussing tables at the old Chicago's, and the 90 minutes a day in the gym. He skipped a couple work outs to hook up with her, before I told her to only be free during his bussing shifts instead. this leads us to Phase three: deciding between paychecks and pussy. "so what should I do, sir?" he always called me by my last name or sir, which had me hard in no time. "Do I keep giving up shifts for the fuck of a lifetime, or do I tell her I can't do it then?" "first of all, she is just a piece of ass Derek," I educated him in the secret to women. "She seems magical now, but I bet I can find you another slit who is even hotter if she can't be bothered. Second, didn't you say you'd been doing those cam shows every weekend with her? Why not do a live show for a paying audience? Chances are you'd make enough in one night to equal a month at that shitty restaurant." He declined, but left with a look on his face that told me he wasn't as sure about it as he let on. When he went to his 'girlfriend' that evening and told her he needed to work, she informed him that he could either do her when she was free or she would find a new stud. Stunned and a little heartbroken, he went to work, but texted me when he was on his way home that night: Taking u up on offer 2 find new girl, and decided to do the pay show. C u tomorrow. Saturday night he did his first show and made enough that he quit his busboy gig before the clock hit midnight. A week later, he'd done three shows and had enough to splurge on some beer and brats, which I shared in. He'd never had any beer before, except a sip here and there to seem cool at parties, but my influence was having its desired effect, so he'd finished his third when my 'surprise guests' arrived at my door. Lana and Lois were two of my regular clients, buying enough each week to provide their clients with enough crystal for any and all dates they scheduled. As pros go, these two were the least skanky, but they still had the hints of 'will fuck for cash' in their clothes, make-up and long hair. Lana was some sort of Asian/Hispanic mix, with dark red loose curls, and per my instructions, she was wearing a pair of tiny shorts and a tight tank top. Lois was creamy white with black straight lochs, and her huge breasts were barely covered by her tight, see through dress. Derek sat in silence while I lead them inside and asked them to join us while I got them their goodies. Phase 4: introduce Derek to drugs as a side dish to hot pussy. As expected, his jaw dropped when I admitted to selling drugs to these "sweet grad students." if Lois hadn't sat in his lap when I brought it all out to measure it, he probably would have run for it, but after some drinks, he was all too eager to let her grind into his lap. Accepting a couple beers, they playfully flirted with us both, suggesting all the wicked things they could imagine happening if they got high with us. By the time I brought out a pipe and asked Derek if he minded if we smoked it, Lois had taken his hand and slid it between her thighs, riding his fingers and whispering how horny Tina made her. "Tina? Who are you talking about?" Derek asked, his eyes drifting to where Lana had joined me on the couch, her hand in my fly getting me hard. "this," she said, loading some crystals into a pipe, lighting it, and exhaling a giant cloud. "is Tina. Wanna try some? It make Dicks throb, pussies drip, and orgasms like you won't believe." "I don't do drugs," Derek said, regurgitating the line he'd been hearing since he could crawl. "isn't it bad for you?" "Yeah, but so am I," Lois moaned as she slid off his fingers and walked over to hand me the pipe. I took a huge hit and shotgunned it back to her before reaching out and tugging on her dress so her tits popped out of it. I leaned forward and took her nipple in my mouth while Lana and Lois hit the pipe, shotgunning back and forth. Derek stood up and walked over to our miniature orgy, pressing his huge bulge against Lois' bubble butt, but still declining the pipe. "Don't pressure him if he doesn't want to, he's just a kid Lois." I said dismissively, taking a huge hit while Lana fished out my hard 8 inch Dick and swallowed it whole. Really, I was fed up with his prudishness, and I winked at Lois who turned around and backed Derek into his seat. "That's okay," Lois said, stripping out of her dress entirely. "Lana and I will just fuck around with your boss. Maybe you can join us next time, but I guess it's just us grown ups tonight baby boy. Lock the door on your way out." Derek sat speechless while the three of us continued getting naked and grabbed the pipe to head for the bedroom. "How... How do I smoke it?" Derek's soft voice stopped us as we were almost out of sight. I smiled before turning back around a walking over to show him in nothing except my dogtags and socks. "go ahead and get him started while Lana and I get ready for you two." Lois said before pulling Lana into the bedroom and shutting the door. They knew I wanted to be alone with Derek when I got him addicted to meth, so I'd always be the first thing on his mind when he smoked it. "Hold this but don't inhale until I tell you," my hard dripping meat pulsed while I lit the torch and cooked the crystals, until a thick white cloud swirled out of the round bowl. "Ok, now suck as hard as you can boy." Derek did as he was told, inhaling until he couldn't anymore, then coughing hard for a minute while I took my turn. We did that back and forth, and in only a minute or two, Derek's whole body came alive and started humming for sex. "Get undressed for those hot bitches. We're wasting the smoke boy," I said, watching Derek peel off his tight tee shirts and slide off his basketball shorts, leaving him in tennis shoes and a pair of white briefs that barely contained his massive rod. "this time, exhale your smoke into my mouth and I'll do it for you too." When he leaned in to shotgun, his briefs grazed my thigh, causing us both to drip precum. When I returned the favor, I got closer so our lips were almost touching, bring our hard cocks together, separated by the thinnest of cottons. His next exhale, I leaned in and our lips rested against the other's, as I felt the pulse of his racing heart pumping through his shaft and head. The last hit before we went in the bedroom, I put my arm around his shoulders, and peeled away his briefs with my free hand, kissing him hard and gripping his penis for a long moment before striding away. When he recovered from shock, he ran after me, and we spent the next six hours trading off using the girls' in every combination imaginable. By the time we shot our loads, Lana was practically blacked out on the floor and Lois was hanging from my neck, sandwiched between us while we double fucked her pussy. I locked eyes with Derek as I covered his Dick in my semen, which freaked him out enough to make him pull out and spray his load on her ass. While Lois and I went to shower, Derek grabbed his clothes and ran off into the night... End of part one. Still to CUM: Derek craves more Tina, needs cash and agrees to fuck a girl on camera in exchange. Instead Derek discovers the last Phase in Mr. E's plan: taking Derek's cherry.

