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I was group fucked in my sling by my usual Buddies last night, 2 Dads and 4 Lads. The put me in the sling and strapped the stirrups round my ankles and hauled my legs up high and spread wide apart. I fucking love that - my hole was on show and I felt real vulnerable. They were all naked and hard so it wasn’t long before I had a cock deep in my arse. They lined up to fuck and seed. Me. Hamish went last cuz he’s got a massive cock and I struggle to take it but I’d been fucked so hard for over an hour and I had 5 big wet loads in me that Hamish easily forced his cock balls deep in me. Even though I’d had 5 cocks inside me Hamish was still a real tight fit and I felt every thrust as he pumped his load in me.

Author's Note: this story, and my other story that I just started called "Scotty's Treehouse," have been cooking in my mind for the past 3 years and it would be much easier and more interesting if I put these out at the same time. They are both based somewhat in Truth, one story where I live in the city just blocks from a gigantic Riverfront Cruise forest and not one but two adjacent City cruiseparks. And a giant bike trail and more woods and more Riverfront and more picnic tables and public rest rooms and more Twisted fukkin homo pigs lurking about in there. Fuk yeah! I am not the character daddy Paul and there is no treehouse in the riverfront home adjacent to the cruise forest. As for Tina, she is a real neighbor down the road from my trailer. Her trailer did burn down last year because her original husband died and she hooked up with this guy who was cooking meth and burned it down. The county sheriff was all over the case. It brought out a lot of hillbilly cookers there and I had no idea when I placed my small trailer there 6 years ago it was in the homo section Cruise Woods and a bunch of hillbilly dealers cookers and play pigs. Yeehaw! I am not at all making fun of the real Tina who is a great lady and has since replaced her trailer but I'm not sure if she's with the same guy anymore. She Bears no resemblance to the nutcase trailer Tina in the story. The link between the two stories is the character daddy Paul who is cousin of Tina and the trailer burning boyfriend AKA the The Crystal wizard. For the best spin you should read both stories as they come out chapter by chapter. Daddy Paul will be dragging Scotty, his newest stable whore slut out to Tina's lab, did I say lab? That is, new trailer, for favors and supplies and maybe put fukkin whore Scotty to work in those Cruise Woods, to earn his shit. This story begins with next entry, after some foggy production artwork.

Just come back from the first afternoon cruise of the year at Armley Mills, Leeds. This time of year it can be a bit hit and miss, but as the weather gets warmer, it starts to fire up. What I like to do is head down the canal on my bike for an hour, stop at Armley Mills for a cruise then head home. If it’s warm, I’ll usually wear shorts, go commando, and go shirtless. Today, not quite warm enough for that so I wore hoodie with no shirt, so I could unzip it and show off the body when cruising. Anything to draw guys in 😉 When I’m there, it’s open season on me as far as I’m concerned. Age range 18 to 70, I don’t give a crap. Just I want cock, in my mouth or ass, and some loads. Today was a success at both ends. The first guy had a few tats, which I like, but he was a bit cagey, eyeing me up, walking past, walking back. I said hi a couple of times, but he seemed nervous. Then he seemed to come to a decision and walked off. A few minutes later, a message from a blank Grindr profile: “You the guy with the bike?” Yes (I mean I have very clear pics, but ok) you the guy with the tats? “Yeah. Not into fucking. Just up to get sucked.” Ok I can do that (my profile title is ‘Cum in my Ass’ with emojis), come back and I’ll make you cum. Sure enough back he comes, and we head to a leafy secluded area when I get down on my knees and give him head. Right now every time I’m giving head I’m seeing it as an opportunity to hone my deep throat skills, so I pretty quickly place his hands on my head and give him control for skullfuck. Five minutes later, I can taste the precum and he pretty quickly shoots down my throat, zips up, walks off without another word. I call back thanks to him once I’ve swallowed, but he’s done with me. As it should be. Not much happens for a bit, although there is a bareback top who turns up. I know he’s BB top because his Grindr profile says so. I wander over, we chat, but he’s obviously biding his time, enjoying his vape and seeing who’s about. Answer: no one aside from me and one other guy who’s interested in neither of us. Anyway after about half an hour, the BB top wanders to the back of the cruising area and I follow. I find him cock out jacking off so I head up, pop my bike against the railings and get down to suck him. He seems to understand I’ll be up for a skullfuck, but he’s gentler than the last guy. His rhythm is a bit more slide in and out, but once again I take his cock into my throat until I taste precum. I pull back, look up, and he makes a turn-around signal with his hand. Don’t have to tell me twice. Spit for lube and I’m ready. He shoves inside me. And fuck, for some reason I’m tight today – good for him but it hurts a bit. Now, if this was a sauna I’d say, pull out and let me take a minute to breathe, but in a cruising area? No way. I just breathe while he’s fucking me, facing out from the railings. I love this. He’s keeping an eye out, while I’m one hand gripped on a low-lying tree branch, and the other hand on the floor. Practically on all fours taking his cock like an animal. He starts tog rip my hips and thrust a bit. This is good: he might be close, and my breathing has loosened everything so that I’m enjoying the fuck. I pray the silent prayer of cumsluts everywhere: cum in me cum in me cum in me 😉 Sure enough after about five minutes, the thrusting becomes urgent and he releases a massive load into me. I grip his ass behind me for a bit to ensure he’s fucking the load into me, and then he’s done. Another one who just zips up and walks away, but not before I say thanks. “You’re welcome,” he replies. As it should be. I grab my bike and call it a day. A good day. I ride home on a wave of jizzjoy, riding no-handed, hands behind my head, smiling and feeling FUCKING GOOD!

