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Thanks for all your comments! So here's the next part of the journey. Hope you enjoy.... Part 4: The Biohazard Archives: Poz Stories and Porn The calm lasts for the rest of the night. It's a lie, of course, but a comforting one. You sleep soundly, the secret in the freezer a cold, quiet anchor. But the next morning, the lie shatters. You're making coffee. You open the freezer. The condom is still there, but that's all it is. A memory, a pathetic little trophy frozen in time. A toxic bomb, now defused and dead. The risk is gone. Without its poison, it's just a sad piece of rubber. The magic is gone. And in that moment, you realize the chilling, undeniable truth: the memory is not enough. The fantasy is not enough. The hunger is a demand, not a request. And a demand cannot be satisfied by watching. It has to be hunted. You sit back down at your laptop. The screen's glow is a sterile comfort in the dark room. You don't go to the usual apps, the ones filled with "safe" men and "normal" hookups. You go to a search engine and type in the words that have been echoing in your mind. You find a place called Breeding Zone. It's a forum, a digital promised land, and you click through the warning page without a second thought. Creating the profile feels like a clandestine act. The username is a string of random letters and numbers, untraceable. For the avatar, you don't use a picture of your face or your body. You use a close-up, macro shot of your PA ring—the heavy, 00g tribal dream circle of steel. It's a signal. A flag. And then you are in. The forum titles hit you like a physical blow. They aren't coded in polite euphemisms; they are raw, honest, and terrifyingly familiar. My First Pozzing Story. Toxic Load in a Public Toilet. Neg Bottom Looking for My First Gift. A wave of relief so powerful it makes you dizzy, washes over you. You're not a monster hiding in the shadows. You're home. These are your people. They speak your language. They understand the hunger, the need, the dark, beautiful thrill of the chase. This becomes your ritual for the next weeks. Every night, you would return to the same story, the multi-part epic called "Sleazy Sauna." The thread is massive with hundreds of thousands of views. You start reading, your heart hammering against your ribs. From the first sentence, you are not just reading; you are remembering. You are the narrator. You are the safe, middle-aged neg guy walking into that run-down sauna, the smell of damp and chlorine in the air. You feel the eyes of Sid, the old, skinny regular, on you, the thrill of his directness as he compliments your tattoos and casually asks, "Want to fuck?" And then you get to the line that makes you stop and re-read, your breath catching in your throat. When the narrator – when you - ask about a condom, Sid just keeps fucking and says, "I hate the things. Haven’t used them since I was diagnosed." At first, the word doesn't fully land. Diagnosed. It hangs in the air, a clinical, sterile word in the middle of this filthy, intimate act. And then it clicks. This isn't just some old man who prefers to fuck bare. This is a poz man who is planning to plant his toxic seed in your ass without a single thought or care as to whether you are neg or not. For a normal, safe guy, that moment should be a full-stop, a siren blaring, a reason to scream and run. It should be the definition of disturbing. But you can feel it happening to you—the shock, the fear, and the overwhelming, horned-up decision to just go along with it, to let the risk wash over you because the feeling is too good to stop. But it's the second part of the story that truly destroys you. You are again the narrator, having been tested negative and handed a get-out-of-jail-free card. And yet, you are back at the sauna, your heart pounding, your hole twitching with a need you can't explain. You hear Bill at the counter warn the you, "We've a few more in today - couple of guys I 'ain't seen for a while 'cos they've been sick. They don't take meds so their immune system is fucked." You're hard instantly, stroking yourself as you read. You are in that dark room, being pulled between two unseen bodies. You know, with a sick certainty, that these are them. These are the two toxic trolls Bill warned you about, the ones with the highly charged, untreated loads. You are the one sandwiched between them, crying with shame and depravity, feeling the ultimate surrender as you push back and squeeze your hole around their thrusting cocks, eager to milk more poz cum from them and get yourself knocked up. The words on the screen get you close, but they aren't enough to finish you. You need the visuals. You need the sounds. You minimize the forum and open the video file. You find the clip. It opens on a scene of profound intimacy. A bottom is on his back, his legs thrown up in the air, surrendering completely. A top is above him, moving inside him with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Their connection is palpable, a quiet dance of flesh that feels more like a shared prayer than a simple fuck. The gentle, rhythmic slap of skin is the only sound besides their soft moans. Then, the top’s voice cuts through the quiet, a low murmur now laced with a sudden, sharp tension. "I think it broke." And in that moment, you are the bottom. A jolt of pure ice-water panic floods your veins. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was supposed to be safe. Your mind races, screaming at you to push him off, to stop this right now. But your body betrays you. The slow, hypnotic rhythm doesn't stop, and the pleasure is too exquisite, too all-consuming. The fear is there, a sharp edge, but it's dulled by the overwhelming sensation. The top's words were a quiet confession, but to you, they are a test. He needs you to make the choice. The bottom’s response is a choked whimper of pure, unadulterated need, his back arching to meet each deep, steady thrust. "Fuck me anyway. I don't care." You understand that whimper. It's the sound of reason shattering. It's the moment the fear begins to curdle into something else—something dark and thrilling. Your hand is on your own cock, stroking in time with the slow, hypnotic rhythm on the screen. "Do you want me to pull out when I cum?" the top asks, his voice a strained whisper. He's offering one final escape, one last chance for safety. "Of course not," the bottom moans, his voice thick with unwavering desire, pulling him in closer, a silent refusal to let him escape. "But I'm positive," the top says, his voice a quiet, final warning. He's laid all his cards on the table. The risk is now real. It has a name. "I don't care," the bottom breathes. "I want your seed so bad. I want your shit... so fucking good!" That's it. That's the moment of total surrender. The fear doesn't just fade; it transforms into a desperate, all-consuming craving. The thought of his charged load, of his poz seed, is no longer a danger. It's the prize. It's what you want. They continue, the sound of a poppers cap being unscrewed cutting through the heavy breathing. The camera is locked in a single, unchanging POV. You see nothing but the top's cock, now sheathed in the tattered, broken latex, as it slowly sinks into the bottom's ass, then just as slowly withdraws. You don't see their faces. You are the bottom, feeling that broken rubber dragging against your rim with every slow, deliberate stroke. Then, a new sound. A deep sniff. The sound makes your own hand tremble with anticipation. You fumble for your own bottle, unscrewing the cap and bringing it to your nostril, timing your own sharp, desperate inhalation to perfectly match the one you are hearing through the laptop speakers. The rush hits you, a warm wave washing over you, dissolving the last of your resistance. The fear is gone, replaced by a blissful, open hunger. Your mind is no longer thinking about risk; it's focused only on the feeling, on the need to be filled, to be bred. Your head swims, your vision blurs at the edges, and your own moaning grows louder, more guttural, mingling with the sounds from the video until you can't tell where you end and the screen begins. The cock on screen never stops its slow, deliberate motion. Then, another sniff, this time from the top. You hear it, and without hesitation, you take another hit yourself, your body in perfect sync with the men you can only hear. The second rush deepens the hunger, solidifies it into a single, burning purpose. "Yeah, give me your seed," the bottom begs, his voice cracking with emotion. "Give me that fucking charged load, yeah, cum in me deep." You feel the words in your own throat. You want to beg for it, too. "Yeah, I'm gonna knock you up," the top growls, his rhythm finally beginning to speed up. "Cum as deep as you can," the bottom cries out. The top grunts, his body tensing as he unloads. He pulls out, and the camera holds on the bottom's gaping, red hole. A single, thick, perfect drop of white cum wells up and drips down. The sight of that charged drop, the sound of those words, amplified by the poppers flooding your system, is the guaranteed trigger. You cum, a huge, explosive load that shoots all over your chest and face, a desperate, solitary offering. You slump back in your chair, panting. You look down at your new jogging pants. Another load soaking into the fabric. They're stiffening with dried cum, becoming a beloved cumrag, a physical testament to how deep you're being drawn in. It was a powerful, intense orgasm, but as the waves of pleasure recede, you're still staring at the screen. The forum is just a collection of words. The clip is just pixels. And you are still alone in your apartment, your pants stiffening with another load. The relief is temporary. The hunger is permanent.

Thursday was the hottest and scariest experience I’ve ever done. I chatted with a straight guy who wanted to fuck me. He is only available early mornings. So I waited till 5 am to be awake for him. While my family are asleep. The guy arrived and I met him outside briefly and quickly led him into the backyard. I snuck him in the house through the backyard sliding door. While my parent were asleep in their rooms and my brother across from my room. We walked quietly and led him into my room. I shut the door and we both stripped naked and I sucked him deeply. He let me sniff some poppers. I ate his ass out like he demanded. Finally he fucked me hard on my bed. I was nervous of making too much noises. My bed kept on making a lot of noise. But thankfully no one woke up. But I heard my cat waking up in my brother room. We hurried and got dressed and led him out . Before my brother woke up to let the cat outside. I heard my brother took the cat out right when I went to bed. 😂 This is my actually my third experience of letting a stranger coming in my house while my family are deep asleep.

**This is a work of fantasy and fiction. Any similarity to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. Nothing in this work should be construed as medical advice in any way** Chapter 3: Zero for 135 All during the drive home from Palm Springs, even when traffic slowed to its inevitable crawl once he hit West Covina, Dr. Matthew’s head was spinning…he had taken about 18 certifiable, unmedicated and toxic loads up his hole the day before, including 4 from his mentor, Dr. Dan Martinelli. Were there a few moments when he said to himself “What have you done?” Definitely there were…but then the voice in his head reassured him that this is what he wanted, he got into that sling willingly and his own cock shot multiple loads of cum while the poz guys gang-banged him, and later while Martinelli bred him 4 times with his poz seed. It was his destiny and he didn’t want to deny it any longer. So any doubts in his mind were doused and he knew he was on the right path to becoming part of the brotherhood. As an infection disease doctor, he also knew poz conversion from fucking was still relatively unlikely and it’s highly unusual to turn poz from just one night. Yeah, he would wait for the “fuck flu” to hit in a few weeks but he wasn’t confident it would hit, not yet,anyway – so he wasn’t confident, but was hopeful. No, the only way to ensure his getting over the line and seeing 2 red lines on a test strip was to keep taking poz loads. And he knew just who he should speak to about that. Arriving early at the office on Monday morning, Matthew poured some coffee for himself and waited for Keith to arrive. He had sent a text on Sunday afternoon asking Keith to come in a few minutes early as there was something he wanted to mention to him. “Hey, Doc,” Keith greeted him, breezing in and ready to work as always, his ultra-confident manner and eagerness to start a new work week always impressed his employer, Dr Matthew. Keith was looking especially hot this morning in his tight blue scrubs and with the lower part of his radioactive symbol tattoo peeking out under his sleeve. “How was your weekend, Doctor?” the nurse asked, settling in the chair on the other side of Matthew’s desk and sipping his coffee. “I wanted to tell you something, Keith”, the doctor started hesitantly. “It’s not a work thing, it’s more of a personal thing,” he said, shifting in his chair. Keith could sense the young idealistic Doctor was uncomfortable. “I went to Palm Springs,” he began, “specifically the men’s club over in Cathedral City. I enjoyed myself more than I ever have before, and I took about 18 loads of poz cum, including 4 from Dr. Martinelli.” He had blurted out the words, not stopping to gauge his listener’s reaction or thinking about the appropriateness of telling an employee this information. “Oh, yeah, Dan called me Sunday morning,” Keith said, a sly smile “welcome to the chase!” Dr Matthew looked up with a start. He was surprised that even Keith and Dan Martinelli knew each other, but as he thought about it, he realized ‘of course, they are part of the poz brotherhood that has sprung up.’ “What did he say, specifically?” was all the young doctor could utter as he processed this information. “Just that you’re on the chase now, and he helped you out. He said I should aim to help you as well, if you’d be into that…unless it would be awkward since I work for you.” Still kind of reeling from this info, Dr Matthew simply said “Yeah, it’s probably best we don’t mix work and pleasure like that, Keith. But maybe you can put me in the path of some of your poz buddies who can help me out.” And that is how, two nights later, Dr. Matthew had an “appointment” with a friend of Keith’s, a burly Scottish man named Angus who pozzed up himself about three years ago from Randy, a founding member of The Ten. Angus had just earned his first X tattoo and was looking for more conversions from his potent HIV cum. Angus volunteered to be the dedicated gifter to young Dr. Matthew for 6 weeks, and for those weeks they met two or three times per week, every time Angus loading up the young chasing doctor with high-viral seed. Dr Matthew, being the somewhat obsessive person he was, kept a “pozzing spreadsheet” and by the end of the 6 weeks, it showed Angus has deposited 45 loads of HIV into Matthew’s mancunt. Most of their sessions began the same way: Matthew would prep his hole and come over to Angus’ apartment and assume the doggy position, which Angus favored. Frequently, a toothbrush was used to scratch up Matthew’s pretty little hole and then Angus would unleash his uncut poz weapon inside the young chaser’s ass. It was more clinical than anything romantic but still Matthew’s neg cock would spurt forth a couple of loads of cum as Angus’ thick uncut poz pole plundered the young doctor’s neg mancunt. Angus, like all of The Ten, was a proven poz multi-cummer and one fuck per night simply wouldn’t do, and in a few minutes the burly Scot would be back up the young doctors pussy to inseminate more toxic seed. And it went on like this for those 6 weeks, yet Dr. Matthew still had no signs of the fuck flu he was all too familiar in seeing in others. For all of Angus’s efforts, his strain did not imprint inside Matthew’s body. Matthew figured it would happen, but even after 45 loads of infected Scottish seed, the deed had not been done…in terms of poz results vs poz loads taken, he was now 0 for 63. He admitted to himself a bit of discouragement. Every home test would only display one red line, never two. Angus had to travel to the UK at the end of September, so Keith set Matthew up with a new dedicated donor: Mack, or “Sir Mack,” as his social media accounts proclaimed was a dominant black Daddy type, originally from Trinidad, who had been pozzing chasers in Miami for years now, with a great track record, Sir Mack and his 10-inch pierced pozzing stick had brought over 30 guys into the brotherhood, an effort dedicated with 3 dark X’s inked across his mid-section, as well as a biohazard symbol on each arm and a scorpion with a bloody red stinger emblazoned across his chest. Mack threw a mean fuck into whoever’s hole was in front of him, and as with all members of The Ten, he could cum buckets, and repeatedly in a single pozzing session. Mack had decamped to California for a few weeks to film content…his fan pages were wildly popular, with thousands of guys subscribing to see Mack roughly plow faceless bottoms into poz status. Sir Mack, therefore, eagerly accepted the gig from Keith to poz up the young doctor…he had a particular fixation on infecting medical professionals and turning them into poz cumdumps and gifters. He counted 8 nurses, 3 physical therapists, 4 respiratory therapists, 2 psychologists among his poz progeny, all of whom have further passed the gift to countless others. Now he would get a Medical Doctor, and an HIV specialist at that, to breed and gift into the brotherhood, and he could hardly wait. Keith warned Dr. Matthew that as hot and sexy as Angus was, Sir Mack throws an entirely different fuck into a bottom – Mack is rough and dominant and when he wants to fuck and breed his HIV into someone, nothing stops him. “You’re basically just a hole when you’re in Sir Mack’s vicinity, Doc,” was what Keith told the young HIV chasing doctor. “He threw me around like a ragdoll when we fucked, so brace yourself. You’ll love it, but it’s a wild ride.” As he drove to Sir Mack’s rental house, Matthew was nervous but excited. He would have been happy if Angus had ended up his pozfather, but since that didn’t happen, he was eager for Mack to convert him. Matthew had decided he wanted to know his gifter, the man who would shoot his HIV into his hole and turn the chaser in him into the newest member of the Class of 2025 poz brotherhood. As much as he had liked the Cathedral City gangbang from Frankie and Co., he wanted a deep connection to his gifter, to know the strain that pozzed him. Would it be Sir Mack? His hole twitched in anticipation. He was also expecting a dominant Daddy-type to do to him what Keith described – throw him around like a ragdoll. So, imaging his surprise when Sir Mack opened the door and greeted Matthew with a deep kiss and hug. Whereas Angus would greet Matthew fully naked and hard, ready to AIDS-fuck, Mack greeted him at the door fully clothed and, in fact, wearing an apron, and embraced him deeply followed by a tender kiss. “What was happening,” Matthew thought to himself? “I thought I’d make you some dinner, since you’ll be here awhile,” Mack explained, walking into the kitchen and stirring a large pot bubbling on the stove. “Of course, we’ll eat after we take care of business,” Mack said, turning back to Matthew and smiling a 1000-watt smile at him. “There’s some wine there,” he said, pointing to an opened bottle of red. “Help yourself.” “You look a little stunned, Matthew,?” Mack asked. “It’s just that I think I expected a different sort of welcome,” the young doctor replied, “I had heard you would be very rough.” Mack chuckled “Oh, that’s just my fan content stuff…gotta maintain the stereotype. When you look like me, guys expect a certain scene. Did Keith tell you that? Yeah, I fucked Keith a few times on the fan page…that was ‘content,’ this is different. This is more real, just you and me. If I’m gonna be your poz Daddy, I think we need to establish more of a connection, don’t you?” Matthew was relieved to hear this and his hole twitched some more. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get those clothes off and get into bed,” Mack told the young doctor “I’ll be up in a minute,” he said, switching off the stove burner and moving the pot into the oven. Matthew did as instructed, got into bed and was fingering his twitching hole, his cock expanding as he heard Mack’s footsteps on the stairs. “Leave your hole to me,” Mack said, seeing Matthew fingering it. And with that, Mack gently turned Matthew onto his stomach, hiked up his legs and ass and ate out the young doctor’s negative pussy for about 10 minutes. Matthew was in ecstasy at this – Angus almost never rimmed him, or for very long, and Mack’s caring treatment of Matthew’s hole had him so relaxed and open, like no one had ever done prior. “You’re ready,” Mack finally announced and Matthew felt the first of Mack’s 10 thick inches penetrate his waiting cunt. “Little bit at first, I have wanted in this pussy for a long time, I want to take my time right now,” Mack told him as Matthew braced himself for the remainder of the pierced HIV club Mack was pressing into him. At Mack’s command, he breathed deeply and Mack used that to slide the rest of the fat AIDS-cock into the young, impressionable doctor. He was in up to the hilt now. Typical of all The Ten, Mack’s cock was precumming like crazy, already spreading his HIV into the young doctor. Slowly, Mack began to piston it in and out of the hole, Matthew writhing in pleasure and moaning into the pillow. Mack took his left arm and brought the young doctor up close to him…”Feel that cock in there, Matthew? It’s bringing you right into the poz brotherhood,” he said repeatedly as he picked up his pace and soon was plunging the poz weapon deep inside the young physician. This went on for awhile, longer than Frankie, or Dr. Martinelli or Angus ever lasted up inside Matthew’s neg mancunt, but Mack was having too much fun and pleasure to want to stop now and the deep drilling continued for another 15 minutes without a break, the young doctor squirming and moaning in pleasure. Finally, the moment came for Mack to impregnate Matthew with this viral load and as usual with Mack, it was a gusher – Matthew, in his daze, could feel 11 or 12 shots of pure venom unloaded into him from the powerful Trinidadian Daddy, but honestly it could have been more than that, he was in such bliss knowing this titan of a man was loading him up with pure poz seed. Mack shuddered and thrust his cock deeper, as if to get every drop of HIV into the young doctor and then finally withdrew and rolled Matthew over onto his back and beside him. “We’ll go again in a few minutes,” he said “You know, I’m good for at least 3 more loads, and you’ll be getting them, and then we can eat,” he said, passing Matthew a glass of water. “Stay hydrated and hold that seed in your hole, Doctor. I’ll be adding more shortly.” The process went on for another 3 hours, as Mack would deeply rim the gaping hole, tasting some of his own AIDS-cum and bringing it up to Matthew to sample as well. Then, more deep and prolonged fucking and loading up the doctor’s hole, which by the fourth plundering of the evening, was blown out into an O shape, HIV-cum clinging to the walls. Mack thrust a lucite dildo up into the hole and told Matthew to keep it there. They finally went down to eat and drink some more wine, Matthew was spinning out in his head at the thought of Mack’s potent seed already possibly doing it’s work on his body, penetrating its defenses and converting the chaser into a successful poz brother. And this was what happened every few nights for the entirety of the 6 weeks that Mack was staying in Los Angeles. By Matthew’s spreadsheet, he had received 72 loads of Mack’s AIDS-seed, so imagine the disappointment at every home test showing only the one line of negativity and not the two red lines of beautiful HIV positivity. Eventually, Mack’s short-term lease was up – in addition to his working to poz Matthew, he had filmed dozens of hard-driving fuck scenes with scores of guys for his content pages, so it was finally time for him to return home to Miami. There was an emotional scene at the LAX departures lobby as Matthew wept softly into Sir Mack’s broad shoulders at not converting by him, but Mack reassured the young doctor. “Do not worry, son, it will happen, and when it does we will celebrate,” and with that, he was through security and out of sight in the crush of the airport. Matthew pulled out his phone to look at the spreadsheet…by Matthew’s calculations, this meant 135 loads of cum, from the gangbang in Cathedral City, from his mentor Dr. Martinelli, from Angus and now from Sir Mack had failed to upgrade Dr. Matthew into the poz brotherhood. Class of 2025 might have to wait until Class of 2026! He knew what he had to do: He dialed Keith’s number. End of Chapter 3

Today I was in Jefferson City Missouri for some easy repair work so I jump on sniffies and I’ve got it running in the background and I jump on periodically looking for what ever catches my eye. I wasn’t sure if I was in a bottoming mood or a topping mood. Anyway I happen to see a few miles away on the map that there was this 33 year old muscle hairy top with a nice 8” cock. The kind that has a huge bulbous head on the end. So I shoot him a message and wait and o go back to work. A few min later I check and he had replied and we exchange some pics and at this point I’m wanting to bottom for this alpha top. So I finish my work and I run to the gas station to clean out in the bathroom. I shoot him a message and say I’m cleaned out and I have an hour that I can take for lunch and he said he could host so he shoots me the address and we get there at about the same time bur he welcomes me in and he is fucking hot short hair and muscular as hell. I could see he was fit even through his button up shirt. So he asked if I wanted a drink or something and I said naw and that I’d like to get right to it so he leads me back to his bedroom and we strip and I fall to my knees and suck his cock and I’m doing my best to deep throat him but that head was so big I could barley fit it in my mouth. But he gets rock hard and I ask him where he wants me and he said what ever is more comfortable for me and I say doggy. He asks me if I’d like some poppers and I’m like yeah I’ll try some. So I take a few hits and my head is swimming and he starts eating my ass and he stands up and starts rubbing some lube on my ass and flipping his cock head up and down on my hole and he asks “do you have a preference where you want my cum to go” and I said “I’d prefer if you put it deep inside me” so he starts pressing in and my ass tries to open but it hurt a lot so he said “ I’m going to work your hole open with my fingers for a bit” and I believe he put in two and he was nice and gentle. So I take a couple more hits of poppers and hold my breath and my head is thumping while he presses slowly into my ass and finally gets it in and we hold it there and I take another hit of poppers as he starts to fuck me and I look to the side and I see a full length mirror and I can see this muscular hairy alpha top getting balls deep in my pale ass and he asks “are you ok with going multiple rounds?” And I’m like “yeah we got time” so he fucks me like that for a while and he gets super hard and pumps my ass hard and shoots his first load. He pulls out and I ask him to grab a pic and he does and I stand up and I can few his load running down my leg and he goes and washes off and comes back and I suck his cock and I can taste his cum on the top lip of his cock and he gets hard again and I lay on my back and he sucks my cock for a little bit but I can’t get hard so he tries to put it back in but he goes limp and I apologize and say I’m nervous and he said yeah it’s always like that on the first meeting so we head to the bathroom and I wipe a few times and he washes off and he walks back into his bedroom and I come maybe 20 second later and he is putting some stuff away and I fall to my knees again and start sucking his cock and he gets rock hard again and has me get on my back and he slides in and he starts pounding and I start begging him for his load and he lets loose again and floods me a second time. I had him get another pic but you couldn’t see the cum just my red swollen hole. So we head back to the bathroom and chitchat again and I get dressed and thank him for the two loads and tel him I’ll hit him up next time I’m in town. So I head to my next job and complete it and it’s probably an hour later and I go to the bathroom and push out a massive load and 30 seconds later push out a glob more. My hole is throbbing right now and I can’t wait to go another round with him.

