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The video had a loud yell. "Ahhh take my cum bitch........I'm going to fill you with my charged seed", the top yelled "OHHHHHH yes cum in me make me pregnant please Daddy", the bottom guy yelled We both watched the last 30 seconds as the top came in the barely legal boy under him. The camera zoomed in as the top pulled out his huge cock. The hole gaping started to leak a lot of cum. The bottom was pushing out. It was hot. My cock was throbbing watching this. The video ended. I looked at the clock it was after 3am. "OMG it's late. I better get to bed. I have to wake up early go to class", I said standing up "Thank you for joining me tonight. I had a wonderful time. I hope you did too", he said in a questioning way "I did " I replied in a shy way looking down He walked and gave me a warm hug. "Thank you again", Rick said hugging me. His cock still turgid rubbing and leaking cum on my stomach, my cock was still a little hard leaking on his leg. His hands hugging my back worked their way down to my ass and held them softly. I hugged him with my hands lightly around his back. My faced in his chest area smelling his strong man scent and odor from his armpits. He put his hand on the back of my head and pushed it towards his pits as I breathed in. His scent was so manly and strong. My faced pushed into his pit and his musky scent now all over my nose and part of my face. My head got a little light headed and my cock started to get hard. "We better get going, we are leaking all over each other" Rick said laughingly as he looked down at me and brushed my cheek with his soft hand. He gave me a soft kiss on my lips. We parted and I went to my bedroom. My cock was still hard. I had cum on me from my cock and his. I hesitated but wiped it up with my finger and ate the cum both his and mine. I was still aroused and couldn't fall asleep. I started reflect on the night, watching the gay porn, seeing the bottom taking that huge cock up his ass, begging the top to cum in him, Rick's body, his cock, touching my perinium, his scent, the way he touch and manipulated my body it was all too much. I started to stroke my cock again. His scent was now on me. I licked his sweat off my upper lip it tasted salty. Only a few pumps in I started to shoot cum all over my stomach. Another intense orgasm. Instead of grabbing a towel or tissue, I scooped it up with my finger and ate all my cum. Rick was right, I shouldn't waste it. I fell fast asleep.

As I was so focused on his cock it was like watching things in slow motion. It landed everywhere including on me. I didn't realize his cock was kind of pointing in my direction and as I was so close it landed on my cheek, lips, chest, abdomen. He kept pumping and it kept discharging and shooting hot cum on me. I counted 9 spurts of cum shooting out. He kept stroking and cum just kept oozing out. I kept massaging his balls. His ass still pulsed around my finger. "Ohh yeah fuck. That was intense", Rick said still stroking his still hard cock. There was cum all over. The smell of cum and his manly scent covered the area. I inhaled deeply it smelled intense. Rick saw me and smiled. My cock was hard again. "You look so hot covered in all my cum. It smells good doesn't it. All this manly scent and cum." Rick said "Yeah it got all over me and yes I does small kind of good" I said looking at myself Without thinking my tongue instinctively reached out and licked his cum off my lips. "Good boy. Lick it all up. Never waste man cream." he said My tongue fiercely worked to get it off my lip, upper lip and under lip. Rick leaned over and started scoop it up with his fingers. He then again as usual placed it at my mouth. I hesitated just reminding myself about Rick having HIV. "Here boy slurp it up. I know you will like it. And you can catch it from eating cum", he said as he stuck his finger in my mouth. My mouth accepted and started to tongue, lick and suck his finger hungrily. "Yeah good boy, suck it all up. You like cum don't you" Rick said I sucked on his finger and tasted him. His cum tasted a little more salty than mine and was more viscous and thick. "Don't you boy" Rick said I nodded He fed me more cum all while I started to feel his other hand on my thigh rubbing it and getting into my inner thigh. I let out a soft moan. Without asking this time he started to lick up his cum off of me, again in my pubes working his way up my abdomen then chest, focusing on my nipples again. It felt so good, electricity went from my nipples to my cock which was rock hard now. He had licked up all the cum on my chest and nipples but teased them with his tongue and sucked on them. I let out a soft moan. He also nibble on my nipples with his teeth and softly pulled on them. Knowing my nipples are wired to my cock he really went at them using his teeth, tongue and mouth. My cock throbbed. He then placed his mouth over my aureola and sucked the entire area into his mouth and used his tongue to tease my nipple. I let out a louder moan and without thinking or knowing my legs opened up. "Oh God", I said and moaned He surprisingly left my nipples to my dismay and started licking his cum off my neck and licked and sucked my neck and soflty bit into it making me moan. He finished licking a part on my cheek I missed and gave my surprising peck on my lips. That caught me off guard. "You are so beautiful" he said looking in my eyes I blushed, "Thank you, that makes me feel nice" I said. He leaned forward again giving me a more softer holding intimate kiss. I didn't know what to do but just let him kiss me. His tongue teased my lips just slightly for a moment crossing my lips into my mouth. He pulled back his tongue and my head leaned forward as if my mouth wanted his tongue in it, kissing me more fully.

I only tell when someone asks. I used to make a point of it but most guys are ok with it now. This is 2026 so if you are not educated on what and how you can get it, there is a problem with you. Most guys know me as a Poz bottom anyway. When you are getting a train pulled on you I don’t think anyone cares about status. lol.

Happened yesterday. Working from home, and have been battling the urge for quite a while. Started with some porn, daddies and slings and dildos, huge cocks and cum dripping holes. It started to get away from me, lube and a butt plug. The the stash came out. Just one shard of T in my ass can't hurt. That burn is a real thing, and it amplify's the craving. Now i am on my hook up site - filtered to monster and large cock. Im still telling myself, not a good idea, maybe just smoke a rock and work the butt plug in and out till I shoot. One rock - never happens. Three in I have messaged Mr Big Dick, Im in a very slutty mood I let him know, if you like my profile, come over. A quick bit of chat and I am down the road to meet him. He follows me back to my house and walks in the door. Smiles. I promised you my clothes would come off immediately, so lets go downstairs. I get naked and smoke another rock, wishing I had poppers to add. Mr Big Dick is HARD, and THICK and way to much to get in my mouth. More rock, and I try harder to swallow him as he lays on his back. He has a great smile but a dirty dom streak - telling my to suck his balls - I do, suck his cock - I am in heaven. I suck for a while, I spin around and put the butt plug in, Mr Big Dick works my hole. I have to drink some water and then I slobber more on his cock and balls, his so fucking huge stiff cock and tight ball sac. Now, I tell him, I want that cock in my ass. Beg he says, smiling. Please, please let me sit on your cock - yes he says. I blast 2 rocks, spinning, i straddle over top of hm, lube his monster and start sliding down. ITs FUCKING THICK. I slide, I push a bit, I jump off, smash a big rock, Im back, and, i get him in my fuck hole, its a stretch, its so goooood. Slight pause, reposition my legs, hes thrusting up, Im just barely taking him, buy I want him and make it happen. Fuck, ass full of thick stiff cock, buried in me. Hes smiling, I am out of my mind. Move my legs and now, I am riding him, up and down squeezing on the up slide looking at his face as he feels me working his cock; stopping , squeezing, riding. Now I need more from him - I want you to Fuck ME now, smile from him, beg. I hope off, smash two rocks and with smoke leaking from my mouth, i get on my knees, ass up look over my shoulder and say - I beg you, pleasseee, put your monster fucking cock in my slutty hole and fuck me. Now I get it all, its bordering on brutal, painful, but oh fuck, spun and loving the ass pounding. He drops me flat, on my belly, and fucks me more. Its been a while, need a short break but my ass is greedy so immediately I grab the butt plug. Wait he says, do your smoke. Its a big rock, im holding smoke he says, come here on your knees, Hes standing, put that toy in your ass, and taste your ass by sucking my cock. Never before, zero hesitation, Its good, im spun, sucking a huge cock from my ass with a butt plug jackhammering in and out of my slut hole. Good slut he says, your a pig - also new for me, also love being called that. He turns and I notice he has a sexy small round ass, before he tells me, I smile, I pull his ass cheeks apart and tounge fuck his hole with everything I have. Spun, ass to mouth cock sucker, ass eating fuck slut. Fuck I love being a bad boy - and now I need more days off, more rock, and more big cocks to worship, and fuck my hole.

I have been bi-sexual for years, but recently I had started fantasying about being fucked outdoors and being pozzed. I am a 52 year old white male about 6ft tall and 240pds with a 6 inch cock. I started reading stories of guys fucking on trails and public places on breeding zone. I found that I got turned on by the chance of being caught and being naked in public gave me such a hard on. I loved the thrill of possibly being caught sun bathing and being used by men and of course the chance of being pozzed. Here is my story of my first outdoor fuck and how I became poz.. It was late summer and the weather for the next couple of days was going to be perfect outdoor weather. I was searching some of the gay websites looking for fun when I ran across a profile of a guy that was looking for an outdoor experience. He wanted to come across someone sleeping and fuck them while they sunbathed but never be seen. I instantly got hard reading his profile.

I was in a neighboring city and needed to cum before driving home. Messaged several bottoms but nobody was ready. I clicked on one popular cumdump motels in Snifffies because there were several guys there and it was lit up as active. There was a public message that said "blindfolded anon bb bottom. door open as long as this message is posted".. The room number was there too. The profile posted had no pics and was off-line for over an hour. I was so horny and it wasn't too far so I went, figuring I could just leave if I wasn't into the guy. I go to the room and the bottom is getting fucked and two tops are waiting. Older guys is naked fucking and the other two are waiting with their dicks out, clothes on. Neither wanted to be touched. Older guy finishes and one of the tops moves in. I get a better look at the bottom, he's close to my age, fit and has a nice hairy ass. He's blindfolded, as advertised. The top that moves in had a big dick, probably about 8" and thick. He pushes straight in, one thrust, no lube in a way that probably wouldn't have felt good even if opened up and a bit cummy. This cause the bottom to yelp a bit and he speak, basically telling the top that his dick is dry and he needs lube, spit or cum on it. When this happens I immediately recognized the voice and take a closer look. Bottom is a close friend who I never knew had a slutty side. This makes my dick rock hard. The big dick top fucks him for a while before he finally releases and it's a big fucking load. I can see the grundle throbbing and when he pulls out I can see the cum leaking out a bit. The other guy moves in, average an unremarkable guy. He cums really fast - big dick top had barely gotten out of the room. He ask asks my friend how many loads and he says he lost count at 18. My turn, I'm so hard because I love a loaded hole and this is my friend who is pretty cute and there's no way I would have get to fuck him in the dynamics of our friendship. I'm also nervous. I can't speak and what if he lifts the blindfold.... I slide my cock in and he's pretty tight considering the day he's had. Once I'm in, his hole is just so slick and oozing cum. It's take my time because I want to savor fucking him and I build up a nice rhythm. Feel great for me and he's moaning in a good way. I felt like I was going to nut the whole time and was really trying to hold it back but after about 5 minutes I reached the point that I couldn't hold it back without stopping and even though I wanted to go longer it just felt to good to stop. I shot a really nice load in him, felt bigger and longer than normal. My balls were dripping cum and my bush was soaked. I zipped up and left covered in cum. As I was leaving the motel, another top was heading that way he was really unattractive and hit was kind of hot knowing that my friend was going to take this guys load. I ended up sitting in the car for about 45 minutes where I could see the room door. I decided to go back up and get another load out of me. Ugly guy was still fucking him but he stopped and gave me his ass. I was able to fuck longer this time and gave him another load.