Fuck it. It was late Saturday afternoon and I had just finished running some last-minute errands getting stuff to keep me hydrated for that evening's play session with a FFuckbud in Bushwick. I was a little behind schedule and felt rushed, sweating from the late summer humidity and sexual anticipation. It was a warm day and I was wearing a t-shirt with cut-off sleeves, shorts and sneakers. I took a deep breath to relax as I waited for the Über car to arrive. I stared at my phone screen: the app displayed the driver was a few minutes away. He was kinda hot from the thumbnail image of his profile. OINK! Buzz. My phone vibrated as the screen display got interrupted as a text came in. HIM: SORRY baby. Can't host tonight after all. Something came up. Have to cancel. Fuck it. I texted him back quickly. ME: Dang that sucks. HIM: I know!!! Was really looking forward 2 PNP and getting @ that pussy of urs. ME: K. Another time then. HIM: I'll make it up 2 u next time I CYU. ME: L8R. I was already cleaned out and just a little buzzed. I smoked a little bowl while getting ready earlier to get me in the mood. It was enough to get my manhole hungry. He is one of my regular fuckbuds. I hate it when they cancel as the last thing I want to do is go online and take a risk with someone new. I like playing with the few regular buds I have. We have great connection and they know how to make my insatiable hole feel great. And I give it back in return. Except not tonight apparently. I stared at my phone screen. Now what? I thought to myself. Should I contact another bud at this last minute? Go online and risk searching for someone new? That seemed desperate (well I was sorta...). FUCK IT. I cancelled the Über car. I shook my head cursing at myself. I had a bag of protein and energy drinks in one hand and my phone on the other. Beside me, I had a small overnight travel bag that had some of my favorite toys, various lube and grease, poppers, and my toiletry bag parTy kit. All that preparation for nothing. I looked around me at the storefronts on the block. I live in an area of north Brooklyn that is historically more African American. But that is rapidly changing as it gentrifies year by year as the a new influx of people move in (myself included), priced out of Manhattan and other areas of northwest Brooklyn. I see a barber shop across the street. Hmm...time for a cut, I think to myself. If I can't play, I may as well get a haircut. I usually go to my barber in the East Village but I sure wasn't going there tonight. It had been a few weeks since my last cut and I like to keep my hair short and buzzed fresh. I was overdue. I placed my phone in my shorts pocket, picked up the overnight bag and crossed the street. Some aashole hipster almost ran into me on a Ciibike, oblivious to jaywalkers ruling the street. I cursed at him as he sped by, not hearing me with his headphones on. I was still spitting at the air when I got in front of the barbershop. It was about to close, totally empty except for one lone barber. I entered. "Hey," I greeted him, walking in. "How's it going? Can you do one more today?" The barber looked me up and down quickly as he was putting some equipment away. "It's late." It almost sounded like a complaint. He looked at me appearing to size me up. The barber was in his mid to late 50's, a tall dark, black man with short, buzzed cut hair and a trim beard that had a light salt and pepper pattern. He was about 6'3" and I guessed around 225 lbs of solid man. He looked like a coach for a high school athletic team. He had a handsome face in a rugged way with an impressive squared-off jawline that was framed with a short beard. He was wearing a dark green, button-down short sleeve shirt that served him like a uniform and was snug on his upper body. The top two buttons were undone and I could see short bristles of salt and pepper hair lightly covering his chiseled chest. He was wearing dark blue sweatpants that were a little loose. I couldn't help but notice that he had impressively large feet in his black beat-up sneakers. I could read that he was in good shape for his age. "I just need a buzz cut." My hair was about a half-inch long, too long for my taste. "You can do me quick: in-and out." I smiled at him. "Cool?" He moved towards me then passed my side heading to the storefront windows. "I am just about to close," he announced as he shut off the air conditioner. His voice had a deep weight with an after-tone of a subtle bass. I liked how he sounded. He adjusted the old blinds at the windows, lowering them one by one as the narrow shop got darker. He looked me up and down again. I noticed some pause with his gaze. "I will do you," he said, locking the door and lowering the last shade on the inside of the door. The shop was darker now, cut off visibly from the outside. The small shop had old fluorescent light bars overhead in three parallel rows casting a greenish glow to the room. His dark skin took on another sheen with the absence of natural light from the outdoors. One length of the light on the farthest right ceiling row was flicking on and off, shorting itself randomly, casting stranger highlights on both of us that would materialize and then quickly disappear. "You're in luck, Boy," he finally smiled. I liked that he called me Boy. Was he flirting with me as he read me visually again (or so I thought)? Or was I just horny from my now defunct evening's anticipation? "You're my last customer." He walked into the shop towards one of the corners. "I'll take you." He washed his hands at a corner sink for shampooing customers. He dried them off thoroughly. Nice forearms, I thought; they were thick and solid. "Put your bags down by that last chair," he instructed in that deep tone, pointing to a beat-up leather barber chair. "Sit down." I walked towards the corner, setting the overnight bag down. I placed my plastic grocery bag on the linoleum-tiled floor. The contents fell out, imbalanced and tossed around. My drinks rolled around our feet. "You goin' to do some major exercise or somethin' tonight?" He peered at me and then the various drinks scattered on the floor. "Yeah," I laughed as I looked up at him. "You could say that," I paused. "...special exercises." I knelt down, gathering the various bottles and placing them carefully back in the bag. "They help keep me going." He was now standing beside me, near the counter, getting some of his barber tools out of several small cabinets. I couldn't help but stare at his crotch as it was just a few inches from my face. He turned slightly, opening another cabinet to get some clippers so he was in profile from my viewpoint. WHOA! Nice bulge! There was something definitely in those dark sweatpants. I couldn't stop looking at it, that inner buzz inside me from earlier triggered itself ON. "You done yet?" He looked down at me, a tight smile on his face. "Sit down on the chair and let's get this started." I got up and sat down on the barber chair. It was an old-skool shop; probably from the late 80's when the neighborhood was a lot rougher. I got myself comfortable on the chair which looked like an antique at this point. The leather was well worn on the seat and it crackled as I adjusted myself, straightening my back. There were mirrors all around us at each chair station. There were six chairs in the shop in total, three at each side, with just a little walk space in the center of the narrow shop. You could see your reflection from one side of the room to the other into infinity as the mirrors on each side of the shop reflected on itself. The mirrors were a bit faded, well past their time; some were cracked, including the one in front of us, a hairline fracture that ran diagonally from mid-center on the left side up to the right corner of the glass surface. If I turned slightly, my head appeared split and off-register. The cabinets surrounding the mirrors at each chair station were covered in black Formica, the edges a bit frayed. There was a scattering of photos all around each station displaying men's hairstyles from old to current trends. I looked across from me and observed his personal photos taped around the mirror. A few were with his wife (I presumed) from different eras. He maintained a great body regardless of the decade. I noticed the wife in older photos but only solos of him or with male friends as he got older. There was a photo of him without a shirt, I am guessing from the last decade, probably on some island vacation, showing off his chiseled chest. HOT! I could feel myself starting to sweat slightly. He grabbed a long sheet of white tissue paper from one of the frayed tiny cabinets in front of us flanking the large mirror. I watched our reflection as he proceeded to get ready, folding the tissue as he walked behind me. He wrapped the tissue around my neck and tucked it into my T-shirt collar. He did this quietly as he looked deep into my eyes in the mirror. I watched him in return, also silent. I sensed we were both assessing the situation and measuring each other. I couldn't quite get a read on him. He was making me nervous. He was making me horny. I looked at those forearms again. They were large and thick, a light tangle of dark hair blended with his skin tone. I saw some tattoos on his right arm that I hadn't noticed before. They were faded and old, the black ink almost blending with his dark skin tone. The designs gave away their age as they were soft and fuzzy, the edges blurred by time and unsaid experiences. He reached for a dark sheet that was folded at the edge of the chair arm. He snapped it in the air suddenly, startling me as it sounded louder than it probably was, my senses already heightened. He unfolded it and draped it over me. It was a thin polyester sheet and it created a second skin over my crotch and upper body. He fastened it around my neck methodically. His large hands then rested on my shoulders, brushing the sheet into place. His palms seemed to be wiping away the creases so that the draping of the sheet over my upper body was even and centered. His hands had a weight to them that felt solid and heavy. Impressive. Masculine. Sexy. His fingertips applied a little pressure to the front of my shoulders for a mere moment, a slight massage. I moaned. Fuck it-that felt good! His right hand lifted in the air and disappeared behind my head in the reflection as our eyes met again and traced each other. The palm of that hand now brushed the back of my neck and ran up and down the back of my head, feeling my hair lightly as if we was barely touching it, running up and down, up and down, slowly, gently, almost sensually. It was if he was studying my hair, its texture, softness, healthiness. But his touch seemed to graze over me longer than professionally expected, unmeasured seconds that bordered into inappropriate movements. I moaned a little more, almost embarrassed at my obviousness. "Whatcha want, Boy?" Finally he spoke. The tone was now almost gentle, but just a bit, a decipherable difference I caught in comparison to his not-so-friendly greeting when I had entered earlier. The deep voice seemed to echo for a few seconds in the small, empty shop. Outside the light was getting fainter as the sun had set quickly as the late afternoon stepped into the early summer evening. The broken fluorescent light bar behind us flickered like a signal as if it were announcing the passing of the day. "Just a buzz cut," I stammered in my reply. His large hand ran over the top of my head again, rapidly this time. "What you take? 1.5? 2?" He looked at me. "Huh?" I was puzzled. "What do you mean?" "Clippers. Razor guard size," he answered. "Oh. I think it's usually a 2." I inadvertently brought my hand up to the top of my head as If to measure my hair and our hands touched for a second. He looked at me in the mirror. "Then my regular barber goes more in detail with a 1.5." "Regular barber?" His tone was definitely easing. "Yeah. I go to this Ukrainian guy in the East Village. I had a date that cancelled and saw your shop was still open. So here I am." "A date huh?" He kind of sneered at that. "You don't look like you dressed for any date." Fuck it. What the hell. "Yeah...well it was more a hook-up," I confessed quickly. "He cancelled at the last minute. I was right across the street to meet him when he cancelled. Saw your shop was still open. Figured I would get a buzz here." "Well you came to the right spot," his hand brushed the back of my head again, now taking his time, slowly running his palm up and down, up and down. "You got nice hair, nice texture...very soft." I stared at our reflection in the cracked mirror. Behind us, the fluorescent light bar shorted out for a second or two. He stopped with my hair and walked over to the cabinets and got his clippers ready, plugging the cord in a socket by his right. He approached me and I stared at him, my eyes following him in the mirror as he positioned himself behind me. He flicked the clippers on and it came alive, resting on my head for a second before he started to push it along. The whir and buzz of the vibration seemed like a strange percussion in my ears. He started by running the clippers from the front of my head towards the back. The clippers vibrated in a gentle rhythm over my scalp. I was definitely hyper sensitive with the little toke on the glass pipe from earlier. Fuck it-that felt GOOD-as he raked my head methodically, row by row. It was like an electronic massage in parallel motions going over my scalp. Tiny threads of dark, black hair fell around me, scattering on the sheet on my upper abdomen and crotch, raining down as the clippers ran its path. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation privately. I took in the mechanical buzz and vibration and breathed in slowly. "You OK there, Boy?" He noticed. I opened my eyes slowly, staring at our reflection. My head was on one side of the reflection in the crack of the mirror, his on the upper half. He was almost smiling. "You OK?" He repeated, the voice had a hint of concern. "You looked like you went somewhere down the avenue or somethin'." "Uh yeah," I replied, a little embarrassed. "I just like clipper cuts. It feels good," I admitted. "OK, Boy," he laughed and winked at my reflection. He continued with the clippers, buzzing around the rest of the top of my scalp, then the back and sides. He walked around me, shifting from my right side then to the left, getting in the correct position, gently pushing my head down or to the side to get a better angle. Short, trimmed hair continued to rain around me. I watched him intently in the mirror. His arms flexed as he moved the clippers around my head. The cuffed edge of his short-sleeves were tight around his biceps. I observed his hand, large with thick, long fingers, holding tight on the clippers gliding it around my head. He sure was getting sexier by the minute. "What kinda hook-up you had goin' tonight?" He didn't look at me as he continued to push the clippers around my right ear, carefully and slowly sculpting at the hair edge, repositioning himself to my right side, his large body getting closer to the chair arm, closer to me. I turned my head slightly to him but he quickly pushed my head face-forward with a gentle but in-control force as he continued sculpting the edge around the back of my ear. "What kinda hook-up is it that you got all those energy drinks?" He sneered a little now but continued to put his attention on my hairline. "And what's with the overnight bag, Boy?" Fuck it. Go for it, I told myself. I was already a little buzzed and so horned up. "Well," I looked at his reflection, waiting for his eyes to meet mine, trying to get more of a read on him. "If you really want to know...we were going to parTy and get all crazy and shit." "Watcha talkin' 'bout?" His eyes suddenly looked in the mirror, curious. "You know: parTy?" I emphasized the last syllable. He moved the clippers away from my head, staring at me more seriously in the mirror. "I like a little Tina. Gets me all wild and super horny." He smiled at me and resumed clipping around the right side of my head. "That bitch Tina?!?" He laughed. "She sure is a good time." He smiled wider and continued to carefully trim around my ear and side. "Haven't fucked with that biTch in ages." "So you parTy too?" He got my attention. I shifted slightly in my chair. "Oh yeah, Boy." He looked at me proudly in the mirror, then placed his attention back to cutting my hair. "Yeah, after my wife passed over ten years ago, I got a little crazy for a minute...if you know what I'm sayin'. Few bitches here and there. Some wild ones too! Those are the ones I partied with. GOOD TIMES!" He smiled at that memory and continued with the clippers. "Whatcha get into? You a bottom, Boy?" He stopped for a second, looking at me, waiting for my reply. I nodded as he held the clippers away from my head. "Yeah. I thought so." He stepped away from me, careful to not get tangled with the cord of the clippers, and walked towards another cabinet and adjusted the blade guard. His body was turned just slightly, most of his back facing me. When he was done, he walked behind me, then towards my left side. He brought the clippers back to my head to go in for a finer trim detail. He cranked the lever on the side of the chair as it jerked up a few inches, raising me. My left elbow was now at the same level as his crotch. His body was much closer now. I could feel his body heat. He carefully continued with the clippers, inching his body closer and closer now that my elbow was rubbing against the jersey material of his sweatpants. WHOA! SHIT! He was fucking hard as a rock! He continued with the cut, shifting his body left to right just slightly, back and forth, rubbing his crotch on my elbow. I pushed my left arm towards him, playing his game, adding pressure to his crotch that was now pressing against me. "Ohhhhh...Boy. That do feel good." He stopped cutting my hair for a moment, pressing harder on my arm, his head cocked back, eyes closed. I stared at our reflection. Then suddenly he opened his eyes. "You got any of that biTch in your bag there, Boy?" His eyes spoke of experience and knowledge. I could read that we had something in common... HUNGER. I nodded in the reflection. "Let's invite that biTch to this party then, Boy." He stepped away from me a half step, holding the clippers down at his side. It was still buzzing. From the mirror I saw an impressive silhouette of a bulge growing in his sweatpants. It was huge and thick, stretching the jersey material obscenely. "Boy, I haven't let loose since I don't know when. Haven't made it with a guy in ages either. But you sure are cute. And I sure am horny. I told you you came to the right spot." He paused and gave me a serious glare in the mirror. "Open your bag." The light flickered behind us again. In the mirror my hair was half-done: one side short and buzzed, the other unfinished. I looked a little crazy with this insane half-done buzz cut. I also looked really horny. A bead of sweat trickled down the left side of my forehead. I slowly stood up from the chair, countless hairs trimmed at the same tiny lengths, like black needle tips, littering around us on the floor. I walked over to my overnight bag, bent down and pulled on the zipper. He turned off the clippers, walked around the chair, and set it on the cabinet counter. I dug through the contents, looking for the small toiletry bag that had my parTy supplies. He sat down on the chair I had been on, the leather cracking under his weight and mass as he spread his legs. I stood up with the toiletry bag, placed it on the counter beside the clippers and unzipped it. He watched me silently. I prepared the glass pipe with a good size shard of crystal and carefully heated it, careful to keep the flame at the right distance, rocking the bowl side to side. He started slowly massaging his crotch then leaned forward, motioning for me to step closer. I continued to slowly melt the Tina as he leaned in even closer, both arms about to surround me. His hands disappeared behind my back and unfastened the sheet over my upper body. The sheet fell silently, my trimmed hair scattering into a random, frenzied pattern on the linoleum floor. "Take a big drag, Boy." He instructed. "And I mean a BIG HIT." I did as I was told. I kept the flame under the bowl another second as that lovely light grey cloud formed in the glass bubble. I shook the torch off and he reached for it as I took a long, deep BIG breath as he had instructed, taking as much smoke as my lungs would allow. "Good Boy," he grabbed the pipe. "Hold it in as long as you can. Now take off that shirt. Let me see your body." I lifted my arms and pulled the tank top off and threw it carelessly on the floor. Little bits of trimmed hair fell on and around us. "Nice tits, Boy. You keep in shape." He lit the pipe a few times for himself like I had done earlier, then set the torch to his side. He motioned for me to keep my breath and to not exhale. The magical smoke appeared in the pipe and he took equally, if not more, of a big hit than I had just done. We both held our breaths. He reached over slowly and with his free hand squeezed my right nipple, surprising me. He squeezed it hard. Finally, I exhaled; I couldn't help myself. A huge cloud came out of me, floating slowly over us, temporarily obscuring him from my vision as if he was lost in a miniature chemical fog. And then his face slowly appeared as the smoke dissipated, floating towards the fluorescent lighting, the small clouds taking on another palette. He grabbed me and leaned in closer, our mouths met, his swallowing mine, surprising me. His large and heavy tongue pushed and parted my lips gently at first, then with force, getting my mouth open and wide as he exhaled a huge amount of smoke. I greedily sucked it in. His eyes stared at me. He was different now. This wasn't the barber anymore. This was a Man. And he was hungry with that all too familiar look in his eyes that indicates the biTch was here. His tongue darted rapidly into my mouth, fishing for mine. There was now an electric energy in him that wasn't there before. His tongue gave it away if his eyes hadn't already hinted of it. The tongue danced violently in my mouth as if it were seeking its last breath. I gave it back earnestly and kissed him deeply, sucking in his tongue, adding pressure so hard that our mouths locked into a vacuum. We were both with the biTch now. I flicked my tongue back at him harder and he relented, his mouth first, then his body relaxing. I exhaled back to him. He sucked it in deep then looked at me intently, the madness gone, now only a soft gaze in his eye. His tongue gently coaxed mine and I pulled away slightly, licking his thick, dark lips. He exhaled and a thick cloud surrounded our heads. I took control now. I pushed him gently back on the chair as he reclined at an angle. He is quite tall; his legs were spread wide on the floor despite the chair being higher than normal. I grabbed the pipe and lighter from him and lit it again, inhaling deep as he watched me intently. He grabbed the pipe and torch from me and did the same. I held my breath as long as I could watching him before I exhaled. He held his breath longer before exhaling, our combined clouds fading in the ceiling. We repeated this a few more times, getting more higher. I grabbed the pipe and torch from him and placed them on the counter. I pushed against the foot pedal on the base of the chair, flipping it downwards and stepped onto its flat edge leaning into him. He sat back comfortably, very buzzed, observing me, his arms spread open and resting on his side. I leaned forward and slowly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and pulled it apart. Nice chest. He was still in great shape. The hint of salt and pepper hair that I saw earlier was now all visible. It was light on the upper chest, then thicker near his pecs, visually defining the lower curves of his pectorals. The hair was short and bristly and then it got less dense as it disappeared into his groin. I ran my left hand over his chest, feeling the texture of his body hair, the firmness of his muscles and a slight sweat that was building, coating his dark skin. I reached forward with my body, my abdomen rubbing against his crotch, hard and throbbing, as I leaned in closer and took his right nipple into my mouth. I bit it hard with my front teeth and held my grip. Then I gently flicked my tongue left to right on the tip of his nipple, brushing it lightly with saliva, teasing him. "MUTHAFUCKER!!!" He groaned, sliding up the chair slightly. I looked up at him while biting hard and soft, my tongue moving rapidly. He stared back at me and his body shifted up the chair even more as I felt his hard cock rub against my abdomen. I pulled away and shifted back down, in between his legs, looking up at his crotch and upper body. His massive cock was throbbing under the jersey material of his sweatpants. I positioned my right hand under his left thigh and squeezed tight, pulling the cotton against his leg. His bulge looked massive now, outlined by the tightened jersey material. It pulsed with excitement. I kept rearranging my grip and pull on the material, admiring the view. I lifted my left hand and slowly started feeling his shaft. "You one of those NASTY bitches!" He proclaimed. He was breathing heavy and rapid now, clearly turned on, clearly starting to buzz. I squeezed harder on the bulge. Fuck! It was huge! Thick as a beer can - my favorite! It looked long too - maybe 9"-10". I kept stroking it through the cotton, re-arranging its position on his thigh, checking it out, getting myself turned on with what was in front of me. He pushed my hand away suddenly and I leaned back. He took control and started rubbing himself, gripping the thick base with his left hand. "You like that, Boy?" He smirked at me. There was something nasty about how he said that. I nodded, gripping and squeezing my own dick inside my shorts. He squeezed his cock some more and we exchanged glances of silent anticipation. He was showing off to me and I was a willing audience. He kept grabbing his thick tool, moving it from one side of his thigh, an inch or two down his leg, then the other way, then back, constantly shifting. It looked obscene like some monster about to be unleashed. "You like what you see, Boy?" I nodded, grabbing his tool. I squeezed it hard, loving the weight and mass of it in my hand. I brought my hand to the base of his cock then traced it along the cotton material, rubbing it slowly up and down the shaft which only made him moan some more. My hand encircled the head and I squeezed gently at first, then with a tighter grip, then back to a soft touch. He squirmed on the leather chair as it crackled from underneath him. Then suddenly I grabbed the shaft again and shook it hard as it flopped through the sweatpants material. His hands appeared from the side as he lifted his ass off the chair slightly. Then he suddenly pulled his sweatpants down, thrusting them as far down his legs as it would go. He was wearing thin boxers with a vertical stripe pattern and the left leg sleeve was getting soaked from his excitement. His tool looked even larger now. I pushed back a little to admire the changed view. I grabbed his tool again and the thin cotton was barely covering his shaft. I positioned his cock slightly so it was running down his thigh, the head just visible now underneath the edge of his boxers. I pulled back on the cotton material exposing the head further. Now it was my turn to to moan. Wow. It was a beautiful cock head : round and bulbous and dark. He was uncut. The head was covered with foreskin which was pulled back slightly. Precum was leaking out of his urethra. I slid my finger alongside the slit and placed it in my mouth, licking it while looking at him. It had a slight salty taste. "Oh yeah man," I moaned, finally answering him. "I love it." "Pull off my sweats and boxers," he commanded firmly. I leaned back slightly and yanked them off quickly rolling them through his legs and feet. I kept his sneakers on and tossed the clothing to one side of the floor. His legs looked massive, long and muscular with impressive thighs. There was strength to his legs that I liked. I squeezed his thighs hard several times and then let go. His balls were large and round and pushed the base of his thick tool which was now very hard and swerved to the side by his left hip. I leaned in closer and took in his scent from in between his legs. He smelled of sweat, his own musk and some old-fashioned scent that reminded me I was in a barber shop. I leaned in closer and spit on his balls. His cock shifted. I leaned in more and ran my tongue from the bottom to the top. I repeated this from the left side, then the right, then back to the center, each time depositing more saliva that his testicles were now glistening, the highlights in a faint green cast from the fluorescent lighting. My mouth opened wider and I engulfed as much of his balls that I could fit into my mouth. And then I applied pressure with my lips creating a seal as I applied suction to the testicles inside my mouth. I ran my tongue rapidly over his balls, side to side, up and down, with pressure, without, all at random, driving him crazy. I loved how his balls tasted, a little salty from his sweat, a little pungent in general, and a lot masculine. His cock kept shifting. I released his balls and leaned back for a moment while my left hand cupped his testicles, spreading my saliva gently around his balls. His cock shifted again as if silently wanting attention. I leaned forward once more, grabbed the shaft of his tool and brought my lips to his cock head. I curled the tip of my tongue and flicked it around the rim of his foreskin, just getting a little bit of the tip under the rubbery skin as I pushed it back with my tongue. He squirmed a bit on the chair. I continued around the head, taking my time. It tasted musky and slightly strong, carrying that day with it. I was too high to really care. And then I pulled back with my mouth and rolled the flat top section of my tongue along his cock head, tracing it along the line of his urethra, coating it with my saliva. His ass shifted. And then suddenly I took his whole head in my mouth, the thick massive bulb, coating it with more saliva, sucking on it now with pressure, my tongue dancing inside the hood to the rapid rhythm of my heart beating. "MUTHAFUKKKKKAAA!!!" He yelled, his hands now grabbing tight on the chrome edges of the chair arms. Beads of sweat fell from my face mixing with my saliva on his tool, adding more of my own lubrication. I took a deep breath and my mouth opened wider. I applied more suction as I inched forward-slowly, very slowly-on his very hard shaft. I looked at him monitoring his reaction. His eyes were closed, head cocked back, groaning to himself. "Mutha...fukkaa...Mutha...fukkkaaa..." He was sweating even more than me. I inhaled through my nose again and leaned in another inch, my tongue washing the underside of his shaft. I kept watching him as I took my time, savoring the weight and mass of his tool inside my mouth, enjoying that I was providing him this pleasure. I love how a big cock feels when it fills my mouth, my throat. He was getting harder from excitement as he continued to squirm on the chair. I breathed in again through my nose and now dove in, eyes closed, visualizing my actions inside my mind, taking several inches, then pulling back a bit, then diving back in, then out. In. Out. In. Out. I allowed his stiff tool to fuck my hungry mouth and then very suddenly I dove right in, sucking that thick head into my throat. "MUTHAFUKKKIN' BITCH!" He yelled, almost startling me. More sweat was now pouring down my face. I opened my mouth even more, inhaled again, a big, deep breath through what I could take through my mouth and more oxygen through my nose. I relaxed my muscles more as I let his tool sink further inside my throat, meanwhile applying slight random pressure, massaging his shaft. I kept this going slowly, taking my time, breathing in more air through my nose, wanting it, taking it. He just continued to squirm. Finally I had most of his thick cock inside me, the bristles of his public hair now tickling my nose. I looked up at him. His eyes were still closed, head to one side, mumbling to himself. I stayed like that for awhile, just enjoying the volume and weight on his tool in my mouth and throat. I would pull back occasionally, but just a micro inch, and then sink in, fucking the shaft with my mouth. And then I would rest again at the base, contracting my throat muscles, massaging him, resting in that position, savoring the mass inside me. I started to pull back and sink in again, but building my pace; slowly at first, then more rapidly, up and down, up and down. He was really squirming now and I started to apply more pressure and sucking at the same time. Faster. Faster. FASTER! "MUTHAFUKKKAAA!!!" He yanked me off violently, pulling my head with such speed and force away from his shaft that my mouth made a loud plopping sound as I breathed air again. His tool shined with a coating of my saliva. Pre-cum leaked out of his cock head. I leaned in to catch it with my tongue. But he pushed me away. "FUCK BOY!" He pulled back on the chair now, straightening his upper body slightly, his hands falling back on the arm rests. "You sure know how to suck dick! FUCK! I just don't want to cum so fast! That biTch got me goin' and horny! And if your suckin' dick that good I can only tell what the rest of the evening will bring!" He laughed at that. I licked my lips and then wiped the excess saliva around my mouth and chin with my right hand. I stared at him greedily. "You look kinda crazy with that half-done haircut!" He laughed again, now lifting himself from the chair. "Get up, Boy. Take off those shorts and you get that ass back on this chair." He got up around me, his big, slick dick bouncing around. I stood up beside the chair and stepped out of my shorts, kicking off my sneakers. I had a black and red jock on. He whistled at me when he saw that. "WOO! That sure look good on you! Turn around." I did as I was told, giving him a show of my ass, framed by the black jock straps. "Nice!" He felt my ass. "We gonna have some fun with that later. Now get on that chair!" I got on and he placed the polyester sheet on my upper body again and clipped it behind my neck. He grabbed his clippers from the counter. He still had his shirt on, unbuttoned and hanging loose, and nothing else but his sneakers. It looked almost comical with his swinging hard-on but it actually was kinda hot. I was slouching down on the chair a bit. My legs were spread wide. I couldn't help it. I was horny, that buzz just starting to set... "Ok straighten up, let's finish this cut." He walked behind me as I slid up the chair. As I did, the sheet exposed my crotch. I was getting turned on from the whole scenario. The clippers came to my head and he proceeded to finish the cut. The vibration of the clippers was working its magic on me again. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the mechanical rhythm on my scalp. I started to get hard despite the T. "You sure like this, huh?" He snickered behind me. I opened my eyes, looking at him in the mirror. He was intensely focused, being very particular with his methods. After a few minutes he was done and placed the clippers aside back at the counter. He shifted to the other side of the counter and selected a shaving blade sitting in a clear glass jar of sanitizing liquid. He retrieved the blade and dried it with a towel nearby. To his left was a small device that he pressed. Heated shaving cream oozed out if it on his palm. He then walked behind me and applied the warm cream on the back of my neck. He massaged the heated cream slowly, gently, spreading it around the bottom trimmed edge of my hairline on the back of my head. The heat of the warm cream added to the heat now forming in the small shop. A tiny bead of sweat ran down the left side of my face. I moaned again. My breathing was getting more rapid. I watched him from the reflection of the other mirror behind us reflecting on the cracked mirror in front of me. I was nervous and yet excited at the same time. My cock twitched in my tight jock. He held his blade impressively steady and very carefully brought the sharp instrument to the back of my head. I stayed still and tried to concentrate on my breathing, to relax and not move an inch. The sharp edge of the blade made contact with my skin and I felt as if someone had shocked me with a hit of electricity. My senses were so heightened. The edge of the blade felt as if it were sinking into my moistened skin, my sweat and the heated shaving cream mixed into some new lubricant for the sharp blade to glide over me. He applied a tiny bit of pressure that was so faint I shouldn't have felt it. But I did as I flinched as the blade shifted slowly along the bottom of the hairline. And then with a very sudden gesture that was a mix of speed and unmeasured pressure, his hand pushed quickly as the blade separated from my skin. I exhaled as the fluorescent light behind us flickered again. Before I could relax, the blade returned, the coldness of the sharp metal shocking me again. I inhaled and caught that I was holding my breath. He applied that subtle pressure and slight movement and shaved another fraction of an inch or so of my hairline to a fine, crisp edge. I exhaled again and he repeated this over and over until he was done. It was only a few minutes but that biTch made it seem more like an eternity. And yet I was loving it. There was something about the super sharp blade that he controlled that turned me on. He wiped what was left of the shaving cream away with a small towel, still standing behind me. I looked at him in the mirror and it was a little obscene: him standing there with a hard-on, the foreskin pulled back revealing his dark tool and holding a blade in one hand. "Slide down that chair a little bit, Boy," he instructed. "Get that ass just hanging off the edge a bit." I did as I was told. He walked over back to the counter. He dropped the used blade back in the sanitizing jar. He turned around looking at me. "You seemed to like that, huh?" I nodded in silence. "Ok-well that was just for starters." He pressed on the small machine on the counter again as more heated cream oozed out of the tiny nozzle. "Now pull up those legs and hold them. Hold them STILL-you hear? I'm gonna shave that hair around your hole." I was already flying at this point. I liked where this was going so I obliged and pulled my legs up, holding it steady on the back of my thighs. My asshole was in clear view. "Muthafukka..." He paused, eyes staring at my hole. I was already buzzed from the bowl we smoked together and the earlier hit I had done just before leaving my apartment. My hole was clearly showing this. I contracted and relaxed my hole, showing off to him. "HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT!!! Whatcha got there, Boy?" He stepped closer. "Fuck. For a second there I thought I was lookin’ at pussy." A thick finger touched my asslips, sliding around it gently. "That is one beautiful hole you got there." He approached me and bent down for a second, taking a closer view. "Muthatfukka. That sure is pretty." He stood up straight and looked around to his side. He found a small stool and grabbed it with his free hand, positioning it to my left side. He then walked back to the counter and pulled another drawer open retrieving a small hand mirror. "Here-grab this," he instructed. "I want you to see what I'm doing. This is special service. I don't provide this to many customers." He winked at me, laughing a little. I held it with one hand and adjusted it. It was a double-sided mirror: normal reflection on one side, close-up view on the other. He fidgeted around the counter then retrieved a fresh, new blade from the jar. He pressed on the machine again as it shot out more heated shaving cream. He sat on the stool next to me, adjusting himself. His legs were spread open and his thick shaft, now semi-hard hung over the edge. If I had another free hand I would have taken a picture. He looked so hot and strangely odd and menacing at the same time with his open shirt, the blade in one hand, the wad of white cream on the other hand, and his big, uncut dick just hanging there. "Hold that mirror just right now so you can see..." His one hand moved closer and spread the warm shaving cream on my manpussy. He spread it liberally, all around my hole and around my asscheeks. Everything felt ultra-sensitive on my skin around my hole. The warmth of the cream almost felt burning at first, as it was a shocking sensation. But the burn faded quickly to a warm glow. I looked in the hand mirror admiring the view. I twisted my hand slightly and switched to the close-up view. My hole was pulsing from the heat like some strange organism surrounded by white foam. "Beautiful," he was admiring the view. He inched in closer. From the hand mirror I saw the blade-now mega size in the enhanced reflection-approaching my pulsing manpussy. The sharp blade looked menacing and I held my breath as my hole instinctively contracted, the pussy lips folding in on itself. "Fuckin' beautiful," he repeated. The blade came closer to the edge of my hole and made contact with my skin. With his left hand he held my ass, pulling it wide as his right hand carefully glided the sharp blade, scraping with a slight pressure away from my asslips. I watched nervously from the mirror. The fluorescent light behind us flickered again, this time with a slight scraping noise that lasted a second. He held the blade at a slight angle as it glided on my skin. The blade pushed the heated cream aside, exposing a smooth, shaved area near my hole. The moistness of the cream and my sweating made my skin seem to glow with a slight light green tint from the fluorescent lighting. He repositioned the blade just another inch above where he had started and repeated the procedure. And again and again. Each time, I flinched as the sharp blade made contact with my sensitive skin. It was a combination of nervousness and anticipation. I stared at the reflection and admired the view. I contracted my hole, winking at him. "You like that, huh?" He asked. I nodded again, silently. He stood up and grabbed the stool and moved over to my right side of the chair. He set the stool down near me and squatted into position. I admired the view of his impressive cock just hanging out, the hood of his foreskin pulled back a bit more, exposing that impressive bulb. He pulled the right side of my ass as the blade approached. I twisted my hand a little bit to get a better view with the hand mirror. As the mirror turned, I caught a momentary glance at my face in the reflection. I was covered in sweat and didn't even realize it. I adjusted my hold until I had a close-up view of my hole. The blade made contact, the sharp edge startling me again. He pulled carefully, gliding it away from my asslips, shaving the short hairs around my hole. I was exhaling and breathing more rapidly. "Hold STILL-you hear?" he demanded in an authoritative voice. I took control of my breathing, trying not to move. The blade came across further up my hole then glided along the smooth surface of my skin, pushing the shaving cream aside. In a few eternal minutes he was done. "Look at that fuckin' pretty hole," he announced. He grabbed a small towel near him and wiped gently around my manhole, removing any leftover shaving cream that was visible. My asslips were all flared and enlarged, pulsing from excitement and anticipation. I was still holding the small mirror. And then the blade approached again, coming into view in the enlarged oval reflection. He had the blade turned upside down, so the curved, unsharpened edge was pointing towards my hole. It came into contact with my moist asslips, the curved flat edge tracing along the soft folds of the skin, slowly up and down, up and down. I gasped a little, not sure what to expect from him. "I can tell this pussy is special," he said. "Don't see this too often." The blade continued its path along my hole. He pulled it away a few inches, tilted the tip of the unsharpened side and pushed it carefully in the crack of my hole. In the mirror I could see the curved edge of the blade enter my hole a micro-inch. I breathed in nervously. "Don't worry, Boy. I ain't gonna hurt you. Last thing I wanna do is hurt that pussy." He pulled the blade away slowly. "Well at least not with this tool." He pushed back on the stool, wiped around my ass again so it was clean and smooth. He stood up. "Take a look," he insisted. I turned the small hand mirror again for the normal view. Shit. My hole did look pretty. It was still pulsing. He grabbed the small mirror from me and walked back to the counter placing it down along with the blade. He wiped his hands with the towel and threw it aside. His dick was starting to throb. He turned looking at me, that thick tool pointing up and twitching. "Watcha want, Boy?" He stared at me greedily. I was still holding my legs up and apart. I moved my hands to my manpussy, feeling the smooth, hairless skin around it, rubbing myself gently. I looked at him with a new hunger, checking him out, staring at that big uncut dick. My fingers found my hole and ran up and down on my asslips. My hole felt warm and moist, as if it was sweating from the heat of the room and the heat building inside of me. "Fuck it," I begged, pulling my asslips apart wider.

It was getting dark when I pulled into the car park by the playing field. There were very few people about and one or two other cars. I got out and went through the trees to the old, brick public toilet on the far side. It was run down and dirty and the only visitors were guys like me, looking for sex. I had been introduced to the place by a friend a couple of weeks previously. It was really sleazy, and the guys who went there were mainly older and not particular about hygiene. I stepped in through the dark doorway, my nostrils immediately filled with the rank smell of piss, poppers and sweat and I felt the hairs stand up on my neck. It was much darker inside and I felt rather than saw a number of men around me. I stepped up to the pale urinal, pulled out my stiffening cck and waited, my heart thumping in my chest. They moved in on me, a dry, horny hand feeling my hard-on and another feeling my arse through my jeans. A bottle was pressed to my nose at the same time as a warm, wet mouth engulfed my cock. I groaned as the poppers kicked in, my legs turning to jelly and my will-power evaporating. Someone started to try and kiss me, rough bearded face and fat lips slobbering over mine. His tongue slid into my mouth as another mouth sucked my cock. I gasped with excitement and lust, even as my mind was repelled by the thought of what I was doing and the terrible, terrible risks I was running. I felt hands on my belt. The guy sucking me pulled my trousers open and dragged them down, followed by my underwear. I felt the cool air on my naked backside as I stood there with my clothes around my ankles beng kissed, sucked and fondled by god knows what kind of ugly trolls. The bottle was held to my nose again. This time they held my head, forcing me to breathe deep until my head was spinning and I had to hold onto someone o stand up. "Yeah", said a dry, throaty voice " he's gettin' into it now. Oh yeah, we got a live one here." My head was pulled forward and down and a thick, sweaty cock slid into my mouth. It tasted so good and the poppers were so srong I just started sucking greedily on it, the hairy, fat beely pressed against my nose. "Fuck 'um," commanded the voice, adding "Here's some lube." I felt fingers between my chceeks and something cold and slippery being smeared on my arsehole. I started to panic, this was getting too heavy, but it also felt soo good, soo dirty. I felt hands on my hips and a man's cock probed my arse. I reached back and grabbed it. No condom. He was going in bareback! He slapped my hands away and carried on pushing forward. I felt the meaty head slide into me. There was still time to stop this. I could just push them away and go, but still it felt soo good, sooo dirty. Again poppers were offered to me, and this time I took the brown bottle and inhaled greedily, thinking to myself 'Oh my god - I'm going to let him'. Then his cock burst into me and the shaft slid up me in a delicious rush. I bent over, holding on to the thighs of the man in front of me as I was fucked, my mind screaming at me to stop even as I pushed back to meet his urgent thrusts. "Come on, fuck him!" called-out a voice. " Shoot up him," said another, adding "he wants it bad." Oh my god, I'm going to let him. I knew I should stop now, but I was going to let him. "Here it comes, bitch!" The guy pushed his flabby belly hard against mt arse and I felt his cock thrb in me. I was horrified, afraid, excited and disgsted as he slowed, stopped, then pulled out his greasy cock and I felt his cum trickle over my balls. I stood up, panting for breath, aware of myself as never before and suddenly I knew what I wanted. I saw several pairs of eyes glittering in the dark around me and with a shudder of surrender I turned, bent over and spread my cheeks the tears of joy in my eayes as the next cock slid up me.