Smashed some face down, ass up bussy on my way to work this morning. I was load #6. Felt good to drain my morning wood into a cummy ass.

It is rare but sometimes I feel him pulsating. It is also hit or miss if it leaks out. A real bottom craves the load. I honestly think it’s a hormonal reaction or something but that’s a different topic. If you just want to get fucked to feel what it’s like you are probably not bottom.

I don't know the exact number but there were about 15 guys there. I was the only cock sucker, not all came in my mouth, some gave me facials, it was amazing. Did a small group yesterday, sucked off 4 guys, swallowed 2, facials from 2. Great way to end the weekend.

I met a biracial 40 year old daddy top last night and he hosted. We’ve been talking in bbrt for a couple of days and decided to meet so he can breed me multiple times. We talked about doing long session so we cleared our afternoon schedule just to fuck. I got to his place at 2pm and I didn’t leave until 9pm. In that 7hrs, we fucked and I got bred 10 times. We had breaks and talked inbetween but as soon as we got horny, we were back at it again. He enjoyed fucking me on all fours so he can watch my bubble butt jiggle and I enjoyed backing my ass towards his incoming cock. The bed was shaking and creaking all afternoon. By the 8th load, I can feel my hole leaking of cum and running down my ass. I wanted to keep his loads in me when I sleep but something was itching to come out of my ass. I dumped almost all the cum and I felt sad. We are meeting again next saturday, and this vers daddy is joining us for a threesome.

Chapter 4: The Christmas Stocking Paul Carter lay on his back in the narrow bed, phone balanced against his chest, the screen casting a soft bluish glow across the ceiling. Snow drifted across the tiny frame of the movie playing—one of those saccharine Christmas romances he’d clicked on without thinking, the kind that promised warmth and happy endings even when the world outside felt thin and cold. Onscreen, two men stood in a flurry of lights and music, breathless and smiling, the argument finally over. They ran toward each other through falling snow, laughter breaking through tears, arms wrapping tight like they were afraid the other might vanish if they didn’t hold on hard enough. Paul sniffed, embarrassed by the sound, and scrubbed at his nose with the heel of his palm. “Shut up,” he muttered to himself, even though the room was empty. He told himself it was the alcohol, the storm, the long night—anything but the tight ache building in his chest as the couple kissed and the music swelled. He locked the phone and tossed it onto the mattress beside him before the credits could roll. The screen lit again almost immediately as his messages opened, the familiar thread already at the top. He hadn’t meant to open it. His thumb just… knew where to go. The breakup text stared back at him, cruel in its simplicity. No explanation worth anything. No apology. Just blunt words and an even blunter dismissal. Paul’s jaw tightened as he scrolled, the memory crashing back uninvited—the night before, the way he’d tried so hard to be everything the other guy wanted, how eager he’d been to please, to prove he was worth staying for. Hell, he even let the guy bareback him, crawling on his knees and begging him. And then the next morning came. The text. You weren’t that good. I’ve already moved on. Don’t message me again. Paul swallowed hard, his throat burning. He hated how much that still hurt. Hated that it made him feel stupid, small, disposable. He locked the phone again, dropping it face-down this time like it might bite him if he looked too long. “Not tonight,” he whispered, forcing the words out like a promise. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the storm batter the house, the wind whining along the eaves like something lost and angry. Somewhere below him, the frat house creaked and shifted, settling into the cold. Laughter drifted faintly from downstairs, muffled now, distant enough to feel unreal. Paul rolled onto his side, curling slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. He told himself he just needed distraction—anything to keep his thoughts from circling back to the same bruised places. Something loud. Something physical. Something that didn’t ask him to feel wanted or loved. Just something that made him feel anything else. He reached for his phone again, screen lighting his face in the dark as the storm outside howled on. Paul stared at the glowing screen for a long moment before unlocking it again. The house felt too quiet up here, the laughter from downstairs fading into something distant and hollow. He needed noise. Motion. Anything to drown out the thoughts pressing in on him. He didn’t open the movie back up. Instead, his thumb drifted through apps without much thought, muscle memory guiding him somewhere familiar and mindless. Images of men fucking in different positions and acts loaded—too bright, too sharp against the darkness of his room—and he felt his shoulders loosen just a little as his focus narrowed. This, at least, didn’t ask him to feel hopeful. It didn’t promise happy endings or soft confessions in falling snow. It was simpler than that. Paul exhaled slowly, letting his head sink back into the pillow. He told himself it was just about distraction, about shutting his brain up for a while. About not thinking of text messages or mornings-after or how easy it had been for someone to decide he wasn’t worth keeping. He spit on his hand, and slowly pulled his boxers down, before effortlessly shoving two fingers into his still puffy and abused hole. The alcohol helped. It softened the edges of everything, made the room feel warmer than it was. His thoughts drifted lazily instead of spiraling, and he let himself sink into the sensation of it—into the idea of not having to be careful, not having to anticipate what someone else wanted from him. He picked out a fisting video and watched as the top commanded the muscular guy to get into the stirrups and the scene shifted. The guy was now dripping and stretched as the top pulled a massive black dildo out of his ass, and quickly replaced it with his black gloved first. The guy groaned as the top spit in his mouth, calling him a good boy. He swallowed, adding another finger while admitting something quietly to himself that he rarely said out loud: it was easier to want things when he was a little drunk. Easier to imagine letting go. Easier to pretend, just for a few minutes, that being wanted like this could be uncomplicated. His phone slipped from his hand onto the bed as he closed his eyes briefly, breathing through the haze, focusing on the sensation of his battered hole being stretched open again as he mentally put himself in the place of the bottom guy.. The storm outside surged again, wind rattling the window like impatient fingers, but he barely noticed. His attention had turned inward, wrapped around thoughts he usually pushed away during the day. He wasn’t thinking about love. He wasn’t thinking about relationships. He was thinking about control—or the lack of it. About how nice it might feel to stop making decisions altogether. To stop bracing himself for rejection. To let something else take over, even if only for a moment. The thought unsettled him enough that he opened his eyes again, heart thudding a little faster. He shifted on the bed, restless now, and reached for his phone once more, scrolling without really seeing what passed beneath his thumb. “Just… calm down,” he murmured to himself, voice low and shaky. A sudden knock at his door made him flinch hard, phone slipping from his fingers and bouncing against the mattress. Paul sucked in a sharp breath, pulse racing. “Yeah?” he called, scrambling to sit up, pulling his pants up and wiping his hand on the sheets in a panic. “Who is it?” The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have. The silence stretched just long enough for Paul to wonder if he’d imagined the knock. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the mattress creaking softly beneath him, and cleared his throat. “Hello?” he called again, louder this time. “Who is it?” The handle turned. Derek leaned into the doorway with an easy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The hall light framed him in a thin yellow outline, making the rest of him look oddly dim, like the shadows clung too closely to his shoulders. He looked relaxed—almost loose—swaying faintly as if he’d had one drink too many. “Hey Paul,” Derek said. “You… busy?” Paul blinked. “Uh. Just… sleeping?” He pulled the covers closer around himself, then frowned. “What’s up?” Derek’s gaze drifted past him into the room, unfocused, as if he were looking at something that wasn’t there. “Need a hand downstairs,” he said after a beat. “Kitchen stuff. Noah was sleepwalking in there and I need to get him back to bed. It’ll just take a minute.” The way he said Paul’s name—Paul, not Porkchop—made Paul pause. Derek almost never used it. The familiarity felt wrong in his mouth, too deliberate. Paul opened his mouth to comment on it, then hesitated. Derek was older. Vice President. Noah’s cousin. If he needed help, it was probably easier just to go. “Yeah. Okay,” Paul said slowly. “Give me a sec.” Derek nodded once, already turning away. His footsteps retreated down the hall without waiting for an answer. Paul sat there for a moment, heart thudding, trying to shake the strange feeling crawling up his spine. He grabbed his phone and flicked on the flashlight, the narrow beam cutting a clean path through the dark as he stood. The house felt cooler than before, the warmth from earlier draining away like someone had cracked a window somewhere. He followed Derek down the stairs, the beam bobbing slightly with each step. The living room was empty now, couches abandoned, the TV a black mirror reflecting nothing. The storm outside pressed against the walls, wind moaning through the frame like it was searching for a way in. At the bottom of the stairs, Paul slowed. The basement door stood ajar—just a few inches—breathing out a thin ribbon of cold air that raised goosebumps along his arms. It smelled damp, metallic, and faintly chemical, like old pipes and something sharper layered beneath. “Derek?” Paul called, uneasy. “Where’s Noah? Were you able to get him to wake up?” Derek stood near the kitchen threshold, back to him. He turned slowly, smile still fixed in place, eyes glassy and distant. For a split second, Paul thought he saw something dark flicker behind Derek’s reflection in the microwave door. He took a step forward. Something warm and wet struck his face without warning. Paul gasped as the sensation spread—slick, clinging, burning faintly as it seeped across his skin. His flashlight clattered to the floor, the beam spinning wildly as dizziness slammed into him. The world tilted violently, his stomach lurching as heat surged through his chest and down his limbs. “Oh—shit—” he tried to say, but the words tangled and fell apart. It felt like inhaling something impossibly strong, like his head had been dunked into a haze that stripped his thoughts down to their softest edges. His knees buckled. The floor rushed up to meet him. As he collapsed onto the kitchen tile, vision swimming, Paul managed to look up one last time. Derek loomed over him, swaying gently, smile widening just a fraction too much. Then a shape moved behind him—tall, broad, impossibly dark—and strong arms lifted Paul from the floor as if he weighed nothing at all. The last thing Paul saw before the fog swallowed him completely was the kitchen filling with silhouettes that did not belong in any house built by human hands. --- Paul came back to himself in fragments. First the cold—tile pressing against his back, leeching heat from his skin. Then the smell: old beer, something metallic, and beneath it all a faint, acrid sharpness that made the back of his throat prickle. His eyes fluttered open, vision swimming, the ceiling light above him reduced to a dull halo. He was on the kitchen table. That realization arrived slowly, accompanied by the distant clatter of a bottle being set down somewhere nearby. His clothes were gone—when that registered, a weak rush of embarrassment flickered through him, dulled almost immediately by the lingering haze in his head. Panic tried to rise, but it met resistance, like it was pushing through syrup. He swallowed hard. “D-Derek…?” The name came out thin, barely audible. Figures stood around him. At first, his brain insisted they were frat brothers—tall silhouettes, broad shoulders—but the illusion fractured as his vision steadied. These weren’t people. Their bodies were too large, too symmetrical, their movements too fluid and deliberate. Skin the color of wet ink caught the low light, glossy and smooth like polished rubber stretched tight over muscle. Horns rose from their heads in sweeping curves and jagged points, casting warped shadows across the cabinets and walls. Paul’s breath hitched. His mouth opened, then closed again, soundless. His thoughts skidded uselessly, failing to form a coherent response to what he was seeing. One of the figures stepped closer, looming at his side. The air seemed to thicken with its presence, pressing down on his chest. Another followed, then another, until the kitchen felt impossibly crowded, as if the walls had crept inward. A voice echoed—not through the air, but inside his head, reverberating with layered depth. “Patch.” The name struck like a bell. One of the creatures responded immediately, shifting forward with calm assurance. He was broader than the others, posture relaxed but unmistakably dominant, as if this space already belonged to him. Paul felt the weight of that attention settle over him, pinning him in place more effectively than any physical restraint. Patch tilted his head, studying Paul with open curiosity. A low chuckle rolled from him, the sound vibrating through the table beneath Paul’s back. “You already know what you like,” the voice murmured—heard and felt at once, threaded directly through Paul’s thoughts. “You just don’t like admitting it.” Paul’s chest rose and fell too quickly. He tried to speak, to protest, but only a thin, broken sound escaped him. Hands—large, careful, impossibly strong—adjusted his position, arranging him with unsettling familiarity. Paul’s gaze drifted helplessly to the edges of the room, where more of them stood watching. Some held bottles of beer, tipping them back casually, dark eyes never leaving him. Others were smoking cigars, the ends glowing in the dark. A sudden, dizzying realization cut through the fog. Derek stood among them. And Noah. Both smoking a cigar and drinking a beer. They leaned close, faces calm, almost gentle, eyes reflecting something Paul didn’t recognize anymore. Derek met his gaze and smiled—not cruelly, not kindly, but with the certainty of someone who had already crossed a line and wasn’t looking back. “Relax,” Derek whispered. “It’s easier if you do.” Noah nodded in agreement. “We did. And man, it feels fucking amazing.” The words hollowed Paul out. His fear faltered, replaced by a strange, aching confusion. If they were standing there—if they were like this—then whatever was happening to him wasn’t chaos. It was a process. Patch’s attention returned to him fully. A massive hand settled against Paul’s hip, not rough, not gentle—simply inevitable. “This one’s been waiting,” Patch said, tone almost conversational. “Even upstairs, he was waiting.” Paul squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head weakly. “Please… don’t hurt me.” A presence brushed against his mind—vast, patient, impossibly heavy. The Alpha. Even without seeing him clearly, Paul felt that authority settle over his thoughts, smoothing his panic, reshaping it into something quieter and more malleable. “You want this,” the Alpha’s voice echoed softly within him. “You asked for it in ways you don’t yet understand.” Paul’s breath stuttered. Memories surfaced unbidden—loneliness, longing, the desire to be taken seriously, to be wanted without conditions. The fog thickened, wrapping those thoughts in warmth until resistance felt pointless. Patch leaned closer, his shadow swallowing Paul’s torso. “We’ll take care of you,” he murmured. “Just let go.” Paul didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His thoughts drifted apart, pulled gently but relentlessly toward the dark certainty pressing in around him. The kitchen lights flickered for a brief second before blinking off again. And whatever Paul Carter had been clinging to began to slip away. Patch did not rush. That was the first thing Paul noticed—dimly, through the haze pressing against his thoughts. Where the others moved with a predatory stillness, Patch moved with patience, like someone following a familiar set of steps. The kitchen felt less like a room now and more like a prepared space, every surface humming with a low, almost inaudible resonance. Patch’s attention stayed fixed on Paul as if nothing else existed. The others receded to the edges of Paul’s awareness—present, watching, but no longer the focus. Even Derek and Noah seemed to fade slightly, their shapes blurring as Patch’s presence sharpened. “You don’t have to fight,” Patch said, voice threading directly into Paul’s mind. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. “Your friends already learned what happens when you do.” Paul swallowed, throat dry. His fear had not vanished, but it had thinned, stretched out into something softer and more uncertain. He felt exposed—not just physically, but emotionally, like every private thought he’d tried to bury upstairs had been pulled into the open. Patch’s hand traced a slow line along Paul’s side, not touching skin so much as skimming the air just above it. Wherever that attention passed, warmth bloomed, dulling the cold and sending a strange, calming heaviness through Paul’s limbs. “You want to be full,” Patch continued, almost gently. “You want to stop holding yourself together.” Paul shook his head weakly, though the denial felt automatic, unconvincing. His thoughts drifted back to the bed upstairs—the movie, the messages, the ache he hadn’t known how to name. The Alpha’s presence brushed against those memories, turning them over, reframing them. “You sought release,” the Alpha murmured, distant but unmistakable. “Patch will show you how.” The room seemed to tighten around that statement. Patch leaned closer, his shadow falling across Paul’s chest, and Paul felt the weight of attention settle over him completely. Something in Patch’s demeanor changed—not more aggressive, but more focused, like a craftsman beginning his work. Hands guided Paul’s posture, adjusting him with careful precision. Paul’s muscles wanted to tense, to resist—but the warmth spreading through him made it hard to remember why he should. Each movement felt inevitable, as though his body understood what his mind was still struggling to accept. “Breathe,” Patch instructed. Paul did. Shallow at first, then deeper, drawn along by the steady cadence of Patch’s voice. With every breath, the edges of his panic softened further. The kitchen sounds—the storm outside, the distant creak of the house—faded into a dull background hum. Patch’s attention pressed inward, not just on Paul’s body but on his thoughts, nudging them open. Images surfaced unbidden: being seen, being chosen, being used for something specific and purposeful. The loneliness that had gnawed at him upstairs twisted into something else entirely—a yearning to be shaped, to be told exactly what he was for. “You like being opened up,” Patch said, not accusing, not mocking—simply stating a truth as he understood it. “You like when someone knows you better than you know yourself.” Paul’s breath hitched. His denial caught in his throat and dissolved before it could form words. Derek and Noah leaned closer again, their voices soft, familiar. “It’s okay,” Derek murmured. “This part’s hard, but it doesn’t last.” “You’ll feel better after,” Noah added, eyes bright with something unreadable. “We did. It feels so fucking good.” Paul’s gaze flicked between them, confusion and a fragile hope tangling together. If they could stand there—changed, calm—then maybe what was happening to him wasn’t just destruction. Maybe it was becoming. Patch felt the shift immediately. A low, satisfied sound vibrated through him. “There,” he said. “That’s it.” The Alpha’s presence pressed down once more, sealing the moment. “Begin.” Patch moved with certainty then, initiating the ritual in earnest. Paul watched as his boxers were ripped away, and with a loud wet sound, a glob of whatever had hit his face suddenly impacted his battered hole, dripping and slightly burning as hit got into the small tears in the flesh. He felt as his hole immediately relaxed, like it had the night before when the guy had him huffing poppers and riding his cock. He watched as Patch’s hands went into the same shape as the fisting top’s did in the video and suddenly was pushing deep inside him, twisting and pushing, his ass burning as he choked out a startled gasp. He felt as Patch’s fingers began to spread out and stretch him further, tears streaming down his face as he felt like he was tearing in half, his hole impossibly stretched to accommodate the abuse when he felt it. Patch pushed in and with an audible plop his massive fist suddenly slammed deep inside him, his asshole clenching in response as he tried to let out a loud screaming sob, only to be stopped by Noah and Derek holding him down and clamping their strangely too strong hands down on his mouth. Each smiling as they deeply inhaled their cigars. Paul’s thoughts fractured under the pressure—not shattering all at once, but peeling away in layers. Fear bled into sensation. Sensation into acceptance. Acceptance into something dangerously close to need. He gasped, gripping the edge of the table as the room seemed to tilt around him. The warmth inside him flared, spreading, reshaping him from the inside out. He felt smaller somehow—lighter—like he was being hollowed out to make room for something else. Suddenly, Patch stepped closer and shoved his monstrous dick in beside his hand. Paul sobbed, his mind reeling from the pain as his asshole felt like he was giving birth. Patch easily began to fuck his ass, drolling more saliva into his ass as he began to fuck his hand inside of Paul. Suddenly, he felt as Patch shuddered forward, and a burning sensation began to spread through his guts, the pain suddenly giving into deep pleasure as he felt his legs begin to quiver. Patch quickly pulled out and began to shove his arm deep inside of Paul, who was now panting and shaking, feeling as his body began to relax and surrender, until suddenly he looked down and saw Patch’s fist pushing upwards, deep inside him and making his stomach bulge obscenely. He swore he could feel the sharp claws on the fingers scratching his insides, as more and more pleasure flooded him and made him groan. WIthout warning, Patch devoured his leaking cock whole, and after a few quick sucks, Paul began to shoot without warning, feeling as his ass tried pitifully to clench down on the forearm burning deeply in his ruined guts. Patch continued to nurse on his cock until he finally finished coming and pulled out his fist with a loud wet plop. He stayed close, steady, guiding him through it. “Good,” he murmured. “Let it happen.” And despite everything—despite the cold table, the watching figures, the impossible reality pressing in—Paul felt himself letting go. The change in the room was immediate. Paul felt it before he understood it—like the air itself had thickened, pressing inward, drawing every sound and movement into a single, heavy focus. Patch slowed, his motions easing to a deliberate stillness, head lowering a fraction in deference. Around them, the other figures shifted subtly, attention snapping toward the same point. The Alpha had moved closer. Paul didn’t see him at first. He felt him—an immense gravity settling across his thoughts, steady and inescapable. The warmth coiling through Paul’s body deepened, no longer frantic or disorienting, but purposeful, as if something inside him had finally found the rhythm it wanted. “Enough,” the Alpha’s voice murmured, resonant and calm. Not a command shouted across the room— a certainty placed gently into Paul’s mind. Patch withdrew his hands and stepped aside without hesitation. Paul’s chest rose and fell too quickly. His thoughts drifted, then snagged on the Alpha’s presence like fabric on a hook. Every instinct he had left screamed that this was the moment he should fight harder—but the scream faded, smoothed over by the steady pressure pressing against him. The Alpha came fully into view. He was larger than the others by far, horns sweeping upward in ornate, impossible curves. His form radiated heat and authority, the faint glow beneath his skin pulsing in time with the low hum vibrating through the room. When his gaze settled on Paul, it felt less like being looked at and more like being measured. “You are afraid,” the Alpha said—not unkindly. “And you want it anyway.” Paul swallowed. The truth of it landed with startling clarity. His fear was still there, coiled tight in his chest—but beneath it lay something heavier, older. A longing he hadn’t known how to name upstairs, alone in his bed, staring at a phone that never gave him what he wanted. “I didn’t mean—” Paul started, then faltered as the Alpha’s presence brushed his thoughts aside. “Intent is not required,” the Alpha replied. “Desire is.” Paul’s breath shuddered. His resistance, already worn thin, finally tore. He felt it happen—felt something inside him loosen and slip free, drifting toward the Alpha’s steady pull. Images surfaced unbidden: himself empty of doubt, shaped with purpose, no longer bracing for rejection or disappointment. No longer waiting to be chosen—already claimed. Him being reshaped and perfected. “I…” His voice cracked, barely more than a breath. “I just don’t want to be alone anymore.” The Alpha’s attention softened—not gentler, but more precise. “Then you will not be.” A massive hand settled against Paul’s chest, radiating heat that sank straight into his bones. His body arched instinctively beneath the touch, not from pain but from recognition, as if this contact completed a circuit that had been waiting to close. Patch watched closely, satisfaction evident even in stillness. Derek and Noah leaned in, eyes bright, reverent. The Alpha’s voice filled Paul’s mind completely now. “Let go of what you were.” “There is nothing left for you there.” Paul’s thoughts unraveled at the edges, memories losing their sharpness—faces blurring, words losing meaning. The ache that had followed him for months from rejection after rejection dissolved into a warm, spreading certainty. “Yes,” he whispered, surprising himself with how easily the word came. “Okay.” The Alpha’s presence enveloped him fully, sealing that choice in place. “Good,” the voice murmured. “Then we will finish.” The room pulsed once, like a living thing drawing breath. He watched and held his legs up, waiting as his new master stepped forward and with one simple push, buried itself deep inside him and began to fuck him hard and fast. And Paul surrendered to it. The Alpha let out a growl and began to cum deep inside him, flooding his tattered and ruined guts with its black foul cum. Paul could feel as it flooded his body, his mind rolling in pleasure as thoughts of being chained up in a sling, countless men flooding his guts and working the loads deep inside his ass with both hands up to the shoulder. His mind shifted and he was being walked around with a chain around his neck, letting men piss and cum inside his gaping ass, held open by a metal ring. Mindlessly thanking the men as he felt his precum dribble out of the cockcage around his locked up meat. The moment Paul gave in, the room seemed to exhale. He began to cum uncontrollably, covering his chest and stomach with rope after rope of cum, watching as each of his new brothers, Noah and Derek included, descended upon him, feasting on his still fresh and untainted cum, his body almost seeming desperate to rid itself of the nourishing liquid to give way for his body to start making its own tainted cum. The pressure that had been bearing down on him did not vanish—but it changed. Where it had once crushed and disoriented, it now settled into something colder and steadier, like chains locking into place. The Alpha withdrew his hand, not because Paul was free, but because the work had been done. Derek stepped forward and placed a mostly smoked cigar in his mouth, mentally telling him to suck hard and deep on it, that it would make him feel even better. Paul’s breathing slowed, his virgin lungs sucking in and absorbing the thick smoke as his body began to subtly change. He lifted his legs up and held his gaping ass open and begged each of his new brothers, including the two newest ones, Derek and Noah, to shoot their tainted loads inside him, smiling happily as each one shot inside the gaping crater of his ass. His thoughts, once frantic and spiraling, dulled into a heavy calm. Memories of upstairs—the movie, the bed, the ache in his chest—felt distant, like scenes from a life he’d watched rather than lived. He tried to summon the sharpness of fear again and found only a faint echo. Patch straightened, satisfied. “It’s set,” he rumbled, the words carrying weight beyond language. “He’s already begun to change.” The Alpha regarded Paul for a long moment, eyes unreadable, presence immense. Then, with a subtle nod, he stepped back into the shadows. The other figures followed his lead, retreating slightly, their attention loosening now that the ritual’s core was complete. Paul sagged where he lay, exhaustion rolling through him in deep, irresistible waves. His body felt warm, heavy, and strangely right, as though something inside him had been rearranged into a shape it preferred. He realized—dimly—that he wasn’t afraid anymore. He, too, would grow massive horns, his body losing all its fat and instead covered in massive muscles and skin black. That realization should have terrified him. Instead, it brought relief. The Alpha knelt briefly beside him, tilting Paul’s head with a firm but careful hand. “Rest now,” he said. “You’ll wake when you’re ready to spread our gift. Relax and let the changes happen.” The words sank deep. Darkness folded in, thick and quiet, carrying with it the faint hum of something alive beneath his skin. Paul’s last conscious thought slipped away as easily as breath: I won’t be alone anymore.