Dan is out of town for a business trip looking for some relief. Sitting at a hotel bar, he saw a blinking notification from an app he rarely opened. The profile was sparse: 28. Local. Discipline preferred. Dan doesn’t usually meet anonymous profiles, but he has two weeks of pent-up tension, so he’s at the point that he just wants to get off. He has submissive tendencies but has never played with anyone who is a Dom, let alone a much younger Dom. He got the address and got himself cleaned up, then headed out. The hotel was a ten-minute cab ride away, a sleek, nondescript tower near the convention center. He paid in cash, a habit leftover from his divorce. The elevator smelled like bleach and something floral, the kind of scent designed to mask deeper stains. His reflection in the mirrored walls looked back at him: salt-and-pepper stubble, the faintest hint of crow's feet. Still fit, but not like he was at thirty. Dan, a middle-aged man in his 40s, was away on a business trip and looking for a way to relieve the stress of the past two weeks. Though not as "ripped" as he was during his college athlete days, he still maintained a nice build. While sitting at a hotel bar, he noticed a blinking notification from an app he rarely opened. The profile was sparse: 28. Local. Discipline preferred. Dan didn't usually meet anonymous profiles, but the built-up tension was significant enough that he just wanted to get off. Though he had submissive tendencies, he had never played with a Dom, especially one who was much younger. After getting the address, he cleaned himself up and headed out. Room 1417. The keycard was on the back of the "do not disturb" sign, as he was told. It slipped in his damp palm on the first try. The second time, the light blinked green. Inside, the curtains were drawn. A single lamp cast long shadows across the bedspread, its synthetic fibers unnaturally smooth under his fingertips. His pulse hammered in his throat. The instructions had been clear: Strip. Blindfold. Kneel. Wait. Simple, except for the way his hands shook as he unbuckled his belt. The leather hissed through the loops. He folded his clothes, a pointless gesture, but the ritual calmed him. The blindfold was on the floor, black silk with an adjustable strap. It smelled faintly of cedar. He inhaled, exhaled, then pulled it over his eyes. The darkness was immediate, total. "Sir," he said, then cleared his throat. "I'm ready." Silence. Then soft footsteps. Not dress shoes. Sneakers, maybe. Dan held himself perfectly still. A scent that was vaguely familiar, something citrusy. Grapefruit, or bergamot. Fingers brushed his collarbone. Dan jerked, then forced himself to relax. The touch trailed lower, pausing over his sternum. A thumb pressed into the hollow of his throat. "Good," said a voice. Young, but not as young as he'd expected. Husky. "You follow directions." Dan's mouth went dry. He nodded. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he thought it must be his nerves and dismissed the thought. The thumb pressed harder. "Use your words." "Yes," Dan managed. "Sir." “Crawl forward until I tell you to stop.” The hand withdrew. He began crawling. His soft, hung cock swung between his legs. “Stop. Turn to your right, but extend your arm out until you feel the bed, then keep your hand on the bed.” Dan followed the instructions. "Now," said the voice, closer now, warm breath ghosting over Dan's ear. "Let's see if you can keep that up, but first, open your mouth." The young man gave him a pill to take and offered him some cold Gatorade. “Relax.” Dan took a few seconds to calm himself. This had already gone beyond the level of kink he had experienced before. “Are you ready?” the young man asked. Dan nodded. Dan felt the first slap before he heard it, a sharp crack against his left cheek, the sting radiating outward in slow waves. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, knees grinding into the carpet fibers. The pain was bright, almost electric, and beneath it, something hotter uncoiled in his gut. Fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back. The blindfold shifted slightly, pressing tighter against the bridge of his nose. A thumb dragged across his lower lip—dry at first, then wet with spit. Dan opened his mouth on instinct, and the thumb pushed in, pressing down on his tongue. The taste of salt, faintly metallic. "Hands behind your back," the voice commanded. Dan obeyed, wrists brushing the small of his back. The click of metal—handcuffs, probably—preceded the cold bite of steel around his flesh. They ratcheted tighter than necessary, the edges pinching. A knee nudged his thighs apart. Dan spread them wider, the carpet now rough against his inner skin. The air against his exposed flesh was cool, but the room itself felt thicker, heavier—like the walls were leaning in. The first touch to his cock was almost casual—a single fingertip tracing the vein underneath. Dan hissed, his hips twitching upward. The hand retreated immediately. "No," the voice chided. A sharp flick to his nipple this time, the pain lancing downward. "You don't move unless I say." Dan clenched his teeth. Sweat beaded along his spine. The scent of the other man—bergamot, definitely bergamot—mixed with the smell of the sweat of his own arousal. A palm flattened against his chest, pushing until his shoulders met the bedframe. The edge dug into his scapula. "Count," the voice said. The next slap landed harder, the sound echoing off the hotel walls. "One," Dan gasped. The third strike came lower, across his ribs. "Two." By six, his skin burned, every nerve alight. By eight, his cock was leaking against his stomach. The ninth never came—instead, fingers wrapped around his throat, squeezing just shy of too tight. "Look at you," the voice murmured, almost admiringly. "So eager." Dan's breath hitched. The pressure eased, then returned, a rhythm now, each release timed to the pounding of his pulse. "Sir," he choked out. The grip tightened. "Beg." Dan's throat worked against the pressure. The word scraped out: "Please." "Louder." The fingers loosened just enough for him to draw a ragged breath. "Please, sir." His voice cracked. The blindfold was damp now, sweat or tears, he couldn't tell. The citrus scent intensified as the man leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Dan's ear. "Good boy." The praise burned hotter than the slaps. Dan shuddered, the handcuffs biting deeper as his muscles tensed. A knee slid between his thighs, nudging them wider still. The carpet fibers scratched his inner thighs, the discomfort sharpening every sensation. Fingers traced the crease where his leg met his groin, slow, teasing, stopping just short of where he ached. Then he felt teeth. Sharp against his nipple. Dan arched off the floor with a choked noise. The bite turned to suction, the pain bleeding into pleasure. The man's free hand wrapped around Dan's cock, squeezing just once, dry, rough, perfect. Precum smeared across his stomach. "Look at that," the voice murmured. A thumb swiped through the wetness, then pressed against Dan's lips. He tasted himself, salt and musk. The hand on his throat vanished, replaced by a palm flattening against his chest. "Someone is liking this." "Stay." The command vibrated through him. Footsteps retreated. "Sir, I—" Dan started to feel dizzy and his body warming up, an unusual rush, an urge rising from his stomach that he wasn’t quite sure was going on. Dan's protest died as the first slap cracked across his ass. The sting radiated outward, settling into a dull throb that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. "Did I say you could speak?" The voice was closer now, right behind him. Dan swallowed hard, shaking his head. The blindfold slipped slightly, letting in a sliver of light—just enough to make out the vague outline of a dresser, the edge of the bed. A hand grabbed his hair, forcing his head back. "Answer properly." "No, sir." "Good." The hand released him, leaving behind a tingling scalp. Fingers traced the curve of his spine, stopping just above the swell of his ass. Dan held his breath. "Relax." The touch disappeared. Then— The unmistakable sound of a belt buckle coming undone. Dan's pulse jumped. The anticipation coiled tighter in his gut. His hands were uncuffed, then he heard, "Hands on the bed. Don't move." Dan obeyed. The first strike came without warning—leather biting into flesh. Dan gasped, fingers curling into the sheets. "One," he choked out. "Very good. A quick learner." The second landed lower, harder. "Two." By five, his skin burned. By seven, his thighs trembled. The eighth never came. Instead, fingers hooked under the blindfold, pulling it off in one sharp motion. Light flooded his vision. Dan blinked, eyes watering. And then he saw him through the hotel bed headboard mirror. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in nothing but a black jockstrap and a smirk. Recognition hit like a gut punch. "Jason?" The smirk widened. "Hey, Coach." Dan's stomach dropped. Jason Mercer, star linebacker, class of '16. The kid he'd mentored, the one he'd driven home after practice when his dad was too drunk to pick him up. The kid who wasn't a kid anymore. Jason's thumb brushed Dan's lower lip. "Surprise." Dan opened his mouth, to protest, to ask, but Jason pushed two fingers inside instead, pressing down on his tongue. "Uh-uh." Jason leaned in, close enough for Dan to smell the spearmint gum on his breath. "No talking." Dan swallowed around the intrusion, tasting salt and leather. Jason pulled his fingers free, dragging them down Dan's chin. "Now, where were we?" His palm landed on Dan's ass, right where the belt had marked him. Dan hissed. Jason chuckled. "That's more like it." The belt slipped between Dan's parted thighs, the leather still warm from its earlier use. Jason dragged it upward slowly, letting the rough underside scrape against his balls before pulling it taut against his perineum, just shy of painful. Dan's breath hitched. His cock twitched, already half-hard again despite the earlier slaps. Then pressure, Jason leaning in, his erection grinding against Dan's lower back. Heat radiated through the fabric. Dan's mouth watered. He remembered those thighs from the weight room, how Jason would smirk while repping twice what anyone else could. "Eyes on me." Jason's fingers curled into Dan's hair again, forcing his head back at an awkward angle. The new position made his throat work as Jason traced his Adam's apple with the tip of the belt. "You used to yell at me for slouching during drills. Look at you now." Dan's pulse hammered against the leather. He couldn't speak, could barely think, with Jason's free hand roaming his chest, tweaking a nipple, pinching just hard enough to make his hips jerk forward. The belt tightened. Jason hummed. "Still responsive. Good." He released the pressure abruptly, letting the belt fall to the floor with a muffled thud. "Open." The command registered a second before Jason's cock pressed against his lips, thick as a beer can, already leaking, the musk of it flooding Dan's senses. He opened obediently, letting the head push past his teeth. The taste bloomed bitter-salt across his tongue. Jason didn't give him time to adjust. One hand still fisted in his hair, the other guiding his hips, Jason began fucking his mouth in slow, deliberate strokes. Dan could hardly open his mouth any wider, and gagged on the third thrust, tears pricking his eyes as the tip hit the back of his throat. Despite the discomfort, Dan wanted it. The rush he felt in his chest felt satisfying by sucking on Jason’s hard cock. His cock hardened and twitched on its own by the thought of it. Jason paused, letting him catch his breath, then pushed deeper. "Relax your jaw," he murmured, his thumb brushing Dan's cheek where it stretched around his girth. "Yeah. Just like that." Saliva dripped down Dan's chin. His hand gripped the bedsheet tighter as Jason set a relentless pace, the slap of skin against skin obscene in the quiet room. The stretch burned, but beneath it—God, beneath it—the ache of submission coiled tighter with every thrust. Jason's grip tightened. "Look at me." Dan forced his eyes open. Jason's pupils were blown, his lower lip caught between his teeth. The sight sent a fresh wave of heat through Dan's gut. "Remember," Jason panted, his hips stuttering, "when you made me run suicides for mouthing off?" He bottomed out, groaning as Dan's throat fluttered around him. "Bet you regret that now." Dan's nostrils flared—oxygen deprivation, humiliation, arousal all twisting together. His cock leaked against the bedsheets, untouched. Jason's fingers flexed in his hair, pulling just shy of painful as he withdrew completely. The sudden absence left Dan gasping, spit-slick lips parted. Jason tapped his cheek with two fingers. "Turn over. Ass up." Dan rolled onto his back. Jason's knee pinned his thigh before he could complete the motion. "Try again," Jason murmured, his thumb tracing the hollow of Dan's hipbone. "Slow." Dan obeyed, the stretch in his muscles obscenely intimate as he presented himself. The air conditioner kicked on, chilling the sweat along his spine. Jason's exhale on Dan’s hole before his tongue swiped upward, broad, wet, deliberate. Dan jerked, his elbows buckling. Jason chuckled against his skin. "Still ticklish." He spread Dan wider, his thumbs digging into firm flesh, and licked a slow circle around his rim. The drag of his tongue was filthy, unhurried, the kind of teasing that had Dan pushing back shamelessly. Jason rewarded him with a firmer press, the tip of his tongue breaching just enough to make Dan's toes curl. "Taste yourself," Jason ordered, rising to smear his spit-slick chin against Dan's mouth. The musk of his own arousal flooded Dan's senses—salt, sweat, something deeper. Jason's fingers replaced his tongue, circling lazily. "Next time," he breathed, "I won't be so gentle." His fingertip breached Dan on the word "gentle," the stretch burning gloriously. Dan arched, the headboard rattling as Jason crooned, "There you go, Coach. Take it." The room was spinning for Dan. Between the burn and the forceful stretch of Jason’s finger, he moaned uncontrollably and wanted more. Jason's other hand held Dan down while that finger worked deeper, twisting just shy of cruel. Dan turned to the side, buried his face into the bed, his breath hitching as Jason scissored him open, too fast, not enough, then added a second finger alongside the first. The stretch burned white, hot, his rim fluttering around the intrusion. Jason's breath hitched. "Fuck. Still tight." Dan's cock dripped onto his stomach, untouched. He could feel Jason's gaze tracing the mess he'd made, the silent judgment making his ears burn hotter than the stretch. Jason twisted his wrist, dragging his fingertips along Dan's walls until he gasped—then pulled out entirely. The sudden emptiness left Dan panting. The bed dipped. Jason's knees bracketed his thighs. "Tell me what you want." Dan's tongue felt too thick. "You. Inside." Jason's chuckle vibrated through him. "Yeah?" The first press of his cockhead against Dan's hole stole his breath. Jason leaned over him, chest to back, and nipped his earlobe. "Beg properly." Dan shuddered. "Please. Fuck me, Jason." “You sure you can take my thick cock?” “Yes. Jason. Please.” Jason slapped Dan across the face. At that moment he could tell how high Dan was. He almost forgot that he had given Dan a good dose of G and a capsule packed full of tina. “Who is Jason?” “Yes. Sir, Please,” Dan said. Jason sheathed himself in one brutal thrust. Dan's vision whited out. The stretch bordered on pain, his body struggling to accommodate Jason's thickness. Jason's dick wasn’t even halfway in. Jason applied a generous amount of lube to his dick again and sprayed maximum impact on a rag, then shoved it in Dan’s mouth. “Inhale deep and hold it.” Dan did as instructed. For the next 30 seconds or so he was completely disoriented. His mind went blank, as if his soul left his body. When he finally slowly regained consciousness, he was surprised to find Jason pounding his ass. Dan could feel his hips slammed against Jason. He had no clue how he managed to take the rest of Jason’s thick, hard, throbbing cock. "Jesus. You feel—” His voice broke. Jason rolled his hips experimentally, pulling a moan from Dan's throat. "Look at you," Jason murmured, dragging Dan upright by the hair. The new angle made his cock brush something deep, wrenching a punched-out noise from his lungs. Jason's hand wrapped around his throat, thumb pressing his pulse point. "All those years telling me to sit straight," he growled, punctuating each word with a thrust, "and now you're taking my cock like this." Dan's stomach clenched. The slap of skin filled the room, obscenely wet where Jason's balls hit his taint. Jason's free hand palmed Dan's leaking cock, stroking in time with his thrusts—too rough, too perfect. "Gonna come inside you," Jason panted, teeth scraping Dan's shoulder. "Just like you taught me—finish what I started." Jason's cock pulsed in Dan. The first pulse hit without ceremony. Jason groaned, hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt, his release flooding Dan’s guts in hot, thick waves. Dan felt it—the way Jason’s cock twitched inside him, the way his own body clenched instinctively around it, milking him dry. But Jason didn’t pull out. He stayed, panting against Dan’s shoulder, his grip tightening as his breathing evened out. Then he moved again. Dan barely had time to gasp before Jason was on him again—no warning, no easing back in—just the brutal slide of thick, familiar heat splitting him open all over again. The sudden fullness punched the air from his lungs, his body still loose and trembling from the first round. Jason didn’t give him a second to adjust, slamming home with a force that rocked the bedframe against the wall. "Fuck—thought I was done with you?" Jason’s voice was raw, his hands vise-like on Dan’s hips as he drove into him, each thrust landing with a wet smack. Dan’s vision blurred at the edges, his cock twitching uselessly against his stomach, oversensitive but still hard. The stretch burned differently now—deeper, like Jason was carving a space inside him that wouldn’t close. The second load came harder, Jason’s teeth sinking into Dan’s shoulder as he came with a ragged curse. This time, Dan felt the spillover—warmth trickling down his thigh, the sheets sticking to his skin. Jason didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause. Just kept driving into him, his breath hot against Dan’s neck, his voice rough with something like awe. "One more." Dan’s protest died in a choked whine. Jason fucked him through the mess, his thrusts turning slick and filthy, the sound obscene in the quiet room. "You take it so good," Jason muttered, almost to himself, as his pace picked up. Dan could only nod, his throat too ruined to speak, his body pliant under Jason’s hands. Jason emptied himself a third time, his groan muffled against Dan’s spine. The room smelled like sex and sweat, the air thick with it. Dan’s legs shook, his hole clenching around nothing as Jason finally pulled out, leaving him wet and wrecked. Dan obeyed, the salt-bitter taste flooding his tongue as Jason watched, pupils blown. He barely registered the bed shifting until Jason’s weight settled between his legs again—the head of his cock already nudging at Dan’s spent hole. "No—” Dan’s voice cracked. Jason didn’t hesitate. He sheathed himself in one smooth thrust, bottoming out with a groan as Dan’s body yielded impossibly again. "Fuck. Still so tight." His hands pinned Dan’s wrists, his hips pistoning with renewed hunger. The overstimulation was electric—Dan arched, his cock twitching dryly as Jason’s thrusts grew erratic, his breath hot against Dan’s throat. A load shot out of Dan’s untouched dick and some of his cum got on Jason’s face. Jason licked what he could reach with his tongue. Jason growled, his hips grinding as he emptied himself in Dan once more. Dan felt the cum leaking out around the stretch of him. Both of them were exhausted. Dan could not believe his ex-player dom had unloaded in him 4 times in a row. Without being told, Dan said, “Thank you for your load, sir.” It made Jason chuckle, and he said, “Get out of here.” Dan got dressed and left the room. Somewhere beneath the exhaustion, beneath the ache, something unfamiliar hummed—not regret, not exactly. Want. Raw and gnawing. During his Uber ride back to his hotel, he reached for his phone, fingers trembling. The app was still open. He tapped on Jason’s profile and typed, “When can I serve you again, sir?” The reply came before he could second-guess it: “Tomorrow. Same place. Don't be late.” Dan exhaled. His skin throbbed in time with his pulse. He traced a fingertip over the freshest bruise, darkening already, purpling at the edges. The pain was sweet. The anticipation, sweeter.