PART 1 My name’s Sloan. I’m 35, white, hairy, and hung. My dick is a fat, veiny hole-wrecker, and I love to show it off in public. I keep my body in the best shape possible—rock-hard six-pack, muscular chest, beefy legs. I’m really good at luring younger guys into giving up their holes. There’s something about my look, about my square jaw and intense brown eyes and high-and-tight crew cut. Something that makes me look trustworthy, wholesome. The good guy. The older brother. The mentor. But see, I’m not the good guy. In fact, I’m one evil motherfucker. My favorite hobby is seducing, chemming, and corrupting college dudes, pushing their limits, taking their fantasies to the dark side, and pozzing their sweet smooth hungry holes—pounding them raw and leaving them dripping with multiple loads of unmedicated virus. And the funny thing is this: no matter how much they protest at one time or another, no matter how much they claim that they don’t want to be barebacked and gang-bred and pimped out, they always end up hungry and begging for more of that sweet seed deep in their guts. So yeah: I guess you could say that I’ve pozzed a lot of boys, destroyed a lot of unsuspecting holes, initiated a lot of slampigs. But last weekend—well, last weekend was the hottest transformation I’ve seen yet. My favorite place to hunt for victims is about a block away from a bathhouse here in Berkeley. I watch for a certain kind of guy: 18 or 19, an undergrad just getting his first taste of freedom away from the parents, well-built, preppy. He might walk hesitantly toward the entrance, then stop to reconsider, then start walking back to his car, then decide to go into the bathhouse after all. That’s when I intercept him. I emerge from the shadows to strike up a conversation—and with any luck, change his life forever. Last weekend, I was in my usual spot. It was a warm August night, and I was wearing a pair of mesh gym shorts with no underwear, a tight wife beater to show off my hairy chest, and a ballcap. I’d taken a dick pill about 30 minutes earlier, so my cock was forming a huge tent in my shorts as I anticipated my next conquest. That’s when the boy got out of his car. He looked both ways down the street—a little lost, I guess—then spotted the bathhouse entrance. Clearly a first-timer, I thought. As he walked closer to me, I began to make out his features: short dark-brown hair, a handsomely boyish face with a nice strong jawline, a fucking adorable nose, and a pair of big, dark, expressive eyes that revealed both his anxiety and his excitement. He was in a pair of khaki shorts and a tight black tank top, so I got a pretty good look at his sweet little jock body, his muscular calves, and his deeply tanned, sinewy arms that showed evidence of some serious time at the gym. He stopped in the middle of the street. He wavered. He almost turned around and went back to his car. But he kept walking toward the entrance—and that’s when I spoke up. “Hey, buddy,” I said, stepping onto the sidewalk, my dick still at attention. That startled him. But as he squinted to look at me in the semi-darkness, his fear turned to relief. I was obviously the kind of guy he was hoping to find here. His eyes widened as they traveled the length of my body, from my face to my torso to the outline of my cock. “Hey there,” he answered in a surprisingly deep voice. “Whatcha doin’?” I looked down at my dick. “Oh, just hanging,” I said with an evil grin, giving my cock a giant twitch. He almost gasped to see it jump like that -- and then he couldn’t stop staring. I stepped back into the shadows and beckoned him to follow me. He obeyed as if in a trance, his whole body shivering as he approached. “What’s your name, buddy?” “Conrad,” he said, but he didn’t look at me. He was still staring at my dick. I made it twitch again, and this time he almost laughed in total fascination. “I’m Sloan,” I said. “How old are you, Conrad?” “I just turned 18 last week,” he replied. “I’m starting at Berkeley this fall. Most people in my class are about a year older—I skipped a grade.” “18 is a good age,” I managed to say, my mind suddenly filled with images of chemming and pozzing this perfect 18-year-old boy. My cock grew harder, and I took a tiny step closer to him. “By the way, Conrad, it’s OK to look at my dick. Really. This cock likes attention. In fact, you can even touch it if you want.” He gave me a funny look, as if he hadn’t heard me correctly. I smiled back, gripping my dick in my hand, then released it by slapping it against my thigh. Another gasp from Conrad. After a moment of hesitation, he reached down to touch the outline of my dick, his hands visibly shaking as he grabbed a handful of mesh and cock. After a moment or two of running his hand along the length of my poz shaft, he looked up at me with a dazed kind of desire. “No, no, Conrad,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not what I meant.” I took his hand in one of my hands. With my other hand, I pulled the elastic of my shorts away from my waistline. Then I slowly guided him down my treasure trail until he could feel the touch and girth and weight of my cock. It was throbbing with heat, its surface slightly sticky from the steady stream of precum dripping from my mushroom head—as if my poz dick were drooling at the thought of devouring this beautiful, trusting boy. He grabbed onto the dick that would break him in half and poz him deep—and his eyes fluttered in total bliss. I laughed and said: “You like that dick, huh?” He nodded eagerly. I placed my hand on the small of his back and drew him closer to me. He smelled like all good 18-year-old boys should: a combination of cheap cologne, sweat, and chewing gum. I imagined what his crotch might smell like, all musky with dried cum and piss and hormones. As our faces hovered just a few inches apart, I reached my hand down the back of his shorts to feel a perfectly round jockbutt. He trembled again. I whispered in his ear: “Are you looking for a big bro tonight?” He nodded, and I drew him closer, letting him feel the heat radiating off my body. He sighed in contentment as he nuzzled my furry chest. Then I whispered in his ear again: “Do you want your big bro to fuck you, Conrad?” “Yes, please,” he said, lifting up his head to look me directly in the eyes. I smiled and mussed his hair. “Oh, poor lil’ bro,” I said. “Didn’t anybody ever fuck you before?” He nodded and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said. “Two different guys. But they were my age, and didn’t really know what they were doing. I was kinda hoping that I’d find somebody here at the bathhouse who could—um—” “Break you in?” He buried his face in my chest again, mumbling “yes,” and I ran my hands gently up and down his spine, feeling the strength of his back muscles, imagining what he would look like on all fours, back arched, ass in the air, begging for loads. My hands returned to massaging his beefy little jockbutt, and he let out a deep, shaky moan. “I would be so honored to break you in, little bro. I want to show you how a man should fuck a boy, and how a boy should surrender his hole to a man. Would you like that?” “Yes,” he said again. His arms wrapped a little tighter around my torso, and I gently pushed my cock against his body. My throbbing poz shaft thrummed next to the firm muscles of his stomach. He exhaled a long, slow breath, as if melting into me. And at that moment, I smiled to myself and thought: This boy is fucking mine. I pointed down the street. “I live about two blocks that way,” I said. “Wanna come back to my place, maybe smoke some pot, fool around a little? We can go to the bathhouse later, if you decide you’re ready for it.” “Sure,” he said, giving me the cutest fucking grin. And right at that moment, seeing his innocence and sweetness and eagerness to please, my dick twitched even harder than before, and the head of my cock released a small geyser of toxic precum. With any luck, I thought to myself, I’ll get to see that same giant grin on his face in just a few hours—right about the time he’s spreading his slammed-up jockboy hole to get pounded and knocked up by poz cock. I pointed him in the direction of my house. He walked about a half-step ahead of me, his sweet bubble butt bouncing beneath those gym shorts as my cock followed just a few inches behind. The poor kid didn’t know it yet, but he was as good as poz. I knew exactly what to do. Everything was prepared for my victim’s arrival. And within the next hour, I planned to be blasting my potent strain deep inside this sweet 18-year-old fagboy’s chemmed-up cumhole. MORE SOON…

Before we knew his name, we called him Neighbor Boy. Brian saw him first. On a gorgeous Saturday in May, I walked into the kitchen to see my husband jacking his fat dick while sneaking glances out the window. When he heard me approach, he flashed a piggish grin and motioned me over. That’s when I caught my first glimpse of Neighbor Boy. He was shirtless, maybe 18 or 19, and hauling boxes into his family’s new home. His face, square-jawed and intense, was still boyish in a lot of ways, but you could easily see the drop-dead-handsome man he was becoming. And to make things even hotter, he was obviously packing a man-size piece of meat, judging from the package bouncing between his legs. As sweat ran down the ridges of his abs, his shorts began to slip past the beltline, exposing just a bit of what appeared to be a bubble-perfect jockbutt. My eyes followed the dark line of sweat forming between his asscheeks; I wanted to bury my face in the fresh boy-musk around his crotch, his pits, his fuckhole. Brian turned to me with an evil grin. “That boy is ours,” he said, still furiously jacking his cock. Then, with a grunt, he sprayed three powerful volleys of thick, unmedicated poz cum across the kitchen sink. * * * Brian and I have been together for 10 years. I’m 35; he’s 40. People tease us about looking like twins, and I can see why: we both have dark brown hair, beards, and hairy chests. We also have cocks that are roughly the same size, about 8.5” by 6.5”. And when our big dicks spring out of our jockstraps at the same time, we can usually turn a run-of-the-mill bottomboy into a trashy, knocked-up dickpig in no time at all. It wasn’t always that way. Back when we met, Brian was a top. I was vers, but I wouldn’t let him fuck me raw. My reasoning was simple: I was neg, he was poz. And then one night, he invited me to his house for a homemade dinner. It was my birthday, and he’d hinted at some kind of surprise. I had no idea what was in store: halfway through my first cocktail, I started to slur my speech. I remember asking him what was going on, but Brian just stood there, grinning like a demon and rubbing his cock through his jeans as I slipped into unconsciousness. When I woke up, I found myself suspended in midair, my body swinging back and forth in a steady rhythm. In my drugged-up stupor, it took me a few minutes to realize that I was directly underneath a large mirror on the ceiling. Very slowly, I managed to process the image I saw in the mirror: for some reason I was naked, with my legs splayed wide and arms tied back. I’d heard of slings, but I’d never been in one. And just then, it dawned on me that my body was swinging back and forth in a steady rhythm because a total stranger was pounding my hole. That’s when I heard Brian’s voice cut through the noise in that dark, crowded, sweat-stenched room: “The second booty bump definitely woke him up,” he said. Right about then, the guy fucking me started to convulse, and everyone in the room shouted encouragement as he thrust in and out of my hole frenetically. Next I heard a loud round of clapping and grunting from the crowd, followed by an odd sensation of warmth and wetness when that cock pulled out of me. My hole released the stranger's mushroom head with a subtle *pop*, and then I suddenly felt an emptiness in my ass, as if my knocked-up cunt somehow wasn’t complete anymore without a raw dick lodged deep inside. But the emptiness didn’t last. Within a matter of seconds, I felt the familiar contours of Brian’s cock inside me. “Hey, baby,” he said, his big dick making an unfamiliar sloshing sound as he fucked away. “That was load number four, and you've just begun. It’s your birthday, remember? My gift is to get you fuckin’ pregnant. You want another poz load?” I stared at him, uncomprehending. Then my eyes grew wide as I realized what all this meant. “No,” I said. “Fuck no. I don’t want to be sick. You know that. What the fuck are you doing?” “Oh, please—you have no idea what you want,” he replied. “From the moment we met, I saw right through you. You’re just another clean-cut, handsome boy waiting for somebody to give you permission to be a cumpig. I mean, just look at your dick right now—it’s harder than I’ve ever seen it.” I glanced down at my cock, and I could see it dripping beads of precum onto my abs. Meanwhile, Brian kept pounding me. “Your dick seems to be a few steps ahead of your brain at the moment, because your dick knows what you need,” he said. “And what you need, little piggy, is an ass full of fresh poz loads. Don’t worry—your brain will catch up to your cock before the night’s through. Until then, we’ll just gangrape you full of poz seed, OK?" "FUCK YOU." "Sorry, bud, but I'm pretty sure it's the other way around. You're the one getting fucked tonight, remember? You're getting fucked and bred and, if you're really lucky, maybe even pozzed. So...are you ready to beg for another dirty load, boy?” “Fuck no, Brian. I don’t want this. Fucking stop, OK? STOP.” He didn’t stop. Instead, he nodded to someone behind me, and I was quickly muzzled and blindfolded. Brian stopped thrusting for a moment, lodging his cock deep in my hole, and ordered me to stay perfectly still unless I wanted to get hurt. In the stillness that followed, someone wrapped a tourniquet around my bicep. I felt a pinch in my arm, and the tourniquet came loose. Almost immediately, I gasped as a wave of dark energy rushed to my chest, my lungs, my cock, my ass. I coughed violently, and I struggled to catch my breath while the dark wave kept crashing through my nervous system. And just as Brian predicted, that's when my brain finally caught up with my cock. I was in heat. I loved the feeling of Brian's raw dick pounding me full of toxic seed. And by the end of the night, I would whimper and moan anytime my hole wasn’t stretched around a charged-up cock. I'd been transformed from a neg condom queen to a bareback slampig in a matter of hours. In the years since, Brian and I have developed a knack for initiating young men into the world of chemsex, feeding drugs to unsuspecting boys before knocking them up. The hottest of all, I think, was the seduction of Brian’s college-age nephew. And it didn’t happen on just any night, either, but on the night of our wedding. This kid was a hot little faggot with a naturally hungry butt. He was deeply closeted, but Brian and I saw right through him in a second. So after flirting with him on the dancefloor, then feeding him our dicks in a restroom stall, we took him back to the honeymoon suite, smoked him out with the glass pipe, and slathered Tina-laced lube all over his fratboy fuckhole. Within 15 minutes, he was taking a seat on my raw cock and bouncing on it like a natural-born bitch. Eight hours (and two giant slams) later, Brian’s fratboy nephew was a confirmed chemwhore, proudly spreading his wrecked fuckhole while it oozed loads from 11 strangers. Even then, he was still shoving fingers hungrily into his cunt, pleading for another slam of Tina in his arm. Instead, we dropped him off at our dealer’s house with instructions to push every boundary possible until this boy was corrupted through and through. Our dealer didn’t disappoint, and within a month or two our fratboy nephew was a slampig escort with a real talent for getting double-fisted. We couldn’t be prouder. * * * The day after we saw Neighbor Boy for the first time, we introduced ourselves to his parents. Over the course of a 30-minute conversation that included far too many details about the sister we didn’t care to meet, we found out exactly what we needed to know: Neighbor Boy’s name was Dalton, and he was finishing up his senior year at McKinley High. He’d just turned 18. He had a steady girlfriend named Melissa, and he’d landed a scholarship to be a kicker for one of the state university football teams. “Oh, and one more thing,” Dalton’s father said to us. “We’ll be chaperoning our daughter’s class trip to Washington, D.C. at the beginning of June. Dalton is perfectly capable of running the house by himself for a week, but could you just make sure he doesn’t throw any giant keggers? We’d really appreciate it.” We nodded eagerly, because we’d found our window of opportunity. As the conversation wrapped up, we slipped our hands in our pockets, attempting to hide the bulges from our rapidly hardening cocks. * * * When Brian and I returned home, we closed the door and fell into a deep, sloppy kiss. We would do whatever necessary to fill all of Dalton’s holes with chems. And if we had our way, he’d be going to college in the fall with poz blood flowing through his veins. “I wonder if Jesse knows Dalton,” Scott said. “That could be hot.” I nodded and grabbed my phone. “Let’s give him a ring.” We love Jesse because he’s an evil pig. But we love him even more because he’s an evil pig who happens to look like a blond, buff Mormon. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hung like a lumberjack. Like Dalton, he’s a senior at McKinley, and we’d initiated him about six months earlier after chatting him up on a bareback fetish site. We pozzed him on the day after his 18th birthday. He was already entertaining some very dark fantasies by the time we found him—apparently he’d been watching bareback porn and trolling fetish chatrooms for years. But unlike most of the naïve little faggots we corrupt with chems and impregnate with toxic seed, Jesse was eager to get slammed into the stratosphere, and he required no encouragement to spread his muscled boybutt for our poz dicks. And now, in the months since his seroconversion, he’s been helping us lure boys to the world of chem-fueled bareback fucking. Jesse answered my call right away. Yes, he said, he was pretty good friends with Dalton, who was basically the hottest guy in the entire fucking school. We asked if Jesse was planning to hang out with Dalton anytime soon. Yes, he replied: he’d be at Dalton’s pool party the following weekend. “You guys should come, because a lot of the parents will be there,” he said. “I’ll tell Dalton to invite you. And I'll tell you something else: everybody at school would swear he’s straight, but I just don’t know. I get a weird vibe from him. Maybe not a gay vibe, but like a curious vibe.” “So you’re saying there might be a faggot buried deep inside that boy?” I asked. “Just a hunch,” Jesse replied. “Well, in that case,” said Scott, “it’s time for us to get deep inside Dalton and find out.” MORE SOON...

This is a true story, but the names have been changed to protect the guilty. I was looking for a quick pump and dump when Rico answered my on-line ad. I posted a picture of my big, thick, beefy muscle ass and Rico showed up in 10 minutes flat. Rico has this absolutely perfect thick, uncut 9-incher. He fell in love with my ass and I with his cock. He hauled out that beauty and I was ready to rock and roll, no questions asked. He fucked me hard for 10 minutes before spraying my guts with his baby batter. He pulled out and I sucked his cock clean, siphoning off his leftovers and my ass juices. He said he had to piss, so I got down on my knees, and opened my pig hole. He laughed at me, called me a puta, grabbed me by my hair – hard – and shot his heavy, salty piss down my eager throat. I swallowed every fucking drop. To me, there is nothing more delicious than having the sticky cum juice of virile men dripping down your legs and flowing through your fingers as you knuckle your own worn out hole after a night of breeding. Rico and I are both raw whores and love the bathhouses. So when we went to LA, we spent an evening collecting anonymous loads at a bathhouse off of Hollywood Blvd. We took separate rooms. I was looking for loads, not love, so I left the door open and stuck my ass up in the air, inviting all comers. The first guy that tagged me was a chunky, nervous white boy. I sucked him for a few minutes before he quietly asked if he could fuck me. I turned around and stuck my ass up. Condoms were in plain view, but he did not hesitate to bare bone me. Just the way I like it. He didn’t say much as he fucked me from behind with a rather thick, cut 7 incher. He was so nervous he was shaking while he fucked me. He whimpered as he unloaded inside of me, zipped up, and bailed. I stuck my finger up my ass to get a taste and lock in his load. The second guy was an asshole because he wore a condom. He was a cute white guy with an average dick. He asked me “you got a load up there already?” “Fuck, yeah”! I told him that I like it when strange men shoot their raw loads up my cunt. I guess he liked raw dirty talk because next thing I knew he was panting and groaning and nutting in that wicked rubber. He threw it on the floor and took off. I bent over, licked up some of his juice that had dripped on the floor, and dumped his load up my ass. Load # 2. The next batter up was this super-hot skinny Mexican cholo. We swapped some spit as I pulled his pants down. He kept his wife beater on and I chewed on his nipples. He was a stinky fucker with rank pits that tasted awesome as I swabbed them clean before I got down on my prize. Fuckin’ a, I thought, as I felt the sticky floor meet my knees and his fat, nine inch uncut rod sprang out. I love foreskin and this dude had a yard or two that I greedily chewed on while I silently squealed with delight at the thought of that big fucker reaming out my whore ass. This dude didn’t take a bath and his smega was fuckin delicious funky. I could taste the sticky sweet on my tongue as his funk stink filled my brain. As I fed on him, I looked up into his eyes and saw him smile. He ordered me, in Spanish, to turn around and bend over. He was talking dirty to me in Spanish, calling me a puta. I told him to fucking use me and shoot his load up my ass. When I bent over, he stuck his tongue up my shitter and groaned in delight as he tasted the first two loads coating my insides. He slapped my ass a couple of times, grabbed me by the hips, and brutally shoved that uncut stick up my ass. I was in fucking pig puta heaven! As he was fucking me, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, and growled in my ear – “ju want dis bitch?” I begged him to please cum inside of me, make me your bitch. He asked me again, “r ju shhurr you want tis load?” I practically screamed, “Fuck yeah, stud, give me that nut! He pumped about five more strokes before he exhaled and unloaded his sweet cum up my bum. Load # 3. I got back in the bed and lifted my ass up. Within a minute, I looked in the mirror and saw this sexy black stud leaning in the door. I wiggled my butt. He chuckled and walked in, flipped on the light and shut the door. He told me to stand up and leaned in to kiss me. We swapped spit while he reached around me and fingered my ass. He chuckled again and said “just the way I like my bitches lubed. How many you got in there?” “Just three,” I said. He chuckled again and told me to turn over. He spanked me a few times and my white ass turned a nice shade of red as I watched him pummel me in the mirror. He told me to turn over. He told me that he was gonna charge me up and to look him in the eye and watch in the mirror as he bred my ass. I flipped over and he sunk his rod to the hilt in my cum-lubed ass in one stroke. He leaned over me and said “Look me in the eye, slut.” I smiled as I watched his thick black piece plunge in and out of me, filling me full of him. He smiled and asked “are you ready for number four”? “Hell, yes,” I said. He slammed his cock all the way up my hole and went stiff as he blasted at least three ropes of charged seed up my neg hole. He pulled out. “Get down on your fucking knees and clean this off.” Fuck, my ass tasted good on his cum coated cock. “Have fun,” he said and walked out. I took four more loads that night. Out of eight dudes, only one suited up. When # 8 finished fucking me, I fingered my ass and the seven loads were dripping down my leg and flowed out into my hand like water. I scooped some out and jacked myself off to the biggest fucking orgasm of my life. I licked all the loads off of my hands and got down on my knees and sucked the toxic mess out of the sheets. I tested poz 6 weeks later. I just can’t figure out which batter gifted me with his bug juice. Was it the Mexican, “r u shhurr?” Or was it sir "look me in the eye"? Or was it my baby Rico whose incessant gift giving finally took? Or all of them? Who cares! I was once a bottom whore and now I have been transformed into a versatile bug batter.