@Pozzible I also enjoy reading Nifty…. Sometimes I am just in the mood for those stories I hope you will let us know when you post it and what name we should be looking for good luck with your project!

Chapter 5: Cum Dempsey Zach Dempsey woke with that dull, insistent pressure low in his abdomen—the kind that dragged him out of sleep before his brain had time to catch up. For a few seconds, he lay there staring at the ceiling, disoriented, listening to the wind scrape against the house. The storm sounded farther away than before, muted, like the snow had swallowed more than just noise. He groaned quietly and rolled onto his side, pushing himself upright. The room felt colder than it should have, the air stale and unmoving. His phone lay dark on the nightstand, useless. Somewhere downstairs, something hissed softly—static, maybe, or an old appliance cycling on. “Great,” he muttered. He swung his legs out of bed and padded across the room, pushing open the bathroom door with a practiced hand. As the light flicked on, he felt a small, irrational wave of gratitude wash over him. At least this was his. Being fraternity secretary came with exactly two perks: endless emails and meeting notes—and the room upgrade. His own bathroom. No waiting in line. No mystery puddles. No drunk pledges fumbling with the lock at three in the morning. At the time, it had felt like a joke reward. Right now, half-asleep and uncomfortable, it felt like a blessing. He took care of business quickly, shoulders slumping as the tension eased. For a moment, everything felt normal again—just another night holed up in the frat house during a snowstorm, too much beer, too many movies. As he washed his hands, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked tired. Pale. His eyes lingered on himself a second longer than usual, a faint prickle of unease crawling up his spine for reasons he couldn’t quite place. The light flickered. Zach frowned. “Seriously?” It steadied again, but the feeling didn’t go away. He shut the bathroom light off and stepped back into his room, the hallway beyond dim and unevenly lit, faint pulses of light flickering at the edges like the house couldn’t decide whether it wanted power or not. As he headed toward the stairs, the quiet hit him again. Phi Alpha Gamma was never this still. Halfway down, he paused. The sound was clearer now—not just static. A low, irregular crackle from the living room, like a television tuned to nothing. He frowned. Someone must’ve fallen asleep downstairs again. Or forgotten to shut something off. Rubbing his face, blinking hard to clear the fog from his eyes, Zach continued down. The living room came into view, dim and strange. The Christmas tree lights blinked erratically, some glowing steady, others flickering like they were struggling to stay lit. The TV was on. Pure static filled the screen, bathing the room in a harsh, sickly glow. Zach stepped fully into the living room, unease creeping up his spine. “Guys?” he called softly, though he already knew no one would answer. The static crackled louder. As he reached toward the TV to shut it off, a sudden chill swept across the back of his neck—sharp and intimate, like someone had leaned close and exhaled. Zach froze. Slowly, heart beginning to thud, he started to turn around— And then something wet and burning struck his face. The impact stole his breath. Whatever hit Zach’s face was thick and warm, splattering across his eyes and mouth with a sharp, chemical sting that burned before it numbed. He cried out, the sound choking off as his vision blurred instantly, the world smearing into light and shadow. “What the—” He staggered backward, hands flying up to wipe his face, but the sensation only spread. Heat surged through his chest, rushed down his arms and legs like something flooding his bloodstream all at once. His knees buckled. The living room tilted violently. Zach stumbled, heel catching on the edge of the rug, and crashed hard into the Christmas tree beside the TV. Ornaments shattered against the floor, glass popping and crunching under his weight as branches snapped and lights tangled around his shoulders. The static from the TV roared louder, drowning out his panicked breathing. He tried to push himself upright. His arms didn’t listen. The heat deepened, heavy and suffocating now, wrapping his thoughts in cotton. His head swam, pressure building behind his eyes as if someone were squeezing his skull from the inside. The last thing he registered clearly was the tree lights blinking erratically above him, red and green smearing together into a nauseating blur. Then his legs gave out completely. Zach slumped sideways, sliding down the broken tree and onto the floor. His cheek pressed against cold hardwood. The static softened into a distant hiss, like waves pulling back from shore. As darkness closed in, he had one disjointed thought— This doesn’t make any sense. And then everything went black. Zach surfaced slowly, like something being dragged up through deep water. At first, there was only sensation—an all-over ache, sharp in some places, dull in others. His skin burned faintly, as if scraped raw, and the air felt too thick in his lungs. When he tried to swallow, his throat protested, dry and sore. His eyes fluttered open. Light stabbed at them immediately, harsh and flickering. He groaned and squeezed them shut again, waiting for the dizziness to pass. When he dared open them once more, the living room came back into focus in warped fragments: the overturned Christmas tree, broken ornaments scattered like ice across the floor, the TV still glowing with static. He was on his back. That realization landed with a jolt. He tried to sit up—and froze. Something was wrong. The air felt wrong against his skin. Too open. Too exposed. Panic flared as he looked down and saw that he was naked, his body marked with thin scratches that crisscrossed his chest, arms, and legs. They stung sharply now, as if freshly irritated, and each breath made them burn a little more. “What…?” His voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper. A shadow fell over him. Zach’s heart slammed against his ribs as he forced his gaze upward. A figure stood above him—tall, impossibly broad, its skin pitch-black and gleaming as though polished. Long, demonic horns curved from its head, framing a face pulled into a slow, predatory smile. When it breathed, Zach could hear it clearly—deep, wet, deliberate. A name slid into his mind without warning, not spoken aloud but placed there, heavy and unavoidable. “Pixel.” Zach gasped, clutching at the floor as another wave of dizziness rolled through him. The figure leaned closer, studying him with open amusement. Then it spat again. The saliva struck his chest and face, seeping instantly into the scratches. The pain flared white-hot—then softened, spreading warmth through his limbs and fog through his thoughts. His head buzzed, the edges of reality blurring as the TV’s static glow pulsed brighter. His fear dulled, replaced by a thick, sluggish confusion. Pixel watched him carefully as the effects took hold, its grin widening. Zach tried to form a thought—run, scream, fight—but the words slid away before he could grab them. His muscles felt heavy, uncooperative, as though his body had already decided something his mind hadn’t caught up to yet. The static hissed. The lights flickered. And Pixel reached down, fingers closing around Zach’s shoulder with terrifying ease, pulling him upright into a seated position. Zach’s head lolled slightly as he tried to stay conscious, tried to understand. His vision swam—and then he saw them. Figures standing nearby. Zach’s vision wavered, then slowly sharpened. At first, he thought he was hallucinating—his brain scrambling to make sense of shadows and light. The static from the TV cast a pale, stuttering glow across the living room, illuminating figures standing just beyond him. Tall ones. Massive ones. Black and muscular in an unnatural way. And then— Familiar ones. His breath caught. Derek stood near the couch, posture relaxed, head slightly tilted, watching Zach with an expression that might once have been concern. Noah was beside him, closer to the Christmas tree, his gaze unfocused but calm. Evan hovered near the edge of the room, skin pale, shoulders slumped, a faint, acrid smell clinging to him that Zach didn’t want to think too hard about. They were all naked. They were all smiling. Not wide, manic smiles—but soft ones. Content. Reassuring. As if this was normal. As if Zach was the one who didn’t belong. “Guys?” Zach tried, his voice weak and unsteady. “What… what’s going on?” No one answered him out loud. Instead, Pixel shifted closer, its presence blotting out part of the static glow. Behind it, more of the horned figures stood in a loose circle, their bodies gleaming in the flicker of the lights. They didn’t rush. They didn’t grab him. They simply waited. Derek knelt first. The motion was smooth, deliberate. Noah followed, then Evan, each of them lowering themselves in front of one of the towering figures without hesitation. Their movements weren’t frantic or forced—they were practiced. Familiar. Zach’s stomach twisted. “What are you doing?” he whispered. Derek glanced back at him briefly, eyes bright with something Zach didn’t recognize anymore. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You just haven’t gotten there yet.” The words sent a chill through Zach that had nothing to do with the cold. Pixel’s grip tightened slightly on his shoulder, grounding him in place as his head swam again. The room felt heavier, the air thick with a pressure that pressed inward from all sides. The Alpha’s presence brushed against Zach’s thoughts—not fully there yet, but close enough to feel like a shadow passing behind his eyes. You see them, a voice murmured faintly in his mind. You see what waits for you. Zach shook his head weakly, tears pricking at his eyes. “No. No, I don’t—this isn’t real.” Pixel leaned closer, its smile widening as it loomed over him. The scratches on Zach’s skin burned again, pulsing in time with the static’s hiss. “This is the part where you watch,” Pixel seemed to say—not aloud, but somewhere deeper, where words weren’t necessary. The other figures continued their ritual movements. He watched in horror as each of his friends, all straight as far as he knew before this night began to hungrily suck on each of the monster’s cocks, jacking their own cocks in time to fucking their mouths. Zach squeezed his eyes shut, heart hammering. He didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to understand. But the Alpha’s presence pressed closer, forcing awareness back into him, prying his eyes open against his will. You will witness, the Alpha whispered. So that you know what you are becoming. Zach sobbed, the sound small and broken, as the circle closed around him. And for the first time since waking up, he understood with terrifying clarity— He wasn’t here by accident. The pressure in the room intensified. Zach felt it settle behind his eyes first—a slow, invasive weight that made his vision pulse and dim at the edges. Pixel’s hand tightened at the back of his neck, fingers spreading like a brace, keeping him upright as his thoughts began to slip. Then the Alpha arrived. It did not step forward so much as enter him. The presence filled Zach’s mind completely, blotting out the static, the room, even his own breathing. The voice that followed was vast and calm, layered with something ancient and patient. You are the next to receive our gift. Zach gasped, clutching uselessly at Pixel’s arm. “No—please—” His words tangled and fell apart before they reached his lips. His tongue felt thick, uncooperative. The Alpha pressed deeper. The living room dissolved. Images slammed into Zach’s mind—too vivid, too sharp to be memories, too intimate to be dreams. He saw Derek first: the moment his resistance broke, the instant fear gave way to acceptance. Then Noah, then Evan, each vision unfolding relentlessly, one after another. Each transformation lingered. Each surrender was felt. Zach sobbed, shaking his head, but the Alpha did not relent. The images intensified, forcing him to witness every step—every hesitation, every rationalization, every final moment where they stopped fighting. You watched them leave you behind, the Alpha murmured. Now you will understand why. Pain flared behind Zach’s eyes—not physical exactly, but deep and disorienting, like his thoughts were being stretched too far. He cried out, the sound breaking as Pixel forced his attention forward again. Pixel grabbed his head and slowly grabbed his massive, inky black cock and began to jack himself, clawed hands wrapping around the throbbing veiny dick as his massive balls swung almost hypnotically. Zach was unable to look away, almost feeling at times hypnotized by the motions. With a sudden growl, he felt and saw as the corrupted black cum shot powerfully at him, splattering across his skin and into his eyes, feeling as the cuts and his eyes began to burn with an intense fire, followed by an almost soothing sensation, his mind reeling and stuttering as he tried to blink the foul liquid away. The Alpha’s voice cut through everything. Submit, or I will show you more. Zach’s breathing came in short, panicked bursts. “Stop,” he pleaded. “I can’t—please—” The pressure increased. The visions returned, harsher now. Not just his friends—but himself. Reflections of what he could become, what he would be shaped into if he resisted. Endless repetition. Endless awareness. Zach screamed. Or rather, he tried to. The sound tore free of him, raw and helpless. It came out instead like a tiny screech. Tears streamed down his face as his mind buckled under the strain. He felt himself sliding—fear unraveling into desperation, desperation into a frantic need for it to just end. “I’ll—” His voice broke completely. “I’ll do it. I’ll—just make it stop.” The Alpha’s presence stilled. For the first time since it had entered his mind, the pressure eased—just enough to let him breathe. Good, the voice said, satisfied. Now you see. Allow it to happen. The room rushed back into focus around him, but it no longer felt solid. Everything seemed filtered, muted, like he was observing the world through thick glass. Pixel leaned closer, approval radiating from him. He slowly began to slide his large cock across his face, the skin rubbing more and more of the cum into the cuts, when he saw each of his corrupted friends sit up and begin to spit the foul cum in their mouths onto his face, each cut burning in a strangely comforting way as they began to jack off on his face and chest as well. He was shocked when each seemed to shoot their loads on him in unison, their cum looking less black, but still having a strange effect as it got into his eyes, Zach sagged, exhaustion crashing over him in heavy waves. His thoughts slowed, the sharp edges of fear blunted into something dull and pliable. The scratches on his skin burned faintly, then cooled, tingling in a way that felt wrong but strangely grounding. His jaw fell open, slack and relaxed as each frat brother dragged their cock across his face and shoved easily into his mouth. His mind felt surprised but not shocked when he opened even larger with an almost hunger to accommodate both Derek and his cousin Noah at the same time. The Alpha withdrew slightly, its presence lingering like an imprint. You will remember this, it told him. And you will not forget how it felt to give in. You will enjoy replaying it in your mind over and over once you join us. Zach’s head lolled forward, consciousness wavering. He didn’t know how long he remained like that—caught between awareness and collapse—but when his eyes fluttered shut again, it wasn’t from defiance. It was from surrender. Zach felt himself being moved before he realized he had stopped resisting. Hands guided him—firm, unyielding, but not rushed—positioning his body with an unsettling familiarity. His limbs responded sluggishly, like they belonged to someone else now. Each attempt to tense or pull away dissolved into weakness before it could take shape. Pixel remained close, anchoring him, while the Alpha’s presence expanded until it filled every corner of Zach’s awareness. You are fighting yourself now, the Alpha murmured. There is nothing left to protect. Just lay back and enjoy the show. Zach whimpered, shaking his head, but the pressure behind his eyes intensified. The scratches across his skin burned again, flaring hot, then cooling as something dark seeped inward. He could feel himself changing—not all at once, but in small, horrifying increments, like pieces of him being overwritten one by one. His vision wavered, and he almost was shocked at what he saw, almost like viewing himself from outside his body. Slowly getting up, sitting down on the couch, and letting Derek and Evan lift up each of his legs, as Evan held his head forward, aimed directly at the Alpha who was now stepping forward, massive dick drooling and aimed directly at his exposed asshole. Each of his frat brothers slowly massaged the black cum into his skin, each cut looking angry and almost infected, as faint black veins began to creep outward, his skin taking on a greyish pallor around each cut. Suddenly, his mind was pulled back into his body as he felt the Alpha suddenly slammed into his ass. He gasped loudly, feeling as his asshole surrendered to the brutal assault, his stomach bulging obscenely as the Alpha’s cock dug deep inside him, his mind almost laughing at how this looked like the chest burster scene from Alien. The Alpha suddenly placed its clawed hand on his stomach and pressed down before slamming its cock into his ass hard, with Zach groaning as he felt something tear open inside him, and a sudden flood of pleasure flooded inside his body. The room pulsed with low sound. Zach’s thoughts fragmented, each memory losing clarity as it was touched. His name still existed—but it felt less important now, less solid. The things he worried about before—grades, schedules, being responsible—floated away like static washed from the screen. Instead, his mind floated, watching in awe and a sick delight as he could see the massive cock twitching inside him, as the Alpha slowly dragged its claws down his chest and stomach, each line welling with small pinpricks of blood as he watched his skin take an even greyer appearance before his eyes, each detail now in even greater detail and focus. The Alpha pressed deeper into his mind as it pulled out of his ass with a wet plop and its infected seed dripped out of him. Images rose unbidden: Zach kneeling, eyes black and skin grey, waiting, watching others break the way he was breaking now. The threat of his own horns trying to breach out of the skin on his skull. The fear those images once inspired no longer held their edge. Instead, they felt instructional. Inevitable. Strangely beautiful. This is where you belong, the Alpha said calmly. This is what you are for. Zach’s breath hitched. A sob tore loose—but it didn’t carry resistance anymore. It was empty. Exhausted. The fight drained out of him completely, leaving behind a hollow, receptive quiet. Suddenly, the other creatures… his new brothers his mind suddenly told him, walked up and surrounded him as Pixel suddenly knelt down and took him deep in his mouth, the too-sharp teeth dragging on the thin skin of cock, each scrape feeling like a wave of pleasure as each creature suddenly began to shoot load after load on his skin. He suddenly felt the urge to rub each load deep into the cuts, enjoying as he felt them entering him, reshaping him in ways he’d never known were possible. Suddenly, he shot his load, watching with happiness as Pixel greedily gulped down the last remaining part of him no longer corrupted. He groaned and pulled Pixel’s head down harder on his cock as he felt several large clawed fingers deep inside him, milking his prostate and making him continue to cum. Something sealed shut inside him, locking the last part of himself away. He smiled, watching as his release finally slowed to a dribble as Pixel released his cock from his mouth before pulling Pixel up and locking lips with him, sucking the remains of his untainted cum off the forked tongue. The burning across his skin dulled, replaced by a heavy warmth that sank into his bones. His thoughts slowed to a crawl, then smoothed into something eerily peaceful. He stopped trying to understand. Stopped trying to remember. The Alpha lingered a moment longer, ensuring the change held. Good, it said. You see clearly now. Zach’s eyes fluttered, unfocused. His body sagged as if all the tension of his analytical mind that had once defined him had finally been released. In its place was only the satisfaction of being allowed to watch and enjoy the destruction of his friends around him. Pixel withdrew, satisfied. The circle loosened. Zach slumped back against the couch, breathing slow and even, expression blank and serene. Whatever had once made him Zach Dempsey receded into the background, muted and distant. The TV static cut out abruptly as it was shut off. The living room lights steadied. And Zach drifted into unconsciousness, the overwrite complete.