So I'm still working on my other story but his is a shorter little side project that became a brain worm I had to get out. This is likely only going to have three parts. Here is part 1. I Corrupted My Young Husband I stroked my cock as I watched the big hairy muscle bear fucking my boy in our sling. I glanced down at the computer which had the feeds from the two cameras and made sure they were capturing all the action including a close up of the man’s bare cock slamming in and out of my husband’s hole. It was just three years ago that I first met Joey, the straight jock that had enrolled in my Queer Studies class in the spring semester of his senior year. When the class were introducing themselves, he was horribly overcompensating and oversharing, he said he was only taking the class because he needed the last few credits from a humanities class to graduate and that with his schedule and being a varsity wrestler, this was the only class that fit his schedule. By the time he graduated, he had accepted my invite for coffee. I had learned over the semester that the main reason he had not considered himself gay was because he was not attracted to guys his age, nor was he attracted to flamboyant guys, but he had developed an infatuation with me, his professor that was thirty years older. He eventually expressed how he wanted to be in a monogamous relationship, to be devoted to another man, to have that man devoted to him, and to be safe from STI’s. After that meeting, it was two more weeks before I popped his anal cherry. He insisted that I wear a condom and I obliged. He was a hot little muscle stud that was also smart and fun to spend time with. A couple months later he moved in with me and we told each other how we would be exclusive and devoted to each other. What I had not shared with him was that my main sexual kink was that I was a voyeur. I loved nothing more than watching someone getting fucked and bred, live and in person in front of me. Before he moved in I would spend a few nights a month at a bath house in the big city watching guys get fucked. Joey was the most beautiful specimen of youthful masculinity that had ever hit on me. Every time I fucked him, safely with a condom of course, I was fantasizing about this hot stud getting gang-banged by random men, being a free use, no loads refused cum-dump. Now, here we were three years later, living out my fantasy and what also, with some subtle prodding, turned out to be his as well. I just had to nudge him along the path. The first three months, I fucked him occasionally, always wrapped up to ‘be safe’. He trusted me and after us both being monogamous for six months and getting tested together, he agreed that we could fuck bare, but he insisted we also both go on PrEP, ‘just in case’. I agreed. It felt so much better to be inside his young tight hole bare then wearing a rubber, and he agreed. I could tell he enjoyed feeling my bare cock in him and he loved when I came inside him. He would play with his cummy hole afterward as I sucked him off and swallowed his load. Of course this still was not satisfying my deepest desires, and the frequency of our fucking declined over the next few months. Having long repressed his desires, Joey wanted to be fucked constantly and I was not meeting his needs. We had several long heart to heart talks and we agreed that he could go outside our relationship to get that itch in his ass scratched, but we agreed to some conditions, one I insisted on and two he wanted. My condition, which he eagerly accepted was that I would always be present when he was hooking up with guys outside our relationship. This feed right into my voyeur kink. He insisted that I not fuck other guys, which I was fine with as I understood his jealously and his abandonment issues from his absent father. He also promised that anyone fucking him would wear a condom and that I was the only one that would fuck him bare. I humored him on this one, but let him know that I trusted the effectiveness of PrEP. I helped him find older tops that wanted a piece of his hot muscular jock ass. We did the search together and he saw that many tops lost interest when he texted them that he wanted them to wear a condom. Plus after getting fucked by a few tops that did wear condoms, he had admitted, that after getting fucked bare and bred by me, he preferred getting fucked without a condom and having a man’s load inside him. I shared with him the info on PrEP’s effectiveness and eventually he agreed to go ahead and get fucked bare by other neg guys on PrEP. Overtime I shared more info with him about how undetectable equaled untransmittable, and he allowed me to broaden the pool of guys that fucked him while I watched to include poz guys that were undetectable. I introduced him to poz breeding porn, at first just pointing it out to him, and telling him I came across it while doing research about if it was safe to have undetectable guys fuck him. I did notice that he would check it out when I he thought I wasn’t watching him. We had also expended our usual play sessions from him having one guy come over to fuck him, to hosting gangbangs. He really enjoyed being the focus of long pump and dump sessions with multiple guys breeding his hole. We would usually finish the night with mine being the final load that would get dumped in his well used sloppy hole. As the months went on and he kept taking more and more loads, he asked me what would happen if it turned out that PrEP failed and he ended up getting infected. He wanted to know if I would still love him and if I would still want him if that happened. We were talking about it after a day where he had taken at least eight loads. He was on his back as I fucked him. I looked down into his eyes as I started to thrust into him harder, “I’d still love you and I’d still want to watch you getting fucked by other guys. I’d take care of you and make sure stayed healthy. You’re my Boy and will be forever, regardless of your status.” Our schedules were busy so it was a couple weeks before I was able to arrange another pump and dump session for him. This one though I had a little surprise for him to see how he would react, it would be a little test to see if he was willing to go further. On Saturday I had eight guys lined up to come breed my boy as I watched and filmed some of it. I always left it up to the tops if they were okay with me filming or not. I told Joey that the last top of the day was rather concerned about his privacy, so it wouldn’t be filmed and the top also wanted Joey to wear a blindfold. Joey was fine with that, quite a few of the tops liked to fuck him while he was blindfolded, it added a little something extra for them. The day had gone like normal, five of the guys had let me turn the cameras on and record. When it was time for the last top of the day, I turned the cameras off, got the blindfold out and put it on my little hot muscle stud of a husband. I then helped him get into position on all fours at the edge of the bed. Then I went into the living room and fetched the waiting top. He was mid-forties, white guy, slightly balding, decent shape, but with a nice eight inch girthy cock. He looked at me and asked, “You sure you want me to do this? It might fuck with his head more than you think.” “I think I know how he will react and it will be fine, trust me. I know he wants it, but he just isn’t ready to admit to me or maybe even himself yet,” I answered. “Okay, you’re the one that has to live with him if he reacts poorly. If he freaks I’m out the door,” said the man who in our online chats had given his name as Ray. I led him into our playroom. “Damn, he’s even hotter than in the pics you posted,” said Ray as he saw my boy on the bed. “You ready to another load Boy,” he asked as he walked over to the bed, unzipping his pants, and pulling out his cock as he approached. I closed the door, shutting it a bit to hard so it made noise, “Sorry about that,” I said make sure my Boy still knew I was in the room with him and Ray. Ray didn’t take long to get hard, he stroked his cock with one hand while sticking a finger from his other hand into Joey’s cum filled hole. “Damn, that’s a sloppy hole you have there Boy,” he said as he stroked himself while finger Joey’s asshole. “Thank you, Sir,” purred Joey as he pushed his ass back against the stranger’s finger. “Please fuck me Sir and give me your load,” he begged. I watched Ray fuck my Boy for about ten minutes. I was so fucking turned on, I gently rubbed my hard cock through my shorts. Eventually Ray turned and looked at me, then gave the agreed upon que for when he was getting close to cumming. He looked at me and said, “Hey can I get a some water, I’m parched.” My Boy knew that I had bottles of water in the room in case any of the tops needed a drink. What he didn’t know is that this was a set up. After a brief pause, I replied, “Sorry man, the previous guy took the last one, I’ll go get one from the kitchen.” Ray responded with a grunt of acknowledgment for the Boy’s benefit as he smirked at me. I went to the door and did my best to make as much noise opening it and then closing it as I could. A couple of seconds after I closed the door, but hadn’t actually left the room, Ray shoved Joey down onto the bed and lay on top of him as he continued to fuck him with his thick cock. The stranger brought his head down and whispered in my Boy’s ear, “Damn Boy, it’s a shame you are on PrEP cause I’ve been off my meds for a few months and I have a high viral load. You are one hot cum dump and I’d love to gift you and infect that hot ass of yours.” I don’t know who was more anxious for how Joey would respond, Ray or me. Joey didn’t say anything he just moaned and started thrusting his ass back up to meet Ray’s fucking. “Shit Boy, you are milking my cock like you want that toxic load. You want it don’t you, you want to me infect you? Don’t you?” asked Ray as he started thrusting harder, he was no longer whispering, but as far as Joey knew, they were alone in the room. Joey was moaning like crazy and being more active than he had with any of the previous guys today, thrusting back against Ray and grinding his crotch against the bed as Ray fucked him. “You want this toxic load Boy? You want it in your ass or should I pull out and shoot on your back?” asked Ray as he was getting close to cumming. Joey made a whining moan noise I’d never heard before. Ray was fucking my husband really hard now and Joey was clearing enjoying it. “That’s not good enough Boy, I’m going to pull out and waste this high viral load on your back unless you ask for it.” I knew Joey well enough that I recognized that he was cumming as he yelled out, “Please Sir, give me your toxic load, infect, poz me, breed me.” “Fuck yeah Boy,” said Ray as he reached his own organism from the combination of the dirty poz talk and Joey’s ass clenching his cock as the young muscle shot his own load onto the rubber playsheet covering the bed. I waited a couple seconds before opening the door and pretending to enter the room. “Oh damn, it looks like the missed the climax, but here’s your water,” I said trying my best to pretend I wasn’t on the verge of shooting my own load into my shorts from having watched that all unfold. “Thanks man,” said Ray as he kept up the act. He pulled his spent cock out of Joey and lifted up off the bed. He stood over Joey and slapped his ass, “Good thing you aren’t a girl cause if you were my potent load would definitely knock you up.” Joey did his best to act like this had just been another of the pump and dump encounters, “Thank you for giving my your load Sir.” “Your welcome Boy, I’m just bummed it’s only my load I’m giving you,” replied Ray as he zipped up his pants and turned to leave the room. On his way out, he leaned into me and whispered, “You have to call me if ever wants this for real, I’ll gladly take a med holiday to knock him up.” “Thank you for coming,” I said loudly as I nodded at Ray and gave him a thumbs up. Ray left the room and headed out of the house as I quickly pulled down my shorts and climbed on top of Joey who was still laying on the bed in a state of bliss after his organism. “He was a hot fucker,” I said as I slid my cock into Joey’s cum filled ass. It wasn’t going to take me long to add my own load. “You’ve been taking your PrEP right?” asked Joey, trying to disguise the sudden panic in his voice as he thought I was sliding my bare cock into his hole which had just received a toxic load.