Sorry for the delay. Have really struggled for time, and also inspiration. This is a second and final chapter, taking the story in a certain direction. I think there is a hotter, darker continuation out there, but I have struggled to write it, so this will do for now pending me maybe finding a different way to take things for an alternative ending. ————— Dean slid his hands under my suit jacket and pressed them onto my chest as he leaned forward and planted his lips on mine. The kiss was brief, before he pulled back and then began to push the jacket off my shoulders. I threw my arms down straight and helped shake them out of it, and he immediately then went to work on my shirt buttons as the jacket fell carelessly to the floor. Once the shirt had joined it down there, Dean quickly stripped off his own before pulling me back in for a longer and deeper kiss. “We’ll have time for that later” he breathily whispered as he pulled back but held his face close to mine. “I need to get at your arse.” I couldn’t help but smile at him as we both began to get fully naked, the familiarity of his hunger for me still there despite it being two decades since the last time we had done this. He wanted me, I wanted him, and all nerves and doubts about what I was doing had evaporated. “On the bed” he growled at me, causing me to almost leap onto the plush bedding and get on all fours. I had barely landed when his face was pressed into my crack, and I could not help but moan loudly as his tongue touched my hole. I then had to bite my lip as he forced it in, opening me up and driving me wild. He was a man on a mission though, so his tongue was soon replaced by one, then two, then three fingers. The pain and discomfort did not bother me though, as I wanted him in there as eagerly as he did. Soon enough, the fingers were gone and his cock had begun its journey back inside me for the first time in far too long. That first reunion fuck was hard, animalistic, painful, but also incredible. I saw stars throughout, my body having a heightened reaction to something that had once been a regular part of my life. I’m not sure any of my blabbering to Dean was coherent, but he got the message and fucked with intensity throughout. Then, with a demonic roar, he gripped my waist even harder and pulled me back against him as he unloaded, and I just panted in satisfaction knowing he was breeding me again after so long. We lounged in hotel robes plucked from the wardrobe for a bit, enjoying the champagne and occasionally going out on the balcony for a smoke. I told him all about my utterly boring married life, and he shared a little about his world as a gay man, making me realise just how much more true to himself he had been than I had ever had the courage to be. There had not been anyone special in his life since he had bailed from his engagement though, and while his tales of sexual adventures turned me on, I did feel a bit regretful for him that he had not found something more. Our second round on the bed made me realise that perhaps he had actually once found someone special, but that fool had gone off and got himself married. Face down, with him lying on my back and buried deep inside me, the tenderness with which he nuzzled and kissed my neck as he slowly pushed in and out gave me a clear sign that I was his “one that got away”. My mind went into overdrive as I thought about that, my own feelings, and what all this meant. It was all a bit overwhelming, and we were both very quiet after he blew in me again. He rested in position on my back while his breathing calmed, and then slowly pulled himself up off me. “Are you OK?” I eventually asked him, as I lay on my side on the mattress with him sitting on the edge of it with his back to me. “Yeah” he sighed. “Just…” “I know” I said, reaching out and putting my hand on his back after he had trailed off and gone silent for a while. “I’m sorry.” He sat still for a while, before nodding, standing up and heading into the bathroom. I lay there a little longer, before sliding off the bed and following him. He was leaning on the sink looking down, so I once again put my hand on his back. He looked up and made eye contact with me in the mirror, slightly startling me with his pained expression. I rubbed my hand down his back, at which point he stood up straight and turned to face me. I instinctively took him in my arms and allowed him to bury his face in my neck, and then we stood like that for a while as we just held each other. “I’m sorry” he whispered, after he pulled back a little to face me. “I know you’re married.” With my mind full of conflicting thoughts, I could not help but lean into him, plant my lips on his, and begin a long and passionate kiss. None of it was about the sex, but rather the reignition of something long since buried for me and long since lost for him. There, in that moment, all I could feel was a burning need to take care of him, now that the pretence and the bravado was gone. He loved me, and always had done, that much I knew even if I suspected it would be very hard for him to say it out loud. I had no idea what I was going to do about it, but with this rekindling of what once had been, I began to realise that I was not going to be able to let it all just disappear a second time. Back in our uni days, we had only ever done it missionary a handful of times, and all of those had been when we were away together for a night or two and Dean had begun to let down his guard. That night in his suite we revisited it, and our third reconnection was a gentle and passionate affair with me on my back, my legs splayed out, and Dean looking deeply into my soul as he moved himself in and out. Our fourth reconnection was the following morning in a position we had only been in one before, both lying on our sides with him gripping me tightly from behind as he again gently coaxed both of us to orgasm. The shower that followed was one of the longest of my life, such was the time spent under the hot spray with our lips locked together. Work that day was a struggle, but I used my tiredness as an excuse in the evening to get out of the Christmas do early and head back to my hotel to change. Dean had extended his suite booking by another night, so once I had got a cab to his hotel we picked up where we left off. I spent most of that night with him buried inside me, and I knew by morning that this was not, could not be, just a quick fling for old time’s sake. I felt alive, energised, passionate, and all the many other things that a married man in his 40s often finds he has slowly, unwittingly lost. Returning to Hertfordshire was a crash down to earth, and I really struggled with re-entry. I felt like I was a different person now, and after expending all my emotional energy with maintaining the illusion of still just being “Dad” to my kids, I had nothing left for my wife. She was in a foul mood with me by Monday morning when I left early for the normal commute into London. Dean and I had been communicating over Telegram so that I could keep the app hidden and notifications off, only engaging when I was able, and through that we arranged to meet for lunch on the Tuesday. The kicker for me is what an utter relief it was to see him again when I arrived at the pub he had chosen, really hammering home that everything was now upended. The hour flew past, and we both agreed we needed to not only now do this as often as we could, but some way would have to be found to satisfy our need to do more than just talk to each other. He, of course, came up with the solution for that, when he took out a very quick lease on a serviced apartment in a block in Limehouse. One minute from a station halfway between his office in Canary Wharf and my own in The City, the location made for quick journeys to maximise our time together. Lunchtimes moved to there, and the only thing that got eaten was my arse… before Dean ploughed into it of course. After just one week of this new routine, he let me know he was planning to sell his house in Brighton and buy a flat in that neck of the woods, as not only had he been missing being based in London but he now had another reason to make the move. Four weeks into our new Limehouse lunchtime routine, my work introduced another curveball to the situation. A colleague I did not know particularly well suddenly quit with immediate effect (or perhaps was actually fired for something serious), and I was temporarily handed a key project from his portfolio to run that involved a lot of engagement with the offices in both New York and Singapore. Time zones were going to be a major issue, particularly as the nature of this project really necessitated being present in the London office with the small team working on it. Therefore, after a rather passive-aggressive conversation with my wife, we ‘agreed’ I needed to be staying in London most of the time for the three remaining weeks that the project would be in this intensive working phase. I had previously told her about having reunited with an old uni friend, and that I’d since met him for lunch a few times to catch up, so she did not seem too surprised when I said that he had offered me his spare room so I could be somewhere nicer than a hotel for the patches of sleep I was going to be getting during short nights and hopefully some lunchtime power naps. Thus, without any more sniping and drama from her, I packed a couple of bags and set off for Dean’s rented flat for a longer stay. Truth be told, the hours were indeed brutal, and Dean and I actually ended up having less sex than normal. However, I could tell that did not matter to him, as me being there for a prolonged period seemed to bring him a kind of relaxed comfort that I had only rarely seen back in the day. He had always had a certain energy, and it was only once he knew he had me there for several days on the trot - even if a bit fleetingly - that he seemed to become calm and just happy to be himself without being “on”. He made a lot of effort to work around my hours, coming home to make me lunch for whichever side of my scheduled powernap was going to be best, waiting up for me in the evening, and getting up with me in the morning so we could chat over coffee before he went back to bed for a bit. As exhausted and strung out as I was, I also couldn’t help but realise how much happier I was in this set-up than anything I could have had at home, even if that home had been fitted with a transporter pad to beam me directly to the office. However, Dean became quite withdrawn on the second Friday, and had disappeared into himself when I came back that night. He wouldn’t talk about it, but I assumed it was because I was once again going to be getting up early on Saturday to go back home for the weekend, and wouldn’t be back until late Sunday night. Not exactly a long time away, but I guessed he was dealing with the reality of being the secret weekday partner, and the weekend’s role in slapping him with the reality of what my life actually was and where my loyalties had to lie. Still, he didn’t voice any of that, so I just had to go on my guess as to that being his issue. What did surprise me more was his lack of interest in having sex that night, despite us having a bit more time than normal, so I just had to settle for a rare reversal of the norm by being the big spoon in bed that night as I tried to wordlessly comfort and reassure him that I really did care for him. After a long journey back home through engineering works on the train line, I endured another tiring weekend doing everything the kids had been promised I would do with them, plus the house jobs that it felt like my wife had invented just to punish me for leaving her alone all week. I’m not sure whether it was the fact that Dean was now in my life the way he was, his unusual sadness at my weekend absence, or whether I had woken up to the true state of my marriage, but as I toiled on door repairs, garage tidying and everything else she’d conjured up, I found myself trying to figure out if I did in any way still want to actually be with her. Yes, I wanted to be a father to my kids, but did being with my wife actually bring me any joy these days? When had it last brought me any joy? Was I bringing her any joy either? It was a little disconcerting to realise that there were no positive answers to those questions. Talking to Dean about this seemed to brighten him from his funk a little when I got back there on the Sunday night, but sex remained off the table that week. I was so exhausted that I was quite OK with just sleeping all wrapped in him at night, and was happy to see him be more upbeat as we periodically engaged in tentative conversations about how a life with me no longer being married could work. Still, something more was definitely bothering him, but I figured he would tell me in his own time, perhaps when I wasn’t on such crazy hours. The project finally finished the following Friday some hours earlier than expected, for which I was very grateful as I was not feeling great that day. The work was expected to have gone on all night and thus I was not due back in Hertfordshire until the Saturday, but I felt increasingly sick as I made my way on the train to Dean’s flat so did not message him to come home early as I wasn’t sure I was up for much. I showered and had some herbal tea to see if it helped, but eventually threw in the towel and went to bed in the hope that I was just exhausted and would feel better for when Dean got back. I didn’t. —————- I think it was Tuesday before I was really with it again at all, and I was still at Dean’s. It really is the most discombobulating thing when you have missed whole days, and still being under the weather, I struggled to take in what he was telling me. I had basically passed out in his bed and was a feverish, barely-conscious mess when he had got back. He had sorted me out with various pills - I had no memory of ever waking to take anything - and had set about keeping a close eye on me. At some point he had pointed my phone at my face to unlock it and thus be able to call my wife, and she had agreed I should stay put so that I did not bring home whatever it was. He noted that this seemed to be her primary concern, rather than the fact that I was in no state to be moved, that Dean was going to have to care for me, or even that I was unwell. Anyway, he had indeed cared for me through the weekend, and now here I was out the other side wondering what the hell had happened. I continued to rest on that Tuesday, with Dean going to the office for part of the day having worked from home on the Monday. That evening I let him know I would get a taxi home the next day, and recharge it to work for the fact that they had avoided an expensive hotel bill during the project because I had stayed with him. He agreed, but said there was something we needed to do first in the morning before I left. I assumed he meant sex, but I woke up late in the morning to the sight of him getting dressed into leisure gear. “I’ve taken the day off” he said. “Come on, get up and we’ll go out for coffee. You can call the cab later.” Before my sleep-addled brain could respond he was out of the bedroom, so I wearily hauled myself up and started dressing in my own jogging bottoms, T-shirt and hoodie. I definitely felt better but still not quite right, so was glad I had decided to go home by cab later as I could chill a bit rather than worrying about trains. Dean hurried us out and was very quiet as he strode off in a different direction than his favourite coffee spot, but I fell in behind and just went with it, not sure what was going on. Then, he came to a stop beside a set of steps up into a building, and when I turned and looked up at the door I saw it was a clinic. ————— “I didn’t know” he said, unable to look me in the eye. We had been sat in silence in the room for quite some time after the doctor had left us alone, and he was the first to make any kind of sound. “I found out the week before last” he continued. “Terrence Higgins were in doing a roadshow in the lobby at work, and we all got marched down to get tested to encourage all the juniors to do the same. One of the ladies doing the testing asked me to help them fix something on a pull-up banner they couldn’t reach so that everyone else would head off to lunch, and then she sat me down and told me my result.” We returned to silence while I absorbed what he had just told me. The timing, his mood, the lack of sex. It all made sense. “So that’s why we haven’t…” I eventually said, before trailing off. “I didn’t know what to do, but I couldn’t risk it if there was a chance you weren’t already” he said, before putting his head in his hands. “Too little, too late I guess”. We remained in silence, as my mind went over and over the words the doctor had said, and what Dean was now telling me. Obviously part of my brain knew it must have been him, but I was so overwhelmed with the news at first that only now he had spoken was that aspect coming into focus. “So, all this sex you were having before me” I said, which caused him to sit up suddenly and dart his head in my direction. “I promise, I was being safe!” he said, and I could tell from the horrified look on his face that he was speaking the truth. “I was on prep, which should have been enough.” “I guess it wasn’t” I said, somehow managing to smile at him. “I’m so sorry” he said, before his face crumpled and the tears started falling. Despite the news I had just been given, I could not help but reach over and pull him into me. As we buried our faces in each other’s necks, I too began to sob. We were both dealing with this, and I knew that I was the first person he had talked to since his own test result came up positive so there was a lot of pent up emotion, coupled of course with the guilt of having infected me too. I, meanwhile, was basically exhausted and this was more than I could take. We did eventually get that coffee, taking them back to his flat. There we sat in silence for a while, only occasionally broken by him voicing out loud the things he was trying to think of that could have played a role. That stomach bug he got that maybe messed up his prep regime. The visit to that bathhouse in San Francisco while he was there for work shortly after getting better. That flu he had just before we were reunited, which must have actually been his own seroconversion. I only spoke up when I got the impression he was on the verge of a spiral. “It’s not your fault” I said. “Of course it is” he replied. “I was the one…” “No” I said, cutting him off, “it’s not. We never used condoms back in the day when we should have, and I did not even think to ever ask you to use one this time round. I never could or should have assumed you used them the rest of the time with other guys. You were taking prep, so you thought you were protected. You got tested regularly, right?” “Yes” he said, “every month. Normally.” “So, then, you just didn’t have time to catch it before we met again” I said, before smiling at him. “And what happened from then on was never going to have been stopped, and all normal routines we both had have fallen apart.” “I suppose” he said, sounding unsure as he looked back down at the floor. “It is what it is” I said. “It’s not a death sentence any more, and maybe it will just seal the deal on my marriage.” Dean’s head whipped back round so he was facing me, his eyes wide and a little puppy-like. “Are you serious?” he asked. “Yes” I said. “I don’t think I love her anymore, I’ve been committing adultery, and now I’ve got HIV. I think that’s the Universe sending me a pretty big sign that it’s over, don’t you?” “But… but what about your kids?” he asked. “I don’t know” I replied. “But the marriage can’t go on, so we’ll just have to deal with it.” He sat and stared at me for a moment, before he looked down at the floor and shuffled a bit. “So what will you do now then?” he asked, a nervous edge creeping into his voice. “I guess that depends on you” I said, leaning over and putting my hand on his thigh. “You said something about buying a flat here?” A big smile broke across his face as he turned his head back to face me. “I did say that” he replied. “Well” I continued, now smiling back at him.. “That sounds like it would be very convenient for my office too, so I might just have to see if you need a roommate.” His smile turned into a big grin, and then he leaned towards me and our lips met. We melted into one another, for that moment choosing not to think about the magnitude of all that had happened and all that would be coming. What we had once had was rekindled, it was stronger than ever, and I could not wait to see where it took us next.