It doesn’t matter if you’re choking and gagging. Get used to it. Just keep your mouth open and let him use your throat until he’s drained his balls. I love watching Drew choke on my cock. Yeah he can’t breathe when my balls are blocking his nose and my sperm is filling his throat but he’s only gotta hold his breath for 20 seconds until I’ve shot my entire load.

great comment. very informative and balanced.

Yes I get that too! Men will sometimes refer to the last time they bred me and I honestly do not remember them. It has become very rare that I remember a face. I think the true mark of a cum dump is the lack of connection. We just exist to serve men.

it was 12, when I was 16 I snuck into a adult theater. I blew 8 guy in the theater and 4 out back of the theater

I had met him on BBRTS a year earlier. He lived about two hours away, but there weren't many men where I lived, and his profile piqued my interest. It said he was 30, versatile, and it provided two photographs of a sexy dude with a nice cock in bed. HIV status: ask me. I contacted him with my bugchasing profile. He was interested, but said he didn’t know his status, adding that he preferred not to know so that he wasn't culpable of pozzing guys. We talked off and on for a few months trading fantasies. A re-occurring fantasy of his was that of fucking drunk college boys from the large school in his town and pozzing their asses with unmedicated cum. At the time I was mostly just fantasizing. I had taken an undetectable poz load once or twice a year earlier, and honestly wasn’t sure about this guy, but I knew I wasn’t going to drive two hours to find out if he was legit. And if he was poz and unmedicated, I wasn’t ready for that either. I lost track of him after about a while. A year later I spot him online again and by chance I would be driving near his town, so I contacted him. This time he didn’t hesitate to tell me he had recently been confirmed as POZ, and was still unmedicated. The last bloodwork had shown a viral load of 97,000. He mentioned he had been thinking of calling me, and so I found we ended-up talking about what he wanted to to do me. His voice was masculine and projected a cocky jock attitude. He told me to call him when I hit the road for my trip. A few weeks later, I was ready to drive. I called him after a few minutes on the road. He wanted to meet at a bookstore right off the highway. It wouldn’t add a minute to my trip. I was losing excuses to avoid his toxic load at the last minute, like on-the-fence chasers like me do sometimes. We talked for a few minutes then he said something that clinched it. He wanted to talk to me the entire way until I was at the bookstore, when I was 30 minutes away he would head towards it to meet. We perved for 30 minutes, my cock out and dripping precum as I drove. He wanted me inside a booth with a jock on ready to be pozzed. My heart pounded and I edged my cock as he told me about his latest escapades fucking his raw load into college boys. His favorite thing to do was fuck safe sex only bottoms. He bites the tip off of the condoms he uses, with his cock penetrating skin on skin while the ring and base of the condom remain in place. He relishes in the times the bottoms reach back to make sure there is a condom, feeling the latex ring and relaxing their holes to receive his death seed thinking they are safe from harm. I oozed precum as he told me of the many safe-sex boys to find themselves drunk, questioning if he came in their ass after being slammed full of his cock and cum. He assured them it was just extra lube he had used so his cock wouldn’t hurt them, and reminding them they saw and felt the condom. I was at the exit for the book store, so I telephoned him, saying I was pulling off the highway, and would be there shortly. He replied saying he was five minutes from the book store. We hung up as I parked. I was shaking with excitement as I tucked my cock into my waistband and went inside the metal building where I paid the admission fee and entered the video area. The video booth area was cleaner than any I had seen before. They looked brand new. There weren’t any gloryholes, and unfortunately, I was alone. I had asked him to be verbal so that others could know I was getting poz fucked. Maybe next time. I picked a booth and stripped my shirt and pants off, leaving me standing in a jock, athletic socks, and tennis shoes. He texted saying he was entering the store. The cracked booth door pulled open, he stepped in and closed it behind him. My dick was dripping precum all over the floor in a way it never had before. I dropped to my knees and pulled out his cock. It was about seven inches, decently thick, cut, with a big head. I licked his precum before deep-throating and working his cock. All the while complementing my skill at sucking his cock, he talked to me like the faggot slut I was, telling me I was going to submit to his toxic cock and get his AIDS strain I stood up and turned my hole towards his direction. I bent over and braced against the wall of the booth. He plunged his cock into my ass rough. His dirty talk was beautiful. Nonstop poz domination, telling me how I would succumb to and get sick from his unmedicated toxic poz seed. I ached for it and rocked my ass against him to take his cock deeper. He ground my ass like this for what seemed like 15 or 20 minutes, roughly handling my neg jock body, slamming me against the wall, tightening his hand around my neck as he made me beg for AIDS. He made me promise to stay off meds and pass it to college studs who will fall for my hot jock body, all while impaling me with his raw cock. He was ramping up to blowing his load of cum, and it was all I could to do hold my load in and wait for him to climax. I had been gripping my cock still the entire time, on the brink from the first penetration. As he grunted with the release of the first rope of toxic cum into my gut I pulled down on my cock, putting pressure on the skin on the head and shot all over the booth wall. His pace slowed and he continued to grind his cock in and out of my hole for another minute or so.. My post cum regret was quickly sinking in. Fucking idiot fag slut, taking unmedicated poz seed on purpose. This always happens. But this time was the shortest yet. I hurried out of the booth, but by the time I made it to my car I was hard. A minute after driving away I found myself texting him, making plans for my next seeding.

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I went to the park after dark in track pants, lubed up my hole, leaned again the rail on the bridge. It was extremely dark. After about a minute, a bear bro came up behind me and felt me up. I reached back and felt his cock through his shorts and I pushed them down, I played with the pre-cum on his cock head. He pulled down my track pants to find my pre-lubed hole, he guided his cock into my hole, he pushed me over forward to get good access. I realaised he is an old buddy of mine. It was hot to have his cock in my hole again, I love his full body contact, he is great at bear hugging.

I have no idea what the audience size was but when I was 18 I used to fuck outdoors, hidden by a small stand of trees in a park with a river on one side and a train embankment on the other side. Trains used to slide by slowly enough for passengers to get a good look at what we were doing.

Wow. Thank you all so much for the incredible feedback. Reading your comments, knowing you were right there with me, feeling that same mix of terror and excitement... it's a huge rush. It makes me want to dive back in and share what happened next. This next part is again fiction, but it's inspired directly by some of the encounters I've had in the last few days. Things are... escalating. And I need to get it out. Part 2: The Biker’s Offering You're 49. You have a successful job that you're good at, a life that looks stable and normal from the outside. You've been married to your wonderful husband for over ten years. He is, without a doubt, the man of your dreams, the man you want to grow old with. But, as it turned out over the years, you're both... well, you're both more bottoms. Your sex life gradually decreased to a beautiful, respectful zero. You have a weekend relationship, which means you live apart during the week. There's this unspoken agreement that you are exclusive on the weekends when you are together, but everyone is free to do what they want during the week. You have never, ever spoken about safe or bareback sex. But to you, it feels like you're expected to stay safe, even though there would be no risk for him if you didn't, given the complete lack of sex between you. Don't get it wrong, you truly love him and would never do anything to intentionally hurt him. This need... this is for you alone. It's your private addiction. So, the next day after the lunchtime encounter, with all its unknown risks, you're back at your desk. It's a lazy work day. At 11:30, you feel the urge to go to the toilet and take a big crap. As you sit there, feeling your ass extend, a sudden, powerful thought hits you. What if you took off for lunch a little longer? What if you went back to the same rest area? You are in your car before you've even fully processed the thought. When you get there, there's only one other car in the lot. An average-looking guy, a little younger than you, is leaning against it, smoking a cigarette. You stay in your car, figuring the woods are probably empty. Then the guy drops his cigarette, grounds it out with his boot, and starts walking towards the entrance to the woods. But he doesn't just walk. He turns around one last time and looks directly at you in your car. His eyes lock with yours through the windshield. It's an invitation. A challenge. Your hand moves on its own. You pull out your poppers. One deep sniff. The warmth starts to bloom. Two. The courage begins to surge. Three, four. The world dissolves into a haze of confident, chemically-induced lust. You're no longer a successful 49-year-old husband. You're a hunter. You open the car door and follow him into the trees. But as you walk, the memory of yesterday floods your mind. The memory of the young apprentice was so vivid, so powerful. But it was the question that was consuming you: "You are healthy???" Why the emphasis? He was so dominant, so unconcerned with anything but his own pleasure. Why did that one thing matter so much? And now, today, you're following this younger guy into the woods. The memory of that solitary orgasm, the one you had while contemplating your potential conversion, makes your own cock throb with anticipation. You find him in a small clearing. He turns, and you see the look in his eyes. He's not the apprentice. He's just a guy. A guy who saw a hungry man in a car and decided to take a chance. You walk up to him in the small clearing. The air is thick with unspoken need, a palpable humidity of desire. He's exactly as you first saw him: average, maybe a little soft around the middle, with a nervous energy that clashes with your poppers-fueled confidence. You open your belts – he yours, you his – the metallic clicks sounding loud in the quiet woods. You pull each other's cocks out. He has this average, long but thin hard uncut cock, the foreskin already slick with precum. You wank each other, the familiar rhythm a mechanical comfort, like a dance you both know the steps to but have no passion for. You touch each other, your hands exploring chests, arms, faces. Your faces get closer, your cheeks touching. His stubble rubbing against your own trimmed beard, a scratchy, intimate sound that should ignite you, but doesn't. You kiss. Your tongues mingle, a wet, desperate dance, but it feels like performance. You're trying to find the apprentice in him, the dominant spark from yesterday, but all you can taste is hesitation and a weak, coffee-flavored tongue. There's no spark, no fire. He is hard and leaking, his body clearly ready, but your own PA cock is not getting fully hard. It's a heavy, inert piece of metal and flesh, a barometer of your soul's disinterest. Something is not right. The chemistry is off, the connection is false. You're going through the motions, a ghost playing at being a slut. Dropping to your knees feels like a strategic move, a way to do something, to force the arousal. You take his thin cock in your mouth. It's easy to take, the length sliding over your tongue. You blow him, working your lips and tongue, trying to convince yourself that this is what you want. Your body is on its knees, but your mind is somewhere else, replaying the apprentice's almost brutal, 30-second fuck. This feels like a chore, like sucking on a piece of pasta instead of taking a hard, thick risk. But with every bob of your head, the feeling of wrongness grows stronger. This isn't the primal, risky act you crave. This feels... clinical. In the end, you pull off, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You separate, a silent, awkward agreement of failure. He zips up and walks away, disappearing towards the parking lot. While you were playing, another guy arrived and passed you, walking deeper into the woods. You're still horny, but the poppers effect is already gone, leaving you with only the bitter taste of frustration. You pull out your poppers and take a few more hits, the chemical rush washing over you again, trying to reignite the fire that's sputtering out. Then you look for him. You find him leaning against a large oak tree, looking like a character from a fairy tale. He's about 30, with a soft, round belly and a long, unkempt beard that frames a kind, gentle face. He seems approachable, safe. And a part of you hates him for it. You didn't come here for a gentle giant; you came here for a monster. You approach him. You grope each other's bulges. He pulls out his cock – a little nub of flesh, not even four inches hard, with a thick thatch of pubic hair. You wank him, your movements mechanical, but again, you can't get really hard. The frustration is mounting, a sour taste in your mouth. Again, you go on your knees, this time out of a desperate, last-ditch hope. A nice load of cum might stimulate you, might get you hard. You take him in your mouth. He tastes nice, clean, like freshly washed skin and the faint scent of shower lotion. The cleanliness is an insult. You want to taste sweat, and dirt, and the raw, unwashed scent of a man who lives on the edge. You want to taste danger, not fucking soap. It doesn't work. You are not a size queen, you tell yourself, but his cock just doesn't give you any pleasure, to scratch that deep, masochistic itch. There's no stretch, no burn, no feeling of being taken and used. Eventually, you pull off, mumbling an excuse. You separate, another wave of disappointment washing over you, cold and sharp. You're left standing there in the quiet woods, your knees dirty, your cock still half-limp, a profound sense of failure settling in. The hunger is still there, a roaring beast in your gut, but you've just tried to feed it salad. You came here seeking a risk, a transformation, and all you've found are two awkward, unsatisfying encounters. You came here to be used, to be filled, to be changed, and instead, you feel emptier than before. You contemplate driving back to work, your lunch break a complete and utter waste of time. At this point, you hear some cracking behind you. You turn around and see him. A guy around your age, a biker type in his leather gear. He's just standing there, directly staring at you, his arms crossed over his chest, a slow, knowing smile playing on his lips. He looks like the monster you were looking for. "Been watching you," he says, his voice a low, confident rumble. "I know you need more." You are magically attracted to him, a moth to a dangerous, hypnotic flame. You walk over, your feet moving as if pulled by an invisible string. He is pure dominance. He doesn't wait for you to speak. He grabs your crotch, his grip firm, possessive, a claim. He unzips you and pulls out your cock, his eyes fixing on your heavy PA. "Not so innocent as it seems," he chuckles approvingly. He opens the zipper of his leather pants. Wow, he is commando. He pulls out his own monster, a thick, curved beast with a PA even bigger than yours, a heavy circular barbell with two heavy-duty steel balls that look less like jewelry and more like ammunition, promising a unique kind of pleasure. He's going to fuck you. You know it. He knows it. But the memory of yesterday, the apprentice's question, the lingering risk, makes you nervous. "Condom?" you ask, your voice betraying your eagerness with a slight tremble. He just smiles, a slow, cruel twist of his lips. "I can wrap up," he says, reaching into his leather pocket and pulling out a foil packet. He dangles it between his fingers, a tiny, square tease. "I have one." He looks you dead in the eye, his gaze piercing through your chemically-induced haze. "But do you really want me to?" He lets the question hang in the air, heavy and toxic. "I don't need one..." The back-and-forth is a torture of its own. You, the man who took a load without a question yesterday, now hesitating. He, the dominant biker, giving you the choice, making you own your depravity. He slowly, deliberately tears open the foil packet. The sound is loud, sharp. He pulls out the thin rubber, holding it by the tip between his thumb and forefinger. He brings it to your face, not to put it on, but to taunt you with it. He holds it under your nose. You can smell the sterile, latex scent, a smell of safety that now smells like cowardice. "You seem a little tense," he says, his voice a low purr. He puts the condom away and pulls out his own small, brown bottle of poppers. "Let's clear your head." He twists off the cap and places the bottle directly against your right nostril. "Five deep sniffs," he commands. "Don't you dare lose any." You inhale, the chemical rush flooding your system, stronger than your own. He moves to your left nostril. "And five more." You obey, your head spinning, the world dissolving into a warm, pulsing haze of pure submission. He caps the bottle and puts it away. "Now," he says, his voice cutting through the fog. "Tell me. Do you need a condom? Or do you want my cock raw?" Your addiction to the risk wars with your fear, but the poppers have already won the war for you. You can't form the word. You just shake your head, a barely perceptible motion of surrender. He spins you around and bends you over a fallen log. He presses the thick head of his cock against your hole, but you're too tight, too tense, even for the chemically-induced relaxation. His massive tool won't go in. "Hmm," he grunts, frustrated. He looks down at the ground and spots something. He leans over and picks up a used, tied-off condom lying in the dirt. "Might need a condom after all," he says, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He holds it up. It's not just full; it's heavy, and you can see a slight steam rising from it in the cool air. "Still warm," he chuckles, a dark, appreciative sound. "Someone just got lucky." He unties the knot and a thick, milky glob of another man's fresh cum drips out. He squeezes the contents onto his own massive shaft, using the stranger's still-warm seed as lube to finally, brutally, force his way inside you. The sensation is overwhelming. The stretch, the burn, the knowledge of what's inside you, what's now being used to open you up for him. This isn't just some old, ghostly load; this is a fresh deposit, a living offering you're being coated with. He doesn't fuck you for 30 seconds. He fucks you for what feels like an eternity, his thick PA-studded cock dragging against your insides, the hard steel of the oversized barbell's balls slapping against your prostate with every thrust, a constant, stimulating, punishing presence. Ten minutes, fifteen, your legs bent over the log, starting to shake and weaken from the strain. The poppers haze begins to lift, the edges of reality sharpening. Your consciousness and nervousness come flooding back. "Are you gonna cum?" you finally pant, a new kind of panic in your voice. "Please... pull out before you cum." He just chuckles, his rhythm never faltering. "Too late," he grunts, his voice calm and controlled. "I already shot twice. This is number three." The revelation sends a shockwave through your system. The sheer, unrestrained power of it. The endless stamina. The endless seed. The fact that he's already been cumming inside you, silently, while you were lost in the sensation. That's it. You can't hold back. You cry out as your own cock explodes, untouched, creaming yourself all over the leaves and dirt beneath you. As your orgasm tears through you, you become vaguely aware of movement in the periphery. A few more guys have appeared, drawn by the sounds of raw, animalistic sex. They're on their lunch breaks, looking for a quick encounter, but they've stumbled upon something else entirely. They don't dare join. They don't dare disturb this powerful scene. They just watch from a safe distance, their own hard cocks in their hands, wanking slowly as they witness the biker claiming you. You're no longer just a participant; you're the main event in a grim, outdoor theater. A part of you wanted to shrink away, to hide from their eyes. But a bigger, darker part of you preened. You weren't just being fucked; you were being worshipped. Every one of them was wishing they were you, or wishing they were him. He fucks you through your orgasm, prolonging it, owning it, then finally, with a deep, satisfied groan, he empties his third, massive load deep inside you, mixing with the stranger's fresh cum he used as lube. He stays inside you for a long moment, his chest heaving, marking his territory. The small crowd of onlookers melts back into the woods, their own needs satisfied by the show. You pull off, your legs trembling, your body buzzing, your mind completely blown. You get dressed in a daze, your movements clumsy and slow. You turn to leave, but you have to look back. You have to see him one more time. He's tucking his junk back in his leathers, and as he does, you see it. The lower part of a tattoo, right above his cock. The lines are sharp, deliberate. Arcs beginning their menacing descent towards his pubic hair, pointing to the magnificent cock that just owned you. The rest of it is hidden by his belt and jacket, but it's clearly part of a larger, intimidating design. He catches you staring. He zips up his fly slowly, the sound loud and final in the quiet woods. He walks over to you, his presence overwhelming. He doesn't touch you. He just looks you up and down, a predator assessing its kill. He reaches out, not to touch you, but to pluck a single leaf from your hair, letting it fall to the ground. It's a small, intimate gesture of ownership, a claim being staked. He leans in close, his voice a low, possessive whisper right next to your ear. "If you want more of that," he says, his breath hot against your skin, "you know where to find us." He pulls back, gives you that same slow, knowing smile, and turns, walking away without a backward glance. The words hang in the air, a challenge and a permission slip all in one. He's not telling you to come back. He's telling you that he's here, and the choice to be claimed again is yours. And as you stand there, the phantom feeling of his load already warming you from the inside, you both know what you'll choose.