Wilmer Valderrama, ie, Agent Torres on NCIS (and Fez on That Seventies Show!)

You are definitely not alone. I think there is a most likely many factors. I started young and with my step father. This as well as becoming hiv positive at a young age etc. are definitely things to look at. At this point in my life it has k not gotten in the way of my happiness so I just go with it.

I think there’s a huge difference between not uncovering the status or lying about it. Although I think we are responsible for each other, we are responsible for ourselves as well. So the bottom must consider the possibility of an infection if let a top fuck unsafe breed him. Few things are sillier than asking for the top’s status after penetration. However lying about it or pretending to wear condoms or destroying condoms are seriously immoral. Moreover, in many countries it’s a crime to infect someone against his willingness.

So, it’s obvious that the majority of the mentioned men are from the USA, or from the Anglo-Saxon world. However, let me draw your attention to my small nation, the Hungarians. We have a young stan-up comedian, Peter Elek. He lives close to me, and I saw him a few times, once right after he had come from the gym. Have a look at him. Isn’t he hot as fuck? Although he’s straight I would give anything for being fucked by him. For more photos check this link: [think before following links] https://nuheadzmanagement.com/elek-peti/

I went to Club Philly last week with a buddy. I had never been there before but I've heard it is a friendly fun place. My buddy and I went on a Wednesday evening since we were in town on business. I figured if I didn't find anyone there my buddy and I could always fuck as he is a vers bottom and I'm a top. I didn't know it was 1/2 price day and was happy to get in for less $ than I thought. The guy checking us in asked if this was our first time since we were talking about it to one another. Yes we both answered. He explained the club lay out and said today is a good day as there are a couple dozen guys here already. We got our lockers and undressed. I wandered around the club. Watching some guys at the slurp ramp getting sucked. I wandered upstairs and checked out the rooms. Several guys were naked with the doors open. Once guy had his face buried in the bed and his ass up and ready. There was lube next to him. I dropped my towel and let my hard on breathe. I was so horny I wanted to plug that hot hole. I lubed my cock a bit and rubbed around his hole. He moaned in anticipation. I slide inside. Warm wet (he had a couple loads inside) and ready for me. I fucked and fucked. He kept moaning and begging for my load. At one point another guy wandered over to us and rubbed his body against my back. I took some long strokes and a final thrust and my load jumped out into his hole. We both groaned and I was moaning loudly as I came. I pulled slowly out thanked him and wondered off. I wasn't done. I was still horny and found the sling room. A guy was laying on it stroking his dick playing with his hole. I walked up and slide inside. I fucked awhile but wasn't ready to cum. A minute later I was in this dark room with xxx videos playing. A older guy came over and started to suck my cock. He turned around and spread his ass cheeks. He had seen me fucking and wanted to get some dick and cum. I gently pushed him near a table where he leaned over and I slid inside. My vers/bottom bud was on the table getting really plowed by this big bear guy with a huge dick. We smiled at each other and I stuffed my new buddy with cock. I fucked his ass and pounded to the rythm of my buddy getting fucked. I shot another load. My buddy shot a load as his partner unloaded in him. I ended up fucking 4 holes and dropping 3 loads. My bud came down and said he was tired and I agreed. We left very satisfied. Now I know why they call Philadelphia the "city of brotherly love" it is so friendly. LOL

Exactly. As adult, everyone should know the risks of bareback sex. And be responsible for himself.

Hungry and eager cocksucker

Morgan Spector, known as Train Daddy from The Gilded Age, is on my list.