I should probably start off with some back story. I've been with the boys for a few years now. It started one night at a bar, when Chance caught my attention, took me home and we started dating. He spent a hefty amount of time training me to be his pussy boy. He doesn't let me play with my cock, which is fine by me. We're pretty heavy into fisting and toys. He may look to you like the football player you idolized in high school, grown up. Tall, rich brown hair, kept short. Deep blue eyes. All American type of guy you'd expect to see stepping off the farm. He's well built and carries himself in an almost regal way. He breathes power. Sam is my other boyfriend. We met when some bastard raped me in the bathroom of our local fetish bar. He watched the guy follow me in and alerted Chance. The two of them pulled the guy off of me and took me to the hospital. The three of us decided to include him in our relationship a few months after I met Chance. Where Chance is reminiscent of Prince Charming, Sam is my knight. He's about 5´10, a little taller than me, and older than me by a couple years. He's muscular, but in a different way than Chance. He's spent more time on his legs, and his ass is round, perky and magnificent. He's not disproportionate, but it's obvious where his priorities are. Sam's got these green eyes that you get enchanted by. He's very well sexed, a real slut, unafraid to take cock in the bathroom of a crowded mall. And me? I'm me. I hate describing myself. So I'm 28, toned, inch shorter than Sam. Who cares? Blah blah blah. That's not why you're here. You're here because you want to know how it happened. The night my world changed. Well...

So, the other night I made my first trip to the adult book store here in town. I've heard a few people talk about it, but it was something that most of the guys I meet up with around here don't have much information on the place. Decided to just try it out. Drove up to the store and walked in to a bookstore full of the hottest porn, they seemed to focus more on guy on guy, so I liked that. I walked around for a bit and found the entrance do the video booths and theater. I asked the clerk how much it was to get into the theater, he told me it was $10 for the day and that gives me access to the booths. I gave him $10 and he gave me a ticket, so I entered the booths first and put a few dollars in. It was hot just to know I finally made it in to a video booth like this. I noticed paper towels and a wastebasket with a bunch of wadded up towels, it was hot. I played with a cock for a few minutes with the door cracked but no one came by. I made my way over to the theater and there were about 5 guys in there. Unfortunatly, they were playing an older straight porn. I sat there for a few and noticed a guy glancing at me from time to time. I figured this was a code for something. He got up and left, I waited a few seconds and followed him to the booths and entered the one next to him. I placed a couple dollars in and by then he was slowly opening my door, so I let him in. I quickly unbuttoned his pants and placed his semi erect cock in my mouth and began blowing the guy. I did that for a few minutes but I think he was more interested in sucking cock than being sucked. So I stood up and he wrapped his glorious mouth around my now throbbing cock. Oh MY GOD this guy could suck a cock. It was sooooo hot getting blowin' in a booth like that for the first time. I didn't last as long as I want and I told him I was about to cum, so he excitedly started slurrping up my rather large load (I had been edging for quite sometime). He seemed pleased and told me to let him know anytime I need serviced and got up and left. Not more than 2 minutes later my door opened again and in came a guy with huge hard on all ready for me. I got on my knees and blew him and took his load into my mouth. I was soooo satisfyed now. By then it was 12:45am and the place was about the leave so the clerks started coming back to the booths and ended my night. It was sooo hot, I'm glad to know a place like that exists around me. Maybe I can get a barecock next time?

It was a great time. Going back tomorrow night. I'll post any updates

This is something I only had to deal with recently as I have not been barebacking long. One of the things that most surprised me about barebacking was how much better it felt as a bottom. The lack of friction from rubber means I can more easily take bigger cocks with less warm up, less lube and for longer time. I seriously have an easier time taking a bare 10 incher than a rubbered up 7 incher. I too have started keeoing no condoms in my room at the baths. This seems to take care of most of the tops who will use a condom just because they think it is expected. But many will insist for perfectly legitimate health concerns. I don't want to pressure anyone but I have started to say the plain truth: I prefer to bareback and experience significant discomfort from condoms, even though I use lots of high quality silicone lube. I leave the decision to them. In the last month or so I have turned down some fantastic huge thick cocks because of it. I have also got several guys to agree to fuck me bare. This is a bigger deal for me because I am a size queen. Normally I am looking to get fucked by very large cocks, so the issue is real. I had a guy last week who had one of the thickest cocks I had ever seen. He tried to put it in me with a condom and it hurt like hell, but when I persuaded him to take it off, magic. Initially I had suked him for a long time before asking him if he wanted to fuck me. I imeediately made it clear I wanted bareback but he put on a condom. After some intial pain I just reached back and rolled the condom off and guided his cock to my hole. He pushed in. I don't like to put a lot of pressure on so you have to be prepared to lose out on some fucks. I met a guy with a very thick 9 incher who admitted to me that his deal with his boyfriend was that they barebacked each other and could fuck around as long as they used condoms. He was really hemming and hawing. I am pretty sure that if I worked on him I could have gotten him bare, but I didn't want to do that when he was so clear about why he was reluctant. My advice - particularly if he has a big cock, or maybe just make him feel that way - is explain that the rubber causes friction which makes it painful to you. It gives him permission to go bare just to help you out.

I doubt he knows. I was in America recently and when sleeping with a guy, I asked him about his scorpion tattoo, he told me his star sign was scorpio. When I tested poz a few weeks ago I knew he was lying This is a hot vid, great angle to begin with http://www.xtube.com/watch.php?v=RLNkc-G286-#.VCKMzvldVS2

PEP is standard in US emergency medicine. There is a CDC guideline for it. Any hospital emergency room in the country should be able to provide it. And by law (the Reagan-era Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act, one of whose more familiar provisions allows people to pay to continue their health insurance when they leave a job), emergency room treatment is provided without regard for ability to pay. Insist!

Am i allowed to say my tumblr on here? Lol Its angel2rogue, feel free to look me up

A plus sign on one cheek and a neg sign on one cheek. Tell guys to make a tick mark when they cum in you on the corect side

"For deposit only"

Daddy breeding a twins and daddy has a scorpion tattoo -- hot vid! http://barebackbastards.com/media/21490/young_18_yo_vs_older_2/

Folsom SF weekend is off to a good start. Set up a hookup from BBRT, met him in the TL. He was naked when he answered the door, all 6'1"/210lbs of him, handsome average build blonde with a big cock. I was all thugged out in black and ready to get a pump. He invites me in, throws me a beer and strips me down to my jockstrap/cockring. Dude blows me for a bit, talking smack about "papi this" and "culo that." I'm rock hard as his girthy 9" prick hardens to perfection. Once he's fingered me and lubed me up he throws me on his bed and mounts me in no time flat as I grab for his poppers (some generic stuff, way stale but still hit the spot). He plunges right in, hurt like hell for a moment. Good thing I cleaned out deep/pre lubed at Starbucks before I showed up, otherwise that would have been a game changer. We fuck around for a good half hour, mostly doggy style and missionary with a lot of oral interspersed. Dude ate ass like a champ. At one point I'm riding him like some stripper slut, working my ass muscles, varying up my grip on his fuck stick. I've got this dude rolling his eyes back in his head as he thrusts upward, hitting my prostate in all the right ways. Straight up euphoria. Eventually we reach a good peak and I get him to flood my ass something serious. His spasms lasted minutes after ejaculation, I milked him for all he was worth. An hour later after my TL hookup I find myself at the notorious Golden Gate Park windmills. I hit up Grindr before I start exploring the trails, talk this sexy silver daddy into meeting me along the soccer field brambles. We find each other, select the most discrete clump of bushes and get down to business. He's dressed like he just stepped away from the office, unbuttons the fly of his dress slacks and whips out his fat stubby cock. I blow him in between hits of poppers and he's giving me good feedback, pinching my nips and grabbing for my ass. I see the ring on his finger and wonder if he's gay/straight for about half a second before I remember I want to get fucked again. I whip off my track shorts, turn around to present hole and he wastes no time. He pumps me over a fallen tree as some horny cruisers gather around to watch. I get a load from my Grindr daddy, he splits and one of the voyeurs steps up to my ass for a piece of the action. Dude #2 is super short, crazy hung and clearly horny, just my type. He dicks me down quick and dirty and leaves a sizable deposit. After all that action I needed a break so I head to the Castro for some coffee. While sipping my Trenta iced coffee I'm cruising Grindr (as if I haven't gotten enough loads yet). Short sexy bald dude hits me up, his flat is right around the corner and he's bored from house chores. I offer a dickstraction and he invites me over. He walks me up to his place, asks me what I want to do and I just bend over in front of him. We don't even make it out of the entry hallway, he pumps me right there for a good 5 minutes before he suddenly and without warning blasts into me with such force as to push me up against the wall. I grip onto his glutes and keep him mashed up inside me until he's pushed out every last drop deep into my insatiable hole. He pats me on the ass and I'm back out the door. Folsom Weekend Day 1: 4 loads

Thanks man, I'll be sure to check it out. I also just saw that there is a cumunion party on the 26th at the steamworks. I'm so there.

The fantasy involves first meeting a hot sadistic dom top at the bookstore, where he feeds me his fat rod while he rubs my sensitive nipples to make me insatiable for dick, and as other horny dudes put their cock through the gloryhole, he switches back and forth to make me suck some of the gloryhole cock too. When he's rock hard and spit lubed, he just stabs his raw rod deep inside and rape my hole raw rough while he's pushed my face to the gloryhole, and I'm made to suck anonymous horny cock until each one spurts my mouth full. After my dom top use my hole for his pleasure enough to let his sperm wads spray a thick coat over my boypussy walls, I'm pulled off whichever gloryhole cock I'm sucking on, and he makes me repeat after him that true bottoms' holes belong to their top, to be used however the top wants, while he's fingering my cummy ass. Suddenly, he surprisingly flip me about, quickly force spread my cheeks, and press my open boycunt to the gloryhole while I struggle, as he tells me he'll be training me to be a true bottom by passing around my hole. I'm forced to stay pressed up tightly against the wall by his arms, until suddenly an anonymous horny fucker's raw cock slides up my hole. That's when I realize my sadist top's filming my facial expressions with a camera phone and he's also put another one on the floor in front of the gloryhole to video how every raw random cock rapes my pussy until they shoot inside, before the next guy stabs his bare dick deep in my used cunt. As I'm taking the gloryhole fucking, my sadist top's continually rubbing my sensitive, hard nipples to force my uncontrollably quivering and spasming anal walls to tighten and milk every gloryhole fuckers' raw dick until I feel that pulsing which means they're spunk is filling up my ass. Starting with when the first gloryhole guy impaled my raw boypussy, my sadist top's making me describe out loud how it feels to let each anonymous guys gloryhole fuck me raw. While filming how I'm forced to admit I'm such a cock starved whore that I'll let random guys raw gloryhole fuck my hole because my top's ordering it, and since only whores lets guys use their holes simply because their pimp said so, I've become undeniably my sadist top's cock slave. So much so that while the random fucker's bare rod's slamming into my pussy harder and harder, my sadist top films me saying that while I loved to suck gloryhole dick, I've never let myself get gloryhole fucked because I was afraid, but getting my hole used this way feels so good that I don't want it to stop fucking me... even though it means it'll cum up my guts sooner. Hell, as his pumping speeds up, my sadist top makes me loudly state that I'm begging this anonymous cock to cum in me. Then, as expected, while I'm being fucked by the next gloryhole top, my sadist top's feeding me his cock. Then, when he wants to, he actually open the booth door to clearly show everyone how slutty I'm being, even waving in some of the hotter hallway guys to get their dick sucked alongside his, while I'm taking the gloryhole fucks good. As the hallway top gets sucked to fully hard, my sadist top spun me around to let his bare cock to forcefully stretch open my used cunt, while I continue to slurp both my sadist top's rod and the next gloryhole cock. After taking load after load after load, as fresh sperm leak down my legs, my sadist top finally allows me to stop taking raw gloryhole cock, saying he'd picked a number between 12 and 20 which I've reached. In addition, he'll be putting the combined video of me being a pass-around gloryhole cock whore on xtube for all to see. I beg him not to, but all he says is that the video's getting posted whether I like it or not. But, if I follow orders as his whore, get pass-around to whoever he commands, even being blindfolded and sling fucked, he'll minimize how much my face show up and blur out top of my features. That's how I start being made to satisfy the pleasure of tops as a good bottom should. If you want, you can text me at 4152360784

This just happened a bit ago to me. I had met a guy on A4A a while ago, and we finally agreed to meet up tonight. I used the premise of coming over and playing video games to get myself an in earlier in the week, and it worked much better than I had hoped. Turns out that even his straight roommate was interested in my system. Wish he'd of been interested in more than that, seeing as how he was somewhat in the process of getting into better shape by working out, but perhaps next time after he drinks more. Anyways, we were all talking about different shows we watched, games we played, and even some about comic books. I suppose most would call it geek/nerd talk, but I enjoyed it. It was nice to be able to relax with guys who were like me in at least one way or another and not have to worry about anything else. We even talked about our jobs a but as well, and my potential internship that I might be getting later today (I really need sleep, but am too excited). My buddy was playing a game for a while when his roommate - the straight, cute, drunk one - decided to go to be. Almost as soon as he did I bent my head down and bit my friend on the nipple and growled playfully. That seemed to be all the incentive he needed, as we started making out against the futon after that. We were kissing and groping one another for a while before he suggested that we go up to his room. Naturally, I agreed instantly and followed him up, grabbing my backpack and thinking that I might need something from it while up there. And it turns out that I did, but more on that in a moment. It didn't take long for us to get undressed and start 69ing with each other, nor did it take him long to start teasing my hole some. I also found out that he had a PA piercing, though his was a smaller gauge than mine is. I also asked him if he wanted me to clean out so he could fuck me, but he then mentioned something about my latex allergy and how he had condoms all over his room. That convinced me that he was a safe sex only kind of guy, though I already had an idea from his profile. He also asked me how bad my allergy got and I explained how my ass felt like it was on fire for a while if someone tried to use one on me. Since that made me think that I wouldn't be getting fucked tonight I decided to try and at least have some fun with him by asking him where the lube was. He told me that his bottle spilled recently, so I pulled out one of my own from my backpack and lubed us both up. I keep everything in there from my laptop to play porn, lube for penetration, a plug to keep any loads I get in, something to help me clean out, and even a mallet for self defense. Not kidding on any of those parts. Anyways, we started stroking our cocks and began kissing again, groping one another some before I pulled him on top of me. I noticed that he intentionally put his cock between my ass cheeks as he started grinding against me, so I got an idea. I had him get up for a moment before moving around and getting on my stomach, flashing my hole at him before laying down. That was just the thing he seemed to need, because the next thing I felt was his cock penetrating into my ass - completely raw. It was only a few inches, and I'm guessing because of my earlier comment about wanting to clean out, but it was still one of the better fucks I've had in recent years. He was pretty good for only going in so deep, and I could feel his piercing with each thrust. He didn't take long before he let out a growl and shot his load inside my hole. It was shallow, so most of it leaked out pretty quickly. I'm pissed that I didn't get a picture of it, but he said it looked hot. After that he flipped me over and jacked me off. We made out a bit more before I packed up my things and left. I'm definitely gonna see if I can get him to play some more sometime. After all, I may have just started him down the glorious path of barebacking.

Just got back from a porno shop a couple miles down the street, spent two hours in a booth, naked with my ass back up to a glory hole and the booth door open so other men could come in & fuck my face. I ended up taking 7 loads in my cunt & swallowing 5 more (although two came from the same guy) before I left. Most of the men who used me were older daddies, but I slurped on a hot younger guys dick half way through, he looked like he was still in high school but I wasn't gonna complain lol. My hole is still sloppy & cummy, been keeping a plug in me so I can occasionally pull it out tonight & get a taste of anon cum until it's gone. :-P

3 nights ago, I met with a couple who were planning to host a small group at their place. One guy was an older white dude in his 50's but in shape, and the other was his twink bf in his late 20's. I got there little late, and there was also this muscle Latino guy in his 40's who was partying. We all parTied up and then started sucking each other off. Then the older white guy started fucking his bf in front of us, while the Latino guy and I were watching them. Suddenly, the Latino turned towards me, lifted my legs up and started to rim me passionately. After my hole was all wet, the older white guy pulled his cock out of his bf's ass, and without any warning shoved it into my wet hole. He pumped me hard while the Latino guy was holding my legs up, and I was returning the favor by licking his balls. The older white guy fucked me and dumped his load in me. Then it was my turn. So I started to fuck the young bf doggie style , while the older white dude was riding the muscle Latino's hard cock. After we finished, the Latino guy and I left the party. In the parking lot, he said that he is still horny. I was too. So we got into the back seat of his truck and he started to fuck me for at least 30 min....He pulled his cock out before shooting his load. He shot half of his load on my balls and hole, and then he shoved his cock back inside and shot the rest inside me....It was so fucking amazing.

Just got back from this crazy ass dog park where i was fucked by three guys. it was all good except the dirt on the crack of my ass afterwards...

1000 cocks is that all, I know i've taken much more then that over the years, I normally get fucked 3-4 times a day & over some 20 + years, I know i've exceeded my daily limit - Hahaha

And there you have it. The reason why you need to be prepared for anything if you choose to bareback. I agree with Ranger Rick. People lie about everything if it gets them what they want. Unless you truly know the individual that you are fucking, you are putting yourself at risk. Period. I guess the adage "Ignorance is bliss" applies here. You have to come to terms with what you are willing to deal with before you take the proverbial plunge and bareback. Or.. Have sex, safe or not. I might take it a step further and say that people should decide what you are willing to deal with before you put yourself out there. Be it on the internet or in a club. Should guys be honest about their status? Yes. But ultimately, each individual has to take responsibility for their health. I think if guys thought about these things (and became educated) before putting an ad online, there would be a lot less drama and stigma and a lot more fucking.

Which is why guys are starting to lie about being 'Undetectable.'

pozbrad - you're the best type of cumdump boy - nothing matters other than keeping your cunt filled with cock and sperm. Not only does it allow you to get bred whenever you want to, I'm sure it's opened up many doors that pay off big time - meeting guys that you really are attracted to who like sperm lubed boy cunt, guys who arrange group breeding parties for you, having a long list of guys who will come over for pump and dump sessions when you're aching to take loads all day or all night. When you go to gloryholes, you're going to leave with your cunt dripping sperm and others will leave frustrated. At a sex club, the line forming at a sling will be at the sling you're in. You go to sleep at night with loads in you and wake up in the morning with them leaking out of you. You were born to be bred and service cock and you're man enough to give up your boy cunt to live out your pre-determined destiny - that's a freedom that few get to experience.

Most of the dick i take is through a glory hole, so I rarely know what they look like, all I really care about is getting my hole fucked & bred anyway. Otherwise I rarely pay attention to looks when I'm in the mood to get used & filled with dick, I'll bend over for anyone as long as they do me hard, deep & bare. One of my other favorite ways to take dick is in a sling, just letting a line of random men fuck my cunt & fill me up with cum, I've had all sorts of men fuck me that way, from muscular studs to the types of guys most people probably wouldnt take dick from, of course most guys my age dont do half the stuff & haven't taken half the dick I have... lol

My first boyfriend did it to me. We always fucked safe but at a certain point he toke advantage of me being drunk. It did take me several time to figure out what was going on.

Just because we're all twisted pigs, here's a picture of me immediately after doing my biggest-ever slam just a few hours ago.