Thursday 10 pm Time flies when you’re having fun. Though sometimes, and this is when you know you’re riding the right amount of drugs, when I’m high and in the moment, time seems to stop, and all I can focus on is the cock, mouth, or hole in front of me. This is what I love about chemsex, the way it focuses your entire being on men and fucking. It’s not about letting it run my life, but using it to bring my buddies and me pleasure. It’s a balance, and I love teaching my bottom boys how to manage it and not lose themselves. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love that we all get twisted, but I want them to learn how we all watch out for each other. I must have lapped at Drew’s smooth hole for almost an hour now. Sticking my tongue in, slowly teasing it open, spitting on the hole, taking my time to lap it up, making slow circles around the outside ring. Sometimes I reach up to work on his hard cock, edging him. Meanwhile, Jack loves playing with Drew’s fresh nips, teaching them how to be even more sensitive to the touch. Drew’s cock has been leaking precum like a fountain, and it was hot watching Jack grab it from Drew’s dick and whatever was on his stomach, and bring his precum-covered hand for Drew to lap up. I notice that the front of my jeans is wet from my own leaking cock. I’m sure Jack’s in the same situation. At one point earlier, Jack turned Drew on his stomach to lie on top of him, his smooth ass arched up, giving me a great view and access. I smiled as Drew reached over and moved a part of Jack’s button-down shirt to one side so that he could suck on Jack’s big eraser-sized nips. Jack played with Drew’s hair, encouraging him on, instructing Drew how to suck. “Bite it lightly, now cover it with your lips and slobber over it, with lots of spit, and stick your tongue out and draw it around the sides of the raised nips, feel how hard they are for you. You have to vary the feeling. Watch the guy’s reaction, and you’ll know what feels good to him.” “That’s right, baby. I love it when you suck on my big nips like that–seeing you naked on top of me. Your daddy behind you, eating your ass, opening you up. Is this what you wanted? We’ve talked about this for the past month, Drew. How you wanted to be used by men, to role play, to take loads from guys, whether they’re neg or poz. How you’ve wanted to try Tina and G, whatever we wanted to give you. This turns you on, doesn’t it? “Oh my God, I’ve thought about this for so long. Cruising online, finding pnp videos that I’ve jacked off to so many times. I want it badly.” “We love making your dreams come true, Drew.” “Thank you, Uncle Jack.” “Good. Your daddy is going to fill the pipe again, and I want you to suck on it while I make you another Coke with G. This time, I’ll give you a little more. Don’t worry, I just want you even more on the edge and hornier. But we’re going to take care of you, even if you nod off a little bit. You have nothing to worry about. We’ll make sure to wake you up smiling. Okay, baby? You trust us? “Yes, sir, I do. I want you to use me.” “Atta boy, that’s what we like to hear.” I know what Jack has in mind. We haven’t done this in a while, and we need to make sure the bottom is fully on board, which Drew is. Sounds like Jack’s been working on Drew for a while now. A hot newbie chem bottom who’s willing to try it all is a fucking birthday, Christmas, and anniversary present all rolled into one. You don’t get it very often, and there’s no guarantee it’ll go well. Some are all talk, but this kid is ready and willing. I haven’t seen any hesitation on his part, which will make this whole situation even better. I want to see how far we can push his boundaries. Honestly, A+ for this kid so far. I help Drew up from the couch and make out with him, letting him know that he’s exactly how we want him to be. While we make out standing up, I can feel his cock next to my leg, rubbing against the jeans. None of us has watched the porn on the screen at all; we’re so engrossed in the moment. At this point, it’s just there to add to the general sleaziness of the situation. We all realize that it’s not about the porn. Not at this point anyway. Jack stands up, unbuttons his shirt all the way, but leaves it on. He’s so sexy like that, with just his chest and nips showing, his bulge straining in his jeans. I pull away from making out with Drew, and we both watch Jack adjust his big dick in his jeans to make himself a little more comfortable. “I’ll get us some G. Drew, I’ll get you a robe too. We love you naked, but remember everything is a balance. While we get ourselves together for this next round, just wear the robe. You don’t have to close it, just leave it open, but it’ll keep you warm. I’ll turn the fireplace on too.” Drew reaches back and feels up his hole. “It’s so wet.” “You’re starting to smell like me, Drew. You got my slobber all over your hole.” Drew brings his hand back from feeling his hole and licks it. “Tastes good! Uncle Jack, can I help you with the G? I want to know what to do.” “Absolutely, Drew. Follow me, and we’ll get you that robe, then you can watch as I prepare the G. “There will be a quiz, later, Drew. Take notes.” Drew has a big smile as I say that. I watch Drew turn to follow Jack. His pert ass and the back of his thighs shiny from my slobber, his hair tousled. These breaks are important; they help the mood as it rises and falls. It’s like gooning and edging, knowing when to ease off to give yourself time to breathe. We could have jumped right to fucking, which I’m sure Drew would have loved, but this is about training and taking our time, letting him open up and be comfortable. My buddies and I all have different roles and strengths, but what Jack and I are particularly good at is this: what we’re doing right now. Getting him to break his bonds of shame, and let his inner pig out. We’re not fucking selfish. We’re in this together, and we want to train Drew so he goes on to more adventures. I take a quick peek at my phone and see that Kevin, Henry, and Dwayne have all checked in on our Telegram group chat. I quickly type that this kid’s a keeper, that we’re having an excellent time, and that I hope they come over when they’re free. Knowing their schedules, Kevin will probably come over in the morning. Henry and Dwayne will come later tomorrow, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they have cumpany with them. We don’t bring anyone who hasn’t been vetted, but thankfully we have a stable of men who join us. It’s nice to share in the fun. I watch Drew put on the bathrobe, leaving it open, giving us a peek at his still hard cock, his torso, and legs. As Drew and Jack head to the kitchen, I put my phone away and refill the pipe. I take out two more pipes from the coffee table drawer and fill them up as well. We don’t skimp, and it’s nice to have them ready. That’s what the burly straight dad taught me one summer while camping, but that’s a story for another time. The porn on the TV is set up so that another one automatically plays when it finishes. Jack has an extensive collection of both professional and amateur porn. I take the torch and melt the Tina in all three pipes, taking hits one after another from all of them. Don’t want any rocks spilling out. My dick jumps up a little as I smoke up. Kid was taking lots of hits in the beginning, shotgunning some to Jack and me, but then we got into the foreplay and stopped. Time’s right to get us amped up again. As I hit the pipes, I see Drew and Jack in the kitchen taking some Cokes in a glass to the counter. I’m sure if they were to look my way, all they would see are big clouds floating in the living room. Jack’s showing Drew how to measure the G. I can hear Jack telling him not to take G with alcohol, it just makes you sick, and that’s no fun. Jack fills the first and second glasses and lets Drew fill his own, showing him how much G to put in. Jack gets behind Drew as he’s doing this and pulls his robe open more and plays with Jack’s nips as he measures the G. I can see Drew momentarily close his eyes, wrapped up in the pleasure. Jack eggs him on, and Drew fills up his Coke with his dose. There’s about a foot difference in height between the two, which is fucking hot. The sight of Jack behind Drew, fondling him under his robe, is perfect. I want that shot burned in my memory banks. I put the third pipe down as they come back to the living room with three glasses. Drew’s open robe sways as he walks up to me. He smiles as he hands me my glass. I nod my head up, encouraging him over, and he comes in for a kiss. He does the same to Jack and the three of us down the Cokes. I’m used to the bitter taste, but I can see Drew whinge a little. It’s probably because he has more than we do. I reach down, get a pipe and put it in Drew’s mouth. “Here, take a hit. It will help with the taste. There are three pipes there now, just grab any when you want.” Jack takes our glasses and brings them to the kitchen while Drew fires up the torch and takes a few big hits in a row from the pipe. He’s getting good at taking in the Tina and at making clouds. “Just like I showed you earlier, blow them out slowly, and let the smoke creep out. Like it’s a living thing.” He’s getting the hang of it. It’s all a part of the show, of course. The clouds coming from his mouth are mesmerizing. “Better?” “Yeah, that G tastes horrible.” “Later, I’ll get a bubble ready and fill it up with Gatorade. That adds a nice, sweet flavor. Sit and get comfy, you’ll start to feel the G shortly.” The three of us sit back down on the couch. Drew between us, robe still open. His cock is no longer steel-hard, but it’s beautifully chubby and shiny. Jack reaches for a remote by his side to turn on the fireplace. “Thank you so much, guys. I’m having a great time.” “Let’s talk before the G hits, okay? Remember, this is all about fun. Follow our orders and speak up when you want something or need to take a break. We don’t like a bossy bottom, but we do like one who knows what he wants. We’re going to help you unlock that side.” As Jack says this, Drew watches him intensely looking directly into Jack's eyes. They lean in to kiss, and I grab one of the pipes and take a hit as they make out. Jack pulls away, a line of spit dangling between them, and nods for Drew to do a shotgun. I lean in to kiss him, holding the Tina in my lungs. Our mouths lock, and feel our tongues start to dance around each other. I reach up, holding his head lightly, and slowly blow in the smoke. We continue to make out as he lets the smoke out between us. It comes out thick, between kisses and out of his nose. Big hit for sure. Drew leans his head back, gives a big sigh, and says, “fuck, that’s good!” Jack draws open Drew’s robe some more and starts tweaking one of his nips. I spit in my hand and play with his cock, slowly. I feel it get even more chubby as I move my hand up and down the shaft. I then move to caress the head of his dick and lean over to whisper, “I can’t wait to slide my raw cock in your hole.” This makes Drew squirm in excitement. Head still back, eyes closed, probably starting to feel the waves of pleasure from the G. Jack’s got his hands all over Drew’s inner thigh as we ramp things up. “I’m getting a little dreamy. Horny and dreamy.” “That’s alright, that’s what you’re supposed to feel. The G is kicking in since you had a higher dose. Plus, we’re bigger and used to it. Just let it flow, Drew. Don’t fight what you’re feeling.” With that Drew starts to grind his hips in circles as I slowly jack him, and Jack alternates between Drew’s nips and thighs. “Drew, you may want to close your eyes a bit. That’s okay, let it happen. But we’re going to continue to have fun. Your cock is going to remain hard, and you’re going to feel warm and very, very horny. You may come in and out, but just ride the waves. Breathe and relax into it.” “Yeah, please!” This time, it’s Jack’s turn between Drew’s legs. Jack gets up and kneels down between Drew’s legs, the robe totally open, exposing Drew. Drew reaches down and grabs Jack’s hands in his, while Jack starts to lick Drew’s inner thighs, balls, and up and down Drew’s cock. I put the pipe down and paw at Drew as well. I watch Drew, making sure his breathing is regular, which it is. His head is going side to side as Jack sucks on his cock slowly, teasing it all over with his tongue, going all the way down to the bush. The waves must be hitting him now. His cock is back to rock hard, which happens a lot with G. He’s got a huge smile on his face, while Jack holds his hands down to his side. His squirming slows, but it gets more languorous and deliberate. He starts slowly bringing his cock up to meet Jack’s mouth, and I can see Drew’s cock get slobbery wet with spit. This goes on for about 15 to 20 minutes. Jack and I pleasuring Drew while the G goes into action. Slowly, we notice his gyrations slow down, and his body relax even more. He’s in that perfect dreamy, horny state. At one point, he nods off as Jack is sucking him off and I open his mouth and dribble some of my spit in. Jack and I get up to admire him. Sitting on the couch, naked under a robe, his smooth body glistening from our spit, he starts to touch himself with his eyes closed. With his left hand he plays with his nip while his right slowly jacks his cock. We look at each other and smile. I nod at Jack, which he knows is the signal to get the clippers and razor. As Jack ducks into the bathroom, I pick up one of the pipes and take a big hit. I let the smoke out and start to take off all my clothes. All the while watching Drew play with himself slowly. At times, stopping as he nods off, but then picks up again playing with his dick. This kind of wave is for the beginning, helping Drew loosen up, and shed his inhibitions. Plus, it makes our dicks so hard to see him like this. Playing with himself, as the G hits him over and over again. He’ll be alert soon enough and will be hyper-aware of everything happening. I kick my shirt and jeans to the side, standing fully naked now. The steel cock ring is tight around my hard cock. Drew stops jacking off and starts snoring lightly. His dick is rock hard, his legs spread open between the robe. I lean over and stick my tongue in his mouth, making out with him. He gives a “Mmmm, yes.” “Drew, I’m going to pick you up and bring you to the playroom. I’m going to lay you down on the play mattress. We’re going to strap your arms and legs down, and shave off your body hair. We want you smooth all over. You’re going to look even more like a true sub.” “Don’t be alarmed at being strapped down. You’re going to love giving up control to us. This is all part of the fun. Soon we’re going to be inside you, taking turns, opening your hole up for hours, we’re going to keep you spun, and your hole will be overflowing with our cum. Do you want that, Drew?” As I say this, Drew slowly opens his eyes. They’re glazed over at first, but he snaps to attention. “Yes, do it all to me.” I help Drew take off his robe and pick him up. Lifting weights all my life makes it handy when I have to do this kind of thing. I bring him to the playroom and put him down on the bed. He opens his eyes for a second and smiles again at me. There goes that smile, I love it. I then move to the sides of the bed, take the restrains and put them on his wrists. I spread his legs and clamp his ankles. He looks up and watches me, before nodding off again. This entire time his cock is standing straight up, leaking precum, pulsing up and down. He looks so fuckable strapped down like this. “Just relax for a moment, Drew, while we get things set up.” I can feel the G as well and it’s making me so horny and pervy. That and the hits of Tina, of course. I go back out to the living room and shout out to Jack, “You need help or you got it?” “All good. Bring your stuff in.” I get my bag, the torch, the three pipes on the coffee table, and go back to the playroom. Jack follows me in holding a basin of warm water, and a bag with the clipper and shaving razors. “Damn, he looks good like that! Is he nodding off? “Yeah, a little but he’s alert when he needs to be” Jack gets especially turned on by a bottom boy rolling on G. “Get your clothes off, Jack, and let's get this hair off his body. I want him smooth.” ...

I'm not good at figuring out how to end a story but here's my attempt! Sorry for the wait! Part 2 I hear the shower in the bathroom turn on. Great I think to myself, even if I scream into the gag he won't hear me. "Told you he has a nice ass, and to think my loads been getting churned all night" "Hell yeah, you did good to get this hole nice a lubed" There was no denying it, that was the voice of the first guy "Yeah I was edging all day so I busted a fat ass load into him before they could even check for a rubber" "Haha dumb slut probably thought it was lube, well he wouldn't be wrong it's the best lube there is" I hear a snap, and feel that cold piercing resting at my hole "Had to bust the rubber incase your hubby finishes before us, we can just tell him we didn't notice" He starts Jack hammering into me I can feel the cum dripping down my balls with each thrust. "Gotta give you as many loads as we can make an absolute mess of your hole" "Yeah fucking take this dick, fucking whore here it cums baby, gonna make you mine . . . Fuckkkkkkk" I can feel shot after shot hitting me deep. I try to fight him off sobbing into the restraints "Easy there, it'll get easier cum makes taking cock so much easier" I felt him shift his weight and get off the bed, just to be replaced my another guy. "Here don't forget the condom, they only play safe remember" He gave his friend the same used broken condom that he just rolled down to the base like a cockring. I hear the door open. And can head a couple voices. "This where the cumdump is?" "Hell yeah, the little slut is trying to see how much cum he can get" "I'll be back, I'm gonna take a leak" I couldn't focus on what he was doing due to the attack on my ass "Yeah that's it, it's like your ass is sucking me in!" "Going to give you another load for being such a good cum slut. Fuck here it comes" He slammed balls deep and I could feel shot after shot shooting in my hole. "Thats it baby, fuck your pussy is so messy" "Fuck he really is a cumslut" The next guy mounted my ass He wasn't huge but from what I felt he was thick with a big mushroom head "Fuckkkkk this ass feels amazing" "I saw your add on bbrt and im surprised you're real" "Slut made an add to take some stealth loads without his husband knowing, bound, blindfolded and ass up" "Wish he could see the slut you really are. How many loads do you have?" Bbrt? What is that? I never made an add? The man starts hate fucking my hole hard slamming balls deep telling me to take it. It's just all to much and I pass out. When I come to a min later I can still feel my hole being used and feel a wet rag by my face idk what it's wet with but it makes my head foggy and hard to focus. I hear some more grunting and pass out again. Some time later I wake again still being used as a cumdump except the room sounds full. I hear "rawdaddytop" "Ahhh your awake boy, hope you don't mind but I invited some guys to use your hole. Don't worry they're still using a condom" I hear another guy watching "Fuck yeah breed his ass deep" I wonder where my husband is and almost like he could read my mind rawdaddytop whispered in my ear "I smoked your husband out and he's passed out in the bathroom, but don't worry, it's your hole we want" This freaked me out, my husband was passed out in the bathroom while I was being gangraped and breed. He said they only want my hole so at least he's okay. I had no idea that daddy not only smoked him out but drugged him, bent him over the tub and already fucked a load into the hubby and that if he was prepped he would be getting his ass gang raped too They continued to fuck and rape my hole must have been at least 15-20 guys throughout the night I lost track when i started to pass out. My hole was so used and wet that there was no way to resist or stop them. I stopped fighting it and just accepted it. I was nothing but a cumhole. The sun was starting to come up. The room was clearing out. I was laying in a puddle of cum, my ass still being used. "Fuck he's such a whore, look at how much cum he took" I tried to look around but I was still blindfolded "Good morning princess" Rawdaddytop was still there "Just a couple more loads and your done, congrats on being such a good cumdump, sure you got a few gifts from the experience " "Fuckkkkk I'm Cumming again" I could feel his dick twitch and pulse "Fuck I love conversion parties, welcome to the club boy" Club? Does he mean cumdump club? Why would anyone leave me gifts? "Let's get you cleaned up before I breed you again" He started cleaning my ass/back and legs of all the cum that leaked out of me. He was making it look like nothing ever happened. "Can't have him knowing what we did now can we, this will be our little secret right?" I shook my head refusing to agree with him. "Well I'm sure you will" I felt him position himself ontop of me and slide in with ease. He may have cleaned around my ass but I was still full of cum. "Fuck I can't get enough of a well used ass" "Listen your hubby should be waking up soon, I suggest you think about what you want to tell him unless you want me to show him how much of a cheating cum whore you really are." Before I could respond he put his phone infront of my face. Showing me an add on bbrts "visiting bottom, looking to take as much cum as I can. Hubby doesn't know I'm a cumslut willing to take all loads. Please use a condom broken of course, we can aways say it broke by mistake if he catches you. I'll be at the double tree room 224 the door will be propped open I'll be blindfolded ass up and bound. Cum in wait your turn, breed me deep and repeat. Heavy cummers preferred, Poz more than welcome. Cum knock me up!" I never wrote this! I never even heard of bbrts. I'm reading this in disbelief all the while he's still long dicking my ass churning the cum in my ass. He clicked on the profile and it looked like he made one pretending to be me, using the pics from the add we made on sniffies. Plus a few new pictures of my well used ass leaking cum, and getting fucked. "Cheating cum slut, always looking to take a load. Love cnc, rough fucking and breeding. Poz friendly hmu" What the hell is this. I didn't make any of this yet it looks like I did, I can't risk my husband believing him. Then he went to his camera roll showing me videos of guy after guy breeding me, all fucking me with a busted condom that it looks like they just passed back and forth. Then I heard the bathroom door open, it was my husband he woke up. Daddy closed his phone and kept fucking. "Well look who finally woke up, that blunt really knocked you on your ass huh? "Yeah it did, I just remember being with that twink you brought, I hit that blunt and the rest is a blur. Must have slept funny tho my ass hurts" "Yeah sleeping on the bathroom floor will do that to ya" "Hope you don't mind but I've just been using his ass to edge all night, I still haven't gotten to cum yet, you care if I finish?" "Hey if he's enjoying it sure but don't take too long we got a few plans for the day" "No problem I'm so close man, fuck your lucky getting an ass like this when ever you want" He layed flat against me and started to really pound my ass like he wanted to break it. All while whispering in my ear. "Fuck I'm going to breed you so deep you'll be dripping my seed all day" He slammed in one final time grunting load and really putting on a show, you would of thought this was his first time cumming all month. He pumped a few more times, sat up and started to pull out. My husband wanted to see my used hole and got closer to get a good view and asked of he could take a little video to remember the night by. "Sure let me know when your ready" He went back in balls deep just slowly pumping my husband got his phone out. "Ready" He started to pull out slowly. You could see on the video his shiny cum slick cock pulling out slowly "Fuck that ass felt so good I didn't notice the condom break" You could see the condom bunched up at the base of his cock then his head popped out with an audible pop his mushroom head still hard, covered in cum, his PA holding the cum rope to my ass. "Sorry man I edged for so long I shot such a big load" I could tell my husband was both turned on and upset "Well fuck I guess it's only one load, your clean right?" "Yeah man, I always play safe" "Alright cool, not gonna lie thats pretty hot I don't think I've seen that much cum in 1 hole before" "Haha yeah im a pretty heavy shooter and using his ass to edge just made it bigger" "Well maybe we can do it again when we visit next, let me go grab a towel" He walked into the bathroom and daddy took off his well used and pointless rubber, and took the ball gag back. "Good boy, you take cum like a champ, remember our deal, you say anything I show him your profile and this lovely add" I was completely defeated. "Yes sir" "Good boy, here keep this in one last gift from me" He grabbed a butt plug and shoved it in, keep that there if you don't want me to show the hubby. I want proof you kept it in until you get home. My hubby came back in the room handed hin the towel. "Well we're gonna be heading back today but maybe I can get your number for when come back?" Daddy agreed and we all exchanged numbers, daddy got dressed and left. I get up and go take a quick shower trying my best to keep the plug in, I don't want to risk anything more. As I shower I heard my phone go off a few times. I finish up and check my phone. It's rawdaddytop he sent me several videos of my assault thru the night and even one showing him breeding my husband. There were so many guys all just passing the condom like a torch to show who's turn it is to breed. I heard a few guys talk about "pozzing my ass" and a few tops even had biohazard tattoos. This horrified me but also turned me on like no other, there was also a message. "If you don't want this posted, and sent to your hubby, you'll do good to keep what happened quite and stay in touch" I pushed the butt plug deeper and replied. "Yes daddy" "Good boy, make sure you tell me when you visit next." "Yes sir" I got rock hard and got dressed to head for home The end