I was inspired by the discussion of what defined "pig sex" in this thread. There have been other discussions where same terms have been used to mean different things. So, I turned to AI to ask - "What are the top 1000 slang terms used by gay men in the US since 1960s" and had them organized by recency and prevalence. Prevalence was a measurement of how frequently these words occurred in gay online forums/sites within the last 20 years, ranked HIGH, MEDIUM, LOW. THERE ARE VERY FEW TERMS on this list that I've ever heard and certainly never used. Have you? What slang terms are missing? Comment below. SLANG TERM, DEFINITION, and ORIGIN ** 100-footer ** DEFINITION: An obviously gay or lesbian person (as if visible from 100 feet away) ORIGIN: US, mid-20th century, likely from gay communities to describe flamboyance ** 420-Friendly ** DEFINITION: Weed-friendly **** Open to weed use ORIGIN: 2000s–present ** AC/DC ** DEFINITION: Bisexual ORIGIN: 1970s, US/UK, from the rock band or electricity (alternating/direct current) symbolizing both ways ** Ace-flux ** DEFINITION: Fluctuating asexuality ORIGIN: 2010s ** Achillean ** DEFINITION: An umbrella term for attractions and relationships between men, regardless of their sexual or romantic orientation ORIGIN: Recent, 2010s, referencing ancient Greek mythology (Achilles) and Leonardo da Vinci's sexuality; also known as MLM (man-loving-man) ** Aftercare ** DEFINITION: Emotional/physical care post-scene **** Emotional care **** Dominant partner ORIGIN: BDSM ** Alice Blue Gown ** DEFINITION: Effeminate gay man ORIGIN: Mid-20th century, US, possibly from a song or color associated with delicacy ** Alpha pup ** DEFINITION: Leader pup ORIGIN: Pup play ** Anal assassin ** DEFINITION: Slur for a gay man ORIGIN: 2000s, UK/US, derogatory term implying aggressive anal sex ** Anon pic ** DEFINITION: Anonymous body photo ORIGIN: App culture ** Aromantic ** DEFINITION: No romantic attraction ORIGIN: 2010s ** Arse bandit ** DEFINITION: Slur for a gay man ORIGIN: 1980s, UK, derogatory from "arse" (ass) and bandit implying theft or invasion ** Artiste ** DEFINITION: A gay man who excels at fellatio ORIGIN: Mid-20th century, US gay slang ** Asexual ** DEFINITION: No sexual attraction ORIGIN: 1990s–present ** Auntie ** DEFINITION: An older, often effeminate and gossipy gay man ORIGIN: Early 20th century, US/UK gay slang ** Baby gay ** DEFINITION: Someone who’s newly out and is generally pretty clueless about everything **** Newly out or inexperienced gay person ORIGIN: 2010s, modern queer slang, from coming out experiences **** 2000s–2010s slang ** Baby queen ** DEFINITION: New or inexperienced drag queen ORIGIN: Drag culture ** Backgammon player ** DEFINITION: Slur for a gay man ORIGIN: Late 18th century, Britain, from backgammon as euphemism for sodomy ** Banjee ** DEFINITION: Street-tough, urban style; often masc, working-class ORIGIN: Black and Latinx queer communities ** Bareback ** DEFINITION: Condomless sex ORIGIN: 1990s–2000s porn and hookup slang ** Basket shopping ** DEFINITION: Checking out a man's crotch through clothing ORIGIN: Mid-20th century, British/US gay slang, "basket" refers to the bulge ** Bathhouse / Baths ** DEFINITION: Gay male sex club with saunas, rooms, etc. ORIGIN: Early–mid 20th century urban gay culture ** Bathhouse Betty ** DEFINITION: Man who spends a lot of time at bathhouses ORIGIN: Late 20th-century bar slang ** Baths ** DEFINITION: Bathhouses frequented by gay men for sexual encounters ORIGIN: US, mid-20th century, from gay bathhouse culture ** Bathsheba ** DEFINITION: Gay man who frequents bathhouses ORIGIN: Mid-20th century, US, play on "baths" and biblical name ** Batty boy ** DEFINITION: Slur for a gay or effeminate man ORIGIN: 1990s, Jamaica/UK, from "batty" meaning bottom ** BB / Bareback ** DEFINITION: Condomless sex; raw sex ORIGIN: 1990s–2000s ** Beach bitch ** DEFINITION: A gay man who frequents beaches and resorts for sexual encounters ORIGIN: US, mid-20th century ** Bean queen ** DEFINITION: Man attracted to Latino men ORIGIN: Late 20th-century fetishizing slang ** Bear ** DEFINITION: Hairy, chunky, chubby, muscly, beardy gay man, often with big bellies **** Large, hairy, rugged gay man ORIGIN: 1980s, US gay subculture, from bear-like appearance; popularized in Bear Magazine **** Late 1970s–80s; Bear Magazine and bar culture ** Bear Chub ** DEFINITION: Larger man seeking bears ORIGIN: ** Bear daddy ** DEFINITION: Older bear with daddy vibe ORIGIN: Bear subculture ** Bear4Bear ** DEFINITION: Bears seeking bears ORIGIN: 2000s–present ** Beard ** DEFINITION: A person used as a date, romantic partner, or spouse to conceal one's sexual orientation **** Person used to hide sexuality ORIGIN: Mid-20th century, US, from "bearding" to hide identity **** 1990s–present ** Beat ** DEFINITION: An area frequented by gay men, where sexual acts occur; also, looking flawless (face or body) ORIGIN: Australia for location (mid-20th century); for compliment, from drag/ballroom culture, 1980s-1990s US ** Bedroom queen ** DEFINITION: Queen who mostly does drag at home/online ORIGIN: Social media era ** Beefcake ** DEFINITION: Muscular, attractive gay man ORIGIN: 1940s, US, from "beefcake" photos of muscular men ** Beige Flag ** DEFINITION: Keeping someone on hold ORIGIN: ** Belle ** DEFINITION: Young gay man ORIGIN: 1920s-1930s, US Prohibition era slang ** Benching ** DEFINITION: Keeping someone on hold ORIGIN: 2010s ** Bent ** DEFINITION: Gay, as opposed to straight ORIGIN: UK, early 20th century, from "bent" meaning crooked or not straight ** Beta pup ** DEFINITION: Submissive pup ORIGIN: Pup play ** Binding ** DEFINITION: A technique in which individuals wear tight clothing to hide and flatten breasts ORIGIN: 1990s-2000s, transgender and queer communities ** Bisexual ** DEFINITION: A person emotionally, physically, and/or sexually attracted to both men and women ORIGIN: Late 19th century, medical/psychological term; entered common use in 1960s-1970s with bisexual movement ** Block ** DEFINITION: Remove user ORIGIN: App feature ** Body pic? ** DEFINITION: Request for body photo ORIGIN: App culture ** Body'ody'ody ** DEFINITION: Emphasizing impressive body **** Emphasizing impressive physique ORIGIN: Drag and pop culture slang **** Drag/pop culture ** Boi ** DEFINITION: Youthful, androgynous or submissive person ORIGIN: 1990s–2000s queer and kink communities ** Bona ** DEFINITION: Good, attractive ORIGIN: Polari; more UK-centric but known among some US queer history buffs ** Bondage bottom ** DEFINITION: Submissive in bondage ORIGIN: BDSM ** Bondage pig ** DEFINITION: Person who loves heavy bondage ORIGIN: Kink ** Bondage top ** DEFINITION: Dominant in bondage ORIGIN: BDSM ** Boot worship ** DEFINITION: Boot-focused kink ORIGIN: Leather scene ** Bootblack ** DEFINITION: Person who shines boots at leather events ORIGIN: Leather culture ** Boots ** DEFINITION: A verbal exclamation point added to statements for emphasis **** Intensifier meaning “very” ORIGIN: 2010s, from ballroom/drag culture, US **** Drag culture ** Bop ** DEFINITION: An amazing, ass-shaking, and/or iconic song ORIGIN: 2010s, modern queer slang ** Bottom ** DEFINITION: A receptive partner in intercourse **** Receptive or submissive sexual role; Submissive partner; Feminine-coded role ORIGIN: Mid-20th century, US gay slang from sexual positions **** 20th-century gay sexual slang ** Boy ** DEFINITION: Younger or submissive partner ORIGIN: Long-standing; used in leather and BDSM contexts ** Brat ** DEFINITION: Sub who playfully resists ORIGIN: BDSM ** Brat Tamer ** DEFINITION: Dom who handles brats ORIGIN: BDSM ** Breadcrumbing ** DEFINITION: Leading someone on ORIGIN: 2010s ** Bro (gay context) ** DEFINITION: Casual, masculine gay man ORIGIN: 2000s–2010s ** Bromance ** DEFINITION: Intense but non-sexual male friendship; often used jokingly in gay contexts ORIGIN: 2000s mainstream slang ** Bromosexual ** DEFINITION: Straight-presenting man with strong gay friendships or a gay man with “bro” vibe ORIGIN: 2010s pop slang ** Brosexual / Bromosexual ** DEFINITION: Gay man with “bro” vibe ORIGIN: 2010s slang ** Browning ** DEFINITION: Anal sex ORIGIN: 1920s, US gay slang ** Bug party ** DEFINITION: Gathering centered on HIV transmission fetish (very niche) ORIGIN: Late 20th-century underground slang ** Bugchaser ** DEFINITION: Person seeking HIV infection (controversial, stigmatized) ORIGIN: Late 20th-century underground slang ** Bug-phobic ** DEFINITION: Fearful of HIV-positive people (stigmatizing) ORIGIN: Community slang ** Bull queer ** DEFINITION: A gay man who exclusively tops