[i snapped this photo during last night's slam-and-breed session with a hung, twisted perv. I'm still high as fuck...] CHAPTER 4 - TRISTAN Tristan has been our dealer for the last two years. Back when we met him, we were looking for a more dependable connection. A mutual friend described him as “an entrepreneurial sadist,” so we decided to give the guy a try. I’ll never forget walking into his apartment for the first time. Tristan, dressed only in a ballcap and wife-beater, sat in a huge chair—a throne, almost—at the far end of the room. He was dirty-blond and scruffy and tattooed, with a hard look on his handsome face. Between his muscular thighs, he had an uncut cock fat enough to send an inexperienced bottom to the emergency room. It glistened and dripped like he'd just pulled it from a wet hole. Between us and Tristan, in the middle of the room, a handsome kid in a jockstrap—I’m guessing he was 19, maybe 20—was flat on his stomach, a pillow crammed underneath his crotch to elevate his little musclebutt. He was struggling against three guys who’d pinned him to the floor while a fourth dude thrust his raw dick deep into the kid’s hole. They’d muzzled him, too; all we could hear were wordless croaks of protest. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks streaked with tears. Then came a thrust so hard we heard something snap, or burst open, or give way. The bottom shook his head violently. Through his muzzle, we could hear him break down into full-bodied sobs—but the top didn’t let up, not for a second. He just kept on plowing that butt, plunging his dick in deep. Meanwhile, in the crotch of my jeans, as my dick hardened up until it strained the fabric down to about mid-thigh, a pool of viral precum began bleeding through the denim, quickly forming a four-inch-round wet spot. “Don’t worry—the kid will warm up to it eventually,” Tristan said to me and Brian, motioning for us to join him on the other side of the room. “We haven’t given him any T yet, so he hasn't discovered that he’s a filthy fuckin’ whore.” Then he turned to the group of guys fucking the boy. “Hey, Carlos—give our brand-new little barebacker a booty bump, will ya? I’m tired of all this crying bullshit.” Carlos, a hairy Latino guy with an uncut cock, let out a big laugh. “Drew is already one step ahead of you, boss. He just dipped the head of his cock into the baggie.” “Fuck yeah,” added another guy—apparently Drew, a dark-haired, smooth-chested dude in his mid-20s. He wrapped his hand around the base of his downward-curving cock, proudly showing off the white crystals studded all over his mushroom head. “Let me in there,” he said to Carlos. “I wanna get this faggot fucked up.” Carlos moved aside. Drew placed his Tina-covered cock against the kid’s hole, spread that virgin butt wide open with a powerful pair of hands, and made his delivery with a single brute shove. The kid screamed through the muzzle as shards of crystal tore across the thin tissues of his hole. Unfazed, Drew just kept working those chems deeper, pounding away until the kid’s screams faded into a stunned silence. “I guess I should’ve introduced you,” Tristan said as he checked the weight on our 8-ball. “The boy with the big dick in his hole? That’s my nephew Sebastian. Devout Jesus freak and a total fucking closet case. Last week I caught him jacking his dick—nice dick, actually—while flipping through some of the old gay porn magazines I’d stashed in my parents’ basement in the ‘90s. When I confronted him about it, he gave me some lame excuse, and I pretended to believe him. Then, just to assure him that everything was cool, I suggested he drop by my place tonight to play board games. Seriously, dude: he thought I wanted to play board games! Anyway, as soon as he walked in the door, these four guys grabbed him from behind, stripped off his clothes, pinned him to the ground, and crushed his sweet little cherry. It’s about time somebody raped some sense into him, you know?” Just then, a violent coughing fit erupted from the center of the room. I glanced back to see Sebastian on his back, muzzle off, legs spread, one arm raised high in the air, eyes wild with confusion. One of the tops was placing a cap on a syringe, grinning at his handiwork as that doomed little cunt rode the dark wave of his first slam. “So much for following Jesus,” Tristan said to us with a dark laugh. “You guys like what you see?” We didn't answer right away. We were too busy watching as a top with a red-and-black biohazard tat pressed his dick against Sebastian's hole and plowed right in. The kid’s whole body shivered and twitched. He whimpered a few times. And then he began making a long, low moaning sound, pulling his legs back for a better view of the poz cock fucking him in half. Brian nodded. “Oh, yeah. Slammed up and knocked up, just like a good boy should be.” “OK, so here’s something that might interest you,” Tristan replied. “Half of my business is selling the best shit in town. The other half is pimping out boys. I like to get ‘em hooked on slamming T, you know? But this is important: I never, ever teach ‘em how to slam. If they want that syringe in their arms, they have to come to me. And I treat ‘em well, too: I give ‘em my best shit, and I never miss. My only hard-and-fast rule is that they can’t get slammed by anybody else without my permission. If they break my rule, they’re out on the fuckin’ street.” He paused for a moment to give his cock a twitch. “Anyway, here’s what I’m trying to say: I’d love for you guys to recruit some hot little fags for me to slam up and whore out.” “Um, wow,” said Brian, laughing. “I think we might be into that.” “Thank you,” Sebastian gasped. I glanced back to see him getting plowed by the same guy, the kid's fingers carefully tracing the outline of the dude's biohazard tat. “You're welcome, boy," the top replied, smiling a cocky smile as he plunged in deep. "This cunt of yours was built for taking my cum." “Listen, pig: focus,” Tristan said with a crooked grin. I turned back to face him. “Here's what I'm thinking. Anytime you guys find a boy who, in your expert opinion, has a sweet tight cunt that would bring some serious business my way, go ahead and send him to me. In return, I’ll give you some free product—maybe even a shitload of free product, if the boy’s got some serious moneymaking potential.” Brian and I glanced at each other, both of us grinning like it was our first time at the bathhouse. There was no need for further discussion. It was obvious that we'd just stumbled into the perfect gig. And the best part of the whole thing? We haven’t paid for an 8-ball since. * * * Brian and I led Jace to the apartment, telling him to knock on the door. He knocked. Tristan answered, wearing only a ballcap. His lean torso tapered into a set of defined abs, the shape of his body acting like a funnel as it drew our eyes toward the heaviness of his cock. “Hey there,” he said to Jace, locking eyes with our brand-new chemwhore. “You’re high as fuck, aren’t you?” “I guess so,” Jace stammered. “Good boy. That’s exactly what I like to see.” Then Tristan flexed his cock, making it swing upward and slap against his stomach—a favorite trick. He smirked as Jace licked his lips. “You like my cock, bro?” “Fuck yeah, dude.” Tristan wrapped his hand around his dick, flexing it again to send a rivulet of precum flowing down the length of the shaft. “I want to bury this big raw cock in your hungry little tweakhole, faggot. Got it?” Jace didn't answer at first. He was open-mouthed and glassy-eyed, his belt unbuckled, his hand shoved down the back of his jeans. Through the fabric, I could see that he was fingerfucking his partied-up hole. He nodded. “I need a louder answer than that, pig.” “Yes, sir.” “Good boy. You hungry for some more smoke?” “Fuck yes, sir.” “Then follow me, boy. Follow me back to my chair.” They walked across the room. Tristan sat down in his chair, then motioned for Jace to stop in his tracks. “Just stay there for the moment. This is my chair, bro. You’ll sit down when I give you permission to sit down. Got it?” “Yes, sir.” Tristan picked up the pipe. “I forget: did you say you wanted some smoke?” “Fuck yes, sir!” “Well, here’s the deal. I’m not feeding you any until you climb up on this chair and take a seat all the way down my dick. All the fucking way down. I want to feel your taint pressed against my fuckin’ stomach. Got it, fag?” “Fuckin’ A, sir!” “Good boy.” Jace didn't give himself a chance to think about it. He immediately clambered onto the chair, straddled Tristan, and placed the head of that dick against his butt. He didn’t tease it or jack it. Instead, he immediately got to work, sitting down on the full length of Tristan’s raw cock with a single piercing grunt. Tristan looked over at us, his face lit up in a twisted grin. “Fuck, you guys. This ass is worth a month’s supply of shit, easy.” Meanwhile, Jace was staring longingly at the pipe in Tristan's hand. “Sir," he said—unable to disguise his hunger for more chems—"Can I please smoke now?” “Of course, pig,” Tristan replied. He placed the pipe against Jace’s lips, feeding that faggot a long series of big hits. Brian and I watched the impressive cloud formations, then began gathering our things to head back home Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tristan grab a rubber strap and tie it snugly around Jace's bicep. "This looks like it's gonna hurt," Jace said. “It's not gonna hurt, buddy boy. You just stay still. You’re gonna love this. I promise. It’s a little something I like to call it the Point-Five Surprise. A nice big slam for my hot little bitchboy.” “OK, dude," Jace replied. "I fuckin' love that smoke. I'll do anything to get more." “I know you will, pig. And in about 10 seconds, you'll do anything...and then some.” Brian and I closed the door behind us. As we walked down the hall, we heard a long series of loud, breathless coughs, one after another. By the time we reached the elevator, the coughs had been replaced by the rhythmic smack of skin against skin as Tristan plowed Jace’s freshly slammed-up hole. * * * When Brian and I arrived back home, we heard a quiet, rhythmic splashing from the backyard of Dalton’s house. Was Neighbor Boy swimming laps? We figured it was worth checking out, so we quietly made our way to the backyard, sneaking over to our secret vantage point near the fence. We weren’t disappointed. Dalton was alone in the pool, swimming freestyle laps in a Speedo. The curve of his ass bobbed along the surface of the water, and each of his calves splashed to the surface in quick succession as he kicked his way back and forth in front of us. Finally, he stopped to catch his breath before pulling himself out of the pool, the water cascading down his back and splashing against the muscled perfection of his ass. Then, with a single casual flick of his thumbs, he dropped his Speedo to the ground, stepped out of it, leaned over to grab a towel, and wrapped himself up before heading back inside. His Speedo was still on the pavement. And in the next moment—as Brian slid his raw dick into my hole, both of us dripping precum like a couple of teenagers—I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about that brief glimpse of Dalton’s amazing butt. “His parents leave in two days,” Brian whispered in my ear. “Do you know what that means?" "What's that, babe?" "In two days, that sweet ass is gonna be ours.”

CHAPTER 3 – JACE THE WHORE I love watching Brian plow a neg hole. He likes to get a boy on all fours, back arched—the position of total surrender. He grabs a giant handful of the boy’s musclebutt in each hand. Then, after impaling that poor unsuspecting bitch on his fat poz dick, he pulls back to expose the length of his shaft, throwing the full weight of his body into another deep thrust, his stomach and balls smacking hard against the boy’s wide-open hole. More often than not, a full thrust of Brian’s raw dick produces my favorite sound that humans can make: an involuntary primal grunt, emanating from somewhere deep in the gut, like pain and hunger at the same time. When he’s fucking a negboy, Brian pulls out every few minutes to slather more Tina-laced lube on his dick, leaving that hungry hole empty and gaping and slick with toxic precum while the boy whimpers a little louder and reaches back to spread his hole a little wider. With every dose of chems – with every shard of Tina smeared into that twitching fuckhole—the boy’s hunger keeps building, his fears and shames falling away as he gives in to a desperate, almost delirious craving. He starts mumbling incoherently, bits of pigtalk interspersed with sounds that aren’t quite words, but not quite moans either—the primal ravings of a bitch in heat. Before long, he’ll be making sharp backward hip-thrusts, impaling his chemmed-up jockhole at an increasingly rapid clip—smack, slap, slosh—as the skin on his bubble butt grows red from the pounding. If he’s like most boys, he doesn’t stop to ask questions when I put the Tina bong in front of him. By that point, he’s already tweaking on the chems in his butt, so he doesn’t put up a fight. He just wordlessly wraps his mouth around the glass stem, looking up at me with those pitch-black pupils as the bong chamber turns solid white and he eagerly fills his lungs with smoke. With every cloud billowing out of his mouth, he arches his back a little more sharply to elevate his fuckhole a little further toward the ceiling. There’s no question now: his ass is ours. In less than an hour, we’ve managed to transform a nice, upstanding kid into a helpless faggot with a Tina-fueled hunger for dick. I make sure to teach him the basic skills: how to take a nice deep hit, hold his breath for a few moments, and wrap his mouth around my cock before exhaling a thick cloud down the length of my shaft. (“Good boy,” I always say, which he usually answers with a muffled moan.) And while Brian’s cock keeps plunging its full length into that raw cumhole, I look down on our sweet, naïve, fucked-up negboy with a crooked smile of sadistic pride. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s get back to Jace. * * * After getting dressed, I headed back to the pool party. Jace followed just a few steps behind like some kind of forlorn pup. When we rejoined the group near the pool, I gave Brian a little wink. He walked over to Jace, chatted briefly with him, and led him back inside. They were gone for about five minutes. When they returned, Jace looked a little more flushed than before, and Brian was grinning the cockiest of grins. “I took him to the bathroom,” he whispered in my ear. “Then I worked a nice big shard of T up inside his butt with my dick. Had to keep my hand over his mouth to keep that bitch from sobbing with pure joy.” “You breed him?” “Not yet. Gotta keep his cunt on edge, you know?” “Good thinking, babe. Now it's my turn.” I turned toward Jace, flashing him a crooked grin before walking back into the house. He followed me to the bathroom. I locked the door behind us. Almost by instinct, he simply turned around, pulled down his swimsuit, and leaned over the toilet to expose his hole. I placed my palm over his mouth and shoved my cock inside him in a single rough thrust. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes and his hole spasmed in pain, but he nodded encouragement. I began pounding his twitching cunt with my raw dick. “Brian and I are heading back home in 5 minutes,” I whispered in his ear. “Cancel your plans. Be at our door in half an hour. Got that, pig?” He nodded again. “Good. Because I know you’re hungry for seed.” I felt a cold shudder run through his body. Goosebumps formed on his back. And then I pulled out, giving his ass a hard smack. “See you soon, faggot.” * * * Almost exactly 30 minutes later, I found Jace standing anxiously at our front door. He looked directly into my eyes and managed a single word: “Please.” I nodded and gestured him inside. Five minutes later, my dick was back inside his raw fuckhole. Brian placed the glass pipe against Jace’s lips and lit the chamber. “I’ll tell you when to inhale,” he said. “You ever play with Tina?” Jace shook his head no. I grunted in appreciation—as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing hotter than a chempig initiation—and my cock twitched as I delivered a little bump of precum into that boy's newly partied-up butt. Meanwhile, with my cock still lodged deep inside him, I grabbed my phone to call Tristan, our dealer. (I'd been sending him updates throughout the day, so he knew what we'd been up to.) Tristan and I never bothered with formalities. "Please tell me that boy came back," he said when he picked up the phone. "Please tell me you're bringing that hungry hole to me." "Oh, he’s fuckin' ready, dude. In fact, he just blew a giant cloud on Brian's cock. Want him?” "Yes. In fact, I've set aside a very nice reward for you guys. A finder's fee, you might say." “Fuck yeah, bro. We can head that way in a few. He doesn’t have any loads in him yet, so you can be the first.” "Sweet! Get here fast, fucker." And with that, Tristan hung up. I pulled my dick from Jace’s hole, eliciting a truly pathetic whimper. “Don’t you worry, pig,” I said to him. “We’re taking you to meet our friend Tristan. He’s very eager to make a little money off this chemmed-up musclebutt. You ready to be a whore, boy?” “Yes, sir.” “OK, but let's be totally clear about one thing: I didn’t say slut. What did I say?” “You said whore.” “That’s right, boy. I said whore. And by that I mean a literal whore—a trashy fuckin’ pig who eagerly spreads his hole for any dude with a fistful of cash. Got that?” He moaned and reached back to expose his butt, now leaking a steady stream of lube and precum. “That's what I like to see, boy. Now get your fuckin' clothes on.” MORE SOON...

It's a new one to me but each to his own. I do like it when guys tell me they're gonna make me pregnant or give me their babies. I find it a turn on the thought of them breeding me like a woman and filling me, making me pregnant but I've never thought of giving birth. One guy I used to know was really into making me beg to have his babies, he liked to tell me he was going to knock me up.

hot hole dude, if you decide to take poz dick lemme know, love to dump my dirty load in you...

CHAPTER 2 – THE POOL PARTY Dalton’s family has a private backyard with a large pool—or mostly private, anyway. Our two houses are perched next to each other on an embankment that juts out from the street like a natural cul de sac, effectively separating us from the other lots in the neighborhood. A fence runs along our shared property line, and we planted a thick grove of trees to give both houses a greater sense of seclusion. Not that it matters. Brian and I are voyeurs, so “seclusion” is a relative term. Before Dalton moved in, we lived next to a family of five, and the Dad was a silver fox type who would jack off in the Jacuzzi when he thought no one was watching. We discovered it by accident: one summer evening, we happened to be fucking a boy under the stars when we heard a sharp grunt from our neighbor’s house. We sneaked over to the property line just in time to see the silver fox climbing out of the hot tub, his impressive erection still at half-mast. The next evening, Brian and I cleared out a few spots in the foliage where we could have an unobstructed view of our neighbors’ backyard without fear of discovery. Then we sat next to the fence and waited, passing the time by jacking each other’s dicks; before long, I was wrapping my mouth around Brian’s thick shaft while he worked two fingers into my fuckhole with generous globs of Tina-laced lube. My ass began pushing back on him, squeezing his fingers as if trying to swallow his hand. Finally, he pulled me off his dick and fed me the fingers he’d been working into my hole. As I slurped greedily on the taste of my chemmed-up guts, Brian stared into my eyes with his trademark combination of adoration and amusement. “Oh, my hot little piggy,” he whispered, “I sometimes forget what a trashy little chemwhore you are.” “Not only that,” I replied. “I’m your trashy little chemwhore.” He flashed an evil grin before sliding his fingers back inside my hole, this time working a little rock of T into the liquid warmth already radiating from my ass to my cock to my nips. At last, when I couldn’t wait any longer, I removed his fingers from my ass, positioned my hole directly above his precum-slick cock, and lowered myself onto my man’s throbbing shaft in a single hungry downward thrust of my hips. Just then, as I was fully impaled on Brian’s twitching raw cock, the silver fox walked onto the adjoining back patio. Within a matter of seconds, he dropped his bathrobe—revealing a muscular mid-40s physique with salt-and-pepper fur—and sank into the hot tub. His head fell back; his mouth dropped open. And then his right shoulder began to shake as he beat his meat, unseen by us, beneath the surface of the water. Almost by reflex, I began milking Brian’s dick with my hole as I watched our neighbor stroke his cock. Then my husband wrapped his arms around me and began thrusting up into my hole, my entire body trembling in anticipation as I braced for a load of his warm poz cum. Moments later, we heard the silver fox grunt—the same grunt as the night before. And as we watched, he pushed his hips and his cock above the water, letting his cum fly in a thick spray from his fat mushroom head. Three distinct ropes of jizz flew into the air, then down into the froth of the Jacuzzi. And that’s when I felt Brian’s raw dick pulsing and flexing deep inside me, flooding my tweaked fuckhole with a fresh dose of his potent strain. Over the next two years, the silver fox jacked off many more times while we watched from the bushes. We started calling it “the late show,” and we caught it whenever we could. Most of the time, I sat on Brian’s dick when the silver fox started cumming, and Brian obliged with another buttful of poz seed. In fact, it became such a regular ritual for us that when our neighbors moved across the country, it was almost like our favorite TV show had been canceled. We shouldn’t have worried. As it turns out, the real show was just about to start. * * * Jesse secured us a spot at the pool party. He explained that the adults weren’t really expected to swim—they mostly sat around drinking and talking while their kids played in the pool. When the day of the party arrived, Brian and I chose tank tops to show off a little muscle and fur. We also wanted Dalton to catch a glimpse of the bulges in our board shorts, so we boosted the profile of our packages by wearing cockrings under tight white jockstraps. We arrived when the party was in full swing. As we passed through the sliding glass doors and entered the back patio, I saw Dalton on the opposite end of the pool, lifting himself out of the water, his swimsuit clinging tightly to his ass while a cascade ran down the muscles of his back and splashed against the elastic of his waistband. I glanced over at Brian, and I could tell he saw the same thing. His eyes, like mine, were glazed over with pure hunger for that hot little stud’s hole. The hostess—Dalton’s Mom—took us through the crowd, introducing us to people we didn’t care to remember. (We did, however, run into a few of Dalton’s football buddies, all of whom would look fucking fantastic buck-naked and spread-eagled, trussed up in our sling and forcibly impaled on anonymous poz cock.) Finally, our hostess waved to Dalton, who was chatting up some bitch by the pool. Must be Melissa, I thought to myself. I hope she’s enjoying that boy’s dick, because she might not be getting it much longer. I watched Dalton strut our way, his tight pecs leading the rest of his body in a cocky little bow-legged stride. Meanwhile, his wet swimsuit clung tightly to his cock, confirming the presence of a thick, fleshy piece of meat between those muscular legs. He gave both of us the once-over. And as he did, his expression changed: he didn’t grow visibly uncomfortable, but his face went oddly blank. “Dalton, these are our new neighbors. Meet Brian and Tom.” “Hey,” Dalton said noncommittally, holding out his hand for a quick shake. “Hey, buddy,” Brian replied. “Great party.” Dalton nodded vaguely. “Yeah, it's pretty cool.” An awkward pause. Then, turning to his Mom: “I need to grab another burger.” “K, hon,” she said with a pained smile. “There’s plenty of food, so eat all you want.” As Dalton walked away, quickly regaining his confident strut, she turned to us and shook her head. “Sorry about that. I swear he used to have manners.” “Oh, it’s fine,” I assured him. “Teenagers, you know?” I glanced back toward the barbecue, and caught Dalton looking our way again, his face still impossible to read. “He’s a little freaked out by us,” Brian said a few minutes later, leaning in close to me as we sat by the pool. “Definitely,” I replied. “Freaked out and fascinated. Poor little faggot.” * * * By that point, our dicks were straining against the fabric of our shorts. We needed release, and our first chance at Dalton wouldn’t come for another week at least. So when we were introduced to Charlene, a bottle-blond cougar who’d recently divorced and taken up with a much younger personal trainer named Jace, I saw the opportunity to let off some steam. Jace was clearly dumb as a post, but I didn’t mind—after all, that’s what muzzles are for. He was in his mid-20s, furry and scruffy, with a chiseled body that showed through his tight T-shirt. And from the moment I looked in his eyes, I had no doubt he was at least bisexual. After chatting him up for 10 minutes or so, I found what I was looking for: a pretext to get him back to our place. He said he was really into the Fast and Furious series, and I told him we’d just bought an imported box set that included tons of never-before-seen footage. Would he like to see it, maybe even borrow it? Of course he would. (Do we own any of the Fast and Furious movies? Of course we don't.) I winked at Brian as Jace and I slipped away from the party. Leading Charlene’s trophy-jock across the yard, I showed him through our front door and closed it firmly behind us. Then he and I stood in the entryway, staring at each other for a good minute or two. No mention of Fast and the Furious. We just stared. My cock twitched in anticipation, then twitched again. Finally, I glanced down at my crotch, gave my dick one more giant twitch, then looked back at Jace. With no change of expression, he simply dropped to his knees, pulled down my zipper, and fished out my rock-hard cock. It glistened with a layer of fresh precum. Opening his mouth wide, he engulfed me, sucking greedily and noisily—an experienced cocksucker for sure. I reached down to the small of his back and snapped the waistband of his shorts. He took my cue: with both hands, he gave his shorts a firm downward yank, exposing the muscled curve of his ass. My dick responded by drooling a long, thick rope of toxic cum into his mouth. “I need to fuck you,” I growled. He paused to consider. “You clean, dude?” My favorite dumbass question. “Of course,” I said with a smirk. “OK, cool—but you still gotta wear a rubber.” “No problem.” I grabbed him by the shoulders and guided him to his feet as I pointed toward the bedroom. “Now go get naked and wait for me on the edge of the bed.” Without even nodding, he did as he was told. Meanwhile, I grabbed the Tina-laced lube and followed him, shedding my clothes as I went. Entering the bedroom, I found Jace wearing nothing but a backwards ballcap, on all fours, his back perfectly arched to expose a clean-shaven, wide-open hole. I was a little disappointed that such a hot, furry boy would shave his ass, but then I remembered that a lot of closeted “straight” boys do that—they don’t seem to realize that pigs like me often appreciate a man’s hairy butt, especially when it’s dripping with piss and sweat and seed. “Look at you and your little shaved pussy,” I said to him, and he whimpered in reply. “You shave this because you hope some stud will mistaken you for just another bitch, huh?” Another whimper. “I bet you jack off thinking about a nice fat dick filling your cunt the way it needs to be filled. Don't you, boy?” He wagged his butt up and down, as if to say fuck yeah. “Of course you do, you fuckin’ faggot. Now listen, bitch: I’m gonna lube you up. But this lube is special—it’ll feel a little warm at first. It might even burn. That’s just how it works. Sort of like Icy Hot, you know? It’ll relax your ass muscles. Cool?” He nodded his head, his jockbutt still bobbing up and down eagerly. I scooped up a thick glob of our magic pig-lube with my right hand, spread his fuckhole apart with my left, and used two fingers to firmly push a healthy dose of greased-up chems into that eager, defenseless cunt. He tensed up, probably feeling the burn, but I just stayed inside him, rubbing his lower back with my free hand, slowly rotating my fingers to work the T into the lining of his hole. After a bit more squirming, he gradually exhaled in a low, guttural moan, and I felt a radiant warmth pass across the skin on my knuckles. He pushed his ass back against my fingers, taking me deeper. I grinned triumphantly: mine. As I removed my fingers, he yelped in frustration. I laughed. “Don’t worry, boy—I’m just putting a little more grease for your hole.” I scooped up an even bigger glob, this time with three fingers, then pushed all three into him, massaging his quivering fuckhole as he made a sound that was almost like purring. Then I pulled out again, and he reached back to spread his cunt wide open. “Patience, fag, patience. My fingers can’t get far enough inside you. If this lube’s gonna do your hole any good, it needs to penetrate further. That way you’ll be totally ready for my cock.” I reached into a side drawer and pulled out a needleless syringe that I’d prepared a few hours earlier by dissolving a strong bump of T in a little bit of water. (I always try to have at least one fully prepared booty bump on hand, just in case.) “You want to get lubed up nice and deep, bitch? Want to get your hole all good and ready for my dick?” He answered with a wordless groan. “Good answer, pig.” I inserted the plastic syringe as far as it would go, then pushed the plunger to deliver a giant payload into his guts. He arched his back even more as I pressed gently on his tailbone, letting gravity do the work of priming his hole for pozzing. As the drugs seized control of his brain, his butthole started quivering. I rubbed the length of my dick along that hungry musclebutt; he responded by burrowing his head deeper into the sheets and spreading his legs a little more. “Oh, and one more thing, pig,” I said to him, pressing my mushroom head against his taint, “I don’t use rubbers. Ever. And if you insist on a condom, you’re not getting my dick. Understood?” He reached back and spread his hole a little wider. “You just spread your hole for me. Does that mean you want me to bareback your hungry hole?” No answer. “Tell me, pig,” I said, grabbing a rough handful of his hair and pulling his head back. “Do you want my raw cock?” “Fuck dude, whatever,” he said, his voice shaking now. “I don’t fuckin’ care. Please shove your dick in me.” “Not sure I heard that, pig. Say it again.” “I don’t fuckin’ care. Please give me your dick. I need your fuckin’ cock, bro.” “You want my raw cock to slide in you, pound you bareback, and fill you up with a load of my seed?” “I’ll do whatever you want, fucker. Just please, please give me your dick. I can’t believe how fuckin’ hungry I am. Please feed me, dude.” “Feed you what?” “Cock, cum, anything. Seriously, bro. I’m begging you.” I grinned. “Good boy. Now brace yourself.” He exhaled—a sigh of relief. Meanwhile, I held his ass in place with my left hand. With my right, I slid the head of my cock inside his smooth fuckhole, just holding it there for about 10 seconds as I lubed his butt with some of my toxic precum. At last, with no further warning, I pushed the entire length of my raw dick into him. He let out another deep sigh as his starving cunt spasmed against the skin of my shaft. “You like this raw cock inside you, boy?” “Fuck, dude. Please pound my hole.” “You got any plans tonight?” “Yeah. Just with my girl.” “I want you to cancel. Got it? Cancel your plans.” “Whatever you want, bro. Please just fuck me.” “I’ll fuck you—don’t worry. But first you need to do what I say.” “Absolutely. Whatever you say.” “Alright, boy—then here’s what we’re doing. We’re getting dressed. We’re going back to the party. We’re saying our goodbyes. You’re cancelling your plans. And then you’re coming back here to get pounded by raw dick all night long. Are we clear, faggot?” “Fuckin’ A. Yes, dude.” “Don’t you worry, boy—your patience will be rewarded. I promise you that.” As we talked, my cock kept twitching deep inside him—and with each twitch, his wide-open hole absorbed another little dose of my virus. He would need as much viral lube as he could get, because in a few hours he’d be at the mercy of Tristan, our merciless dealer. Tristan was full of surprises, but one thing was certain: by the time he got his dick in this boy’s slammed-up hole, Charlene would definitely need to find a new personal trainer to fuck. MORE SOON...