Please be gentle - I am not a native English-speaker. This is my first time posting a story. It is fiction, but very close to what I experienced myself today.... The morning meeting had been a drag, a blur of spreadsheets and forced smiles in a sterile conference room an hour from home. You were driving back, the highway a monotonous ribbon of gray, your mind already on the afternoon you'd have to spend catching up on work. Then you saw it. The green sign for the rest area. A place you knew from online forums, a spot whispered about in certain circles. The thought was a spark in the dry tinder of your boredom. It was just after noon. Guys on their lunch breaks. The chance was too good to pass up. You signaled, pulling off the highway and onto the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. You sat in your car for a moment, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. You needed courage. You pulled the small brown bottle from your pocket, unscrewed the cap, and brought it to your nostril. One deep, long hit. The chemical rush flooded your head, a warm wave washing away your anxiety and replacing it with a gnawing, confident lust. Now you were ready. You left your car and walked into the trees, your boots sinking softly into the damp ground. In a small clearing, four guys were standing around, a silent, tense circle of unspoken need. Nobody was touching, nobody was talking. It was a standoff. And then you saw him. He looked like an apprentice, maybe in a trade, with the confident, slightly bored swagger of a young man who knows he's good-looking. He had Mediterranean features—dark, slicked-back hair, deep brown eyes, and an undeniable bulge straining against his work jeans. He was the focal point, the reason for the gathering tension. You walked past them, your path bringing you within arm's reach of him. As you passed, you reached out, your hand confidently cupping his balls through his jeans, giving them a firm, knowing squeeze. He didn't flinch. He just turned his head, and your eyes met. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. The invitation was accepted. Just then, an older, paunchy man, the kind who spent his lunches chasing a fantasy he could no longer catch, broke the stalemate. He gave a pleading look to the group and then scurried into a smaller, adjacent clearing. The apprentice followed him, his walk a confident stalk. The older guy didn't waste a second. He dropped his pants, exposing his pale, flaccid ass, and bent over, bracing himself against a tree. "Fuck me," he whimpered. "Please." The apprentice unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. It was exactly as you'd imagined: thick, hard, and cut, the head a perfect, angry-looking dome, framed by a thick, neatly trimmed patch of dark pubic hair. There was no condom in sight, no mention of one. I would have offered one, but I was not planning for a lunch fuck and did not even bring one. He spat on his hand, lubed himself, and pressed it against the man's hole. He pushed, but the older guy cried out, his body tensing up. "It's too big! You're too big!" he whined. The apprentice grunted in frustration, shoving him aside. "Useless," he muttered, his cock still jutting out, hard and unsatisfied. You saw your chance. While he was dealing with the failed bottom, you stepped up to the older man, who was now looking lost and rejected. You knelt down and took his limp cock in your mouth, trying to coax some life into it. It was a distraction, a means to an end. The apprentice watched you for a moment, a smirk playing on his lips. He saw the older man's failure, and he saw your willingness. You were usually a bottom, but the energy in the air, the raw, primal need, made you feel bold. You stood up, your own cock now hard and demanding. "Let me try," you said, nodding towards the older man's ass. He shrugged, a gesture of permission. You stepped behind the older guy. Your cock was different. It was pierced with a heavy, 10mm tribal dream ring, a piece of metal that always got a reaction. You pressed the cool metal of your PA against his hole. It slipped in easily, a smooth, foreign object. But the moment the ring was inside, the older guy's ass clamped down like a vise. You couldn't get your swollen cock head in to follow. He was too tight, too panicked by the unfamiliar sensation. Frustrated, you pulled back. You looked at the apprentice, his magnificent cock still hard and glistening. "Want to fuck me instead?" you asked, your voice low and direct. His smile returned, wider this time. "Yeah," he said, his voice a low growl. You didn't need to be told twice. You turned around right there in the open space, not bothering with a tree for support. You let your pants fall to your ankles. The cold air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver. You pulled your Poppers back out and took another deep hit, the world dissolving into a warm, pulsing haze. Before you could even cap the bottle, you felt him behind you. He didn't wait. He didn't prep. He just grabbed your hips, his grip like iron, steadying you as he slammed his raw, thick cock into you in one brutal, satisfying stroke. The burn was immediate, but the Poppers turned it into pleasure. He started fucking you with an aggressive, short-stroked rhythm, a man on a mission. There was no finesse, only force. Each thrust drove the air from your lungs, your PA swinging wildly with the impact. You were just a hole for him to use, and the thought of it made you dizzy with lust. It wasn't a prolonged fuck; it was a lightning strike. He was clearly just looking for a quick release. After maybe twenty, thirty seconds of relentless pounding, his grip on your hips tightened painfully. "I'm cumming," he grunted, the words strained and urgent. "Shoot it all inside me!" you gasped, pushing back against him, wanting to absorb every drop. "Give me everything!" He let out a deep, guttural groan, and you felt it—the hot, powerful, pulsing warmth as he emptied himself inside you. He held himself deep, his body shuddering as he drained himself into your guts. He stayed there for a moment, his chest heaving against your back, then pulled out as abruptly as he'd entered. A sudden coldness hit your exposed, wet hole. You both quickly rearranged your clothes, the silence of the woods pressing in around you. You turned to face him. He was already zipping up his jeans, his face unreadable. He looked you straight in the eye. "You are healthy???" he asked, his voice casual, but the three question marks hung in the air, turning it into an accusation, a challenge. "Yes," you answered. It wasn't a lie. It was the truth. You were healthy. For now. He watched your face as you said it, a flicker of something in his dark eyes. Was it satisfaction? Triumph? Or was it just the simple relief of a guy who'd gotten what he wanted and was now covering his own bases? He gave a slow, knowing smile. "Good," he said. He didn't offer any information about himself. He didn't say "I'm clean too." He just nodded, as if you had passed a test, and then turned and walked away, disappearing back towards the parking lot without a backward glance. You stood there for a moment, your body trembling, his cum already starting to leak out of you and down your thigh. The drive back to work was a blur. The encounter played on a loop in your mind: the confidence in his eyes, the brutal force of his fucking, the heat of his load, and that one, pointed question. And a new, terrifying thought kept surfacing: Did those thirty seconds change my life? Now you're back home, the day finally over. You're lying naked on your bed, your hand stroking your hard cock. The memory is so vivid, so powerful. But it's the question that's consuming you. You are healthy??? Why the emphasis? He was so dominant, so unconcerned with anything but his own pleasure. Why did that one thing matter so much? And then a new, terrifying thought takes root, blossoming in your mind, dark and beautiful. What if he gets off on this? What if the question wasn't about safety; it was about eligibility. He wasn't asking if you were a safe place to fuck. He was asking if you were a worthy target. He wanted to know if you were negative, if your "yes" meant anything. Maybe he's a collector. Maybe he gets a thrill from pozzing neg guys, from turning another man, from adding another notch to his belt. Your honest answer, your "Yes," wasn't a reassurance for him. It was the green light. It was confirmation that you were a prize worth claiming. But then the other possibility, the logical one, pushes back. Maybe he was just a regular guy, a player who loved to fuck raw but was terrified of the consequences. Maybe he asked because he genuinely needed to know for his own peace of mind, a hypocritical but human act of self-preservation. Maybe his smile was just the cocky smirk of a young man who'd gotten away with exactly what he wanted. You can see it now so clearly. He wasn't just fucking you. He was converting you. Every powerful thrust was a hammer blow, forging a new reality. The heat of his load wasn't just cum; it was an inoculation. A gift. A curse. You were just another victim, another story he could tell himself. You moan, stroking your cock faster. The thought is so repulsive, so dangerous, and so unbelievably hot. You reach back and press two fingers into your still-slick hole. You pull them out, coated in his essence. You bring them to your lips, and this time, you don't just taste. You lick. You suck them clean, imagining the millions of potential viruses swarming in your mouth, in your blood. You're so close. You're right on the edge. You close your eyes and you can feel him inside you again, but now it's different. It's not just a memory. It's a transformation. Was that just an anonymous fuck on a Tuesday afternoon? Or was it the moment you were chosen? The moment you were changed? You'll never know for sure. You'll never see him again. You'll have to live with the uncertainty, with the three-month wait, with the gnawing, exhilarating possibility. And as your own cum explodes across your chest, hot and thick, you realize that this uncertainty is the ultimate prize. He didn't just fuck your ass—he fucked your brain. He gave you a gift that will last forever: the endless, thrilling question of what he really left behind.

AUTHOR NOTE: this one is inspired by a discussion I had about a so-called AI companion where folks worldwide sent confidences (even erotic) and on the other side there was a man who guided the bot to answer, so he could read every intimate speech users sent. Paid service, obvious. That's why I'd never trust using those for sexting role play! Here's the setup. Let's start! No AI has been used to create this, I'm an author and I care about my writing not to end up into #AISlop ---- Leo: I'm 22, twink, naive. My world is behind a screen and video-games. Very shy in real life. Sex? Never had, too fearful of judgments for my sex orientation and kinks! I just look at guys when I go to the gym and that's all! My entire sex life stays on BreedingZone where I found so many guys with my same fetishes. HIV included, yes, I'm one of those bug chasers wannabe. But with age verification spreading all over the world, interesting people to sext with, just disappeared and my inbox is always empty. But one day I found a topic referring to chatbots. "AI doesn't judge, it talks, so let's share the ones where you have your best sex conversations!" Curious of AI, I was discouraged. The most important engines just reject any explicit contents, so I followed that topic. Surprisingly, the most verbal man in that post, was a certain GifterAlex, a huge biohazard as profile pic, and a very different profile from the others. Interests: computer, tech, AI, research, psychology Very strange for a sex related website, so I kept on reading. Background: mid 40s, Caucasian, progressive politically oriented, in favor of any technology innovation gay men can benefit of. HIV status: poz, not on meds Role: top Looking for: real and concrete encounters. Not here to waste time. Access denied to flakes, fakes, bigots and crybabies. "Ambiguous", I thought; if he talks about computers in a sex site then he wants to hookup, where's the trap? Isn't he one of those "morality guardians" sent by far-right politicians to out gays around the world? So, I read his post: "Most interesting and effective bot I found is called Highly Intelligent Volunteer. It can provide any kind of advices, it's a very customizable agent. By text you can ask it anything. Try it for free at least 30 days then you'll be CHARGED". Didn't give too many attention on the word "charged" capitalized; could be just he wanted to warn readers they were going to pay. Curiosity hit me, I avoided asking questions about who the owner was, if it was an advertisement or just an advice. GifterAlex could be a user like me and I signed up with no hesitation. [TO BE CONTINUED]

Last Request When I realized I was gay back in the late 1990s and told my wife Beth, she was very understanding. We had an amicable divorce. A striking, short-haired brunette with large brown eyes, Beth would have no trouble finding someone new. Soon she reunited with Mark, an old lover, and within a year they were married. I was soon enjoying my new gay lifestyle, with a series of boyfriends. I soon found that I was a pure bottom and I began to date older and more masculine men. I was very careful to practice safe sex, this being the era before PrEP. Beth and I remained close. I slipped naturally into the role of gay best friend. It was such a stereotype but I still helped her pick out clothes. I would regale her with tales of my latest sexual adventure with some new guy, including my random hook-ups. She said I needed to find someone and settle down. A registered nurse, Beth took a job in a hospital AIDS ward. She told me about her patients and asked me to visit them since many had been abandoned by their former lovers and families. Having become an AIDS activist myself after coming out, I was glad to visit my brothers in distress. I spent hours talking to men suffering advanced symptoms and was deeply saddened when several of them died. When I arrived one day to visit, Beth brought me into her office and said, “Andy, I have a big favor to ask of you. Eric, one of my patients, is nearing the end. He asked that he be given a chance to make love to one more man before he goes. He’s very sweet. I was hoping you would agree.” It struck me as an odd request, but it also seemed like the caring thing to do. I was committed to helping in any way I could. Besides, I had never been able to say no to Beth. Eric had been moved to a private room. She assured me we would not be disturbed. I knocked and entered. The window shades were down and the light was dim. Eric greeted me warmly. “You must be Andy,” he said. He turned on the lamp at the bedside. I could see his gaunt face and sunken eyes. He was clearly a very sick patient. “Beth told me about you. You’re just as cute as she said.” “Did she say anything else?” “She said you’re a bottom and like to play around. I think she used the word ‘slut.’” I blushed but did not disagree. “She’s not wrong,” I said. “Let me show you, Eric.” I unbuttoned my shirt. Then I shed my clothes as I crossed the room, and by the time I was at his bedside I was stark naked, with my modest cock sticking straight out. I could see the lust in Eric’s eyes. “Oh, god,” he said. “It’s been so long.” I peeled back the top sheet and found Eric to be just as bare. His face, though drawn and pale, was still handsome. Before the disease had ravaged his body, he must have had his pick of men to fuck. Now, though, he was emaciated and his skin was marked with sores. And then there was his cock, already fully erect. It stood up, thick and long, with protruding veins. I could see bit of precum glistening at the tip. “Are you sure you want to do this, Andy? I don’t have any condoms.” I really hadn’t thought about the risk until this moment, but I didn’t care. Eric needed me and Beth had asked me to let him make love one last time. I bent down and kissed him deeply. I felt his hand stroke and then clamp onto my butt cheek. His grip was surprisingly firm. Then, as our tongues danced together, I felt his index finger probe my tight hole. I grunted softly with pleasure as it slipped inside me. I offered no resistance. I understood what he wanted and I had promised Beth I would make a dying man happy. I climbed onto the bed, straddling Eric with my ass pointed toward his face. I tasted his cock, gently licking the head before opening my mouth and throat to take him deep. “Oh, yes, baby. You do know how to suck cock,” he muttered. Eric leaned forward and began to lick my hole. I love it when my top gets me ready by rimming me, and Eric used his tongue like a pro. Soon he had me moaning around his cock. He paused and I heard him pick up something in a tube. It was lube. He began to apply it to my ass. We both knew what was coming next. “I’m going to fuck you now,” Eric declared. It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking permission. I had come to his room and that counted as consent. I pivoted on the bed so our faces were close. Then I reached behind me to guide the tip of his cock into my waiting hole. I slowly lowered myself onto the intruder. I felt the usual stinging, burning sensation that signals the first penetration and waited for my sphincter to relax. In a few moments I opened to Eric’s cock, the burning giving way to that wonderful warmth and fullness that tells me I have taken my lover within me. I kissed him again, more passionately. His hands, still surprisingly powerful, gripped my hips as he began to thrust deeper and deeper into me. Eric paused and told me to get on all fours. I lifted myself off his cock. I felt suddenly empty and realized how much I needed him inside me. I felt his hands spread my ass cheeks, then the tip of his cock against my hole, and finally the head enter me. One slow, long, delicious thrust took him past my prostate and sent me to heaven. I gasped at the intense sensation. I turned my head and our eyes met. “I love how your cock feels inside me, Eric,” I murmured, like a true cock whore. “You’re so big.” His strong hands gripped my hips, giving him leverage. He grunted in my ear, lost in his own pleasure. I thought I might well be the last man he ever fucked, and felt a tear in my eye. I could feel his thrusts becoming more urgent and sensed he was close. Then I heard someone enter the room. I guessed it was Beth. Eric never paused fucking me. “Tell me what you want slut,” he ordered. I was embarrassed that my ex-wife was watching us. I replied quietly, “I want you to cum inside me.” “I can’t hear you, Andy. Neither can Nurse Beth. Tell us what you want.” I looked back at him, then directly at my ex-wife. “I want you to breed me, Eric.” Her eyes widened. “No, you cunt. Tell us what you really want.” “I want your AIDS!!!” I said loudly enough to be heard in the hall. Beth stared intently at me, her expression a mixture of shock and curiosity. One final pause, a deep guttural release of sexual tension from Eric’s throat, then rapid thrusts deep within me. I felt the warmth as his cum filled my ass. He had exhausted himself with the exertion of breeding me and collapsed on my back. I lay down on my belly and he lay atop me, breathing heavily. I turned my head and he gave me a deep fuck kiss that went on and on. We both looked again at Beth. I saw she was holding a small packet in her hand. She said softly, “Andy, I realized after you came into the room that you might need a condom. I guess I was wrong.” “Yeah, Beth, your faggot ex-husband wanted my toxic load as much as I wanted to give it to him. I don’t have long but maybe my poz babies will grow inside him. Especially if we go another round or two.” Beth continued to stare at us, now with a strange smile on her face. “Andy, I didn’t mean for you to do something reckless, but that we just so beautiful to watch. I am so glad we could do this for Eric. Andy, it was so wonderful of you to make Eric’s last wish come true. I hope you’ll let him fuck you and cum inside you again.” She soon left and I spent the rest of the night in his arms. He fucked me twice more. The effort drained his strength. When I left the next morning, he could barely say goodbye. A little of his cum dribbled from my ass, leaving a wet spot in my underwear. A few days later, Beth called me to tell me Eric had died. We both cried. Then a couple of weeks later the fuck flu hit me. She helped nurse me through it. Sick as I was, I was also happy to be carrying Eric’s babies. One day, after I recovered, Beth called me. “Andy, I was wondering if you would do me another favor. I have another patient who is getting close to the end. He has a special request….” “Of course,” I answered. “I’ll be there in an hour.” Like I said, I could never say no to her.

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I trained myself for long years. Honestly, the one of the few benefits of covid and the lockdown was that I spent more time with myself. Last summer I could shove my half fist in my hole but then I stopped. I was lucky because I found an experienced and patient fister who appreciated my commitment to be fisted and saw the challenge. Until then I met only people who wanted their fist in my hole immediately. I won’t lie one more thing I needed. This was my strict relationship to drugs. I had to make a compromise with this and let me take some. After my fist master opened me up he warned me that I always would want to be fisted and the normal sex would never be satisfying enough. He was probably partly wrong. I still enjoy fucking guys or being fucked. But the greatest pleasure is being fisted. I always feel the extreme need to be fisted. However i consciously try to do it not often. Once because of my hole’s conditions. Second because of taking drugs. Although now I can be fisted only with poppers but being fisted when I’m high is incomparably more enjoyable. So I can recommend fisting for everyone but be aware of its risks. If you can manage it very consciously you will find an ultimate level of pleasure.

Yeah, I’m 7 inches and thick. I can feel Drew’s throat gripping my big helmet. I love to cum deep, grinding my sweaty balls over his nose. Even if Drew is choking on my load he never tries to dislodge my cock, he stays in position until I’m finished seeding his throat.

Truly shocked.

Had done 3ways where the other guy was watching me fuck or get fucked, but probably first group was a sex party a guy I was fucking (straight, married guy) mentioned to me. He gave me the contact info and the organizer sent me the info. Greenwich, CT, very typical suburban house. There were about a dozen guys there - varying body types, mostly guys in their 30s-40s (I was mid-20s). Given a bag told to strip to my briefs and join. I got so turned on being surrounded by a bunch of guys in their underwear, started sucking cock (pretty sure I sucked everyone's) a bunch of guys watched as this one hot bottom dude rode my dick. It was such a turn on that the neighbors had no idea what was going on as we all got sweaty, moaning and fucking and shooting our loads. Went back half a dozen times, probably the fourth time was when I first got fucked on the floor of the living room there, seeing other guys stroking their cocks. It was so dirty and hot. My buddy who first mentioned it and I never crossed paths there, but on a subsequent fuck in my apartment he mentioned the organizer told him what a find I was, as "BBKev will have sex with anybody."

Well based on this Facebook posting, it appears the old dogg is living near Wilmington, NC. 🐷

If a bottom doesn't like your body hair then he should move on to someone else. Men aren't Ken dolls perfectly groomed for visual preference of others.