Part one build up and previous encounters I am a 6” chunky bear and a bisexual top who likes to bareback. I started out when I discovered public toilets with gloryholes in my twenties and enjoyed getting sucked off by whoever was there mostly older men who seemed to enjoy my 8-inch cock. One day a bloke in his 40’s in stockings motioned for me to come into the cubicle with him I had not done this before preferring being anonymous. But I went in, and he went to town on my cock and wanted me to fuck him, but people kept coming in and out, so he asked if I wanted to go to his flat just down the road. I was so horny and as had never fucked an arse before, so I went with him. Five minutes later we were in the bedroom of his flat we both stripped down and he sucked me for a bit before saying fuck me and lubing his hole. He then got out a little brown bottle and started to sniff them in each nostril then passed the bottle to me. “What are they?” “Poppers take a long sniff in each nostril and hold for as long as you can” I did as he told me the strong smell quickly hit me and had a tremendous rush and passed them back to him, he sniffed again and said fuck me now mate. Now feeling buzzed by the poppers, I really gave him a pounding and then dumped a load deep in him. For the next few years cruised the public toilets near me with the occasional fucking and realising those that used poppers tended to go for it a lot more and were much more up for it. I then moved to a different area and the opportunities dried up and as could not accommodate stopped seeing anyone. Moving on twenty years later married and not getting much sex and wanting to try some man-on-man sex again. Now with the internet found a hook up site so created a profile Bear top looking for bareback bottoms. As I could not accommodate and only occasionally get away from my wife for an hour or so in the evenings turned out to be harder than I hoped to find someone. I then found a guy in his 30’s who could accommodate and just wanted to be fucked bareback which suited me and he was only 20 minutes away. I walked in door he had porn playing I took off my clothes and he was on his knees worshiping my cock a then face fucked him huffing poppers and feeding him then to the turned him around and dumped my raw load in him. All in all, a very satisfying time so thought great and met up for a few times and becoming a regular pump and dump. Then messaged him in morning about the evening and he said had somewhere staying at his for the foreseeable future damn, so my odds-on fuck was out of the window. So back to the hook up site after scrolling through bottoms who could accommodate and did bareback was getting further and further away then I saw Roger’s profile. He was 67 versatile bottom skinny with tattoos a PA piercing and looked very nice also his interests included Bears, fur, rimming, Bareback and kissing which all interested me. Then there were more details that he had a playroom with a sling and was into fisting something I had never thought about but hey if he liked it cool. Then he mentioned enjoying piss play yuck and PNP which I had no idea what that was I decided to send him a message…. to be continued if you like.

I keep coming back to this topic via email notification. I love hearing how many of us have played with our dads. As a reminder I moved in on my dad when I was 13 after my brother left for college. I remember every detail like it happened yesterday. The most I remember was how much I was in love with my dad, the things he taught me. What a pussy boy was compared to a man. What turns a man on ect. Mostly, the love making mixed with nasty dirty talk, and how pnp takes it too a different level. The difference between being fucked and being breeded. My dad said he'd never fuck me, he'd only breed me to be pregnant with his babies. I'm hard right now imagining how my dad would be kissing me as he filled my pussy with his babies.

I think the title of this thread is actually a kind of teachable idea for anyone who is thinking of starting to bareback: "NEED to bareback - neg SCARED of becoming poz" This really is it for me: NEED vs SCARED. That balance between an intense sexual desire and fantasy that's drawing itself into your reality, versus the fear of consequences, and in particular, becoming HIV-positive. Now for me, I'm a chaser, so becoming Poz would be (pun intended) a positive outcome for me, but that's simply not the case for the majority of barebackers. But I completely connect with this idea of NEED. When I started barebacking as a btm in 2012, it had gotten to the point of being a NEED: I needed a total stranger - or multiple strangers - to fuck and cum in me, and in the end, what it took for me to get over being SCARED was a few drinks and a random hookup in the toilets of a London Soho bar. Hardly the most stylish way to do it maybe, but it got me past my SCARED. It got me to tip my scales towards that NEED. And I won't say that I wasn't still scared afterwards, but yeah there was full acceptance that I had done it. I was still scared of becoming poz in those days, but I didn't freak out and go: oh shit, get me on PEP right now! I accepted the consequences of my actions. And it turns out, the major consequences of my actions on that drunken night were to want it more. I didn;t get HIV from that one fuck, because actually getting HIV is something of a challenge, a roulette: I know - I've been trying! In the years 2013-18, my rule was to let the top decide about condoms, and more than 50% of the time, I was fucked bare. This practice - to take the decision out of my own hands and submit to the top's will - was perfectly authentic for me as a btm sub, and tipped the scales so completely that only NEED remained. That need to have men cum inside me, as much as possible. These days I'm addicted, and weirdly proud of that, but you certainly don't have to go as far as I have done in this NEED/SCARED equation. But I digress (hey there ADHD! 🤣) - the point is that your decision to start barebacking will always play upon these dynamics of NEED vs SCARED. These days, you can tip the scales a bit more safely with Prep, but I say that living in a country with free healthcare. That's not the case in the US, and other countries. In the end, my own advice, based on my experience would be to JUST DO IT. That NEED isn't going to go away, and there are lots of things you can do - Prep, find a trusted partner, etc - to lower the risk so that SCARED isn't going to feel so intense. The chances of getting HIV from just one fuck are pretty low, and virtually zero if you go on Prep. If you can't get it out of your head, then it's just going to become a pathological situation, intensifying in the background to such an extent that when you do eventually do it, it'll be a wild desperate set of risks you take, because the NEED will have grown into a mountain, but so will the SCARED. Start now, when that NEED is less rampant and pathological, and you are able to be a lot more mindful about these two dynamics. Unexpressed desires often barrel into psychological issues, and really the only two paths ahead are either expression or eradication. Fear will not be a great teacher, and will not assist in either of these: if you cannot mindfully let it go - truly let it go completely, with a smile and a relaxed breath - then you'll have to express. But true eradication is hard, and is often only partially completed. That NEED comes barrelling back. So my advice: Express the NEED in your sexuality, and take the steps you have to do in order to reduce that SCARED. Prep is a good first step for someone like you I think. Good luck, hope you are able to find the right balance between that NEED and that equally valid SCARED, and do what feels right for you ❤️

I love rimming and sucking each other’s holes out. Rimming tongues and spit can salvage what otherwise might be a bad uneventful session

Scotty’s Tree House – part four Before daddy Paul even got the needle out of Scotty's arm, Hugo and Fred, two big black dudes, a couple, who live next door were working the slammed up, spun out and TWEAKED out boywhore from both ends, pounding his throat and pounding his newly christened cunthole. The boy was trying to comprehend what was happening ears were ringing Vision was sort of Shifting back and forth he just had a dominating feeling of needing his holes pounded and filled. Scotty had never been much of a bottom he would always be somewhat of an angry top either at the bath house or playing in the woods are getting a dude up in his tree house. Or sneaking in his own bedroom. The slam was so euphoric it was strong it was unlike anything he had ever experienced just enjoying for the first time being a cunthole and having sloppy dirty seed and piss worked into them it felt so fukking warmm. Scotty always worked his hips toward the guy fucking him just wanting and wanting his hole to be opened he never wanted to be a tight hole again for he was often called one and the some guys wouldn't fuck him because of it. " I just think black cocks Are Better Built and bigger,"" said daddy Paul as he shoved his tongue up his boys cunt as Hugo was pulling out his 11 inch meatlog . Scotty's hole was so sloppy plus he had swallowed every load he took down his throat. Daddy Paul had posted in bbrt Scotty's initiation as an event so guys were coming in for the next couple hours from here or there and across the river. Daddy Paul continued to keep his pipe loaded and and demand that Scotty take long deep hits. Especially on his first slam. I want you so spun out and slammed up for the picnic table later. You're going to have fun time in the woods tonight you dirty public fuck hole. You like it don't you. We got some magic markers to write on you for tonight but you'll be getting some permanent tats brandings and piercings so everyone knows what you are . We're going to get over to your tree house real soon because I know you got some cash over there and you're going to pay for all this shit I've been giving you tonight. A ball is 3-1/2 grams you got a four balls to start scale, a couple pipes and a bong and they'll be rigs, the syringe is called a rig, and you'll be making your own slams. Keep that s*** under lock and key there are no honest whores around here they'll steal if they can and won't tell you. If you lose it you got to buy it again All of us pigs here have mohawks and you'll be getting yours. Your days of being a f****** dumb twink working at a gas station are over b****. You work for me now and you're going to be worn torn ripped open spat on kicked around beaten up double slammed gang raped and put in your place. You are mine now and you are going to perform. You'll get your cut your commission when I'm paid first. You are one of 10 guys here we cater to public pigs who like fucking in public toilet sex picnic tables just being dirty whores and loving it. I love to swap and Felch and you're going to love to swap and felch holes with me. We we're going to work the glory holes too, shoot some video in the woods especially daytime mornings and get over to the men's room in the front of the big box hardware and grocery store over there. You're going to be so wired and up for probably two or three days two or three nights so keep piping take as much loads as you can because remember unless they want you to fuck them you are their cum dumpster l and you are there to please our boys and men. End of Part 4 Before we see Scotty working his pipes and Magic markering his body we have to take a break and and read the following authors note.. Check out my story called "Trailer Trash Tina and the Crystal wizard." Tina is the cousin of daddy Paul and she also supplies him with shit he hustles in the city. You're going to be going out there and paying for stuff that you need and maybe working the woods there because you're a dirty high as fuck public pig serving the needs of our dirty public sex. Boss Daddy his meth head stable boy cunt will be heading out to trailer trash Pig meth country and tangling with a County Sheriff r