in intercourse ORIGIN: Mid-20th century, prison slang ** Bum chum ** DEFINITION: Slur for a gay man ORIGIN: UK slang, from "bum" (ass) and chum (friend) ** Bumder ** DEFINITION: Rare slur for a gay man ORIGIN: UK slang, blend of bum and bender ** Bummer ** DEFINITION: Slur for a gay man ORIGIN: UK slang, from bum ** Bussy ** DEFINITION: Portmanteau of "boy pussy"; a male anus in anal sex context ORIGIN: 2000s-2010s, US queer slang, popularized online ** Busted ** DEFINITION: Messy, unkempt, or poorly presented ORIGIN: 2010s, from drag culture ** Butch ** DEFINITION: A person who identifies as masculine **** Masculine-presenting queer person (often lesbian, but used among gay men too) ORIGIN: 1940s-1950s, lesbian communities but applies to gay men **** Early 20th century; popularized via working-class and bar cultures ** Butchy femme ** DEFINITION: A gender expression between femme and futch ORIGIN: 2010s, queer gender terms ** Cake ** DEFINITION: The booty ORIGIN: 2010s, modern slang ** Camp ** DEFINITION: Exaggerated and amusing, associated with gay men or femininity ORIGIN: Early 20th century, from Polari/queer culture; popularized in 1960s ** Camp Queen ** DEFINITION: Queen known for campy style ORIGIN: Drag culture ** Castro clone ** DEFINITION: Hyper-masculine, uniform-style gay man (flannel, mustache, jeans) ORIGIN: 1970s San Francisco Castro district ** Castro gay ** DEFINITION: Gay man associated with San Francisco Castro ORIGIN: 1970s–present; SF regional ** Catfish ** DEFINITION: Fake profile ORIGIN: 2010s ** CBT ** DEFINITION: Cock and ball torture ORIGIN: BDSM ** Chaos Gay ** DEFINITION: Gay man with chaotic energy ORIGIN: 2020s memes **** 2020s ** Chaser ** DEFINITION: Someone attracted to a particular type, e.g., larger men ORIGIN: 1990s, from bear/chubby subcultures ** Chastity ** DEFINITION: Wearing a chastity device ORIGIN: BDSM ** Chelsea boy ** DEFINITION: Fashionable, gym-toned gay man (NYC Chelsea stereotype) ORIGIN: 1980s–90s New York neighborhood stereotype ** Chem-friendly ** DEFINITION: Open to drug use ORIGIN: 2000s–present ** Chemsex ** DEFINITION: Sex involving stimulants ORIGIN: 2000s public health term ** Chi chi man ** DEFINITION: Slur for a gay man ORIGIN: Caribbean, 1990s, derogatory ** Chicken ** DEFINITION: A youthful gay man **** Young, often naive or underage boy ORIGIN: Mid-20th century, US/UK **** 20th-century gay slang; also in Polari ** Chickenhawk ** DEFINITION: Older man seeking much younger men ORIGIN: 20th-century gay slang ** Children ** DEFINITION: Members of a house or younger queer folks ORIGIN: Ballroom culture ** Chill? ** DEFINITION: Asking about drugs/sex ORIGIN: App shorthand ** Chocolate queen ** DEFINITION: Man attracted to Black men ORIGIN: Fetishizing slang; often criticized ** Chosen family ** DEFINITION: Non-biological support network ORIGIN: 1990s–present LGBTQ culture ** Chub ** DEFINITION: Larger, heavier gay man ORIGIN: Late 20th-century body-positive subcultures ** Chub4Chub ** DEFINITION: Larger men seeking each other ORIGIN: 2000s–present ** Chubby ** DEFINITION: Obese man ORIGIN: ** Circuit bunny ** DEFINITION: Younger man who follows circuit parties ORIGIN: 1990s–2000s ** Circuit daddy ** DEFINITION: Older man who still does circuit parties ORIGIN: 2000s–2010s ** Circuit Gay ** DEFINITION: Man who attends circuit parties ORIGIN: 1990s–present ** Circuit kween ** DEFINITION: Camp spelling of “queen” for circuit-loving person ORIGIN: 2010s internet slang ** Circuit party ** DEFINITION: Large, often multi-day gay dance/party event ORIGIN: 1980s–90s; tied to club and drug culture ** Circuit queen ** DEFINITION: Man who frequently attends circuit parties ORIGIN: 1990s–2000s circuit culture ** Circuit twink ** DEFINITION: Young man who frequents circuit parties ORIGIN: 2000s–2010s ** Clean ** DEFINITION: HIV-negative (stigmatizing) ORIGIN: 2000s–present ** Clock ** DEFINITION: To notice or call out something (often a flaw) ORIGIN: Ballroom/drag slang ** Clockable ** DEFINITION: Easy to recognize as queer or trans ORIGIN: Ballroom and drag slang ** Clocked ** DEFINITION: Recognized or called out ORIGIN: Ballroom culture ** Clone ** DEFINITION: A San Francisco or New York denizen with exaggerated macho behavior ORIGIN: 1970s-1980s, US, from Castro clone look (mustache, jeans) ** Close friends thirst ** DEFINITION: Sexy content for “close friends” ORIGIN: 2020s ** Closet ** DEFINITION: Metaphor for hiding one’s sexuality ORIGIN: Mid-20th century; “coming out of the closet” popularized later ** Closet / Closeted ** DEFINITION: Hiding sexuality; Not publicly out ORIGIN: ** Closet case ** DEFINITION: Person hiding their homosexuality ORIGIN: Mid-20th century ** Closet queen ** DEFINITION: Gay man who hides his sexuality but is known in gay circles ORIGIN: Mid-20th century bar slang ** Closeted ** DEFINITION: Keeping one's sexuality a secret ORIGIN: 1960s-1970s, from "in the closet" metaphor ** Club kid ** DEFINITION: Young, flamboyant nightlife personality ORIGIN: 1980s–90s New York club culture ** Club queen ** DEFINITION: Queen who mainly performs in clubs ORIGIN: Drag and nightlife culture ** Cock gobbler ** DEFINITION: Vulgar slur for a gay man who performs fellatio ORIGIN: 2000s, US derogatory slang ** Cocksucker ** DEFINITION: A person who practices fellatio, usually a gay male ORIGIN: Early 20th century, derogatory but reclaimed ** Coming Out ** DEFINITION: Publicly acknowledging one’s sexuality or gender identity ORIGIN: 20th-century gay communities; metaphor from debutante “coming out” ** Cottagecore gay ** DEFINITION: Gay man into pastoral, cozy aesthetics ORIGIN: 2020s internet culture ** Cottaging ** DEFINITION: Having or seeking anonymous gay sex in a public toilet ORIGIN: UK, 1960s, from "cottage" as public restroom ** Cruise bar ** DEFINITION: Bar known for cruising ORIGIN: Mid-late 20th-century gay bar culture ** Cruising ** DEFINITION: Seeking a casual gay sex encounter ORIGIN: Ancient Rome historically; modern 20th century US/UK ** Cub ** DEFINITION: A young bear, perhaps with a smaller frame **** Younger or smaller bear ORIGIN: 1990s, bear subculture **** Bear subculture ** Cuffing Season ** DEFINITION: Winter relationship trend ORIGIN: 2010s ** Cut/Uncut ** DEFINITION: Circumcised/uncircumcised ORIGIN: App shorthand ** Daddy ** DEFINITION: A typically older gay man ORIGIN: Mid-20th century, from paternal figure; popularized in 2010s ** DDF ** DEFINITION: Drug- and disease-free (stigmatizing) ORIGIN: 1990s–2000s ** Demisexual ** DEFINITION: Attraction after emotional bond ORIGIN: 2010s ** Dicklicker ** DEFINITION: Vulgar slur for a gay man ORIGIN: 2000s, US derogatory ** Disco dolly ** DEFINITION: Gay man who loves disco/club dancing ORIGIN: 1970s–80s ** Discreet ** DEFINITION: Wants privacy; not out ORIGIN: 2000s–present ** Dish ** DEFINITION: Attractive person; also gossip ORIGIN: Polari and US gay slang ** DL (Down-Low) ** DEFINITION: Men who have sex with men but identify as straight/hidden ORIGIN: 1990s–2000s discourse, especially in Black communities ** Dog Gay / Cat Gay ** DEFINITION: Gay man whose personality aligns with dog/cat stereotypes ORIGIN: 2020s memes ** Doing the most ** DEFINITION: Trying too hard ORIGIN: 2010s slang ** Dolly eek ** DEFINITION: Pretty face ORIGIN: Mid-20th century, Polari (UK gay secret language), backslang for "eek" (face) ** Dom ** DEFINITION: Dominant partner ORIGIN: BDSM culture ** Down-Low ** DEFINITION: Homosexual or bisexual activity kept secret by men ORIGIN: US, 1990s, African American communities ** Drag ** DEFINITION: Dressing as the opposite gender, often for performance **** Gender performance; Drag queen/king art form ORIGIN: Shakespearean, "dressed as a girl" acronym; 19th century theater **** Older theatrical slang ** Drag mother ** DEFINITION: Experienced queen who mentors newer queens ORIGIN: Drag culture ** Drama queen ** DEFINITION: Person (often gay man) who overreacts theatrically ORIGIN: Mid-20th century slang; popularized in gay and mainstream culture ** Dropping pins ** DEFINITION: Hinting at one's homosexuality ORIGIN: 1920s-1930s, US, from "dropping hairpins" to signal subtly ** Dungeon ** DEFINITION: Kink play space ORIGIN: Leather/BDSM ** Dungeon monitor (DM) ** DEFINITION: Safety supervisor ORIGIN: BDSM ** Edging ** DEFINITION: Prolonging arousal ORIGIN: Kink ** Elder gay ** DEFINITION: Older gay man, often jokingly ORIGIN: 2010s internet slang ** Electro play ** DEFINITION: Electricity-based kink ORIGIN: BDSM ** En femme ** DEFINITION: The act of wearing clothes stereotypically of the opposite sex ORIGIN: French, 20th century cross-dressing ** ENM ** DEFINITION: Ethical non-monogamy ORIGIN: 2010s ** Era ** DEFINITION: Describing a way of acting during a certain period ORIGIN: 2010s, modern slang ** Exhibitionist ** DEFINITION: Likes being watched ORIGIN: Kink ** Extra ** DEFINITION: Taking anything to the next level **** Over-the-top behavior ORIGIN: 2010s, ballroom culture **** 2010s slang ** F3-LOWer ** DEFINITION: A typically effeminate gay man ORIGIN: Mid-20th century ** Face pic? ** DEFINITION: Request for face photo ORIGIN: App culture ** Fag hag ** DEFINITION: Woman who primarily socializes with gay men ORIGIN: Mid-late 20th century; now often seen as dated/offensive ** Fag stag ** DEFINITION: Straight man who enjoys company of gay men ORIGIN: 1990s, US, counterpart to "fag hag" ** Faggot / Fag ** DEFINITION: Strong slur for gay man; sometimes reclaimed ORIGIN: Early 20th century; widely used as insult ** Fairy ** DEFINITION: Slur for gay men, reclaimed **** Effeminate gay man; often derogatory ORIGIN: 1920s-1930s, US; from effeminate stereotype **** Late 1800s/early 1900s urban subcultures ** Family ** DEFINITION: Coded term for other gay/queer people ORIGIN: 20th-century bar and community slang ** Faun ** DEFINITION: Gay man with hairy legs but less body hair ORIGIN: 2010s, US gay body type slang ** Feeling My Oats ** DEFINITION: Living your best life ORIGIN: 2010s, from RuPaul's Drag Race ** Fem / Femme ** DEFINITION: Feminine-presenting man **** Feminine-presenting gay man ORIGIN: 20th-century queer slang **** 1990s–2000s queer slang ** Femboy ** DEFINITION: A feminine or androgynous male ORIGIN: 1990s-2000s, online communities ** Fem-leaning ** DEFINITION: Mostly feminine ORIGIN: App culture ** Fierce ** DEFINITION: Intense confidence in looks or actions ORIGIN: 1980s-1990s, ballroom ** Finocchio ** DEFINITION: Slur for a gay man ORIGIN: Italian-American, from "fennel" implying softness ** Fire Island gay ** DEFINITION: Gay man associated with Fire Island summers ORIGIN: 1990s–present ** Fire Island queen ** DEFINITION: Man who spends summers partying on Fire Island ORIGIN: 1970s–present; New York regional ** Fish / Fishy ** DEFINITION: Looking convincingly feminine (like a cis woman) in drag ORIGIN: Ballroom and drag culture; contested usage today ** Fish queen ** DEFINITION: Queen who looks very feminine ORIGIN: Drag/ballroom slang ** Fistee ** DEFINITION: Person receiving fisting ORIGIN: Kink ** Fister ** DEFINITION: Person who performs fisting ORIGIN: Kink ** Flit ** DEFINITION: Effeminate gay man ORIGIN: 1950s, from Catcher in the Rye ** Folx ** DEFINITION: A shorter alternative to folks ORIGIN: 2010s, inclusive language ** For The Gods ** DEFINITION: Executing something perfectly ORIGIN: 2010s, drag/ballroom ** Friend of Dorothy ** DEFINITION: A gay person **** Coded phrase meaning gay man ORIGIN: 1930s-1940s, shibboleth from Wizard of Oz/Judy Garland **** Mid-20th century ** Friend of friends ** DEFINITION: Coded phrase for queer person ORIGIN: Various 20th-century closeted contexts ** Fruit ** DEFINITION: Derogatory term for gay man ORIGIN: Early–mid 20th century; linked to “fruity” meaning effeminate ** Fruit fly ** DEFINITION: Woman who spends a lot of time with gay men ORIGIN: Late 20th-century bar slang **** 1990s–2000s ** Fruit stand ** DEFINITION: Place with many gay men ORIGIN: Playful slang ** FWB ** DEFINITION: Friends with benefits ORIGIN: General slang; co-used in hookup culture ** Gay ** DEFINITION: Homosexual man (often reclaimed or neutral in community contexts) ORIGIN: Mid-20th century onward, originally clinical/derogatory but widely reclaimed ** Gold star gay ** DEFINITION: Gay man who has never had sex with a woman ORIGIN: Late 20th century, joking/slang origin ** Grindr fingers ** DEFINITION: The specific way people hold their phone while using Grindr ORIGIN: 2010s app culture meme ** Grindr goblin ** DEFINITION: Someone who uses Grindr obsessively or in a chaotic way ORIGIN: 2020s internet slang ** Group play ** DEFINITION: Sexual activity involving more than two people ORIGIN: Kink and hookup culture ** Handsome ** DEFINITION: Attractive man (often used ironically or affectionately) ORIGIN: General gay slang ** Hawk ** DEFINITION: Person who aggressively pursues younger partners ORIGIN: 20th-century slang (see Chickenhawk) ** House ** DEFINITION: Chosen family / ballroom family unit ORIGIN: 1970s–80s ballroom culture ** House mother ** DEFINITION: Leader/mentor of a ballroom house ORIGIN: 1970s–80s ballroom scene ** Hung ** DEFINITION: Having a large penis ORIGIN: Sexual slang, widespread in apps/profiles ** Intern ** DEFINITION: Younger/less experienced gay man (joking) ORIGIN: 2010s–2020s internet slang ** IP (Internet Prince) ** DEFINITION: Attractive man whose face is never shown (only body/torso pics) ORIGIN: 2010s–2020s app culture ** Isaiah ** DEFINITION: Older gay man who gives unsolicited life advice ORIGIN: 2020s meme slang (from TikTok/Instagram) ** Kiki ** DEFINITION: Casual chat / gossip session ORIGIN: Ballroom and AAVE-influenced queer slang ** Kink ** DEFINITION: Sexual fetish or non-normative practice ORIGIN: BDSM / leather subcultures ** Kink-friendly ** DEFINITION: Open to partners with kink interests ORIGIN: App / profile shorthand ** Kiwi ** DEFINITION: New Zealander (sometimes used in travel/hookup contexts) ORIGIN: General slang with gay app usage ** League ** DEFINITION: Level of attractiveness / dating market value ORIGIN: 2010s–2020s dating slang ** Leather ** DEFINITION: Leather fetish or leather community aesthetic ORIGIN: Mid-20th century gay leather subculture ** Leather daddy ** DEFINITION: Older dominant man in leather gear ORIGIN: Leather/BDSM culture ** Link? ** DEFINITION: Request for current location / address for hookup ORIGIN: Early–mid app culture ** Looksmaxxing ** DEFINITION: Maximizing physical appearance through grooming/fitness/surgery ORIGIN: 2020s internet slang (orig. incel → queer/meme usage) ** LTR ** DEFINITION: Long-term relationship ORIGIN: 1990s–present personal ads / apps ** Lucky Pierre ** DEFINITION: The middle man in a threesome ORIGIN: Mid-20th century, US/French origin joke/song ** Masc ** DEFINITION: Masculine-presenting gay man ORIGIN: 2010s app culture ** Masc4Masc ** DEFINITION: Masculine man seeking masculine partner ORIGIN: 2000s–2010s dating/app culture ** Miss Thing ** DEFINITION: Playful/sometimes shady address for another gay man ORIGIN: Late 20th-century Black/Latinx queer communities ** Mo ** DEFINITION: Shortened form of “homo” ORIGIN: 20th-century bar slang ** Monogamish ** DEFINITION: Mostly monogamous with some flexibility ORIGIN: 2010s, popularized by Dan Savage ** Mother ** DEFINITION: Leader/mentor figure in ballroom or drag ORIGIN: 1970s–80s ballroom scene ** Mother Superior ** DEFINITION: Leader of a group of gay men ORIGIN: Mid-20th century US extension of “mother” ** MSM ** DEFINITION: Men who have sex with men (clinical/public health term) ORIGIN: Late 20th-century epidemiology ** Mug ** DEFINITION: The face ORIGIN: 2010s drag slang ** Muscle mary ** DEFINITION: Very muscular, often vain gay man ORIGIN: Late 20th-century bar slang ** Naff ** DEFINITION: Tacky, uncool ORIGIN: Polari → British mainstream slang ** Nance / Nancy ** DEFINITION: Effeminate gay man ORIGIN: Early 20th-century English/American slang ** Neg ** DEFINITION: HIV-negative ORIGIN: Late 20th-century HIV/AIDS communities ** Neg4Neg ** DEFINITION: HIV-negative seeking same ORIGIN: 1990s–present ** Neg-friendly ** DEFINITION: Open to HIV-negative partners ORIGIN: Late 20th-century profiles ** Negotiation ** DEFINITION: Pre-scene discussion / boundary setting ORIGIN: BDSM ** Nelly ** DEFINITION: Effeminate gay man (sometimes affectionate, often mocking) ORIGIN: Mid-20th century ** Nipple play ** DEFINITION: Nipple stimulation kink ORIGIN: Kink ** No Fats, No Fems ** DEFINITION: Exclusionary phrase rejecting fat and feminine men ORIGIN: Late 20th-century personal ads → 2010s apps ** No tea, no shade ** DEFINITION: “No offense,” often before/after criticism ORIGIN: Drag and ballroom culture ** NSA ** DEFINITION: No strings attached (casual sex) ORIGIN: 1990s–present hookup slang ** NSA fun ** DEFINITION: No-strings sex ORIGIN: 1990s–present ** Omi ** DEFINITION: Man ORIGIN: Polari ** On prep ** DEFINITION: Taking PrEP ORIGIN: 2010s ** On the scene ** DEFINITION: Actively participating in gay social life ORIGIN: Mid-late 20th-century bar culture ** Open ** DEFINITION: Non-monogamous ORIGIN: 2000s–present ** Open to ** DEFINITION: Willing to try (kinks, types, etc.) ORIGIN: App culture ** Orbiting ** DEFINITION: Watching someone’s stories but