I almost threw my laptop across the room when I jumped up. I'd almost given up on ever seeing Sam again. He'd stopped returning my texts and I didn't care for a second why he was at our home when I leapt into his arms. He endured my excitement until it had calmed. When I finally pulled back, I noticed his eyes were on Chance. There wasn't any anger lingering behind them. They emanated something, but I wasn't sure what. I was just happy to see his face again, since the last time it was swollen and tear stained. Chance stood from his seat and turned to face us. His face was unreadable. I stepped back, unsure of what was coming. It seemed like a power struggle. Thickened air was rolling around the room. Sam stepped very slowly towards Chance as Chance began maneuvering around the couch. Time stopped for a minute. I held my breath, unsure of what was about to happen. Chance got to the reverse side of the couch and stopped. Sam hesitated. Chance held his arms open and burst into a smile, "welcome home." Sam ran into Chance's embrace, letting loose a ******* of tears. I smiled to myself. He was back! Within a couple days, Chance was back to his normal self, feeling better. He'd given Sam his gifts, much to Sam's delight. That weekend, Chance made reservations at one of the classiest restaurants in town. Dressed to the nines, we stood waiting for the table. Typically in public, we refrained from displays of affection, not wanting to draw attention to our less-than-typical relationship. That night though, we were bold and uncaring what anybody else thought. We did gather some pretty interesting glances when Chance sat on the bench, flanked on either side, holding hands with both of us. We'd stood in the face of adversity and came out with newfound strength. It was our night to celebrate and reap the rewards. Dinner was amazing, dessert: remarkable. Toward the end of the meal, Sam confessed his whereabouts during his self-imposed exile. He'd been staying at a few friends' places. He came to realize how miserable he'd been without us; how nothing Chance had said would be unfulfilled. Somewhere in between the second and third week, the ache for primal acts of lust crept into his mind and he found himself trying to get ahold of previous lays. His thirst for a cum slopped ass was too overwhelming for him to manage. That's when he made the decision to return, though he waited another week to be sure. "Well I'm glad you came back," Chance confessed, "I missed you." I smiled at the honesty in his voice. We finished at the restaurant and went home. It was dusk and Chance went straight into the bedroom after entering the house. Sam and I kicked off our shoes. Chance had closed the door to the bedroom and locked it. Sam and I exchanged glances, wondering what was up. Moments later, Chance emerged and there was a visible glow emanating from the bedroom. His expression signaled caution. We stepped towards him and showed no fear. Face to face with Chance, I ran my hands over the lapel of his dinner jacket. This was it, the last few moments before diving head first into a new life. I thought I'd be afraid, paralyzed, and unable to continue. But looking into Chance's eyes, I felt nothing but peace. Chance took our hands in his. Backing slowly, he lead us into the bedroom, which had been illuminated with candles. Resting on the bed was a glass pipe, a lighter and a bottle of poppers, neatly rested on a small hand towel. Chance's smile was vibrant with energy. We stood before him as he soaked in the sight of us, dressed up and ready to take the plunge. He turned around and took the glass pipe into his hands. He offered it to Sam first, who took it carefully into his hands and lit it up. As he twisted it and the tiny rocks began to melt, smoke filled the cavity. Sam drew the smoke in slowly, and held it. Chance took Sam by the back of the head and pressed their lips together. Sam exhaled the smoke into Chance's lungs and immediately began feeling the effects of the drug. I watched his eyes roll back into his head and his shoulders relax. Chance exhaled, then offered the pipe to me. I repeated the process and passed it to Sam. Then Chance with me. Within minutes we were all fucked up. Chance began taking off his jacket and I put my hand on his chest. He pulled it back over his shoulders and I gently nudged him onto his back. He landed on the bed and stretched out. Sam and I crawled up next to him, I fiddled with his belt, quickly unfastening it and grabbing the button of his pants. Sam pulled the zipper down as I stuck my hand into his pants, freeing the hardening monster inside. I paused and looked at it, knowing it was about to infect me. I watched a huge drop off precum build up at the tip. I looked up at Chance, who was watching intently. I took the shaft of his cock into one hand, ran the other up his shirt, feeling his well shaped abs. I brought my lips down on his piss slit and gave the head of his cock a peck, smearing my lips with his tainted precum. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. I was showing him that I love him, no matter what. He smiled and eased his head back onto the comforter. I broke the cock kiss and licked my lips. I don't know why, but I expected it to taste different. I was delighted to find it was just as sweet as ever. I aimed his cock toward Sam, who eagerly popped the head into his mouth. He began to bob on it, letting his mouth sink down half way before pulling back up slowly. Chance grunted into the air and opened one eye to look at me. I crawled up to meet his gaze and began to kiss him with a passion unlike any before. I felt tingly all over and felt the temperature sky rocket in my veins. It may have been the drugs, but I like to think it was built up sexual tension. Having gone over a month since getting any was igniting a wildfire in my body. Chance began pulling off my clothes, popping the buttons off my shirt and tearing the fabric of my undershirt to expose my bare skin to the chilled air of our bedroom. "I wanna taste that pussy baby," he whispered coarsely as he began grabbing at the fabric over my ass. In one strong tug, I felt the seam of my slacks give way, exposing the brightly colored underwear I had on. Another tug and those were in tatters too. He helped guide me over his face, lining his mouth up with my hole. I looked down to see Sam's lips pressed firmly against the skin around the base of Chance's cock. Suddenly, with a long, slow drag of the tongue, Chance began eating me out. Instinctively, my hole contracted briefly before relaxing on his tongue. It had been far too long since I'd been stretched open, so his tongue struggled to push inside me. He was starved for my ass and before I knew it, my hole was soaked with spit. I felt my hole relax more and Chance's tongue pushed the tight muscles encircling my hole open. I reached behind me and pulled Chance closer, completely burying his face in my bubble butt. Sam was voraciously deep-throating Chance at this point and his face was getting covered in his own spit. After a while doing this, Chance pushed me up enough to tell us to change positions. I maneuvered myself into my stomach and Sam joined me, overlapping his leg over mine so we were hip to hip. Chance ripped a hole in Sam's pants too, finding that Sam was commando. I leaned over and started kissing Sam as Chance began eating him out. Not wanting to ignore anyone that night, Chance ran his fingers over my quenched hole. Sam moaned into my mouth and I knew Chance was tongue fucking him. At this point, Chance roughly jammed two fingers in me. Flinching, I noticed that Chance was curling his fingers inside me, followed by a slight tinge of pain. I responded by arching my back, imposing his fingers deeper in me. After a few minutes, he switched, tongueing me while fingering Sam. Chance worshipped our holes non-stop for over an hour until both Sam and I were beyond desperate for more. Abruptly, Chance pulled off us and I looked over my shoulder. He was pulling off the remnants of Sam's clothing. I noticed he was sweating and his fingers were leaving red trails on Sam's white shirt. High as fuck, it took a moment for me to process that it was blood. One if us was bleeding from his finger fucking, maybe both. Chance finished undressing me, then Sam and I stripped Chance. The room was scorchingly hot. We were all dripping sweat. Sam and I laid back on the bed and Chance stood in front of us, glancing back and forth. "Guess we're at the hard part," Chance said. I looked up at him quizzically. "Who goes first?" I chuckled and said, "Sam can if he wants." I wanted to watch my knight get truly bred. Sam responded by laughing and pulling me on top of him, so I was straddling him. Chance took Sam's cock and aimed it at my hole. Goosebumps rose all over my skin. I felt the fat head of Sam's 8 inch cock push past my first sphincter and I greedily swallowed the entire thing. My moan filled the room. I bent down and kissed Sam, arching my back some so Chance had a clear image of my hole stretched over Sam's neg cock for the last time. It proved to be more than Chance could handle and before I react, I felt the head of Chance's cock begin to push Sam's aside. My hole took forever to let him in. An audible pop, followed by a pleasant burn around my hole told me Chance was in. Had we not smoked from the pipe, I probably would have been in a significant amount of pain. Chance pulled me up, wrapping his arms around my chest and lifting. I closed my eyes, wondering how I'd be able to process vision in addition to the tremendous stretch I was enduring. I took a deep breath in through my nose and felt the chill vapors from the poppers Chance was holding up to my face. Instantly, I felt my hole relax and I started to work my way down their shafts. Chance took my movement as a sign I was ready and with one swift thrust, buried as much of his cock into my rectum as possible. Anther thrust posted him past my second sphincter. The third and he was hilted. At this point, he froze, allowing me a moment to adjust. The moment wasn't long enough, and before I knew it, my hole was getting plowed hard. I grabbed the sheets and Sam pulled me down into his arms, planting kisses on my lips to help comfort me of the intensity of sessions I was enduring. After a few minutes, my hole dilated enough to accommodate their cocks and the warm burn became a pulsing pleasure. My moans and the sounds of an intense double fuck filled the room. You know the ones, the sloppy, slightly echoed, sloshing from having two big cocks in you. Chance was sweating more now, the drops colliding with my back. At one point, the two of them synchronized their thrusts so that Chance would be pushing in as Sam pulled out. Sam started talking in a raspy voice, "how's that big poz cock feel in there babe?" "Fucking perfect," I couldn't say more, too focused on the sensations. He continued though, me nodding and grunting in response. "Remember? The last time we played with T? How long it took for Chance to cum? Two hours at least right? You gonna take it that long? Gonna be a good bitch for us baby? You want that poz cum in you don't you? Do anything for it? Your hole is so wet babe, so sloppy. Feels so good." Soon, Chance joined into the dirty talk, "Sam's right babe, it's gonna take a while for me to blast this poz cum in you. You wanna stop?" I almost screamed my response, "NO! FUCK NO! DON'T STOP! EVER!" They kept fucking me for over an hour, fueling each other's dirty talk, which encouraged Chance to keep going. After an hour, my hole went completely slack, dragging the ruined ring of muscle along their shafts with each thrust. Chance and Sam seized the opportunity and started wildly fucking me. I lost track of time then, blanketed from the world in our fuck fest. God-knows-how-long later, I felt a tension rise in my gut, that inched it's way over my entire body. Like someone turned on a light inside me, it exploded, and I began blasting cum all over Sam's face and chest. As I cried out wildly, my hole spasmed on their cocks, pushing Chance over the edge. He held my hips firmly in place and drove every bit of cock in as deep as he could before blasting my insides with white hot toxic cum. It flooded into me so hard; I could feel it splash against the walls of my depths. Chance finished cumming and remained buried in me, securely plugging my hole with their cocks. He wanted to make sure his sperm wouldn't somehow escape the cavern they'd made of my hole. Time slowed down and it felt like we stayed like that for hours, though it was probably more along the line of twenty minutes. Once Chance started pulling his cock out, he began spanking my right cheek, so I'd tighten up and not lose more cum than necessary. Once his cock popped out, he held it at the entrance to my hole for a minute. He shifted his weight and showed me his phone. He'd taken a picture of his cock, pink with cum and blood, with Sam's cock sporting a giant drip of cum on the shaft where my puffy ass lips clung to it. Immediately, he told me to spin around so I was facing him. It took a moment, because I was dizzy with lust. Then he had Sam roll us over so I was under him, with his cock firmly lodged in my freshly bred hole. He told me to hold Sam's muscular ass open. I grabbed Sam's cheeks and pulled them as far apart as I could. Chance rammed four fingers into Sam and roughly fucked him with them, sinking down to his thumb with each thrust. Without skipping a beat, he ripped his fingers out and stuffed his cock in. Sam groaned loudly and bit my neck. I pushed my hole back onto his cock, feeling the trimmed pubes tickling my swollen hole. I stayed there as Chance began working up a fuck frenzy. Chance aggressively plowed into Sam, relentless, like he was trying to fuck a hole through him. Chance grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back, planting a dominating kiss on his mouth, jamming his tongue down Sam's throat. I lay under him, feeling the kinetic energy of Chance's thrusts in Sam's cock. Every so often I'd feel his cock expand and contract and I began grinding my hips against him. I wanted to massage his cock head into the cum drenched walls of my hole. Chance felt this and started talking dirty, "That feel good baby?" Sam moaned, "Does his hole feel nice on that cock?" Another moan, "you like having your cock soak in my poz cum don't you baby boy? You love it. You're anxious to have your own hole infected too. You wanted it all along baby. You wanted to catch the bug. Didn't you?" Sam moaned loudly, and Chance thrust particularly hard into him, "say it. Tell me the truth about why you let anyone fuck you." Sam whined, "Fuck baby! Yes, I want to be poz, I want to take any and all cocks. I've always wanted it. I need it! Please baby! Give it to me!" That was all the encouragement Chance needed. He started railing Sam's hole, pounding him into me. I grabbed the sheets and pulled, but unable to move, I was forced to stay put. Chance continued fucking Sam for well over three hours before he finally shot off in him. Sam was so turned on that he blasted his last neg load into my hole, mixing with Chance's. Once he'd calmed down, Chance popped his cock out and plugged Sam with the largest plug he could fit in him. He wanted it to massage his DNA into Sam's torn walls. Unable to sleep, we spent the rest of the weekend taking turns fucking one another. Chance let us fuck him for the first time. It was the best weekend of my life. The one where I knew I'd always have Sam and Chance, not just emotionally, but in my blood. And that was the best feeling of all.

I helped Chance off the floor of the bathroom. He reeked of vomit. I sat him down on the lid of the toilet and turned to start the shower. "You've got such a beautiful ass," Chance said meekly. He hadn't been able to keep down much food and it was obvious it was taking its toll. I helped him stand up, and pulled his underwear off. He rested his head on my shoulder and I held him momentarily. I carefully got him situated and leaned him up against the wall of the shower. I peeled off my clothes and stepped in with him. The water was hotter than I wanted, so I started fidgeting with the temps until it was just on the border of cool and cold. Chance grunted loudly as the spray hit him. I wanted to bring his temperature down some, so I let the water crash into his skin for a bit. I marveled at the way the water looked as it dripped down his chest. After a few minutes, he was starting to shiver. He reached over and pulled me close to him. I grabbed the soap and started to work up a lather. "Will you answer my question now?" In his weakened state, he didn't care about patience. I began soaping him up without answering his inquiry. I got him cleaned of the sweat and puke that had soaked into his pores. "Stay," I commanded before I opened the sliding door. I stepped out and grabbed mouthwash off the counter and coined back in. After swishing twice he smelled fresh and alive. Not ready to vacate the cool water, I switched our positioning, so his back was against the water. He looked down, letting the water run through his short hair. I took a good look at him. His cock was flaccid, his skin seemed pale and tepid. Despite this, it was still beautiful to see him. He had an air of fragility. He needed me. I started to think about what I was going to say to him. Did I want to have this talk now? Or should I wait till after he's recovered? He must have sensed my contemplation, "What's on your mind?" Lots. Everything. There wasn't enough time in the world to vocally express everything. I had to be select. I asked shortly, "is this what I'd have to look forward to?" "Maybe. Sometimes you get sick, sometimes you don't." He wasn't energetic enough to sugar coat and I appreciated the blunt honesty, "and no." "No?" "If you get sick, I'll have been there before you, know what to expect. I'll be able to take care of you." "Oh," I had to stop and think before continuing, "are you scared?" The question came out abruptly, innocently and he chuckled lightly, "A little." "Of what?" "Losing you," he paused, "and Sam." He looked up into my eyes and his eyes resembled sapphires. I couldn't stop myself. I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. He kissed me back, taking the small of my back into his hands, holding me tight against him. Countless gallons of water later, we stepped out. I toweled him off and we went into the living room and affluent the day watching movies naked. He had no energy for sex, which I was fearful of still. I knew we'd figure that out later, but as much as he needed me now, I needed him forever. There was no way I could leave him. A week later, Chance was feeling near perfect and I was immensely grateful for that. I was sitting on the couch playing a game on my laptop. Chance was watching tv next to me. It was early evening, the sky filling with tangerines and mangos. I heard a click behind me and turned my head. Sam was standing in the entryway of the house. His face was stern and focused. He looked around the room before he looked at me, "Hey."

Sam stood slowly after a brief moment of silence. He walked into the bedroom and Chance stayed firmly planted in place. I struggled with processing what Chance had just said. I decided I'd think about it later. I ran to the bedroom and found Sam tearfully putting his clothes back into his luggage. I stood in the frame of the door until he noticed me. He must have seen the fear in my eyes. He spoke first, "I'm going to a friend's for a bit." "How long is a bit?" "I don't know. I need to think." "Can I come?" I didn't know what else to say. "I think it's best if you go find somewhere else to stay, you need to think too," my heart sank. "Will you be back?" I was fighting back tears now. This hurt. More than I could imagine. "I'll come back when I know what to do," he went back to packing, his expression was resolute, determined. He was done talking. I sat on the bed and tried to process. There was too much going on. I couldn't handle it. I sat there while Sam finished packing. He flung his bag over his shoulder and walked in front of me. I looked up at him, eyes bloodshot and hurt. He knelt down in front of me and rested his forehead against mine. Sam tilted his chin and kissed me. He quickly rose and walked out the door. I heard the front door shut and I sat staring at the floor. After a moment, Chance's shadow filled the door frame. I mustered up all the courage I could manage and asked him to leave. He didn't budge. I felt a blaze of fury run through my system and I grabbed the closest thing to me, an alarm clock. I threw that fucker as hard as I could at Chance. Without batting an eye, he caught it and threw it over my head at the wall behind me. It shattered, sending cogs and springs everywhere. He calmly walked into the room. I stood, suddenly afraid. His pace held no aggression, no anger. He seemed at peace. I backed up. Soon I was against the wall, shaking. He stopped less than a foot away from me. He moved to bring his hand to mine and I reflexively withdrew. His hand took mine and he gently pulled me into his arms. I broke down. "It's ok baby. It's ok." I took a few days off from work to get myself together. I must have smoked about six packs in those three days. I was constantly checking my phone, waiting for some kind of response from Sam. Ryan stopped by to apologize during that time, and they talked about what had happened while I fucked around on the computer. It was very quiet those few days. As much as I didn't want to admit it, Chance's confession was spot on correct. I didn't like the thought of contracting HIV, but it was undeniable that I would eventually. After a week with no word from Sam, I started to grow accustomed to the situation. Every day, Chance would leave and return with gifts for me and Sam. I asked why he purchased them for Sam, and he argued that Sam was still a part of this relationship, until Sam tells us otherwise. I begrudgingly accepted the gifts, still unsure about my own status on the relationship. After two weeks, I finally got a call from Sam asking me to pack up more of his clothing and to meet him at a coffee shop to deliver them. He told me not to tell Chance we were meeting. I sat in the coffee shop for over an hour before Sam arrived. Once he did, he thanked me for bringing him his stuff, grabbed the bag and left. I didn't even get to say a word. I went home that night and for the first time in years, I jacked off. Its interesting to follow your thought patterns while masturbating. Mine seemed to be centered around getting pozzed. After the orgasm subsided, I was left in a sticky mess of inner conflict. The next week, Chance got extremely sick. He stayed home from work, unable to get out of bed. I wondered if this was the result of that night almost a month ago. The second night of his illness, Chance's puking was keeping me up. I actually felt bad for him, so after a few times, I stopped him on his way out of the bathroom. He'd been sleeping on the couch since the incident. He apologized for waking me and I pulled the covers down. He stopped to consider what I was implying. "Get in bed," I didn't ask, "I'm not going to get any sleep either way, so I'll give you a pass for the night." Chance nodded and approached the bed. He was wearing sweats and a tank top. As he climbed in between the sheets, I felt a wash of heat radiating from him. His fever was high as hell. Realizing I was in about to sleep with a heater, I sat up and started pulling his shirt off. He seemed confused by my actions. Next came his sweats. After he'd been stripped to his underwear, I pulled off my shirt too. He laid back seemed tense. I snaked my arm under his neck and curled up behind him. I realized how much I missed feeling his skin against mine and before I could register what I was doing, I placed a soft kiss on the back of his neck. I held my breath, waiting to see if he reacted. "Thank you for letting me sleep with you tonight, baby. I love you," he whispered. I continued holding my breath. Silence echoed through the room. I knew it probably hurt his feelings; it even hurt mine a little. But I knew that saying it back would commit me to more than I was ready for. And that got me thinking. How would I know I'd be ready for it? Maybe there wasn't any point in fighting it. It's not the worst thing that could happen to me. I called out of work the next day, and slept the majority of the day. When I woke up, Chance was laying on the couch, blanket pulled over his head. Unsure if he was awake or not, I quietly went into the kitchen and made myself some food. I ate it on the counter, checking my phone. When I'd finished, I jumped. Chance was leaning against the fridge, watching me. "Good morning," he said. I smiled at him and through his fevered state, he managed to smile with surprising brightness. It'd been almost a month since I had actually seen him smile like that. I felt my knees weaken. My face flushed and I turned away from him. Next thing I knew, arms were encircling my hips and a breathy voice filled my ears. "It's ok. You know you still love me," my knees weakened again. Once again, he was right. I felt my defences crumble under his embrace. He held me a moment before he turned and left to go to the restroom again. I stood in the kitchen and had to quell the blood rushing to my cock. I found myself confused and flustered by what just happened. I quickly put the dishes in the sink and went into the bedroom. Chance's heaving was audible through the closed door. I sorely turned the handle and pushed open the door. Chance was on all fours puking. He seemed fragile in that moment. He glanced up at me before burying his face back in the bowl. I moved to him and crouched down beside him. I gently placed my hand on his shoulder blade and caressed him. After finding a moment of stomach peace, Chance looked me in the eyes, "are you going to leave me?" In This moment of weakness, I understood how afraid he'd been the past month. His confidence was fragmented. He was doing his best to hide it, to remain in control of his emotions. "Finish puking your brain's out, and we'll go talk." He nodded and put his face back in the toilet.