Something had given way inside Mike that afternoon. He knew it as soon as he left Wolf’s place. He wasn’t the same. It wasn’t just that, even in his post orgasm clarity he’d allowed Wolf to shove a big heavy plug inside his stretched-out hole. It wasn’t how horny that plug had made him as he walked home. It was that the little voice telling him to be ashamed or upset about what he’d just done was gone. It didn’t rear its head once. Crashing into his apartment and stripping off his clothes he felt proud of himself. Proud in a way he couldn’t ever remember having been before. He lay on his bed, still plugged, waiting for the voice to come back and tell him this wasn’t what good college boys did. It stayed silent. It stayed silent because he understood that he wasn’t a good college boy, he was a slut. He was a pig. He was a beta pup. He was a cumdump. He was a faggot. He craved cock. He craved loads. He craved having his hole stretched to the limits. He pulled at the plug in his hole, feeling the stretch as his hole opened to allow its girth to pop in and out of him. He’d made a discovery about himself and there was no going back. A few days ago he’d tried to pretend like he didn’t want this, like he could just forget it had ever happened. He knew now that was impossible. He’d felt the bliss of being used by men and there was no going back. He craved that bliss now. He was addicted to it. “Thank you for sending me to Mr. Wolf’s Sir.” Mike texted Sir as he squatted on the plug on his bedroom floor. “It was amazing.” “I’m glad you had a good time boy. I hope you made me proud and earned his load.” “He sent me home with a big fat plug inside me to keep his load from leaking out of my loose pussy!” “Good boy! I knew you’d be able to take his first knot.” “Thank you Sir! He said that made me his beta pup and him my Alpha. I hope that’s ok with you Sir!” “That’s why I sent you there boy. Not just to get your hole bred. You could have found raw cock on your own. I sent you to Wolf so he’d stretch you out and help you understand your place more. You liked submitting to him didn’t you? Being his beta?” “Yes Sir! Not as much as being your boy… but it was fucking hot! That knot felt so good in my pussy.” “You’re bouncing on that plug he sent you home with aren’t you?” “Yes Sir!” “Show me!” Mike shifted so he was squatting in front of the mirror, and filmed himself riding the plug. Now that he could see its fat girth sliding in and out of his hole he was amazed he could take it so easily. “Holy shit!” Sir replied to the video. “He really did open you up. How do you feel now that your college boy hole’s been made into a real sloppy fag pussy?” “AMAZING! Sir! Honestly. I can’t thank you enough for sending me there.” “Damn, after he fucked the cum out of you I expected you to retreat for a day or two… feeling guilty about begging to be used again, but you don’t do you? You don’t feel guilty at all boy?” “No Sir. I feel… I feel fucking hot. I can’t believe how good I feel.” “You think your pussy can take another fucking?” “Yes Sir!” “Then come over here, and don’t plan on going back home tonight. I’m going to use my boy’s pussy good.” Mike rushed over to Sir’s house. Sir took him to the second bedroom, a room Mike hadn’t seen before. It was almost exactly like Wolf’s playroom, except not only did it have a sling but also a fuck bench, a rubber covered bed and wall restraints. Mike was stripped naked, his hair cut short and a thin chain with a little lock put a round his neck. Twenty minutes after he arrived his floppy college boy hair had been cut into a crew cut, he’d been collared and he was squatting over the plug Wolf had stuffed in him while gobbling down Sir’s perfect cock. Mike didn’t go home that night. In fact it was two days before he went home. While all the rest of his friends had spent the weekend partying and trying to get laid Mike had spent the weekend in nothing but a revealing jockstrap getting used over and over. Half way through Sunday Sir dropped Mike back off at Wolf’s to take what he called Wolf’s second knot. Mike had spent the rest of the afternoon ass up on the floor as his Alpha worked an even bigger wolf cock into his hole. He’d whimpered as the knot finally sunk deep inside him. On Monday his new collar drew a little attention from the guys at the gym but not one said anything. It seemed like Brad was avoiding him till the end of their workout when Brad texted Mike “Meet me in the bathroom in 10.” Mike found Brad naked and hard when he opened the door to the single occupancy bathroom a few minutes later. “Christy fucking cock blocked me all weekend. I’m horny as shit and need a mouth to fuck.” Mike was on his knees in a flash. Brad was rough this time, bashing his cock into Mike’s mouth. It was like he was taking all his anger at Christy out on Mike’s mouth. Mike didn’t care though. He coughed and spluttered chocking down his friend’s cock. He was in pig heaven. When Brad finally worked out what he needed to and started to fire thick ropes of cum into Mikes mouth, Mike just smiled and swallowed it down. “Fuck… um… thanks man. I needed that.” “Any time,” Mike said, wiping his mouth. “Look, don’t tell anyone about this ok?” “Sure… but… well… tell anyone you want.” “What?” “Tell anyone you want. I love sucking your straight boy dick. If anyone else you know needs an easy mouth or… or hole to fuck, send them my way.” “Shit… you’re serious.” “Damn right I am.” “Well… yeah… ok. I’ll do that.” That night, the first night Mike had spent in his own bed in days, he got a text from another one of his soccer teammates. “Hey… weird question, but Brad said that you might be able to help me out with a problem,” it read. “Yeah!” Mike replied. “Why don’t you come over. I’ll help you out with whatever you need.” An hour later Mike was on his hands and knees while his teammate, his eyes closed tight, pounded his hole. “Fuck, take my cock you fucking slut. Fuck yeah. You like my cock don’t you. You’re a cock loving slut! Fuck yes!” He panted. Mike knew better than to respond. He knew his friend was pretending he was a girl and he didn’t want to break the illusion. It didn’t matter. In the end he still got a hot load pumped into his guts. “Thanks… uh… you know… don’t tell anybody. I’m not gay.” His friend said after he’d gotten dressed and was standing at the door. Mike smiled reassuringly and said the same thing he’d told Brad. “I’m not going to tell anyone, but you can tell whoever you like.” Stunned by his boy’s decent into cock whoring that weekend Sir got Mike on his knees again and shaved his head, making him look like a real proper sub. He’d also gotten Mike a bigger chain and more robust collar, marking him as owned. He told Mike that Good Boys don’t just take the loads of other men, they take whatever men want to give them. That night for the first time Mike swallowed Sir’s piss, and he loved it. A couple of days after that Mike told Sir he wanted to get his nipples pierced. They’d gone right away. The end of the following weekend Sir brought out a little black caged and locked Mike’s cock away. There would be no hiding that he was a sub in the locker room now. Some of the guys noticed, most chose to just pretend they hadn’t seen anything. A couple however suddenly saw their friend in a new light. That afternoon he ended up sucking off two more of his teammates almost one right after the other, and then was summoned to the team captain’s place where he was bent over the bed and fucked. “Take my load faggot,” the team captain said as he pumped his cock into Mike’s willing hole. Hearing what had happened Sir knew it was time. It was time to put Mike through his final test. To really break his mind once and for all. He’d given himself over to being a slut. He’d get fucked by guys he thought were attractive at the drop of a hat, but to really be a good sub Sir needed him to be willing to give it up to anyone. So that Saturday night he drove Mike to the bathhouse, stripped him naked, and blind folded him in the locker room. Then he’d walked his toy through the halls, showing him off as they went. He’d strapped Mike down in the sling and stood back to watch. Man after man had used his boy. He’d thought maybe Mike would tap out after a couple, but each mystery cock seemed to make him hornier. “Breed me! Please! Seed my hole! Breed my pussy! Fuck this cunt!” He’d shouted. Sir pressed his hand forward, feeling his boy’s hole slowly spread around his knuckles. After all the abuse he’d taken the boy’s body barely resisted the new invasion. Mike groaned as his cunt was opened wide to accommodate Sir’s big hand. Slowly it was pushed forward till after one moment of wild stretching it was sucked in side. Mike panted. He grilled stupidly. “Good Boy, good boy.” Sir cooed. “Is that you Sir?” “Yes boy. Its me, and it’s my fist inside your cunt right now.” “Oh fuck!” Mike moaned. With his free hand Sir reached forward and took off Mike’s blind fold. The boy blinked confusedly for a moment before his eyes focused on his Sir’s face. “I’m so proud of you boy. You did so well.” “Thank you Sir! Thank you for this! It was so hot! I don’t even know how many men fucked me. I’m just a hole Sir.” “That’s right boy you are. You’re just a cumdump. A faggot. My fucking faggot hole.” “Yes Sir.” “This is my cunt,” he flexed his fist inside Mikes hole. The boy groaned, “Even after twenty other men have bred it its still mine.” “Twenty?!” “That’s right boy. You’ve got twenty loads from twenty different guys in your guts right now. You’re a real cumdump now. A no loads refused slut.” He pulled his hand out till the widest point and then slid it back in. Mike whimpered. “You’re a fucking faggot.” “I’m a fucking faggot.” “Good Boy.” Sir said, and slipped his hand from Mike’s hole. “No! It felts so good! Sir please!” Sir stepped up and slammed his cock in Mike’s ruined hole. “Don’t worry boy. You’re going to get one last load in this cunt before I take you home.” “Oh thank you Sir. Thank you.” “And one more thing.” Sir reached into the pocket of his leather vest and pulled something out. A thick leather collar with a D ring at the front. He bent forward, his cock forced deep into Mike’s guts, and passed it around the boy’s neck. He did the clasp up and turned it so the ring was facing the front. Then he took out a rectangular dog tag. He held it up for Mike to see. “What does it say boy?” “Property of Sir Jake.” Mike replied breathlessly. “That’s right. You passed the last test. There’s no going back. You’ve been corrupted into the perfect faggot sub, and I’m laying claim to you. Now everyone who fucks you knows that even though they are free to use your sweet cunt, you belong to me.” “Thank you, Sir. Thank you.” Sir clipped the tag to Mike’s collar. “Now, take my fucking load faggot.” THE END