So my bf left for a business trip yesterday and guess what I did 😉 Took two loads today: One from my neighbor from earlier and another one from a guy in walking distance. Now I‘m sitting here having diner and enjoy the feeling of cum in my ass 😉

Chapter 9: The Bacchanalia The ride from Nate’s office was a non-linear journey through a neon-slicked nightmare. Marcus was no longer the pilot of his own body; he was a passenger strapped into a vessel hurtling toward an unknown, terrifying destination. The city lights blurred into streaking watercolors, and the low, authoritative thrum of Nate’s voice was the only thing anchoring him to a reality that was rapidly dissolving. They didn't go to the Midtowne Spa. This was something else entirely. The Porsche pulled up to a sprawling, modernist mansion in the exclusive enclave of Turtle Creek, its glass walls glowing with an eerie, pulsing red light, like a heart beating in the night. Inside, the air was a physical entity, a thick, humid soup of incense, sweat, amyl poppers, and the raw, musky smell of aroused, chem-fueled men. This was no clandestine gathering in a back room; this was a full-blown Bacchanalia, a cathedral of flesh dedicated to the glorious poison of their truth. The main room was a panorama of unbridled lust. To Marcus's left, a man with intricate tribal tattoos covering his entire back was strapped to a St. Andrew's cross. A masked dom, his own cock a thick, heavy club, systematically worked a series of increasingly large sounding rods down the man's urethra, while a third man knelt at his feet, not just drinking, but bathing his face in the stream of piss that erupted from the bound man's cock. His moans were a mixture of agony and ecstatic surrender. Near the grand fireplace, a geyser of golden shower was in full effect. A muscular, silver-haired man stood over a younger, leaner partner who was on his knees, mouth open, receiving the warm, chem-laced piss directly onto his tongue and down his chest. The younger man was stroking himself furiously, his body glistening, lost in the act of total degradation and worship. In a corner, a group was gathered around a black gyno table, their faces illuminated by the glow of their glass pipes as they blew clouds into the air, the smoke mingling with the scent of Crisco and lube. The man on the table, his legs held back by two others, was being fisted. The top, his arm buried to the forearm in the man's hole, worked it slowly, methodically, twisting his fist. "Open up for me, you beautiful pig," he grunted. "Take my fucking arm. I want to feel your heartbeat from the inside." The man on the table could only respond with guttural, animalistic grunts, his cock leaking a steady stream of clear fluid onto his own stomach. Everywhere Marcus looked, there were rituals of conversion. A man in a leather sling was being slam-fucked by a top who had just administered a powerful hit to the bottom's jugular, the rush hitting him instantly as the top's cock pounded away. Another pair was in a 69, shotgunning thick clouds of meth smoke back and forth between them, their bodies writhing, their connection a feedback loop of chemicals and lust. This was the brotherhood in its full, unadulterated glory. A tribe of beautifully damned souls, all celebrating the gift, all passing their strains in a glorious, orgiastic communion. Brandon and Geoff moved through the throng like sharks, their presence commanding immediate respect. Geoff, his body already gleaming with a sheen of sweat, approached Marcus and Nate. He gave his father a deep, possessive kiss, tasting the chemicals on his breath, then turned his burning eyes to the new initiate. "Welcome to the family," he growled. "Time for your conversion." He led a dazed, pliant Marcus to the center of the room, to a single, black leather sling hanging under a stark, focused spotlight. It was an altar. The room's activity didn't stop; it simply shifted its focus. All eyes, all energy, turned to the new offering. Marcus, stripped of his suit and his dignity, was guided into the sling. His legs were placed in the stirrups, his hole exposed and twitching, a desperate, empty void that suddenly ached with a need so profound it was terrifying. Nate stood by his head, stroking his hair, his voice a calming anchor in the storm. "Just let go, Marcus," he whispered. "Stop fighting. Receive the gift." But Marcus couldn't hold it in. The sight, the sounds, the chemicals roaring through his system—it was too much. His hole, his very being, was crying out. "Please," he whimpered, the word torn from his throat. "Oh god, please... fill me. I need it. I need it so bad." A collective, appreciative murmur went through the crowd. The initiate was ready. Brandon appeared with a ornate, silver chalice filled with a steaming, golden liquid. "The first communion," he announced, his voice resonating through the room. "Drink. It's from the brothers. It will prepare you for the breeding." Marcus, lost in a haze of complete submission, drank deeply. The liquid was hot, salty, and bitter, the unmistakable taste of chem-piss from dozens of men. It was a potent offering of their collective essence, a final act of defilement that felt strangely like purification. It burned down his throat and settled in his gut, a fire that demanded to be quenched. Now the true ritual began. Geoff was the first to claim him. He stood between Marcus's spread legs, his own poz cock thick, hard, and dripping. "This is the Brand's welcome," he snarled, spitting a thick wad onto Marcus's hungry hole. "You're about to get a full introduction." He entered with a single, brutal thrust, making Marcus cry out, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. As Geoff began to fuck, Brandon knelt, his own hands slick with lube. He began to work his fist into Marcus's hole alongside Geoff's pistoning cock. The double penetration was an overwhelming, white-hot flash of agony and ecstasy that shattered what was left of Marcus's mind into a million glittering pieces. "You're taking it," Nate coached from above, his voice a steady drumbeat in the symphony of lust. "You're taking our gift. You're being bred by the brotherhood." Geoff fucked him hard, his balls slapping against Marcus's ass, until he roared and buried himself deep, pumping a toxic load into Marcus's guts. "First seeding done!" he yelled, pulling out. But the sling wasn't empty for a second. Another man took his place, then another. It was a conga line of conversion. Each man had a different strain, a different story. A massive, muscle-bound bear with a spider tattoo grunted as he added his load. A lean, twink-like figure with a demonic brand followed suit. Marcus was a vessel, a receptacle for the collective seed of the tribe. He was no longer Marcus Thorne, the CEO. He was a hole, a canvas, a thing to be bred and marked. After a dozen men had gifted him, his hole was a gaping, messy masterpiece, dripping with a river of cum. The final participant stepped forward: Nate. He looked down at his rival, now a whimpering, broken, blissed-out thing. His hole was ruined, his body covered in sweat and spit, his mind completely rewritten. This was the ultimate hostile takeover. Nate entered him slowly, his nine-inch cock sliding into the sloppy, well-used depths with ease. "This is it, Marcus," he said, his voice low and final. "This is my strain. The one that started it all in our world. I'm not just breeding you. I'm claiming you. You belong to me now. You belong to the Brand." He began to fuck, not with anger, but with a deep, possessive rhythm. As he thrust, he reached down and grabbed Marcus's cock, which was inexplicably rock hard. He began to jerk him off in time with his strokes. "You're going to cum for me, Marcus," Nate commanded. "You're going to cum while I'm breeding you. You're going to associate this pleasure, this surrender, with your new purpose." The command was absolute. Marcus's body arched, and with a strangled scream, he erupted, shooting a massive load of his own cum across his chest. The sight of his total surrender sent Nate over the edge. He slammed in deep and unleashed his own potent, toxic seed, the final, definitive deposit in the breeding. He stayed plugged in, marking his territory. The room erupted in applause, not of politeness, but of primal approval. Brandon stepped forward, a tattoo gun in his hand this time. The buzzing of the needle cut through the air. "He is one of us," Brandon declared. He began to work on Marcus's lower back, just above his ass, etching the permanent biohazard trefoil into his skin. Marcus didn't even flinch. He just lay there, a tear of pure joy rolling down his cheek as the needle burned his new identity into his flesh. The Bacchanalia had succeeded. The Brand had claimed another soul. And as Nate watched, he knew this was only the beginning. They were a plague, and they were just learning how to spread.

Chapter 6 (brought to you by @pozzible and Venice.ai) Kyle Simmons watched the scene unfold with the calm, predatory patience of a hunter who had been tracking his prey for years. But this wasn't a hunt. This was an ordination. Nate, his oldest friend, his brother-in-arms from the wrestling mats, was finally where he was always meant to be: spread open, vulnerable, his hole glistening and already leaking the precious seed of his own son. The air in the room was a holy perfume of sweat, sex, and chemicals, the incense of their new church. He stepped forward, his massive frame eclipsing the light from the hallway. He saw the flicker of old-world fear and shame in Nate's eyes, the last dying embers of the man who worried about portfolios and PTA meetings. Kyle was here to extinguish those embers and fan the flames of the man who was being born. "Kyle," Nate breathed, the name a prayer and a confession. "Nate," Kyle rumbled, his voice a low gravel that vibrated in his own chest. He ran a hand over his own belly, feeling the raised edges of the black scorpion tattoo. "Heard you were finally joining the club." He was wearing only a towel around his waist, the standard uniform of the spa. With a single, sharp tug, he released it, letting it fall to the floor. His ten-inch cock sprang free, a formidable weapon, thick and veiny, a tool of his trade that had stealthed countless men, a ghost in the night, leaving his mark without a word. But tonight was different. Tonight, he would be a god, and his name would be known. He stepped into the room, his eyes locking onto Nate’s well-fucked, cum-leaking hole. "Been a long time, my friend," he said, stroking his monstrous shaft, the foreskin pulling back to reveal a glistening, angry head. "But I'm not gonna be a ghost this time. You're gonna feel every inch of this. And you're gonna know exactly what I'm giving you." As Kyle positioned himself between Nate's legs, Brandon moved with the quiet efficiency of a high priest preparing a sacrifice. In his hand was a syringe, already loaded with a clear, viscous liquid. He found a prominent vein on Kyle's powerful bicep, the muscle corded with years of discipline. "Time for the sacrament, Coach," Brandon murmured. Kyle didn't flinch as the needle slid home and the plunger was depressed. He simply inhaled sharply as the fire slammed into his bloodstream, his eyes rolling back for a second before snapping open, burning with a new, feral intensity. At the same time, Geoff knelt by the sling. He held the glass pipe, the bowl glowing cherry red as he inhaled. But he didn't shotgun it. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his lips to his father's well-used hole, creating a seal. He exhaled, forcing a thick cloud of chem-smoke directly into Nate's ass. Nate gasped, his body arching as the potent vapor was absorbed directly into the sensitive tissues, his hole instantly buzzing, tingling, and opening like a flower in the sun. Kyle ran a calloused finger up the inside of Nate's thigh, making him shudder. "I've been waiting for this, Nate," Kyle said, his voice a low growl, amplified by the slam. "All those years I watched you on the mat, I saw the fire in you. But you were always holding back. Always playing by their rules." He leaned in, his face inches from Nate's now steaming hole. "This is our rule now. The only one that matters." He spat, a thick wad of saliva landing directly on Nate's puckered entrance. He used the head of his cock to smear it around, mixing it with Geoff's leaking cum and the lingering cloud of smoke. "You see, that boy of yours… he gave you the key. He unlocked the door. But I'm the one who's gonna show you what's on the other side." He pushed the thick head of his cock against the slick, swollen ring. "This is the Scorpion's gift, Nate. A lineage of pure, unadulterated power. It’s gonna burn through you, remake you from the inside out." With a slow, inexorable push, he began to enter. Nate cried out, his back arching off the leather. Kyle was bigger than Geoff, thicker, and his entry was a statement of pure, unadulterated dominance. "Fuck yeah, that's it," Kyle grunted, feeding another inch into the tight, velvety heat. "Take that fucking poz dick. Feel me opening you up." He brought his hand down in a sharp, stinging slap on Nate's ass. SMACK! "This hole belongs to the brotherhood now!" He began to move, his strokes long and powerful, each one a lesson in submission. He wasn't just fucking; he was sculpting, rearranging Nate's insides to fit his own massive shape. "Breathe through it, Nate," he coached, his hips pistoning. "Open up for me. Let me in. You need this. You've always needed this." Geoff leaned down, his face next to his father's. "You see, Dad? This is what it's all about. This is the family we always should have been." He dribbled spit into Nate's open, gasping mouth. The sight of his friend, his protégé, now a man and a dominant in his own right, sent a fresh wave of lust through Kyle. He grabbed Nate's hips, his grip like iron, and began to pound in earnest, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against Nate's ass filling the room. He was a machine, a relentless force of nature, and Nate was the earth he was plowing. "Time for your real seeding, my friend," Kyle roared, his rhythm turning brutal. "Time to give you my fucking toxic gift!" He slammed into Nate one last time, burying himself to the hilt. His body went rigid, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as his cock erupted, pumping a massive, infectious load deep into Nate's guts. It was a flood, a torrent of his very essence, the Scorpion's venom finding its new home. Nate screamed, a sound of pure, agonizing ecstasy as he felt the hot, potent flood fill him, triggering his own explosive orgasm, his cock firing ropes of cum across his chest and stomach. Kyle stayed plugged in for a long moment, his chest heaving, ensuring every last drop was deposited. He slowly pulled out, and a river of cum, his and Geoff's, flowed from Nate's gaping, well-used hole. But the ritual wasn't over. Brandon stepped forward, a black permanent marker in his hand. He nodded at Kyle, who took it from him. The coach looked down at Nate, who was lying limp, spent, and radiant in the sling. His face was a mask of sublime surrender. "We claim you," Kyle said, his voice now solemn, a priest performing the final rite. He uncapped the marker and, with a steady hand, drew a perfect, stark biohazard trefoil on Nate's forehead. It was a brand more profound than any ink on skin. It was a mark of ownership, of purpose, of a new birth. "He is one of us now," Kyle declared to the room, to the universe. "He is Biohazard."

Part 6 I’m holding Mark’s hand as we enter my apartment building, I have messaged Luke beforehand and hope he had a great day, yesterday. In front of my apartment door, I give Mark a longing kiss, before opening it. Luke is sitting on the couch but gets up quickly to greet us both with a hug. I feel something is off, Luke seems a little shaken, even Mark notices. ‘Where is your bedroom, I bring your bags there’ Mark offers, giving me space to talk to Luke. ‘It’s right over there, thanks’ As Mark walks away I look at Luke and he envelopes me immediately in a tight hug. ‘I fucked up Thomas; I think I made a big mistake.’ He says with a shaking voice. ‘Come, lets sit down, tell me everything’ … and he does. I know my brother, when he is stressed, he speaks faster than usual and sometimes forgets who he’s talking to. So, after around 10 minutes I know everything about my brother’s fuck, research and alone time yesterday, possibly too much. I look at him lovingly, but I cannot do more than put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Luke, I have to admit, I’m not quite sure what to say. I always wanted to be poz, it is a desire I had since my teenage years. To be honest, I knew I would be one day, before I knew and accepted that I like men.’ ‘But I never thought about it before, never. It didn’t even cross my mind, until…’ ‘Until I brought the subject into your world’ I say with a heavy voice. We sit there in silence for a moment but get startled by a cough besides us. Mark looks at my brother and I, and somehow, I know he will have the answers. ‘Luke, would you mind if I intercept?’ Mark asks. ‘Oh, sure, go ahead, I don’t want to ruin your day. I go to my…’ ‘No. I want to talk to you Luke about what you just said, would that be alright?’ I give Luke an encouraging smile, and with a silent nod, he brings Mark into the conversation. While Luke and I are on the couch, Mark takes the chair opposite. ‘Luke?’ Mark starts to ask, ‘are you on PrEP?’ ‘Eh, yes, I am, have been since my 18th birthday.’ ‘With how many men did you have sex since then?’ Luke looks at me nervous and a little embarrassed, ‘I don’t know, maybe 40 or 50, could be more’ ‘And with how many did you use condoms?’ ‘What? I have no idea, I never bought condoms myself, so probably 2 or 3 times, if the guy wanted it. I never ask for them.’ ‘So, you have been practising bareback sex since almost four years now.’ ‘Yeah, I guess that’s right’ Luke answers confused ‘Well, I hate to break it to you, but the chances are high you already had sex with a poz man, which also means you had a poz cock up your ass and the toxic seed as well So, the fucking isn’t the problem, the problem is, it was the first time you knew about it.’ I look at my little brother and see how his mind is racing, how he tries to connect everything. I also see him relax a little, but still there are unanswered question. But then Mark looks around, finds the article, looks at me, and continues. ‘Thomas, I guess this print out of an online article is your doing, as no reasonable person would do that in this day and age, but that’s not the point right now. Luke, it seems like you spent the whole day yesterday with this topic, read about it, watched porn focussing on it, and finally had sex with a man, who is poz. You were overstimulated, between all the Pride events, the surprise about your brother and I, and this new topic in your life. Nothing you did yesterday was different to the sexual encounters you had previously. The only mistake you made yesterday is coming on this coffee table, that was unnecessary.’ And with that all three of us start to laugh, my little brother finally relaxing fully. ‘Luke, one final word. The yearning to be poz, to become a bug chaser, is a desire your brother and I had for many years. I also talked about it with my friends before I made the final decision in 2012. Now I am exactly the man I wanted to be all those years ago. Your brother is still neg as far as we know, his desire isn’t fulfilled and he is still on his journey, but he made this decision with years of thinking about it. You might be a bug chaser; you might not be. At one point you will figure it out, and then we are here to talk to you about it.’ Luke suddenly envelopes Mark in big hug, and I know that I found the best man in the world. ‘Thanks Mark, you are great. Brother, you have to keep this one.’ ‘Well, that’s the plan.’ I look at them lovingly ‘Now get off of my boyfriend and let us start the day, what do you want to do?’ We spent the whole day talking, shopping, going outside and enjoying the beautiful summer weather. Mark and Luke hit it off immediately, and everything feels like it should be. My brother and I have the night for us to have a final talk about the last days, as he is leaving tomorrow. Our relationship has grown so much over the last few days, that I will miss this little bugger. (4 weeks later) I’m getting spitroasted by two guys, but none of them is Mark. My eyes water, as one cock is hitting my throat roughly. As I try to pull away to get some air, the man behind me pushes deeper inside me, impaling me again at the cock in front of me, tasty precum leaking down my throat. We are in the middle of the forest, birds singing around us and the river flowing loudly close by. This should have been a relaxing run for me, but I met two of Mark’s friend from the poz group, and now I am getting fucked by a couple of 20 years. Mitch and Henry have been together since they were 19 years old, now almost 40, poz and beefy bears, they add their seeds to my quickly increasing toxic cum selection. ‘Open wide Thomas, we will knock you up. Take our toxic cum and join us finally, don’t be a guest, become a poz member for good’ I moan loudly, but as Mitch’s cock is still in my mouth I cannot speak. Henry shoots his load into my ass, but remains inside me, to ensure no drop is dripping out. Mitch is also reaching his climax, and as I want to pull a little back to savour his poz cum in my mouth, he grabs my head and thrust his cock deep into me, making sure that his load goes down my throat immediately. I can barely breathe as his cock blocks my throat, his cum sliding inside me and another dick still in my ass. When they finally release me from their cock, I have to breathe in deeply, my saliva running down my neck and chest. ‘Well Thomas, this was great. Now enjoy your run, we’re off’ They both slap me on the ass, and leave me there alone, exhausted and full of cum in the forest. Of course there is no way I could keep up my run, so, I walk back to Mark’s apartment being greeted by his beautiful smile and the lovely smell of coffee. ‘How was your run’? He asks innocently. ‘Well, cut short by Mitch and Henry, they fucked me right there in the forest, hard.’ Mark laughs, hands me my coffee and gives me a longing kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth. ‘So, I guess Mitch shot his toxic load down your throat, I can still taste him.’ ‘Oh, fuck off, that was a lucky guess.’ ‘No, it wasn’t, he always goes for the mouth and Henry is the ass man, don’t forget I know them for years.’ We kiss again and then lie together on the couch, Mark’s head in my lap. ‘Are you excited for our poz holiday?’ Mark asks. ‘I am, but also a little nervous. I never been to a sex tour.’ ‘Don’t worry, you will enjoy it, I managed to find almost all the guys joining us on the apps. So, we have some idea with whom we will be exploring the world for the next two weeks. And I think you might be in for a surprise.’ Mark pulls up his phone, opening one of the apps, especially created for poz men, so not for chasers like me, and hands it to me. The face smiling out at me is none other than Chad. But before I can say anything my phone vibrates and I see a call from my little brother coming in. ‘Hey Luke, what’s up?’ ‘Is Mark with you?’ he asks immediately, sounding excited. ‘Yes, why?’ ‘Put me on speaker, please’ I do as asked and he continues ‘you guys I have finally decided what I want. I just gave all my PrEP pills back to my pharmacy, I talked and fucked with Tony the last weeks a lot and it is time, I want the gift. Bro we are now both on the chase.’ Mark and I look at each other puzzled, but smiling. Before I can say anything, Mark starts to talk. ‘That’s great to hear Luke, but you know what that means?’ ‘What?’ My brother on the phone and I say simultaneously. ‘You both are now in a race, who will be poz first?’