As soon as we were unstrapped and hollowed of the dildo, Sam took off out the door. I shot Chance a look of disgust and followed suit. Ryan met us outside and before Chance could join us, we were driving away. The ride was silent, none of us knowing what to say. Chance had betrayed the trust we'd placed in him. Even Ryan seemed conflicted by the event. He pulled up to the front of the house and Sam threw open the car door and slammed it shut. Ryan rested his forehead in his hands and exhaled before turning to me. "You guys probably want some time to yourselves," his eyes were compassionate and soft, a look I'd never seen in him before. I stared for a moment, feeling the rage build up inside me. "Fuck you," I practically screamed as I threw open the door and began walking to the door. Halfway up the path, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It made be flinch and I turned to face Ryan. "I didn't know this was going to happen, babe," he was trying to quell his wrath. I didn't care. I turned again and continued to the door. I threw it open and Sam was packing a bag with clothing. "Don't leave Sam, please? I can't do this without you." I started to shake. Everything was falling apart. I walked to him and took his hands. He pulled them away, quickly. I stood staring at him, shocked that he reacted like this. He'd never been cold to me. His eyes looked to the door, where Ryan stood. "What the fuck do you want?" Sam yelled, throwing a shirt to the floor. "I didn't do shit with this Sam! Guys! I'm serious! I didn't know this was going to happen!" Ryan was trying his best to remain calm, but his anger was pervading his face. Sam pushed past me, throwing me against the wall hard, and grabbed Ryan by the front of his shirt. "You knew damn well what the fuck was happening. You stood there and watched. You fucking took part in it!" He swung hard and clocked Ryan in the ribs. I jumped up and ran to Sam, trying to pull him off. Everybody was yelling. I felt a sharp jab I'm my gut and fell back, trying to draw air into my lungs but to no prevail. I looked up to see Ryan pin Sam against the wall and pull his arm back. He clenched his fist and like lightning, decked Sam square in the jaw. I tried to stand, but I was too weak. Sam slumped to the floor and started crying. I managed to get one good deep breath. "Get the fuck out of my house!" I expended the entirety of my lungs in that command. Ryan looked to me and see the zeal in my face. He picked up his keys and ran to his car, slamming the door hard. His engine whirred as he sped off. Sam lay sobbing on the floor, blood coming from his nose. I got my bearings and stood cautiously, walking to the fridge. I grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and returned to the trembling form of my boy. I cautiously applied the ice to his face and caressed his hair. "Please don't leave me Sam, I need you." The words escaped my lips at a whisper. A moment passed in silence. "I don't know what to do anymore," Sam confessed. "I feel like I'm being ripped in two." I helped him off the floor and onto the couch. I laid on my side and rested my head on his lap. I felt a drop or two of blood hit my cheek but couldn't find the strength to wipe it away. I felt so weak, exhausted. I fell asleep fast. When I woke up, the light from outside was blinding. I sat up and Sam looked to me. "Hey baby," he whispered. The affection in his voice soothed my fears over him leaving. His face hadn't swelled too much, but it was obvious he'd been fighting. I looked around cautiously. Unsure if I was ready to see Chance yet, I found relief that there was no indication he'd returned. "Did you sleep?" I asked Sam, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No. Couldn't." Understandable, I thought. "So what do we do now?" I was afraid of the answer. "First, I apologize for hitting you. You don't deserve that." I looked down, acknowledging the ache in my side. "Then we wait, I guess." I nodded and slowly made my way to the kitchen. There was blood in the entrance, but I didn't have the energy to deal with it. I grabbed a box of Lucky Charms and returned to the couch. We started eating them and neither of us spoke. Whatever happened, it seemed we'd be going at it together. The minutes turned to hours that day. The house seemed so quiet. Lifeless. Or maybe that was just an externalization of what I felt. I found it upsetting that Chance hadn't returned to bear the results of his actions. He might have stayed at a friend's house. I found myself worrying, which surprised me. Late in the evening, as the sun was setting, we heard a car pull up. We looked to one another, both unknowing of what would be said or done. The next few minutes were long. So very long. They clung to the clock like honey. Finally, we heard keys jingle, the latch tick, and the gasp of air as the door opened. I turned my head. Sam didn't move. Chance filled the door frame, holding two bouquets of flowers. I felt sorry for him. It was going to take more than flowers to remedy this. He wore the same clothes as the night before. His hair was undone and lazily brushed down. I made eye contact with him, unyielding in expression. He knew how hurt I was. He moved to the front of the room, took in the sight of us. Sam's bruised face and my side elicited a look of surprise from him. He set the flowers on the coffee table. Sam stood quickly. "Sit down, Sam." Chance's voice was low and gentle. Sam turned and took a step away. "I said sit the fuck down." No longer gentle, Chance's voice blasted through the house. Sam paused, unsure of his next move. "Please," Chance almost whispered. A deep breath escaped Sam before he returned to the couch. He seemed to be choosing his word carefully, as there was hesitation in his voice, "You're mad. I know this. Hate me probably. But you're not seeing everything right." Sam rolled his eyes, I looked to the floor, "if you're going to break up our home, do it for the right reason." This cought my attention, and I looked up to him. He waited till Sam made eye contact before he continued, "Look at how you go through guys Sam," I held my breath, this wasn't going to be pretty. "You know it was just a matter of time before someone infected you. And then it'd be a waiting game till he got it," he looked at me. I broke eye contact. "I'll be fucking damned if some guy bugs you because he lied to you. If either of you get this, it should be by your choice and by someone who loves you and will take care of you after." Tension in my shoulders eased. I eyed Chance cautiously, none the less. Sam's leg was bouncing. He was aggravated and understandably so. As pissed off as he was about what Chance said, there was no denying its validity. We've all been borrowing time. And apparently that time was now up. Chance continued, "So the way I see it, you can either accept this change and stay with someone who loves you very much and who wants you to be yourselves. Or you can leave and either continue playing Russian roulette with your tricks, or live afraid of who you really are. Choice is yours." Well fuck.

We were sitting in the steam room at the gym, Chance and I. I'd always liked the steam, the way it made my high feel. Smoke a bowl, patter my way through a workout, jump in the steamer. We were nice and sweaty when Chance mentioned going out. "We should go do something tonight." "Like what?" He cocked his eyebrow, "Bathhouse?" I felt my hole shudder at the thought. It wasn't uncommon for Chance to take Sam or I to the bathhouse for our sexual congresses. I think he got off on watching the guys watch us. He's always prompted us to look our best when we arrive. He liked having trophies, especially trophies with surprises. Essentially he wants you to lust after our tight asses, then ruin your fantasy by revealing how wrecked he's kept our holes. It's a power play to him. I can only grunt a response, lost in my hazy memories of previous visits. Our eyes locked momentarily and it broke me from my trance. He looked down at his cock, which was slowly stiffening, then looked back at me, eyes loaded with expectation. I took the cue and maneuvered myself between his legs on the bench below him. Not in any rush, I slowly teased the insides of his thighs with my tongue, tasting the salty sweet sweat he was building up. I ran my hands up his legs, feeling the curvature of his calves, then his hamstrings. I moved my head in closer to his hips and breathed in the intoxicating smell of his ball sweat. It affected me like poppers and I started lapping at his balls, gently taking them into my mouth and swirling my tongue around them. It was my way of thanking them for producing the cum I have grown to crave. His cock was standing proud at a full, thick eleven inches, the weight of it resting on my face as I worshipped his balls. Thoroughly satisfied with the tongue bath they'd received, I started a long slow drag of the tongue up his shaft. At the base, he began a long, slow moan. I gripped his legs tightly and made my way to the head. The sensitive under belly of the shaft radiated pleasure through his body. He shuddered and before the ripple of pleasure finished running through his veins, I had engulfed his head with my mouth, eliciting a loud, guttural groan, surely audible from inside. I began working his cock carefully, drawing moans from him with ease. He filled his hands with my hair and started helping to guide me asking his shaft. He pulled on it gently, wringing it of the saturated sweat it held. It coursed down my spine, tingling and stimulating the muscles it contacted. It reached the top of my ass and slowed momentarily. Instinctively, I arched my back and the motion caused it to begin a tediously slow drip down the crack of my ass. I held my breath and filled my throat with Chance's cock. The stream of sweat hit my exposed hole, causing it to dilate and retract abruptly. I moaned lewdly, vibrating Chance's cock. He pulled me off his cock, letting the spit and precum create a string between my mouth and his cock. I moved up to kiss him and then got up to leave. I shakily rose to grab a towel and follow him through the columns of lockers. The other guys changing watched Chance proudly strut to his locker, fully erect with me following closely behind, shamefully covering myself with the towel. They watched him dress in awe and jealousy over his physique. We dressed and headed home. A steady stream of smoke was wafting from the underside of the door to the house. It had the sweet pungent aroma of weed and we exchanged glances before entering. Opening the door, we were greeted by a wave of smoke and soft moans. Framed by the window behind, the silhouette of a man on his back getting fucked by another filled our vision. It took a moment for our eyes to adjust to the shift in light. Once they had, we saw that Sam was getting fucked by our long time friend, Ryan. Ryan was another alpha male in our group, trumped only by Chance. He played rougher than Chance and was a great deal of fun in group play. Closer examination showed the two passing smoke between each other as Ryan pounded away at Sam's hole. A bong was sitting on the table. Chance and I went into the kitchen to get dinner ready while they finished. After a roaring orgasm from Ryan, Sam came in the kitchen, completely naked. He opened the fridge and bent down to grab something from the back of it. A stream of cum running down his thigh indicated that Ryan either had multiple goes or Sam had multiple guests during our workout. Neither of which really surprised me. Upon seeing this, I quickly grabbed his hips and dropped to my knees. A close look at the swollen, cum splattered lips of his ass made me salivate. I planned my lips around his hole and took in a deep breath, sucking out his stored loads. His soft whimper was followed by a gentle push of the muscles, filling my mouth with cum. I stood, spanked him and flipped him around, pushing him against the fridge. I kissed him, tonguing the cum into his mouth. Ryan and Chance stood watching, striking their cocks till we finished. Swallowing, I turned back to the food I was preparing as if nothing happened. During dinner, Chance announced our plans for the night, and Ryan readily agreed to join. We finished eating dinner and got ready, thoroughly cleaning ourselves out. Chance took longer than usual in the shower and we concluded that he wanted to look especially hot that night. We quickly jumped in Ryan's Jeep and be started driving. During the trip, Chance was glued to his phone. I saw Sam try to look over his shoulder, but it seemed that he didn't see anything and sat back, placed his hand on my knee and checked out. The outside of the baths was nothing special, a red door with an 18+ sign taped to it. I took the handle and felt a warm rush course through me. Adrenalin probably. The guy behind the counter was a friend of Sam's. It was unclear if it was some guy he'd banged, or just a friend, but he let us in regardless, handing Chance a small Ziploc bag, the contents of which we couldn't see. We followed behind him, descending the narrow, darkly lit staircase into the pits. We walked past a group using a twink's holes. They paused to watch us pass. I felt a stir in my stomach. The smell of sex was awakening my inner whore. We got to the middle of the maze, a large amphitheater-like room with a bed centered in the middle. This was where Chance wanted us. He wanted an audience for tonight. Sam and I sat on the bed. Chance and Ryan nodded and we began kissing. They turned and left, leaving Sam and I alone in the space. We kept kissing and gripping each other's clothes, tugging and pulling them away from or skin, but not removing them. Within minutes, a few guys stumbled into the room. We continued making out, getting thrilled at their watching. Suddenly, the room began filling up with horny guys of all types. The ambient music hushed and the room darkened. Silence filled the room. We stopped kissing momentarily, wondering what was going on. A single light flashed on above us and Chance stood behind us, Ryan in front and two other guys we didn't recognize on either side. Chance had a microphone. He spoke into it. "Welcome guys! You've all been asked here to witness something incredible. I'm certain you've noticed a higher cover tonight than usual, but we have a show for you." Applause. He continued, "Tonight you're going to watch the most intimate thing a man can do for another. Tonight. One of these fine young men on stage will be going home...different." Sam and I exchanged glances cautiously. Something was up. What did he mean different? I felt my heart stop momentarily. Chance turned and smiled at us. I felt my concern melt. I trusted him monumentally. Sam relaxed too. Whatever it was, he wanted it and that's ok. Chance reached to his back pocket and pulled out the baggie. It had four small pills of varying color. He fingered the bag open and thumbed out two pills. He spoke into the mic again. "These two little sluts in the bed are my boyfriends." He handed each of us a pill and introduced us by our full names to the guys around the room. Mine was blue. "The gentleman across from me is Ryan. He's going to help me keep these boys primed and ready for our little show. To my right is Ryan's brother, who's here to assist in case of a struggle. He's very adapt with bondage, you see." We dry swallowed the pills. They clearly were e and they left a strong chemical taste in the back of my throat. "Across from him is the man who will...shall we say...transform the lucky guy tonight. Let's hear it for Shane!" At that point the crowd cheered loudly. I turned and looked him over. He was wearing a black leather harness, a real bull of a man. I couldn't see his face, but I knew he was a mean looking son of a bitch. "Let's get this party started!" Chance turned to us and smiled widely. "Kiss. Make love with each other till I tell you otherwise." He'd pulled the mic away so only we could hear him. Sam pulled me into him and started kissing me passionately. He took the front of my shirt in his hands and with a strong tug, tore it from my body. I pushed him back, pulling the buttons off his shirt, leaving his bare chest exposed to the room. The men grew quiet. We were grinding on one another as the music started. I recognized the dirty beat. It was a trashy, trashy song by one of those famous DJs. We found ourselves taking on the music's tone with our movements. Sam was incredibly assertive with his groping. He tugged my pants off and I reciprocated. Soon we were naked, grinding our cocks against each other, precum soaking our stomachs. The drugs seemed to hit all at once. The lights seemed inconceivably bright, and I suddenly wished they were dimmer. As the song ended, Chance spoke to the crowd again, "How you guys doing it there?" The yells and clapping indicated that they were pleased with Sam and my actions. "You ready for us to move into something else?" Another round of cheers. Chance nodded and turned to us again. "On all fours boys, face to face. Don't stop kissing." We changed positions and the four men around us changed positions. Chance took his place behind me, pulling up a duffel bag I didn't see him bring in. Ryan moved behind Sam, also pulling out a bag. They opened it and from over Sam's shoulder I saw toy after toy held up for the audience to see. Suddenly I felt something warm and extremely wet against my hole. I grabbed the back of Sam's head and held him close. Something pushed against my hole, small, a finger probably. I had relaxed enough to let it in when I felt my hole stretch open significantly. A moment later and Chance's fist sunk into me. I broke the kiss momentarily to cry out in surprise, but Sam pulled me back into the kiss. He flinched and moaned into my mouth. I couldn't see what was in him, but his reaction told me it was big. Chance wasted no time in fucking me with his fist, going from a few thrusts to full on punch fisting. I was used to this kind of fucking, but it usually involved more of a build up. He wasn't merciful that night. Sam must have been getting fucked pretty hard as well, as his face would push close against mine with each thrust. The drugs numbed the pain shortly after and it felt just like getting fucked by your average cock. With a loud pop, Chance evacuated my rectum, leaving my hole wide and gaping. Something cold pressed against my hole and I felt it dilate to accommodate a longer object. Some kind of toy. As it pushed deeper, I felt my hole expand. Some kind of tapered dildo. He fucked me hard with it, pulling it all the way out, then punching its entirety into me. Sam's breathing intensified sharply and then he stopped moving, his lips pressed against mine. Toy after toy, they made their ways through their bags, wrecking our holes. Eventually my hole stopped trying to retract, staying slack and pliable. I felt something taper my hole open as wide as it could go, then it sealed itself in me. A plug. A huge one from my guess. A slow ache ran circles around my hole that made me shudder through my drugged haze. Chance's voice echoed through the silent room of men, "I think it's time, what do you say?" The room went hysterical. It sounded fuller than before. It seemed like the volume of men doubled since I last heard them. Ryan's brother moved to us and helped us rotate so we were ass to ass and on our backs. He pulled my plug free and I looked down to see just how big it was. My eyes widened when I saw it. Easily the largest thing I've ever taken, I marveled at the thought of what my hole must look like. He began pulling from Sam's ass, and I watched a giant horse sized cock pull from the depths of Sam's chasm. Ryan's brother then pulled out a massive 28inch double-headed dildo and started working one end into me. Given the previous toy, it took no effort. Then he guided the other half into Sam. I felt myself opening more as Sam got closer. Soon our holes were pressed against each other tightly. Ryan's brother grabbed a set of harnesses and fastened them to our legs and hips. As a final touch, he pulled out a padlock and secured a strap from each harness to the other, locking us together, hilted by a massively thick dildo. He ran his hands along our stomachs, pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of his work before stepping back into the audience. Ryan left at this point as well and we were left alone on stage with Chance and Shane. I could feel my heartbeat in my hole. It quickened now, with the realization that whatever Chance had planned was about to happen. They stood momentarily on either side of us. I looked up with pleading eyes at Chance, who bent down and kissed me with so much intensity it could only be referred to as reverence. He turned to Sam and kissed him as well. It felt like a goodbye. Something, some part of us was about to leave forever. Chance turned and walked around the table, stepping in front of Shane and bent down, with his face in between Sam and I. With a wicked thrust, Shane pushed his cock into Chance. The room filled with a bellow cast from the depths of Chance's soul. Shane began relentlessly plowing through Chance. Chance hadn't bottomed the entire time I've known him. Exclusive top, and yet here he was getting rape fucked by some guy we didn't know. Jealousy and rage ripped through me and a quick glance at Sam showed his mutual anger. Shane's voice boomed through the room, "That's right bitch." My eyes locked onto his chilled face. "That's where you belong. Face buried in the unclosing, worthless cunts of the men you love. They don't have what you want. What you need. But I do..." He was microphoned, so everyone could hear him. What did he mean? Sam and I started to struggle against our restraints, but each tug made the toy fuck in and out of us slightly. Sam froze. I stared at him momentarily, then it hit me. Like a hurricane it hit me. "I'm gonna poz that alpha pussy!" And he shoved every bit of cock into Chance. His grunts filled the silent room. Seemed everybody was holding their breath, Sam and I included. There was nothing we could do. He was turning my prince, my boyfriend who I trusted so much into a toxic cum dump. I couldn't move. I had a decision ahead of me, one that would change my life either way. Do I stay with him? Do we revert to safe sex? What do I do if I lose Sam because of this? What the fuck just happened? Oh Chance, what have you done?

a few times like around october of last year i was using 2 public restrooms from a public park in st cloud fl.. it was at night around 11pm for some reason i wanted to "clean" the toilet sit that had drops of piss on it, & i did clean it up with my tongue.. :/ i saw some spit/saliva in the urinal (it looked like it) and started putting my fingers in it and rubbing it on my face,lips and cock then i did it a few more times the next few weeks.

I got into doing this a few years ago but my method is to put a plastic drinking cup in the urinal (usually in bars). I'll hang around outside and see who goes in, follow em in shortly after hoping he is pissing into my plastic cup, then I wait until the coast is clear and drink the lot down while its still warm. I started doing this at first when I was in college, the end cubicle was next to a row of urinals and had a spy hole in side partition so I could see what the guy was like and also see his cock. Have drunk gallons like that.