Prologue -James I walked into my boss, Anthony’s, office where he stood over his desk. He was a few years older than me but I doubt he was past his mid thirties. He was about my height at 5’8 but had a slightly thicker frame. He had his brown hair cut short and a thick beard covering most of his face. He wore the standard blue suit with a black dress shirt he wore almost everyday. “Good, you’re here” he said as I sat down in front of his desk. “I have urgent business that I need you to fly out and take care of.” “Fly where sir” I asked somewhat surprised as travel had never been mentioned in my job before. “ northern Maine” he responded “ we have a client there who is willing to make a massive donation, over 20 pieces, but wants one of us there to make sure they make it here safe.” I had not expected travel to be involved in working for a nonprofit art museum but I was scared to refuse as this job paid surprisingly well and I had only just started. “I’m sorry sir but I just got married and I hadn’t expected travel to be a part of this position” I said hesitantly. “Oh of course I understand which is why we’ll be covering all your expenses and paying you double time for the duration of the trip. I am sorry to your new bride but this trip shouldn’t be more than a few days.” Anthony said reassureidly “Well if you’re offering all of that Ill have to accept, when would I leave” I asked surprised by the amount I’d be making to babysit paintings “Right now, we have a car downstairs to take you to LAX, and a bag with some clothes and other essentials.” He said walking around the desk and towards the door gesturing me to follow. “Wait I thought I’d have time to discuss it with my wife first.” I said hurriedly standing up to follow him out “Oh no this has to be done now, don’t worry I’m sure your wife will understand.” He said walking us towards the elevator. “You can call her from the car if you’re worried” he added as we stepped out of the elevator towards the car. “Um ok I guess I’ll go then” I said timidly. “Atta boy” Anthony said before hugging me goodbye. As I sat in the car I tried to call my wife but it went to voicemail. I left her a message explaining where I was going as I walked into LAX and checked my bag. -Anthony “ yes master he’s on his way and he’s perfect for you, just your type and prime for corruption.” I spoke into the phone between moans as I rode a massive dildo. “ good I’m glad to hear you’ll soon have another brother” master spoke through the phone as I twisted my pierced nipple encircled by a bright red biohazard tattoo “ I can’t wait master” I said before he hung up. I remembered my first time meeting master and slammed my cunt onto the massive rubber cock even more vigorously to the thought before I felt myself orgasm, toxic cum shooting out of my caged cock.

This is a real shame. Some people enjoy web camming, and being recorded, or broadcasting. Whatever term you want to use, you are putting yourself "out there" for people to screen shot or record. For someone to go to this extent, to try and ruin an individual either professionally or with his family, is just despicable. It is the risk you take, and I feel extremely bad for this poster because some so called "friend" decided to take visual evidence and try and basically, ruin his life. It's something we all need to think about, because like he says "being filmed creates an image that never fully goes away". How true. So guys, think about it before jumping on board to doing anything that can be recorded. What happened to him could easily happen to anyone of us.

And we love reading about your tales of debauchery, knowing you still have loads of your ass

The closer we get to July, the more I am thinking of getting a VPN. Said before I'd just let it go once July arrived and the curtain came donw. Starting to reconsider that... I really enjoy it here...

I love writing these with the load(s) still in my ass and the taste of cum still in my throat. It's been two hours since that last load and I love it 😉

Absolutely. Rimming is the ultimate foreplay, especially with a bottom that appreciates Ass to mouth. I'm lucky to have two fuck buds who love ass to mouth and whose homes love to be filled using only my saliva for lube.

IF rimming becomes a kink in your playbook, it will happen by your own natural desires to get your tongue 👅 into the hole you're playing with. Don't force it or feel you must Rim your partner. IF it happens YOU'LL probably love it but, it doesn't matter if you don't. Keep playing & be a pig for YOUR KINKS.

Part 2 ( the parts will be shorter) "If you want this Cock, you'll have to earn it" He turned around, his back to me, and pulled down his jeans just enough to expose his ass. The smell hit me first—musky, salty, the sweat of a long day. He spread his cheeks, and I hesitated. “Lick it, boy,” he ordered, his voice dripping with contempt. No, absolutely not! I would never do that! Those rules, which I had followed up until that point, were pounding in my head. But I thought of where I was and what I was doing. I'm sitting on my knees, naked, looking straight at an older mans asshole, with a bin of used condoms to my right. An even older man, perverted, sitting on his computer chair, watching the whole thing. The whole scene was humiliating, and as I thought this was cock got even more excited. I waddled forward, approaching this Man's hole awkwardly. I relived his hands from exposing his asshole, instead using mine. "What am I doing?". But, without really thinking, I plunged in, like diving into the deep end. I obeyed, my tongue working its way around his hole, tasting the salt and musk. It was humiliating, degrading, and yet, it was exactly what I’d been craving. My cock stiffened further, a traitorous response to the shame coursing through me. I licked, kissed his hole with passion, knowing what presents I would get in return. “Good boy,” he muttered, a twisted note of approval in his voice. When he finally turned back around, his cock was fully hard, jutting out from his body like a weapon. He grabbed my chin again, forcing me to look up at him. "I had a few beers before I came over, and I need to pee." He looked over at Steve. "Do you mind if we use your bathroom?" Steve nodded. I wondered. We?

Well, if you are married at the courthouse by a Justice of the Peace, you DO have all the benefits of heterosexual marriages. What I was posting was my opinion that ALL marriages should be civil marriages. If a couple wants a religious ceremony, fine. But, it would be superfluous. The only thing that would legally matter would be the civil marriage. In my view, Alabama does it the right way, albeit for the wrong reasons. In Alabama, a couple completes a form and both signatures are notarized. They submit the form to a probate court with the appropriate fee, and they're married. No marriage license, officiant or ceremony needed. If the couple wants a ceremony, religious or otherwise, they can do so but it is legally irrelevant.

Kyros Christian.

Ohh yaa defenetly. And whatever oozes out of our fuck holes!

"dominance of religion ..... " appears to be, being used as a tool for gain, much as with the Roman Catholic Inquisition, the Salem Witch Trials, Henry VIII & other religious or quasi religious occurrences. Trump & the Heritage Foundation are simply using the "out of mainstream Christian" evangelicals 🤔??? as an electoral base because they will inevitably be of a lower socio-economic-education group & be more malleable & prone to manipulation by people with strong coercive speeches that prey on this groups fears of social & economic injustices. Trump is using religion as a method to attain his desires rather than for the populations benefit.

Part IV: Moses’ Plan “You want this, don’t you, baby brother?” Cole’s breathing is ragged, skin flushed, still bent over the couch. Nico pulls out slow, like he’s reluctant to let go. His cock slips free with a wet sound—a slick, messy echo of how deep he’d been. Spit and sweat cling to the open swell of Cole’s hole, glistening under the low light. It wasn’t just sex. It was a handoff. Cole shudders. His back arches just slightly, and his thighs tremble. I’m still standing beside him. Watching. Cole tries to move—shifts like he’s going to push himself upright, maybe find a blanket, maybe pretend this didn’t happen. “No,” I say quietly. He freezes. “Stay.” My voice is calm. Not a bark. Not a command. Just final. Cole slowly sinks back down, palms flat against the cushion, body slack and waiting. His head drops a little, like he’s embarrassed—or maybe just floating. Either way, he obeys. Good. I step back finally, circling around, grabbing the chair again and sinking into it like a man settling in for a show that’s only just started. My hand finds the pipe again—habit—and I flick the torch once, then let it die. Not yet. I look at Nico. He hasn’t said shit. Still catching his breath, but I can feel him watching me. Watching us. Guilt in his eyes, but also heat. He knows I’m taking over now. He knows he’s already out of this dynamic. I look back at Cole. He’s still slumped forward, holes twitching, chest rising and falling like he just ran ten miles barefoot. But there’s a stillness in him now—like he’s waiting for someone to decide what happens next. So I do. “Nico,” I say without looking at him, “did you give him anything?” There’s a beat. Then Nico answers, voice tight. “G. Just G. I measured it.” I measured it—I thought mockingly. As if I care. My eyes drop to Cole again. His body is loose, lips parted, eyes heavy. I clock the microtwitches. The way his fingers dig into the couch. The lag in his blinking. Yeah. He’s on it. “You took G?” I ask him directly. He nods once. “First time?” Another nod. “How much?” “Only a little,” Cole replies. Liar. But I’ll let it slide—for now. “Did you smoke any T?” Cole hesitates. Then, quieter than before: “Yes. But tonight was my first time with that too.” I glance at Nico. He doesn’t react. Two liars. That tells me everything. “Come here,” I say. Cole shifts—starts to get up, one leg moving under him, weight shifting onto his foot like he’s going to stand— “No,” I say again. Sharper this time. “On all fours.” His eyes flick to mine, wide for a second. Then, slowly, he lowers back down. Curls his fingers against the floor. Crawls. And fuck, it’s good. The sight of him moving like that—post-fuck, half-high, obedient—is better than any hit I’ve taken tonight. When he reaches me, I let the silence linger. He kneels in front of me. Legs parted slightly, body swaying. Sweat slicks his chest. His cock’s soft now, but twitching. Still needy. I reach out and tilt his chin up. Two fingers under his jaw. “You feel good?” He nods. I wipe a smear of spit from his bottom lip with my thumb. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. “How high are you?” He breathes out. “I don’t know.” I smile, just slightly. “You’re about to find out.” His throat works, swallowing that. Good. Behind me, Nico doesn’t move. He’s just watching now—silent, hands in his lap, mouth drawn tight. Maybe regretting what he started. Or maybe just jealous I’m doing it better. I reach for the pipe—holding it up where Cole can see. His mouth opens—lips parted, eyes soft, expecting me to raise the pipe to his mouth like it’s medicine. Like I’m here to take care of him. I click my tongue, smirk, and hold his eyes—half scold, half praise. This tells me everything I need to know about how Nico’s been treating him. Like he still deserves gentleness. But I’m not Nico. I’m not afraid to break him. “You want more?” Cole nods again. Quicker this time. I raise an eyebrow. “Then beg, faggot.”