Small disclaimer: It gets a little cheesy in the middle, but then the fucking continues. Part 4 I come back to the store after I walked around in leather gear for almost an hour. ‘There you are’ Mark greets me, again with a passionate kiss ‘Where have you been?’ ‘I just walked around, the looks I got were all full of intrigue and awe, I love how this leather outfit makes me feel, but…’ ‘But you forgot it is summer and fucking hot outside?’ ‘Yes, exactly, you just know me to well’ Mark knows me in and out, it is an indescribable feeling to be this open with someone. I don’t think my wife ever knew me that deeply, even though she remains one of my best friends in the world. Mark starts to take my leather jacket off, as I loosen the tie and open the top buttons of the shirt, my chest hair visible. As I look around, I see that there are a few people in the store browsing and trying on different clothes. ‘You have customers, I don’t want to keep you from your work’ I say apologetically. ‘Don’t be daft, you don’t keep me from work, well maybe a little, but Daniel, my colleague will be here shortly, he takes over in an hour. You could go to the staff room and wait there for me.’ I give him another kiss and then make my way to the staff room. I get out of my gear but realise that I put my underwear with all my other clothes in my car, when I went outside. But I don’t think Mark would mind. So, I decide to take a nap on the leather couch in the nude. After what feels like five seconds, but must have been almost an hour, I am awaken by a loud cough. I open my eyes looking in the face of Mark and an unknown man. ‘Well, Daniel I wanted to introduce you to the famous Thomas of my past more properly, but I guess this will be it now. This naked man here is Thomas Gray, my former roommate and now…’ ‘Boyfriend’ I interrupt, trying to ease the situation. ‘My boyfriend… in the nude for you Daniel’ Mark teases me with his smile. ‘Nice to meet you’ says Daniel ‘and now I know why Mark never got over you, you’re beautiful, but maybe you could put some clothes on.’ Mark as always reads my mind; he notices my bag from before gone. He walks to a closet, takes out a pair of boxers and throws them to me. ‘Here that should be enough for now’ he says with an evil grin. I put them on and realise why he is grinning, yes, my cock is now securely stored away, but my ass is bare. The fucking bastard gave me an assless pair of boxers. Daniel laughs heartily. ‘You guys are crazy, but it seems you two click. Thomas it was nice meeting you, but I have to get back to the store. But one thing, I heard so much about you over the years and this guy here is the loveliest person I know in the world, so if you hurt him, I will end you, understood.’ ‘Understood’ I say tensely. ‘Great’ Daniel claps his hands and turns to go ‘then have fun you two, see you tonight.’ Mark smiles at me, but I feel like shit. Even though Daniel didn’t say it, but I must have hurt Mark deeply, if he carried me around all those years. Of course, Mark understands what is bothering me instinctively. He comes to me, pulls me in an open hug, only our crotches touching and his hands on my bare ass. ‘Thomas, we talked for hours in the club about our past. I have forgiven you a long time ago, and I don’t want you to carry this with you now. We both have a chance of building a future together, don’t let it be ruined by the past.’ We kiss and I envelope him in a tight hug. ‘But we might need to discuss our relationship status. When did I become your official boyfriend?’ he asks me in mock shock. ‘The moment you put your poz cock in my ass’ ‘Oh, is that right, well if I had known it was that easy, I might have topped you all those years ago.’ I laugh and relax, Mark signals to me to get proper dressed, which is difficult with my clothes outside. So, he says this will be the punishment for my past mistakes, I have to walk to the car with just the assless boxer on. We pack the leather clothes together for tonight, Mark takes his belongings, and we head to my car. I get a few puzzled looks, but as it is hot outside not that many people are bothered. At the car, I put my shorts and shirt back on as Mark takes place in the passenger seat. I start the car and ask him where were going, the answer shocks me. Mark is still living in our old apartment, but he owns it now and it got completely renovated. As I enter the familiar space my heart is aching. All the memories, the good and the bad are coming back in floods. As I let my eyes wander over the space, I notice a framed picture on the wall. I recognise it immediately and turn to Mark for confirmation. He just nods, his eyes watery. I storm to him, enveloping him in a loving, deep kiss, so different to the others we have shared so far. ‘I love you Mark, I always have and I just cannot pretend otherwise. Please, forgive me. I love you so much’ Mark kisses me back, our cheeks wet from the tears of us. Behind us our younger teenage selves looking happily out of a frame, as they are holding the key to their first own apartment. After we spend the afternoon between bed, shower, bed and shower Mark finally tells me where we are going. ‘After I got poz, and met a lot of men like you, who wanted to be pozzed I decided to bring those two communities closer together. As a leather store owner, I of course, was already well connected within the gay community. So, we started to organise poz-friendly bareback parties, that were open for every man, who was poz, wanted to become poz or just didn’t care about it at all. Only rule, no condoms allowed and every four weeks the dress code is leather.’ ‘And I guess tonight is leather night’ ‘Correct’ We got ready, putting our gear on. It was hard not to start fucking again, but in the end we did manage. As I look at Mark in his full leather outfit, I’m breathless, he is looking strong, masculine and contend, like a come to life dream. I am surprised as he navigates me back to his store. The window fronts have now been closed, and the shop seems dark, but we can hear music inside. Mark knocks and a bouncer opens the door for us. With a quick look around I realise, that the shop has become more like a reception place now. Where people arrive, hand in their bags and so on. Mark introduces me to some of the fellow organisers, then he says that tonight he is of duty and ready to party. He guides me to the backroom, and I enter a completely new world. More than a hundred men in full leather gear are talking, drinking and laughing together. ‘This is the social room, here you can come back to talk, eat, drink or just relax, but no fucking in this room. That happens over there’ Mark points to another door at the end of this room. We go to the bar, both getting a beer and Mark introduces me to more of his people. He teasingly emphasises, that I am his new boyfriend. For every introduction that way he gets a slap on the ass from me. After almost an hour and some wonderful conversations, Mark signals to me that it is time to enter the sex room. We take one of the bags in front of the door to put our gear in. I realise that the harnesses are in my car, but Mark just shrugs, so we enter the room completely naked just with our boots on. I need a moment to realise what I am seeing, opposite to my night in the biohazard room at the gay club, this time I have my lust somewhat under control, and that allows me to take this magnificent sight in. Around a hundred naked men are fucking out in the open, the room smells of sweat, sex and testosterone. I look at Mark and myself; both our cocks are rock hard. We kiss each other and then separate, understanding instinctively that this is an experience for everyone himself. Mark has already gone away, as a man almost runs me over, when he enters the room. I turn around, seeing familiar eyes on me. Daniel is smiling at me; without a word he pushes me towards a couch on the wall and buries me under his weight. I didn’t realise, but Daniel is a heavy man. He isn’t as muscular as Mark, but he is beefier. He kisses me, while on top of me. My hands find his ass and pull his body between my legs. I feel his hardened cock at my hole and as I am already proper open because of the many fucks with Mark today, he slides in easily with no spit or lube, just sweat. As he enters me, he moans into my mouth, before pushing his tongue deep into me again. He breaks the kiss, to look into my eyes and then he puts his mouth to my ear. ‘I will poz you like I pozzed your boyfriend ten years ago. You two belong to my strain, I’ll make sure of it.’ My mind starts to race as I let the words sink in, as he pushes harder inside me, I try to comprehend that he was the one making Mark poz, he was the one giving him that life. I look him in the eyes, my hands still pulling his body towards me, with a small nod I say. ‘Fuck me, Daniel. Give me your toxic load, poz me like you pozzed the love of my life. Poz me, now!’ I raise my head to kiss him, and he responds in kind. My hands now on his back, holding him tight. I feel his cock inside me twitching and with a loud final thrust he shoots his toxic load inside me. He keeps on thrusting for another minute or so, before he lets his cock slip out of my hole. Without a word he stands up and leaves the room, apparently he got for for what he came. I on the other hand are not even close to finish. Despite cum being all over my chest and stomach, a sign I had come during our fuck too. I walk around, passing a guy, probably in his early 50s, with a biohazard tattoo on his chest. I turn around, slapping him on the ass. He stops and turns around slowly, his pierced big dick, hairy chest and bush on full display. It only takes a second to realise I made the right decision as he takes me by the neck to push me on a mattress. I try to get on all fours, but he just pins me down with all his weight. ‘You will be punished for what you did, you little slut. I will give you a strain your body will not be able to handle. You think you’re poz, wait until you have my strain.’ I don’t correct him, as it turns me on to be thought of as a poz bottom slut. Still pinned underneath him, he takes a finger to enter my hole. ‘Ah, you already open, you little slut, well then open wide for daddy’ He pushes his cock inside me, while still pinning me to the mattress. With an arm wrapped around my throat he raises my head closer to his and gives me a longing kiss. His fuck is rough, almost violent, but I still feel save and right where I am meant to be. He never takes his body weight of me and finishes inside me with a loud moan into my ear. As he stands up, he slaps my ass as a kind of payback. ‘Hope you happy you little slut, my toxic cum will destroy your little weak strain, you little poz pig.’ He walks away, leaving me on the mattress in a state of full ecstasy and exhaustion. I turn myself on the back, and notice that the mattress is wet, evidently, I have pissed myself during this fuck. The smell becomes stronger, raising the interest of two twinks, who come to me and start to lick the mattress I am currently lying on clean. I guess everyone has his kink, but that’s not mine, so I get up and decide to head out for a moment. I look around, trying to see if Mark is somewhere, but I cannot find him. As I step outside, I see him immediately as he is talking to the guy who just fucked the piss out of me. I walk towards them, and Mark introduced me to Graham, a law professor and supposedly very sweet guy. Graham winks at me with an evil grin and walk to the bar. We decide it has been a long emotional day, full of fucking and love, so we call It a night. Both of us only back in our leather pants, walking with wrapped arms around each other out of the store. In the car we look at each other, because we don’t know where this evening ends. But then I make the decision for us. ‘Let’s go home.’

I was an idiot and had forgotten to turn the sound off on my phone. The trilling “bloop” of the Grindr app echoed in the backseat. As I fumbled for my phone it trilled 3 more times, I looked up and saw the eyes of my driver in the rearview mirror. Nothing was said as I set my notifications to silent and fumbled with my rapidly hardening cock. Closer to my destination he pulled into a quiet parking lot at the entrance to some forest trails. “Sorry, I have to urinate”, he said in a soft Middle Eastern accent. I watched his muscular, olive skinned body get out of the car and walk toward the treeline. When he returned to his car he sat in the driver’s seat, not starting the car, staring into the rearview mirror until I finally looked up. “There are other ways to tip your driver, my friend.”, he said. “I don’t understand”, I said, a puzzled look crossing my face “Don’t be naive. I heard that notification on your phone. I hear it all the time when driving and we both know what it is for. You can supplement my tip now, or walk the rest of your trip”. My mouth dropped open as he got out of the car again and opened the rear door beside me. I turned my head to be face to face with a thick, olive, cock. His hand reached out, grabbed my chin, and pulled it toward the circumcised head of his semi-flaccid penis. Instinctively I opened my mouth and he pushed onto my moist tongue. I closed my eyes and started to suck, unbuckling my seatbeat and turning toward him to be in a better position for what was to come. My driver took this as an invitation to ramp up his desires, grabbed the back of my head, and impaled me on his rapidly lengthening manhood. I gagged and felt my breath cut off. He held my head until I started squirming and my eyes began to water. He released me and I pulled back, his slime-covered cock sliding out of my mouth. My eyes widened as I saw the beast in front of me. I did a quick measurement with my hand and his rock hard cock was about 8.5-9 inches in length, and 7 inches in circumference. Before I could catch my breath I felt his hands grip the side of my head and impale my skull again on his cock, setting up a rhythm of 4 quick shallow thrusts, followed by a deep invasion of my throat that he held for what seemed like an eternity, cutting off my air supply until he heard me gaga and start to squirm against his grasp. With each deep thrust he tried to drive deeper into my throat, making sure I couldn’t adapt to his needs and wouldn’t forget who was in charge. After about 5 minutes he thrust as deep as he could, my nose being pushed into his trimmed pubic patch, as he held my head for the longest period yet, before finally releasing my head and pulling out of my mouth, a thick stream of slime connecting my mouth to his manhood. I looked up through tear-streaked eyes, gasping to refill my lungs with air. “Get your pants off.”, he demanded, “You haven’t tipped enough”. I turned my body fully toward the open back door and fumbled with my pants, hurriedly opening them and pulling them to my ankles. He snorted a laugh at the blue and yellow jockstrap I was wearing. Lifting my legs by my ankles he pushed me onto my back and pulled off my pants, shoes, and socks in one fluid motion. He yanked my now naked legs apart to expose my newly shaved hole. He sneered when he saw my flaccid cock, already submitting to his superior masculinity. He spit on his fingers and moved them to my hole, roughly shoving in two fingers before quickly adding a third. I moaned and squirmed against the invasion as he roughly opened my hole. I could feel my body surrendering to him and I started craving his cock. I need that monster in me, molding me to his desires. My eyes were closed and I was moaning softly when I felt his fingers leave me and his thick cockhead press against my hole. I sucked in a quick breath as his invasion began. Despite my efforts to relax my hole I could still feel the stretch as his cockhead eventually slipped in, followed by the unrelenting incursion of his shaft. What followed was 10-15 minutes of furious, unstoppable, rutting; a man using a submissive for his own pleasure and biological needs. I held on for dear life (figuratively and literally grabbing any handhold I could find), pushing back against the onslaught, trying to force my hole to relax. Finally, I heard a loud bellow and a final thrust, his manhood breeding my hole and marking me as his forever. Breathing hard, he pulled out, leaving a gaping sloppy cavern where my hole once was. Reaching into the car, he grabbed my neck and pulled me into a somewhat seated position, forcing his slimy cock into my mouth for me to clean. Reaching down he picked my pants and shoes off the ground before throwing them at me, slamming the car door, and driving me to my destination.

As I sat in our bedroom with my husband eating my ass, I could not help but think, “What a difference a fucking week makes!” After all, it was just one week ago when I went to the adult bookstore, desperate for cum up my ass, and I met the hot bookstore counter guy who coordinated me getting fucked full of cum by a homeless guy named Charlie. Hot ginger boy, whose name have I since found out is Spencer, jerked off to provide his load in a syringe, which we used as lube for me to take Charlie’s beer can cock up my ass. Spencer is now my biggest ally in me feeding my husband other random guys' loads of cum out of my ass without my hubby knowing it. Spencer is fucking brilliant, not to mention a kinky bastard who I owe a debt of gratitude to. I will share more about Spencer soon, but before that, I need to tell more about background of how I initially turned my husband into an ass licking, cum eater. It was a slow but steady process that began a few sexual encounters after we met… My husband is older than I by several years, and we met at a local fundraiser when I was in my mid-20s. He worked at a local hospital in a liberal city at the time, but he himself is conservative and reserved…financially, sexually, and politically. In other words, he is financially secure, very vanilla when it comes to sex, and he’s republican. He’s a good-looking guy overall, with a few extra pounds he can never get rid of, and even though he identifies as gay, he grew up in a conservative Christian household and is a product of his environment. Thus, when we met, he was looking for a more traditional guy partner with vanilla tastes. As we got to know one another, he emphasized he wanted a guy who would take care of the cooking and cleaning and dote on him while he brought home the money and provided a stable home environment. That first night after the fundraiser, he invited me to his place for a nightcap. I ended up giving him a blowjob, quickly getting him hooked on my amazing cocksucking skills. When I left that evening, he invited me out to dinner a few nights later. That night we ended up going back to his place afterwards, where he fucked me missionary position until he came after ten minutes and then rolled over and fell asleep. I tidied up his bedroom before I left his home, and he and I quickly developed into a routine of me taking care of him. As for me: I love getting fucked full of cum, as you well know by now. I knew I could not be monogamous, but the topic never came up as he and I were getting to know one another. He and I never talked about sex. He did not seem comfortable talking about sex and it was naturally understood what each of our roles were in the bedroom…at least in the beginning. It did not take long before I completely took care of this guy’s needs and he considered me his boyfriend. At the same time, I also knew I needed some kinky supplements in my sex life to be totally satisfied. I wanted to see how much I could bring this guy into my world of kink, but did not hold out much hope. I thought I would start by trying to get him to eat my ass, since I love to be rimmed before I get fucked. I remember that first time I suggested he eat my ass. I was lying on my back on his bed, and he was all ready to fuck me. He looked at me like I was crazy, his face and nose scrunched up, showing his revulsion at the thought. He confirmed he had never rimmed a guy’s ass before, and I was so fucking turned on to have a virgin ass licker who I could mold and mentor. I was determined more than ever to turn this vanilla man to the dark side by making him eat my ass. I did not push the issue that night. I needed to be patient and strategic…but it was only a matter of fucking time. A few days later when we were naked in his bedroom (which is the only place he ever had sex,) I gave him an awesome blowjob, and he was primed to fuck me. I knew now was the time… I brought up him rimming my hole, and I thought he might get angry and frustrated with me for being persistent, because it was something he clearly did not want to do. After the amazing blowjob I gave him however, he was primed to fuck me, and in his horned-up state he was thinking with his dick. Rather than anger or frustration, his eyes were pleading with me, which I interpreted as a combination of “Please just let me fuck you!” and “Please don’t make me do this!” I had the fucker right where I wanted him, but I knew this moment was crucial. I was soft in my approach, almost cooing and coaxing him like the witch enticed Hansel and Gretel into her house of sweets. Realizing we were unexpectedly playing a game of chicken and I had no intention of blinking first, he finally and slowly moved his head and mouth ever so closer to my sweet little pucker hole, aka unexpected candy for his virgin mouth. His face expressed a sense of dread as to what was about to happen next and he scrunched his eyes closed tightly. And then…FUCK!!! His tongue made first contact with my precious bootyhole. I screamed out “YES!” as his tongue instinctively started to wiggle around my hole. I gasped and moaned and gave plenty of encouragement for him to keep going. I remember that moment when my sexual urges took control of me and without even realizing it, I yelled “FUCK ME WITH YOUR TONGUE!” He did as ordered, and pushed the tip of his tongue inside of bunghole and moved his head forward and backward ever so slightly repeatedly. It was at that moment, I realized something spectacular: This guy curled up the tip and sides of his tongue, making it a hard appendage that was literally fucking my boy cunt! I was in 7th Heaven when he removed his tongue, jumped up, and rushed forward on his knees, lining his cock up with my now wet fuck hole. He crammed his cock into me uncontrollably and he fell on top of me, fucking me missionary. Within 20 seconds he yelled and grunted as he dumped his load inside of me. I felt the full weight of him lying on top of me, completely pinned between him and the mattress as he caught his breath and came back to reality. When we both had our wits about us, I said, “we are definitely doing that again!” and when he did not disagree, I knew my new ass licker was born! I loved the fact that this guy now rimmed my hole every time before he fucked it full of cum, but after a while, I felt the need to change it up for this not-quite-so vanilla guy. One night after he ate my ass and fucked me full of his cum, I reminded him that I still needed to get off. Having fucked me in the missionary position, he lifted himself off me and kneeled between my spread legs watching me as I stroked my cock. I found it difficult to cum and needed more stimulation, so I asked him to stick a finger up my hole. His finger provided some stimulation, but being thinner than his cock, his finger had little impact. I was getting frustrated and needed something more to put me over the edge. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly in my moment of increasing sexual frustration, “Eat my ass!” bellowed out of my mouth without me even realizing it. My boyfriend got a shocked look on his face and asked “WHAT?!” in disbelief and I yelled uncontrollably “EAT MY FUCKING ASS SO I CAN CUM!” as I lifted my legs high and wide to give him easy access. It was like my body was possessed and a kinky demon had taken control of me. My boyfriend hesitantly bent down to get his head and mouth closer to my hole and when he was ever so close, I grabbed a handful of his hair from the back of his head with my left fist while I furiously stroked my cock with my right hand. I screamed “GET YOUR FUCKING TONGUE IN ME!” as I forced his face into my ass. His natural instincts took over, and he stuck his fucking tongue in my freshly fucked and puffy boy cunt and started to lick. Knowing he was licking my hole and tasting his own fucking cum inside my asshole put me over the edge as I screamed “FUCK!” at the top of my lungs and shot my huge load, it hitting me in my face. It seemed like forever for me to come down from my sexual high, but eventually I caught my breath and lowered my legs. I looked up at my boyfriend who was now kneeling on the bed staring at me like he did not even recognize me. As I looked at his deer-in-the-headlights face, I was immediately drawn to his mouth...and his lips... and his nose...and the area between his nose and his lips. That entire area of his face was wet and glistening with HIS cum that he ate out of MY fucking asshole. The demon within me smiled at the sight, already formulating our next sexual encounter!

The first three or so times I ever fucked, I used condoms no matter if I topped or bottomed. When I was 20, I had a boyfriend who was 35 and, one day, we started fucking around and I just couldn't stop thinking what it would feel like so I sat on his dick raw and he didn't object. I didn't let him cum in me, though, but I did the next time. Ever since, I've been raw only. Nothing like that feeling of sliding my uncut dick into a tight, warm hole and not taking it out until my load is deep in there 😉 It's also something else to take a stranger's raw dick too. When a top just throws me on my back, legs up and doesn't even mention condoms... woof.

it has to be raw for me. and it seems like all bottoms are in the same frame of mind. A top I saw a couple of times a few years insisted on using a condom. I went along with it cos I was desperate for some cock but it didn't leave me satisfied. He might have just been using a dildo on me it was soulless. No, I have to feel bare cock in me only. I'm nit on prep. Don't know what it is or how to get it. I've never knowingly been fucked by a poz top, detectable or not. I want to be though. I love the thought of poz men and their poz cocks going in me. i want it to happen. I want do much to suck on poz cock and swallow poz cum.

Raw always no matter who it is and especially raw and bred if there is any possibility they may have a gift to give me or have a dirty smelly cock as love to suck it and smell it at the same time... 💓🐷🐷

Raw, no contest.

Chubby bi guy looking for someone in the area to play. Into foreplay, oral, and verse when it comes to fucking but have been looking for a top lately. Have a few kinks but one I've been fixated on lately is being bred like a bitch in heat. Have bottomed a few times and the times I really enjoyed it I was lost in the moment just rocking my hips and ass back into his cock until he was cumming. Would like to find a guy that wouldn't mind me riding a toy while I tease and suck his cock until I'm ready for him. Love getting worked up and being an active part in milking him. Bonus for me if you're the dirty old man type, makes me feel extra slutty and wrong for giving up my masculinity to you.

As a son that lusted after my dad, I only sucked him off once when I was, let's just say I was school aged. He would have been mortified and did not know because he was drunk passed out. I got brave enough to try and sit on it BB. The head was just passing my ring when he started moving and I got scared. Left him alone after that and never got his nut. In hindsight, I should have just started riding and let him wake up. The idea of him was more interesting than actually having him though. I just wanted to compare his dick to my stepdad's. He had trained me a bit by this point. That is not to say I would not have been a good boy for his manly needs if he would have shown interest.

Grabbing my hips holding me still, he belted “no condom, Dad’s gonna enjoy this awhile” and he dicked me with four of his nine. Trembling from fear and hunger, all I could do was submit to this Alpha. He pulled out and thrust in half a dozen times, as I got used to his half dick and wide girth. I hadn’t felt a raw dick in years. I knew it was “wrong.” He was a stranger. I also knew his power was no match for me. I moaned and exhaled. My elbows buckled my chest and head fell to the bed — ass firmly held in air by his hands and cock. “Dad’s turn” is all I heard as I felt this stranger burry deep with an intense thud. I gasped as his nine inch thick raw cock took me to a new place: complete submission to his will, his command and his raw demands. Before I knew it he was pounding. I was at his mercy.

It wouldn’t be the first time I was so cock hungry I would accept an invite, but never this late and never without interrogating him about “status.” A blind acceptance was very rare. Was I really willing to drive the next town over at 230am to get dicked by a stranger on a school night? I took another look at his photo and I was out the door. On a third floor walk up, he told me not to ring the bell or knock “I’ll hear you on the stairs” he said. As I reached the top, the door swung open — and I was shocked. Much older than expected this man was fully naked fully hard fully shaved and bald. A ripped veiny muscled God standing before me at an easy 55. I was stunned by his nude nearly hairless frame. And I could count every vein, everywhere. He was jacked and “schredded” long before I knew what the word meant. He said “We good?” but he knew the answer before he said it. I was easy prey for him, and my eyes showed the hunger I had as he walked me in to his house. I took off my shoes by the door and walked into his bedroom. Dimly lit, only a sheet on the bed, a bottle of lube and a mirror opposite. “Strip” he said. I did. “Get on the bed, all fours, face the mirror.” Before I was in position his hands met my ass, quickly parted my cheeks and his tongue burried inside me. I could barely catch my breath. I was dizzy from his power, muscle, age, look and cock. Easily nine with a slight side hook. His veiny Daddy Dick mirrored the almost unnatural nature of his body. How was anyone at any age this ripped? Zero fat just skin on muscle, head to toe. Even his handsome face was a bit hollow, and veins on his skull. That’s it! He was like a muscled skeleton — and one I was powerless to resist. True Alpha power does it again. Luring an innocent at 3am to use any way he wants. I was new to hooking up, had only done it a couple times. Always made sure I asked “the questions” as I’d been taught and even followed the fuck by a real date (to legitimize it). A consolation prize for the failure of “no sex before the first date.” As though sex alone was wrong or bad, much like fucking without condoms as all the HIV pamphlets passed out at Pride each year said). I looked up at the mirror in front of me as the shredded Stallion stood behind my now drenched tongue-gaped hole. Hungry from 6 hours of online cruising, dizzy from his ass eating, fully in lust for his surreal muscled look and cock. Fuck it. I was ready.

Jon Phelps in Slammed (Treasure Island Media). As the title implies at least some of the performers are high. The video leaves no doubt Jon is high. Much of the video is of him. Very long scene with Keirnan.