PART 3 Conrad looked up at me and smiled. His legs were still wide open, and a pearl-size drop of cum escaped his hole. I pushed it in with my finger, and he moaned. “Sit up, boy,” I said. “Take three nice hits off the pipe for your big bro. I’m gonna get us ready for a night at the baths.” I heard the click of the lighter as I grabbed a white jockstrap from the laundry basket, giving it a quick smell and catching a whiff of cum, sweat, and piss in the fabric pouch. I threw it to Conrad. “Here, bud—wear this,” I said. “It’s only slightly used.” He nodded as a dense cloud billowed from his mouth. Meanwhile, I grabbed my playkit, threw on a T-shirt, and pulled my gym shorts over my cock—still rock-hard and glistening with fresh poz seed. The mesh fabric strained around my erection, pulling on the elastic and revealing just a little bit of the thick patch of hair above my cock. I heard the boy hit the pipe a second time, then a third, as I prepared another dose of G in the kitchen. I brought him the dose as he exhaled smoke from his nose like a regular chemwhore. “Drink up,” I said, “then put on those shorts. But leave your tank top here, OK? I want everybody to see my lil’ bro’s hot fuckin’ body.” He nodded, gulping at the G-laced soda before pulling his shorts over the jockstrap. The waistline landed about one-third of the way down his bubble butt, revealing a bright-white band of elastic. “Good boy,” I said, lighting up the pipe and sharing the smoke with him in a deep, hungry kiss. “Now let’s go feed your hot little butt.” He practically ran to the bathhouse, stopping every 50 feet or so to keep his shorts from slipping to the ground. Finally I grabbed his hand, unbuttoned the top button, and let the shorts fall. He shot a worried glance my way. “Don’t worry, bud,” I said with a triumphant grin, opening the front doors to the bathhouse. “Nobody here’s gonna complain.” My buddy Rick was on duty at the ticket window. As Conrad and I approached, he gave the kid a once-over and laughed. “Holy shit, dude,” he said to me. “This one's gonna be good.” “It already is,” I said, showing him one of my fingers slick with cum from Conrad’s hole. Rick practically licked his chops. (He was one of my regular top buddies, and he especially loved sprinkling a layer of T on his raw poz dick and sliding it inside a faggot’s wrecked, dripping cumhole.) As he secured a room for us, I glanced back at the guys standing in line. All of them craned their necks to see my boy leaning against the counter in his jockstrap. I pulled his ass apart, revealing a trickle of cum running down his leg. That earned a few grunts of piggy appreciation. Then I whispered in my lil’ bro’s ear: “Keep spreading it, boy. Be proud of your hunger.” He nodded eagerly, reaching back and showing off his smooth, knocked-up boyhole. One of the dudes in line responded with a single word: “Fuuuuuuuuuck.” “The sling room is taken,” said Rick. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll be invited there at some point.” (He gave the word “point” a little extra emphasis, followed by a wink.) “Anyway, I managed to get a deluxe room for you. Come on through and let me check your bags.” We walked through the security door, and I put my playkit on the counter. Rick opened it up. I'd packed everything I might need for a night of poz-fucking: a row of prepared points, a large dimebag full of T, a needleless syringe for administering booty bumps, and a water bong. “Looks good to me,” he said with a smirk. Then he leaned over the counter and lowered his voice. “I’m off at 6 am. You’re welcome to come by my place when you’re done here.” Rick often hosted a group at his place on Sunday mornings. It was always a good crowd—mostly because he would recruit the hottest partyboys from the bathhouse by giving them a glimpse of his big dick while “checking their bags.” I gave him a nod. “Fuck yeah,” I said. “He’ll be very ready for you by that...point.” “Point taken,” said Rick with a smirk. “Now get to work.” As Conrad and I began walking down the hallway toward our room, I put my arm around his shoulder, bringing my mouth close to his ear. “If you see anything you like, just let me know. OK, buddy?” “Yes, big bro,” he answered, causing my cock to nearly spring out of my shorts. We walked past the hot tub, where some kid sat on the edge, legs dangling in the water, his hole eagerly riding a Daddy's raw cock. The kid was clearly tweaked out of his mind, and I could hear the top muttering a steady stream of pigtalk as the kid bounced hungrily on his dick. Conrad stopped and stared. “Don’t worry, buddy,” I said. “That’s nothing compared to what you’re in for.” We turned the corner. Ahead of us, leaning against the wall, a furry guy in his mid- to late 20s stood watching the men walk by. He was wearing nothing but a towel and a camouflage ballcap. I thought to myself: this is what Conrad might look like in a few years. The dude sported a little more muscle, a spray of hair across his pecs, and a clear treasure trail leading from his abs to the towel wrapped around his waist. But that's not what really caught my attention. No: what caught my attention was the giant red-and-black biohazard tattoo just above his left nipple. And then something happened that blew my fucking mind. Conrad saw the dude standing there, let out a little whimper, and made a beeline for this total fuckin’ stranger. And without a word, he placed his tongue on the guy’s nipple...giving the biohazard tat a long, slow lick. The dude grinned, placed his hand on the back of Conrad’s head, and encouraged him to keep worshiping the mark of poz brotherhood. Then he looked over at me. “This your boy?” he said. “Fuck yeah,” I answered. “I’m Sloan. This is Conrad.” “Jason here,” he said. “But before we go any further, he needs to be clear on one thing.” “What’s that? “My tattoo isn’t gonna give him what he wants. Only one thing is gonna do that.” He pulled the towel away from his waist, and his fat uncut cock swung forward, its head grazing my lil’ bro’s abs. Conrad whimpered again. I leaned over to give Jason a long, sloppy kiss. “Come with us,” I said. “I wanna see you help my boy earn his tattoo.” Conrad broke away from his poz-worship, and the two guys followed me to the room. Once inside, the boy dropped to his knees and began noisily and shamelessly slurping on Jason’s poz cock. Fuck yeah, I thought to myself. That G is definitely kicking in. “Goddamn,” said Jason with a laugh. “You got this kid fuckin’ blitzed, huh?” I answered with a proud nod. “Nice,” Jason said, then lowered his voice. “So…how are you guys partying?” I raised my eyebrows, then gave Jason another deep kiss as Conrad kept trying to devour his cock. “Fuck, dude,” I whispered in his ear. “That’s one of my favorite fuckin’ questions.” (As most partypigs know, the only people who ask “how you’re partying” are slammers—so Jason was not only a hot poz fucker, but a slampig too.) “Oh yeah, fucker?” he said with a smirk. “You been playing darts with this boy?” “Not yet,” I answered. “But in a few minutes, he'll be getting his first fuckin’ slam.” I took Jason’s hand and guided it to Conrad’s hole. His finger made contact with the warm seed slowly dripping from my lil’ bro’s knocked-up cunt—and with that, Jason’s eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned in appreciation. “That’s poz load #1,” I said. “My load. I got this kid high and pounded his virgin cunt full of seed. And of course he’s hungry for more.” “Of course he is,” Jason said. “Listen—I’m here with my poz Daddy, the dude who knocked me up about a year ago. We’re in the sling room. We love getting negboys on their backs, slamming ‘em up for the first time, and transforming them into little poz cumhounds. You wanna join us?” I flashed him a wolfish grin, then leaned over to kiss him again. “Couldn’t have planned it better myself,” I said. “Fuckin' A. Let’s go create a slampig.” MORE SOON…

PART 2 As we walked through my front door, Conrad reached into his backpack and took out a box of rubbers. “Can’t forget condoms,” he said with an awkward laugh. I took them from his hand, managed a vague sort of nod, and threw them on the dining room table. My boys usually insist on condoms—at first. But after a little bit of chemical intervention, they always transform into eager raw cumholes. Only once did I end up with an especially stubborn kid who kept trying to wrap my dick, so I resorted to a backup plan—a stash of broken rubbers with little holes poked in the reservoirs. Didn’t matter in the end. By the time the condom tore apart while I was pounding his negboy hole, he was so high he tore the shreds of rubber away from my cock and ran his finger along the raw shaft as it plunged in and out of his chemmed-up cunt, his eyes glazing over with the deep-buried desire to be a bareback whore. I always get what I want. I told Conrad to take a seat on the couch and help himself to the pot. Meanwhile, I walked to the kitchen. I took a few sodas out of the fridge and poured them into glasses I’d already dosed with a cap of G. I love G because it transforms uptight boys into ragdoll sluts in a matter of 20 minutes. The taste can be tough to hide, but I recently found a dealer who consistently delivers high-potency GHB that doesn’t taste awful. In fact, after diluting the stuff in 12 ounces of Pepsi, it only leaves a subtle aftertaste—perfect for serving to unsuspecting negboys. As I finished my little cocktail, I heard Conrad’s voice from the couch: “Hey, what’s this?” That made me grin, because I knew exactly what he was talking about. On a tray in the middle of the coffee table, I’d left a bong full of pot. And right next to it, I’d left a little glass pipe full of Tina. Every single time, my negboy visitors are deeply fascinated by the glass pipe, so all I need to do is pretend like it’s nothing too special. “What’s what?” I asked. “I’m just wondering what’s in this little glass pipe thing full of white stuff.” “Oh, that,” I replied, walking into the living room with the G-laced Pepsi. “Not sure you’re ready for that. It’s called T. It can be really, really fun. It makes me horny as fuck, and I bet you’d have a blast on it. But maybe we should just take it easy—just stick with the pot, you know? Here’s some soda, by the way. Drink up, little bro.” He took a few gulps of Pepsi while holding the glass pipe, looking at it intently. My dick stiffened. “Actually, I’m curious,” he said. “Would it be cool if I just tried it?” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure, bud—be my guest. But let me show you how to work it, OK?” I sat down next to him, my hands visibly shaking with excitement. “Alright, now hold that pipe up to your mouth. Yeah, just like that. I’m gonna light this little torch and heat up the stuff in the bowl. Just wait a moment. See that? See the little wisps of smoke forming? Now when I say go, just start inhaling very lightly and steadily. Lightly and steadily. Got it? OK, bud—go ahead. Start inhaling. There you go. Good boy. Just take that swirling smoke into your lungs and hold it until I tell you otherwise. Got it?” He nodded as he continued to inhale. “OK, little bro,” I said to him, taking the pipe away from his mouth. “Hold it, just for a sec. Then exhale it through your nose. There you go. Fuck yeah—good boy! Now again.” That first hit was a nice fat one—the cloud emerging from his mouth and nostrils was thick and white, and my cock dripped at the smell of the Tina emanating from his lungs. From that point on, with each cloud of meth that escaped his lips and his nostrils, he was losing a little bit of his innocence. For the second hit, I gave him the torch to operate, and I talked him through it. The result was another giant hit of solid white clouds pouring out of his mouth and nose. “OK, boy—do one more. You’re on your own. I think you got it.” He immediately hit the pipe again, and I turned away to hide my giant, triumphant grin as Conrad smoked away all his defenses. “I’m just gonna put a little entertainment on the TV here, OK? Oh, and don’t forget your soda.” When I turned on the TV, it automatically started playing one of my favorite movies. It’s an amateur video shot by a filthy pig I know from the Midwest—a wrestling coach who likes to chem and poz some of the hot little jockboys on his team. He’d sent me a few videos, but this was my favorite: a sexy, ripped, piggy 18-year-old named Lance was all slammed up and taking loads from a roomful of coaches and former teammates. Behind me, I heard the click of the torch again. Fuck yeah, I thought, this boy is already fuckin’ hooked. As I turned back to face him, I took off my wife-beater. Conrad froze in place, the pipe halfway to his lips, smoke billowing out of his mouth. He just stared at my hairy chest, his eyes dilated pitch-black. “You feelin’ good, little bro?” He gave me a dazed nod, his mouth agape. “Why don’t you take off your shirt, huh? Show off your sweet little body. Do that for your big bro?” He peeled his tank top upward, revealing his flat stomach with its ridges of ab muscles, then his compact little muscular chest. He was just starting to develop a treasure trail down the center of his stomach, leading past the waistband of his shorts to the bulge of his cock that strained against his zipper. His soda was gone; the G would be hitting him soon. I walked over to the couch and took the pipe from his hands. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re just about the sexiest boy I’ve ever seen." I ran my hand down his torso, and he sighed a deep, hungry sigh. "Listen, buddy: I have a few more things to show you. You wanna learn from your big bro?” He half-grunted, half-moaned in response. “OK: I’m gonna do a hit. Then I’m gonna blow it into your mouth, and you’re gonna blow it back in mine, then back and forth we go until we can’t go anymore. It’s called a shotgun, and it’s one of my favorite things to do with a sexy little bro like you.” I put the pipe to my lips and took a deep, thick hit of white smoke. Then I put the pipe down, turned to Conrad, sealed my open mouth against his, and exhaled my cloud into his lungs. A moment later, he breathed the Tina smoke back into me. We repeated that three or four times until the mouth-lock became a deep kiss, and we kept making out while the shotgun escaped our mouths and dissolved around us. As I kissed him, I loosened his shorts, pulling them down the length of his lightly hairy legs. His underwear followed. Then I slipped off my gym shorts; my cock bounced free with a gentle “thwack” against my stomach. I maneuvered Conrad so that he was stretched out before me on the couch, and I laid down on top of him, my cock rubbing against his. We continued to kiss. I grabbed the pipe, took another hit, and shared another series of breaths with my boy. Then he spoke, hesitantly. “Hey, big bro? Just in case you’re wondering, I’m all cleaned out and ready to go. My ass, I mean. The last dude who fucked me showed me how to do all that stuff. So…anyway. In case you’re wondering.” I smiled at him and mussed his hair. “What are you trying to tell me, little bro? You want my cock sliding in that sweet little butt?” He blushed and shrugged. I leaned into his ear and whispered: “Don’t you worry, buddy. It won’t be long before I bury my fat cock deep in your hole.” He shivered beneath me, then kissed me again. The G was kicking in. He was almost entirely in my hands. A few more minutes of teasing and prodding, and he’d do anything to get impaled on my raw cock. “Get on the floor, little bro,” I said. “Face the other direction, on all fours. Ass in the air. Back arched. No—back arched, like a fuckin’ fag. Much better. Good boy. Now reach back and spread that hole for your big bro.” His hands grabbed each side of his perfectly round butt, spreading it to reveal a smooth, pink, tight hole that pulsed with every breath he took. I knelt down, placed my hands over his, and wrapped my mouth around that aching little boycunt, pushing my tongue into his body, every one of his nerves quivering as I dove greedily into his wide-open throbbing cock-hungry 18-year-old partied-up fuckhole. He gasped as I kissed that sweet little fag-pussy with the same intensity that I kissed his mouth a few minutes earlier. I spit a few huge gobs of saliva on his cunt and worked them in with my tongue. His hole loosened up, welcomed my mouth and my spit, became noticeably warmer. He really was a fuckin’ hottie: such a tight little body, great definition from his calves to his chest, with the roundest, most perfect little boybutt I’ve ever seen. And the cock! He had the kind of thick, veiny dick that would make any top’s hole twitch. Enough butt-eating, I thought. It's time to fuck. “OK, little bro—one more thing to show you," I said, standing up so that my dick hovered over him. "I want you to take a fat hit off that pipe, then blow it onto your big bro’s cock. Can you do that for me?” He nodded, grabbed the pipe, and got the smoke swirling like a regular chemwhore. “Good boy. You like that smoke, huh?” He nodded as he continued to inhale. “Just feed on that smoke, pig. Feed on that smoke. Your big bro wants to see you get fuckin' tweaked." He put down the pipe, knelt directly in front of me, wrapped his mouth around my cock, and exhaled a thick cloud of white smoke that enveloped my dick. The smoke traveled up my stomach and chest as he began hungrily slurping on my poz shaft. He wasn’t a bad little cocksucker, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I pulled his head away from my dick and guided him onto his back. “Pull your legs back, little bro.” He did, revealing that sweet little hungry cunt, still dripping with my spit. I began rubbing the length of my cock across his hole, watching his eyes flutter and his mouth drop open as he pulled his legs back a little further and looked at me with a kind of desperate pleading. “You ready for some dick?” He could only manage a whimper in response. “I can’t wait to give it to you, bro. But one thing you gotta know first. If it turns out to be a problem, then we can do something else. We don’t need to fuck, you know.” He nodded again, half-listening, every bit of his energy focused on the cock rubbing against his chemmed-up faggot fuckhole. “So here’s the deal, little bro. I only fuck raw. Natural. Bareback. And if a boy won’t let me fuck him the way I want to fuck him, then he’s not getting fucked. Got it?” Conrad glanced over at the TV, where the bottomboy was spreading his little jockbutt for yet another raw cock. Then he looked back at me. He reached down to spread his boyhole, just like the guy in the video. “Give me your dick, skin-on-skin,” he said, his eyes a solid-black void. “Bareback my fuckin’ hole. Please, bro.” “Fuck yeah, boy. You been fantasizing about raw dick, huh? Watching bareback porn?” “It’s the only kind of porn I watch. It’s the only kind of fucking I really want to do. Please give me your dick, bro. Your raw dick. I need your fucking raw dick. Please.” “You gonna make me pull out?” “No, dude. Please cum in me. Breed me.” “And when we go to the bathhouse after this—you want other dudes to breed you, too? Breed your chemmed-up cunt?” He paused for a moment, looking me straight in the eye, giving himself some time to overcome the shame of his boyhood secrets. “Yes,” he finally said. “I want my hole dripping with cum.” I nudged the head of my raw dick up against his hungry little butt, and his whole body shook. His breath went shallow. Then my cockhead slipped through that first outer barrier, enveloped by the warmth and tightness and innocence of his negboy hole, and I leaned down to kiss him, a sloppy kiss. “I’m dripping precum in my little bro’s hole,” I whispered in his ear. “I’m lubing you up with my seed, faggot.” By this point, Conrad was alternating between “fuck yeah” and “fuck me,” and he wrapped his arms around my back, murmuring “do it” three times. That’s when I began pushing the rest of my raw cock into the radiant warmth of that chemmed-up fuckhole, and he gasped as he surrendered everything to me. “This is how we were meant to fuck,” I whispered in his ear as my dick continued to disappear inside him. “You aren’t a true bottom boy until you’ve let a man split you in half bareback, until you’ve given up your hole for him to eat and pound and breed. I’m so proud of you, little bro.” With that, I directed his attention toward the TV. “But there’s one thing you should look out for,” I said, taking on a serious tone. “Some guys in the bathhouse will have a tattoo like that.” I pointed up at the screen. A young topdude was pounding the bottomboy bareback. Every time he pulled his cock away from that hungry little fuckhole, you could see a biohazard tattoo right next to his dick. “Do you know what that tattoo means, little bro?” He shook his hand. “Danger, I guess?” “Well, sort of. It means he’s poz. Just something to be aware of, because you probably don’t want that.” I glanced back at him, and the look in his eye was pure hunger. “Unless…,” I said, pretending to be confused, “Unless you’re turned on by that?” He shot a devilish glance at me, and I answered with a giant grin. Then he grinned, too. “You want some poz dick at the bathhouse, bro?” “Fuck yeah.” “Yeah? You wanna get knocked up?” He just kept grinning, and his body started shaking again—a kind of shiver, all fear and anticipation and excitement. “Such a good boy. Such a fuckin’ dirty boy. I love it. I’m so proud of my little bro.” And then, with no warning, I pulled my dick out of his hole. Conrad gasped. He suddenly looked lost and empty; the pleading returned to his eyes, and he pulled his legs back and spread his ass and whimpered. Meanwhile, I stared him down. “Sorry, little bro, but something just occurred to me. You didn’t ask about my status. Don’t you want to know my status?” “I don’t fucking care. Please, bro. Please give me your dick.” That made my dick drip: I don’t fucking care. “Good answer, buddy. But I think you deserve to know.” I nudged my dick up against his hole, and he tried desperately to maneuver his ass to get more of my meat lodged up in his guts. “Here’s the deal, bud: I’m fuckin’ poz. This is a poz cock teasing your hole. You like how this poz cock feels inside you?” “Yes, fucker. Please give me more, fucker. I need more. Please, bro.” “What’s that, buddy? I’m not sure I heard you.” “Pound my ass raw with your fat poz cock. Fucking PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE, BRO.” “You wanna get knocked up? Knocked up with your big bro’s virus?” “FUCK YES.” “Say it.” “KNOCK ME UP, YOU SEXY MOTHERFUCKER.” “Fuck yeah, you hot little chemmed-up faggotboy.” I shoved my poz dick back inside that boy’s hole, and started pounding. I didn’t last long. I felt the toxic seed gathering up in my balls, brewing, getting ready to shoot. Conrad was staring me down with those giant black pupils, his legs spread wide, his hole peeled back and exposed to allow my dick maximum penetration. He just kept nodding. Nodding. Smiling. Telling me with his eyes that he wanted my gift. As I got closer to shooting my toxic load, he wrapped his arms around me and alternated between little whimpered chants of “poz poz poz” and “fuck fuck fuck.” “Goddammit, you hot little fag,” I whispered. “Goddammit. You’re gonna get my load. My fuckin’ sweet infected load, just for you, fuckin’ sexy little negboy bro.” And then, with pulse after pulse of my raw cock in his wide-open wet fuckhole, I bred him. Pozzed him. Charged that little faggot ass up. Gave him my virus. Then, as my dick stopped shooting volleys of poz sperm, I kept pushing my cock deep inside him, pushing my toxic cum into his guts before collapsing on him, my poz cock still buried deep. Conrad sighed, a long contented sigh. “That was amazing,” he said. “Oh, little bro,” I whispered in his ear. “I have so many fuckin’ plans for you—you have no idea.” I pulled my cock out of him, then guided his mouth to taste the poz seed coating my shaft. He slurped on it greedily, my dick still warm from the hunger of his hole. “Such a good boy,” I said. “Such a hot little pig. So proud of you, little bro. Now, whaddaya say we get your sweet little knocked-up hole to the bathhouse?” MORE SOON…

I love White Cock, and being called a Nigger... NOTHING turns me on more than being called a nigger by white men when getting fucked

Tested poz on September 21st 2011, and over the course of the next 12 months my CD4 went from 971 down to 407, and my VL from 105K to 1.7 million. During that time, i noticed my energy levels were exceptionally low, i felt constantly fatigued, work was a bind and i let my social life slide because I just couldn't be bothered to go out, instead choosing to sleep on my days off. I opted to start meds in November 2012, and was put on Sustiva and Truvada, with a view to going onto Atripla in a few months time. I used to take the meds between 9pm and 11pm, but the spaced out, trippy effects of the Sustiva left me unable to work properly, it also impacted on my personal and social life - I was unable to go for meals out, as I would feel really ill. So just before Christmas i opted to take them just before I go to sleep. Which means that now I can go for meals out, have a few beers after work etc, and continue living a usual life. I only have to remember to pop 4 pills just before my head hits the pillow. Now the only side effect of the meds is really vivid dreams - but to be honest, these are kinda cool. I don't know what my current levels are, I get those results a week Tuesday, but I can tell you that my energy levels have rebounded, and I feel like a weight has lifted off my shoulders - once again I am up for being up all day and night, and catching up with my friends, as well as working 90 hour weeks. Other than that, and steady weight loss of about 10kgs over the year, there has been no other noticeable effects of being HIV+.

I personally can't wait to meet a big hairy aggressive white daddy with a big veiny dick and huge set of balls to strip me naked punish fuck me into complete submission. I want him to tell me how my nigger ass was made for superior white masters to breed. I want him to lay me under his rim chair and tell me how my big black nigger lips were made to tongue kiss the crack of his hairy white ass. I want him to share my black faggot ass with all his drunk, horny, nasty white perverted buddies in a gangbang.

I am a black bottom, and I fucking LOVE being called a nigger!

Dumped one in my 24yo FB's hole last night and in his mouth this morning. Took one from my bro in my hole today.

I got my last load in my mouth this morning from my brother's cock.