I danger is intoxicating.

Oh fuck yaa felching piss is so fuckin hot

Hi, where is the user "120daysofSodom" ? Loved his content, but he deleted his stuff here and on Instagram. Does anyone know what happened and where he is still posting stuff or at least online? Regards, Michael

There he was. It was actually him. I couldn’t believe it. Twenty years on, and we were at the same event. Maybe at some level it was not surprising given I had heard he had also gone into finance, but our paths had not crossed since we graduated and nor had we contacted each other at all. Furthermore, he looked good. Yes, he had aged a bit, but he was otherwise so much like he had been back then. Fucking handsome, and his body looked muscular and lean under his amazingly well-fitted suit. I wondered what his life had been like since then. Was he married? Was he even straight? It seemed quite likely that he would have followed the same path I had, meeting a woman, marrying, starting a family, and all that. It was almost expected of guys like us, and certainly those going from being top athletes at university on into the macho world of corporate finance. But maybe not? Did I actually want to find out? We were both studs back then. Sounds like I’m gloating, but I knew that I was popular, people thought I was good looking, I worked out so much that I had a rocking body, and I left quite the trail of girlfriends behind me when I went off to uni. He seemed to have trod a similar path, and we were both quite alpha male types (without being misogynist dicks about it) when we met. But our playful jostling for dominance had led to something else, and for most of the three years at uni we were secretly fucking. It was usually a quick affair, sometimes with one of us staying in the other's room and then sneaking out before dawn, and even sometimes a tryst in the woods or the uni gym toilets. However, weekends away together under the concoted story of family visits had happened occasionally, and on the two uninterrupted nights we would get together on those trips, we were more than just guys who fucked. But I knew, as I’m sure he did too, that it wouldn’t go on any longer than graduation. Maybe we weren’t quite expecting the complete and sudden halt that seemed to become our reality, but there we go. Truth be told, during our time together I was mostly the bottom. Sometimes he wanted to be penetrated, but more often than not it was me who ended up gaping and full of cum. There was just something about him that triggered a kind of submissiveness in me, a need to be dominated, but without it being too extreme. We seemed to naturally find this sort of understanding where we were both expressing something within us, but things never got pushed. He didn’t tie me up, order me around or anything like that, it was more that him mounting and sliding inside me seemed to satisfy some need of mine that had been bubbling under. Not necessarily homosexual desire, though I have always known that was there, but rather a need to not be so “alpha” all the time. Having to build up my name and reputation from scratch in the corporate world had maybe done that job for much of the intervening years. The alpha stud rank I had enjoyed throughout school and university meant nothing once I entered the real world, and I had to learn a bit of humility and work bloody hard to get anywhere for the first time in my life. But in my early 40s, with my career where it was, I was The Man again. Perhaps it was therefore no surprise that I was feeling restless and unsatisfied, needing something else than my life was offering. Maybe it was also reaching the beginnings of middle age, and having gone so long without that kind of contact, my suppressed desires for men were starting to become more obvious to me. I had not acted on it, but on business trips I was finding myself watching bi or gay porn in hotel rooms at night, and remembering with a growing hunger what it was like to be taken. But in that ballroom, seeing the only man I had ever actually been with, something stirred within me. Well, to be honest, my hole twitched. But my brain went into overdrive. Memories. Feelings. Desires. Fears. Hopes. Everything. If I had run into him ten years earlier I might have panicked, scared that this secret part of my life and personality was going to be outed, but timing is everything. I wanted him, or indeed any man. Without there being any pushback from my conscience, perhaps influenced by several glasses of expensive champagne, I seemed to decide that my two decades of monogamy was going to end that night. I stealthily watched him for some time while I half engaged in conversations with other people, until the moment I saw him make his excuses and walk away from the group he was with towards one of the doors into the building’s foyer. I let him go, then made my own excuses and followed. As I got into the foyer and looked around, I caught a glimpse of him exiting through the revolving doors at the far end so I hurried after him. Once at the door I could see him standing outside by the pavement with his back to me, so I paused and took a deep breath before heading outside as well. I walked up beside him just as he lit a cigarette. “You look good” he said, without even glancing in my direction. “You too” I replied. “You want one?” he asked, holding the pack of Marlboros in my direction as he turned to face me. “Er, sure” I said, reaching out to take what would be my first cigarette in 15 years. I put it in my mouth, and then leaned in so he could light it for me. I took a deep inhale, and then savoured the rush as it hit me. “You’re married” he said. “Yes” I replied. “You?” “Nearly was” he said. “But saw sense and backed out.” “Oh” I replied. “Not the woman for you?” “Her being a woman was the problem” he said, smirking. “Oh” I said again. “So you’re…” “Yep” he replied. “Oh” I said, for the third time. He grinned at me, before taking a deep inhale of his cigarette. I followed suit while I processed. “Not got a boyfriend, if that’s what you’re wondering” he said. I nodded, exhaling. We then stood in silence for a moment. “So how about we ditch this and go fuck?” he asked, out of the blue. I was just inhaling from the cigarette again, and started coughing in surprise which got a laugh out of him. “Had any action since me?” he asked while I tried to recover. “No” I croaked, “not like that anyway.” “Fair enough” he said. “But from the way you’ve been leering at me for the last hour, I know you want it.” “I, er”… I stammered. He chortled, before taking a final inhale of his cigarette and stubbing it out on the bin next to him. “Come on” he said, “go and have a family emergency or something so we can go back to my hotel for a reunion.” “I’m in a hotel too” I said. “Got meetings tomorrow, and the work Christmas do tomorrow night. If I have a family emergency it’s going to be suspect if I turn up in the office tomorrow.” “Fine” he said. “Then think of something else. But my cock is going up your arse tonight, come what may.” With that, he marched back inside, and I could see through the glass that he had headed for the toilets. I took a last deep inhale from the cigarette, stubbed it out on the bin and then paused for a moment. I racked my brain, and then came up with a yarn about my daughter having had a nightmare and insisting on her daddy reading her a bedtime story over the phone, and then went back inside to make my apologies. I eventually got myself out of there, and once I had collected my bag and coat I headed back out onto the street where Dean was waiting. He smiled at me, but before I could say anything he turned towards the road and waved down a black cab. We piled in, and then sat in silence for the short ride to his hotel. Once there, he marched me up to the enormous suite he was staying in. “Drink?” he asked, opening the minibar. “Whisky” I said, with a little shake in my voice. He grabbed a couple of bottles out of the fridge, emptied them into glasses, and then handed me the one containing whisky. He then turned and headed for some balcony doors, and strode outside onto what was really just a narrow ledge with a railing. I followed him out there, and accepted one of the two cigarettes he had just lit. “Cheers” he said, clinking his glass against mine. “Cheers” I replied, before necking the glass of whisky in one go. “Getting yourself some Dutch Courage” he said, smirking. “I need it” I responded, not actually sure if I was being truthful. Twenty years, and yet I suddenly felt at ease being there with him on that balcony. He necked his own drink, took a deep inhale from his cigarette and then rested it on an ashtray on the floor, before darting back inside the using the phone to order a bottle of champagne on room service. He then emptied another couple of small bottles from the minibar into the glasses and came back outside. “So no man action at all then?” he asked me, after we had clinked glasses again. “None” I said. “Met Sarah on the grad programme at EY, and have been with her ever since.” “Well, congratulations” he said. “But the fact you’re here right now tells me things aren’t perfect.” I paused for a while, taking in the view and gathering my thoughts, before I responded. “I guess we’re happy” I said. “I mean, we have three great kids, a nice house, and lots of friends.” “But?” he asked, after I had paused again. “But, I think maybe I’m just playing a role” I said. “Doing what’s expected of me, I guess.” “Are you gay?” he asked, startling me with the directness of the question. “No, no” I said, before stopping. “But, well, I guess I’m not straight either. And…” I trailed off into silence, but this time he didn’t push and just waited for me to resume talking. “The thing is” I continued, “I’ve never stopped thinking about how it made me feel being with you, and lately it’s been on my mind a lot.” “You mean what it was like to be fucked?” he asked. “Yeah, I guess so” I said. “I think maybe it was better than anything I’ve had with Sarah.” He gave a little chuckle. “I think” he said, “that regardless of which way you swing, the reality is that you’re a bottom. A very repressed bottom, but a bottom nonetheless.” It startled me hearing him be so blunt about it, but I guess I knew it was the truth. I had used my career, my marriage, fatherhood and everything else under the sun to try to quell that need, but it was there all along. I was a bottom. I am a bottom. I want to be fucked. We stood in silence as we smoked the last of our cigarettes, and just after stubbing them out a knock at the room door indicated the next round of drinks had arrived. We went back inside, me instinctively stepping out of sight of the door as Dean went to open it. He appeared again a moment later with two glasses and the bucket of champagne, which he plonked down on the room’s small table. However, he didn’t open it, and instead turned and walked over to me. I immediately began to quiver as he stood in front of me, reached up with his hand to cup my cheek, and then leaned in and planted his lips on mine. After briefly freezing, I allowed myself to melt into the kiss as our tongues intertwined, his stubble against my face being both an odd sensation but strangely, gloriously familiar. We kissed for a while, before he pulled away and looked into my eyes. “I’m going to pop open that champagne, and then it’s time to pop you open again after far too long” he said, smiling warmly at me in a way that made me melt even more. “OK” I whispered. “You know” he said, as he walked back to the table and started stripping the foil off the top of the bottle, “it was touch and go with me even being at this thing tonight. Only just got over the worst flu of my life.” With that, he popped the cork off the bottle, poured out two glasses, then walked back over to me and handed me one. “To rekindled friendship and bottoming for England” he said, smiling as he clinked my glass with this. “To that” I said, smiling back at him. We each took a couple of sips, and then he took my glass back off me and placed both of them on the bedside table I was standing beside. “Now” he said, “let’s change your life.” If only I had known just how deeply that change would go…

Glad you had someone teach you how to do it early in life. I always felt that younger, the better. It prepares them for what their life will be, offering their holes to men like me.

Love drinking it, sharing it, kissing with it and being pissfucked (which happened from my wonderful man this morning)

Thats is so hot! You are lucky to have such good friends take good care of you. I bet your hole was gushing cum.

I will withdraw, with apology, for my assumption & inclusion of the US. Also adding that so many of your taxes are also our sales taxes. Australia's Fed government uses our wage taxes & product sales taxes for many nationally full / partially funded areas & we "expect" the state & fed governments to provide these services. My intention was not so much, what taxes are paid but, how they are often harsh for many & unusually soft on others as direct taxes on money earnt. I will limit my next comment to Australia. Australians want the "luxury" of government provided health (hospitals & GP bulk billing), pharmaceuticals, education, transport (in Australia rail, ferries & buses), road systems, defence & emergency services (state & fed police only) but, to actually increase TAXES ON WAGES for their provision is a very sore point, as is extraordinary sales tax increases, eg: on nicotine & alcohol products. An example of additional sales taxes is that on nicotine products. A packet of 30 cigarettes will cost upwards of $50+ AUD. Something like a 63% sales tax mark-up. I shall, in the future, attempt to avoid assumptions. I always appreciate your responses & commentary finding them very educational in understanding the current, dare I say, turmoil afflicting the US today.

Love bein rimmed. I usually rim a hole for a while before I mount up

Krakow in Poland has a few gay bars including cruising bars. It’s a bit hit or miss but for sure a lot of pigs in the city. Budapest in Hungary has a fair amount of gay activity also… but not amazing places. @bareback-flipflop can comment on the details there. I am going to Bucharest Romania in May and I can update on how it is there after my visit 😉

I disagree. That may be the case in your country, but it isn't the case in the US. Here in the US, we're taxed on everything, no matter what level of financial security we enjoy or not. We're taxed annually on our income, on our property, there are sales taxes of every single thing we buy - from groceries to clothing, and everything else you can name. If taxation were voluntary, there wouldn't be any governments at all, including yours. It's when our contributions are simply taken away - for example, Social Security in the US - that troubles start. You may already know this, but for any readers that don't. taxes are collected (via withholdings from our paychecks) beginning with our very first job, and ending whenever we retire. It's only at retirement that US citizens can access their own earned money back, as SS monthly reimbursements on money we've earned from our very first day of employment. In my case, it was when I began delivering newspapers beginning in the 5th grade. Thus, any American citizen who is employed has a portion of their wages deducted by the Social Security Administration, and from the very first day they are employed until the very last day before retirement, with the understanding that the Government will invest our S.S. taxes, and we will not only get our principal back, it will be with a portion of decades worth of interest as well. That's only one of the taxation contrivances, and there are plenty of others. Of course, every other type of tax (sales tax, income tax, property tax for example) continues until the individual heads off to what you might call "their great reward in Heaven". More, the great majority of Americans do not quibble about paying their fair share, since we enjoy many benefits derived from taxation. My friend, I enjoy your commentary on many subjects, but on this one, you are very much mistaken. We want what we've been promised our entire lives, but more than what we're entitled to - what we've earned - would be unfair, just as chiseling on what we've earned would be unfair.

I live for cock and breeding😈

Part V: Moses’ POV “Then beg, faggot.” Cole’s lips part. His throat works like he’s choking on air. Then— “Please. I want more. I… need it.” Still on his knees. Eyes glassy, staring up like I’m holding salvation. Like the pipe’s communion and I’m the fucking priest. Then an idea struck me. I set the pipe down, watching the disappointment flood Cole’s face. I nod to the floor. “Turn around. Bend over. Hands down. Arch your back.” He hesitates. Then obeys. He folds forward like he’s done this before. Like submission is muscle memory. His knees spread, arms planted, back curved—head hanging low, waiting for whatever I decide to do to him. “Look at you,” I mutter. “Fucking perfect.” I move in behind him. Crouch low. Let my hand hover—then slap his ass. Just a tease. Just to hear the sound. “Jesus,” he gasps. I smirk. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” I slap the other cheek harder—watch the skin bloom red. His hips jerk. His fingers dig into the floor. But he doesn’t move away. “That’s it. Stay just like that.” I run my hand down his spine until my thumb brushes the slick edge of his hole. Raw. Glistening. Used. He flinches. I spread him open with two fingers, just enough to see the damage done. “Nico’s a greedy fuck,” I whisper. I lean closer—not touching, just hovering. Letting the heat of my breath skim over the most wrecked part of him. “You always been like this?” I say. “All quiet and preppy at the dinner table, but the second someone opens you up—” I slap him again. Sharper. “—you turn into a fuckin’ faggot.” He twitches. Doesn’t deny it. “Still high. Still wanting more. You even know where you are?” “Yes, sir.” Voice ragged. I glance at Nico. Still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on Cole like he’s watching a car crash in slow motion. “You call him that too?” I ask. Silence. I slap Cole again. “I asked you a question.” “No,” he gasps. “Just you.” I pause. Let that sit. Then palm his ass again. Knead it once. “Good answer, baby brother.” I flick my chin toward Nico. “Come here.” He doesn’t move at first. Then he does. “Spread his hole.” Nico crouches without a word. Uses both hands to pull Cole open, thumbs wide. I turn to grab the vial of G off the coffee table and— Empty. I click my tongue, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve got better. I stand slow. Cole’s still bent. Still twitching. Nico crouched next him, holding him open like a display. “Don’t move a fucking inch,” I say to Cole. Then to Nico—calm, cold: “Come with me.” He stands. Follows. We move down the hall, into my bedroom. The door clicks shut behind us, sealing the heat in. The tension’s different here—private. Quieter. Worse. I head straight to my dresser. Bottom drawer. Locked. Click. Open. I pull out a vial. Dark glass. No label. Stronger G. Pure. Got my bitch high off it just the other night. Instead of a dropper, I pull out two oral syringes with it. Behind me, Nico shifts his weight. That silence—the pause just before something dangerous happens. “You sure about this?” he asks. Voice flat. Not fear. Just that low-end dealer instinct, sniffing out volatility. I don’t turn. I draw the syringe full. G clean inside the barrel. Enough to tilt the night off its axis. “You saw him. He crawled to me,” I say. “Begging for it.” “You gonna dose him that heavy?” “Hell yeah. This time though? Straight up the ass. I’ve already got him in position.” That lands. He adjusts his stance. No longer cool. Just… alert. “You’re pushing it.” “Yeah?” I turn. “You gonna cry about it?” Nico’s jaw ticks. “I don’t cry. I just don’t waste good product on someone who’s gonna pass out before the fun starts.” “He’ll handle it,” I say. “Then again, so what if he doesn’t?” We lock eyes. Two wolves. And something soft, broken, and ready waiting in the other room. “You don’t think this is overkill?” I step in. Real close. Smell the sweat on him. The testosterone he tries to wear like armor. “You thinking about tapping out?” “I’m thinking this looks like obsession.” “It is.” “And you’re okay with that?” “I’m fucking hard because of it.” He glances—just once—over at the supplies on the dresser. “You gonna hit him with T too?” “Stacked,” I say as I walk back over to the dresser, putting a second syringe together. One part water. One part T. “One plunge after the other. Straight into the hole you just fucked. Straight to that faggot’s brain.” “I don’t know, Moses. That’s a big fucking dose of G.” “That’s the point.” His brow furrows. “You squeamish now, Nico?” “Fuck off.” “Nah. You flinching? After you fucked him like he belonged to you? What? You got feelings for him or something?” He squares up. “You’re playing dirty.” “So leave.” “Maybe I will.” “You won’t.” “Why not?” I press one of the syringes against his chest. Lean in. Voice low, like a secret. “Because you wanna watch me break him. You just don’t wanna admit it.” That gets him. He grabs the syringe. His mouth curls. A grin. A snarl. Right where I want him. “I already broke him.” I laugh, clicking my tongue. “You think I won’t outdo you?” “I’d like to see you try.” We hold that moment. Then I pull back, grabbing the other syringe off the dresser. “Then come watch me ruin this faggot.”

YES! More please!

New Chapter coming out today😈. I feel so inspired and horny right now! And the worst is yet to come!! Feel free to comment what should happen next, so that I can include your suggestions!

Charter 3: Mass is over After the mass, the faithful shuffle out. Father John shakes hands with each of them. The wives hold up their husbands who don't seem to be able to stand on their own, but they find the strength to shake hands with the priest, looking at him with total admiration. The wives thank him, and have to drag their husbands away who don't want to let go of him. This was really strange, I was about to say something to Paul, but he was already in line to greet Father John. This really annoyed me. Our turn comes, Father John's face lights up when Paul introduces himself: "Hi Father, I'm Paul, I just moved here. I have to say that your homily was incredible, I've never felt so much passion!" "Hi Paul, it's a pleasure to have a new faithful. The community always needs new blood! And who is your friend?" Father John's gaze falls on me, but he seemed decidedly less pleased to see me. "I'm Freddie, his - " " - Friend. He's my friend. We share a flat." "I bet you share more than just a flat..." Paul's eyes widen and he laughs nervously, Father John smirks and puts a hand on his shoulder, massaging it. "Don't worry, you don't have to hide anything from me, I get it. No one will judge you here, you'll soon find out we're very open-minded here." Father John winks at me as he continues massaging Paul's shoulder. Enough is enough. I grab Paul's other arm and drag him away, while Father John says: "I know you live in that B&B, if you want I can find you another place. I'll come by tonight, so we can talk about it more!" Paul turns and smiles at him, the I notice his bulge: he's horny as fuck.

My name is Lee, I’m 36, 5’10”, average build, and I’m told I’m very handsome. I have been a prude sexually most of my life. I was a church kid growing up, then joined the military at 18. I didn’t lose my virginity until my early 20's, being too afraid to get caught under DADT. Even after I started having sex I didn’t sleep around, only having sex with men that I was dating. That being said, despite my prudish past I’d always hated condoms. To me it killed the mood when you had to stop to put a condom on, and I hated the lack of closeness condoms injected into sex. I finally had my first hookup at the age of 26 when I moved across the country to a new city, but the guy developed feelings for me and I swore them off off for years after that. Things were much the same when I met my only true long term boyfriend, Kyle. I knew Kyle from Recon, a site I’m sure many of you are familiar with. We’d chatted off and on for over a year, but he was friends with the guy I’d hooked up with, so I avoided meeting him in person even though we shared a lot of the same fetish interests. He finally asked me out and I relented, and just like so many others I made Kyle wait a long time before we had sex. But sex with Kyle was different. Unlike every other guy I’d been with, he never asked for a condom and I never asked him to put one on. From the first time he fucked me and filled me with his cum I knew I would never go back to condoms. During Kyle and I’s almost 4-year relationship we both remained active in the fetish community, attending events like MAL and IML, maintaining profiles on Recon, and having playtime with other kinky guys (almost always unprotected). Kyle introduced me to his fetishes, which included fisting, and he started stretching my hole to try to fist me. During this time, I met a guy named Ryan on Recon, and he introduced me to the site that would change my life for good: Breeding Zone. At first I only read the General Bareback section, and the stories were enough to get me off. However, I always saw the Bug Chasing and Chem Sex sections staring back at me, though I couldn’t bring myself to read them. Things changed once Ryan sent me a link to a story on Breeding Zone in the Gift Giving section, despite my misgivings on the topic I read the story and I was more turned on than I had been in years. I was hooked. At first I read the Gift Giving stories, but I eventually graduated to the Chem Sex stories which turned me on even more. I had introducted Kyle to Breeding Zone as well, and he knew I was turned on by these stories, but we ended our relationship before we could explore them. After my breakup with Kyle I wasn’t feeling as prudish, but I knew deep down that I had turned into a bug chaser, so I avoided sex for quite a while. Finally, I knew that wasn’t a long term solution, and PrEP was becoming more widely available, so I went to my doctor and got a prescription. I took it dutifully for over 2 years, but deep down I knew I still hungered for a poz guy to own my hole. Separately, I had also been trying to take a fist since I was with Kyle, and since poppers weren’t enough for me to open up, I was convinced I was going to need chemical assistance to take my first fist. Enter Pup, a very sexy, poz, mid-30’s friend of mine. Pup and I started chatting on Scruff right around the same time I began taking PrEP, when I was finally more comfortable chatting with poz guys. Pup was partnered at the time and undetectable, which made me feel safe even though it was just chat, and we developed a good long distance friendship (he lives in a southern state almost 1,000 miles away from me). Last year he told me that he and his partner had split, but the more interesting thing to me was that Pup was into fisting, and he informed me that he had gotten into PNP. I told him about my frustration with not being able to take a fist, and he assured me that PNP would allow my hole to open up once and for all. However, he also informed me that if I played with him he only slammed. Regardless of this fact I knew I had to try it. He also made sure that I knew he was positive, and there was still a small possibility that I could be infected if we played. I assured him I was aware of the risks and I was fine with them. Pup and I chatted for months about meeting, and we finally agreed in January of this year on a date: Easter weekend. I was nervous but I knew that I needed to meet him. I genuinely liked the guy and he was going to help me fulfill my fisting desires. I made sure I was clear with him ahead of time that I only was going to PNP to get fisted, and he agreed. Other than that we didn’t discuss too many particulars of what our weekend together would entail. I got on a plane after work on the Thursday before Easter and flew to his city, and took an Uber to his apartment. He had a friend of his let me into the apartment, and he gave me some instructions to prepare for the weekend. I followed his instructions, but once he got home I think he could tell I was nervous, so we agreed to hold off on PNP until the next day so we could get to know each other better. We went to a sex toy store and picked up some supplies, and then he fucked me before we passed out for the night. The next day we had a short conversation about limits. “How do you feel about having other guys join us? I have another guy that wants to fuck you.”, he told me. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that just yet. It’s a fantasy of mine, but I’m really just here to take my first fist.”, I replied. “How about we play it by ear?”, he asked. “That works for me.” “What are you most concerned about with slamming, boy?” “I just want to make sure I get sleep, and that I take my PrEP.” “I’ll make sure you get sleep, boy, but your PrEP is your responsibility”, he responded, quickly ending the exchange. After that he told me it was time to slam, and he explained the entire process of what was happening as he fixed our slams. “Get your phone out, boy. You’re going to want this on video.” “Are you sure? I’m not sure I want this on my phone.” “Trust me, in a few minutes you won’t care, and you’re going to want to watch this later.” Though I was hesitant I agreed to record it. I was so nervous I was already tingling all over as he tied the tourniquet around my arm and prepared to insert the needle. “This is just a small slam, .20.”, he explained as he showed me his own slam for comparison, which contained over twice as much. “Get the camera ready, boy.” I started recording. I saw the register, the red tinged liquid disappeared, and he snapped the tourniquet off of my arm. What followed was unlike anything I’d experienced in my life up until that moment. Most people on here describe a warm feeling after a slam, for me it felt opposite. It felt like a chill was spreading throughout my body (but in the best possible way) and Pup took my phone from me to film my reaction. I was euphoric beyond my own comprehension, and had trouble even forming words for a few minutes. Suddenly my inhibitions had melted away. Pup started questioning me. “What do you want, boy?” “I want to take my first fist”, I answered. Pup shut off my phone and kept asking me questions. “You want me to invite some other guys to try out your hole, boy?” “You can invite anyone you want, Sir.” “You haven’t earned the right to call me Sir, call me Pup.”, he growled. I stammered an apology, and he asked a few more questions that are kind of fuzzy to me now. But then he asked a question I didn’t expect, and that I’ll never forget, “You’re a bugchaser, aren’t you, boy? You want to get pozzed this weekend?” To be continued…

I can very much understand the appeal of taking poz cock and at the same time having the doubts about it... I know it's only a matter of time, but I think having a man i desire breeding me with poz cum would be the most intimate kind of sex.

I love every form of piss. I love to drink it, especially directly from the tap, but it happened not once that I drank it from a glass or bottle. But I also like to shower or be filled up with it.

In the dim, fucking sleazy light of the living room, I, BiBottomCocksucker, was already drooling for some nasty cock. The air was thick with the stench of raw lust, every breath making my dick twitch with need. I locked eyes with this beast of a man, his stare promising to ruin me in the best way. No words were needed; his hard-on bulging through his pants said it all. I dropped to my knees like a greedy little slut, the carpet scraping my skin as I yanked down his jeans. Out sprang that cock—nine inches of thick, veiny meat, dripping with precum, begging for my mouth. I didn’t waste a second. My lips wrapped around it, tongue lapping at the salty, musky head. I sucked it like a fucking pro, spit and precum making it a sloppy mess, gagging as he rammed it down my throat. His hands gripped my hair, forcing me deeper, claiming my mouth like it was his personal fuckhole. But sucking wasn’t enough for him. “Bend over, you filthy slut,” he growled, yanking me off his cock with a wet pop. I scrambled to obey, bending over the couch, my ass up and ready, my hole twitching for what was coming. His rough hands spread me wide, spitting right on my tight hole. Then that cock—still slick from my own spit—pressed against me. The first push was fucking intense, stretching my tight little ass open, forcing its way in. I felt every inch, the burn of that thick meat splitting me apart, hitting my second sphincter and making me scream with pain and pleasure. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted, his voice dripping with lust as he pounded into me. Each thrust was brutal, my ass taking that cock like it was made to be fucked, the sound of his balls slapping against me filling the room. My hole stretched wide, gripping him, the feeling of being so full driving me fucking wild. He pulled out suddenly, leaving my ass gaping and hungry. “Turn around, taste your ass, you dirty bitch,” he ordered. I spun around fast, my mouth open, eager for it. That cock, slick with my own ass juice, went straight back into my mouth. The taste was nasty—my musk mixed with his precum—and I fucking loved it. Ass to mouth, I sucked it clean, my tongue working every inch. But he wasn’t done with my ass. He shoved me back over the couch, slamming that cock back into me, fucking me even harder. My hole stretched and burned, taking every brutal thrust, the sensation of being used like a cheap whore making my cock rock hard without even touching it. He pulled out again, and I was back on my knees, sucking that cock fresh from my ass. Ass to mouth, over and over, the taste of my own hole becoming second nature, the filth of it making me hornier than ever. Finally, his grunts got louder, his thrusts into my mouth more desperate. With a deep, guttural moan, he unloaded, his cock buried in my throat, pumping hot, thick cum straight into my mouth. I swallowed every drop, the mix of cum and my own ass juice coating my tongue, my body shaking from the raw, filthy intensity. I was wrecked, humiliated, and fucking satisfied.

Lately, more than usual. On average 2 to 5 times a day. Just this morning, 2X before getting out of bed. I feel bad about all that cum going to waste, but nothing a devoted live-in gay cumdump couldn’t rectify.

Let's see I've done it at 15, 17, 19, 22, 23, 25, 28, 30, 32

On and off through out the day. Every day

Right-on. You're living my fantsay. I so want to pick-up a hot, anon guy on the internet and have him come to my hotel room and fuck his sperm into me. No names, just sex.

I'm a smaller guy and enjoy missionary when my top pulls my legs up around his shoulders so he can bury his cock deep. I especially love when his balls slap my ass with each thrust until he fills me up with his seed. That's my favorite position...or whatever my top at the moment likes is awesome too. I'm ready now.

I went through similar feelings. The pozzing stories on here are hot but in reality it's the last thing i want. I have toyed with going bb for sometime but was never brave enough to take the plunge, (pun intended). I was persuaded by a bb vers guy to go on Prep. It's a bit intimidating at first for a married man to attend a gum clinic but in reality nobody bats an eyelid. I'm now on event based prep and fucking bb and loving it. I have no desire to get pozzed and accept i might pick up other STIs but they can be treated. Prep is free in the UK. Get on Prep and enjoy BB.

Love it, both giving and receiving 😉