not engaging ORIGIN: 2010s social media ** Otter ** DEFINITION: Slim, hairy gay man ORIGIN: 2000s, bear subculture ** Out ** DEFINITION: Openly gay ORIGIN: 20th-century adaptation of “coming out” ** Pageant queen ** DEFINITION: Queen focused on pageant competitions ORIGIN: Drag pageant circuits ** Palone ** DEFINITION: Woman ORIGIN: Polari ** Pansy ** DEFINITION: Effeminate gay man; insult tied to “sissy” ORIGIN: 1920s “Pansy Craze” in US nightlife ** Period ** DEFINITION: Emphatic end to statement ORIGIN: 2010s, AAVE/Southern Black gay slang ** Pig ** DEFINITION: Man who enjoys intense or “dirty” sex ORIGIN: Late 20th-century kink/leather communities ** Pig pit ** DEFINITION: Group kink space ORIGIN: Leather scene ** Pig sex ** DEFINITION: Intense, uninhibited, often kinky sex ORIGIN: 1990s-2000s gay leather/BDSM scenes ** Ping me ** DEFINITION: Message me on an app ORIGIN: 2000s messaging culture ** Pink dollar ** DEFINITION: Economic power of gay consumers ORIGIN: Late 20th-century marketing slang ** Pinkwashing ** DEFINITION: Using LGBTQ friendliness to distract from other issues ORIGIN: 21st-century political slang ** Piss play ** DEFINITION: Watersports kink ORIGIN: Kink ** Plant Gay ** DEFINITION: Gay man obsessed with houseplants ORIGIN: 2020s meme culture ** Platinum gay ** DEFINITION: Gay man with even less heterosexual experience than “gold star” ORIGIN: Late 20th-century joking slang ** Platinum star ** DEFINITION: Gay man born by C-section who never had sex with women ORIGIN: 2000s, from Will & Grace joke ** PNP (Party & Play) ** DEFINITION: Sex + meth/party drugs ORIGIN: 1990s–present ** Pocket gay ** DEFINITION: Very short gay man (often joking) ORIGIN: 2000s–2010s slang ** Poly ** DEFINITION: Polyamorous ORIGIN: 2000s–present ** Poof / Poofter ** DEFINITION: Slur for gay man (more UK) ORIGIN: 20th-century British slang ** Porpoise ** DEFINITION: Chubby, smooth gay man ORIGIN: 2010s, US gay body type slang ** Potato queen ** DEFINITION: Asian man attracted to white men ORIGIN: Late 20th-century fetishizing slang ** Power Bottom ** DEFINITION: Energetic / assertive receptive partner ORIGIN: 2000s US gay slang ** Power top ** DEFINITION: Assertive, dominant top ORIGIN: 1990s–2000s ** Poz ** DEFINITION: HIV-positive person ORIGIN: 1990s, from positive ** Poz party ** DEFINITION: Gathering of HIV-positive men ORIGIN: Late 20th-century HIV communities ** Poz4Poz ** DEFINITION: HIV-positive seeking same ORIGIN: 1990s–present ** Poz-friendly ** DEFINITION: Open to HIV-positive partners ORIGIN: 1990s–2000s dating/hookup profiles ** Prawn ** DEFINITION: Fantastic body, unattractive face ORIGIN: Recent, UK/Australia? ** PrEP / On PrEP ** DEFINITION: Taking PrEP medication ORIGIN: ** Prep-friendly ** DEFINITION: Open to partners on PrEP ORIGIN: 2010s ** Primal ** DEFINITION: Animalistic kink style ORIGIN: 2000s ** Protein Gay ** DEFINITION: Gym-focused gay man ORIGIN: 2010s slang ** Punk ** DEFINITION: Smaller, younger gay man forced submissive ORIGIN: Prison slang, mid-20th century ** Pup ** DEFINITION: Gay man into puppy play kink ORIGIN: 2000s, US leather/BDSM community ** Queen ** DEFINITION: Flamboyant or effeminate gay man ORIGIN: Early 20th century, slur reclaimed ** Queer ** DEFINITION: Umbrella term for LGBTQ; reclaimed from slur ORIGIN: 1890s slur → reclaimed 1990s AIDS era ** Queerplatonic ** DEFINITION: Deep non-romantic partnership ORIGIN: 2010s ** Read ** DEFINITION: Calling someone out sassily / humorously insult ORIGIN: 1980s ballroom / Paris Is Burning ** Realness ** DEFINITION: Authentic self / convincingly embodying a category ORIGIN: 1980s ballroom culture ** Red Flag ** DEFINITION: Warning sign in dating/personality ORIGIN: 2020s dating slang ** Rice queen ** DEFINITION: Man (often white) attracted to Asian men ORIGIN: Late 20th-century fetishizing slang ** Rigger ** DEFINITION: Person who ties rope (bondage top) ORIGIN: Rope bondage ** Rope bottom ** DEFINITION: Person who enjoys being tied ORIGIN: BDSM / rope bondage ** Roster ** DEFINITION: List of dating/hookup prospects ORIGIN: 2020s slang ** Rough trade ** DEFINITION: Dangerous or hyper-masculine sexual partner ORIGIN: 20th-century gay bar/street slang ** Rubber pup ** DEFINITION: Pup in rubber/latex gear ORIGIN: Kink ** Rubberman ** DEFINITION: Man into rubber/latex ORIGIN: 1990s–present ** Safeword ** DEFINITION: Word to stop play ORIGIN: BDSM ** Sapiosexual ** DEFINITION: Attracted to intelligence ORIGIN: 2010s ** Scene ** DEFINITION: Kink session / BDSM environment ORIGIN: BDSM culture ** Scene queen ** DEFINITION: Person heavily involved in nightlife/club scene ORIGIN: Late 20th-century club culture ** Scruff guy ** DEFINITION: Man using Scruff app; often bearded/masc ORIGIN: 2010s app culture ** Sero-neutral ** DEFINITION: No preference on HIV status ORIGIN: 2010s ** Serosort ** DEFINITION: Choose partners based on HIV status ORIGIN: Public health / community slang ** Serve ** DEFINITION: Presenting oneself, especially a look ORIGIN: 1980s ballroom ** Service bottom ** DEFINITION: Bottom who prioritizes pleasing the top ORIGIN: 2000s kink/sex-positive circles ** Service top ** DEFINITION: Top who prioritizes sub’s pleasure ORIGIN: 2000s kink/sex-positive circles ** Serving ** DEFINITION: Presenting a strong look or vibe ORIGIN: Ballroom → mainstream ** Shade ** DEFINITION: Subtle or indirect insult ORIGIN: 1980s ballroom culture ** Shadow pic ** DEFINITION: Dark, obscured photo (for privacy) ORIGIN: App privacy culture ** Shadowban ** DEFINITION: Hidden from others (app/social) ORIGIN: 2010s ** Sickening ** DEFINITION: Incredibly amazing ORIGIN: 2010s drag ** Side ** DEFINITION: Gay man who prefers not to have anal sex ORIGIN: 2010s non-top/bottom discourse ** Side eye ** DEFINITION: Subtle disapproval expression ORIGIN: 2010s ** Side piece ** DEFINITION: Secondary / casual partner ORIGIN: 2000s–present ** Sir ** DEFINITION: Dominant title (leather/BDSM) ORIGIN: Leather/BDSM ** Sis (queer usage) ** DEFINITION: Friendly address, often between gay men ORIGIN: AAVE and queer slang ** Sissy ** DEFINITION: Effeminate boy/man; insult ORIGIN: Long-standing English insult ** Size queen ** DEFINITION: Gay man who prefers large penises ORIGIN: Mid-late 20th century gay sexual slang ** Slay ** DEFINITION: Doing something exceptionally well ORIGIN: 1970s-1980s ballroom; popularized by RuPaul/Beyonce ** Sling ** DEFINITION: Leather/metal sex sling ORIGIN: Leather scene ** Sling Pig ** DEFINITION: Person who loves sling play ORIGIN: Kink ** Snow queen ** DEFINITION: Gay man (often Black) attracted to white men ORIGIN: 1990s US ** Snowballing ** DEFINITION: Passing semen mouth-to-mouth ORIGIN: 1990s–present ** Sober only ** DEFINITION: No drugs/alcohol ORIGIN: 2010s–present ** Soft block ** DEFINITION: Subtle block/unfollow ORIGIN: 2010s ** Soft boy / Soft Gay ** DEFINITION: Sensitive, emotional, gentle gay man ORIGIN: 2010s–2020s aesthetics ** Soft Launch ** DEFINITION: Subtle introduction of a new partner online ORIGIN: 2020s social media ** Spill the Tea ** DEFINITION: Reveal gossip ORIGIN: Ballroom culture ** Spiritual gay ** DEFINITION: Gay man focused on spirituality/wellness ORIGIN: 2000s–2010s ** Squirrel friends ** DEFINITION: Group of gay friends ORIGIN: 2010s, US drag culture ** Squish ** DEFINITION: Innocent, non-romantic infatuation ORIGIN: Recent ** Stats? ** DEFINITION: Asking for height/weight/age ORIGIN: Early hookup apps ** STEM gay ** DEFINITION: Gay man in science/tech/engineering/math ORIGIN: 2010s–2020s ** Sticky rice ** DEFINITION: Gay Asian man attracted to other Asian men ORIGIN: 1990s US/Asian communities ** Story thirst ** DEFINITION: Sexy Instagram story ORIGIN: 2010s ** Straight-acting ** DEFINITION: Gay man who presents as stereotypically straight ORIGIN: Late 20th-century bar/personal-ad slang ** Sub ** DEFINITION: Submissive partner ORIGIN: BDSM culture ** Sup? ** DEFINITION: Minimalist opener ORIGIN: Early app culture ** Swish ** DEFINITION: Effeminate ORIGIN: US, mid-20th century ** Switch ** DEFINITION: Enjoys both top and bottom / dom and sub ORIGIN: 1990s BDSM/gay sex ** Tap ** DEFINITION: Quick like/interest signal on apps ORIGIN: Grindr/Scruff feature ** Tea ** DEFINITION: Gossip or truth ORIGIN: Early 20th century tearooms → 1990s ballroom ** Tea dance ** DEFINITION: Daytime dance event, often Sunday afternoon ORIGIN: Mid-20th-century gay social events ** Tea room ** DEFINITION: Public restroom used for anonymous sex ORIGIN: Mid-20th century US slang ** Tea-room queen ** DEFINITION: Man who frequents tea rooms for sex ORIGIN: Mid-20th century ** Thirst Trap ** DEFINITION: Sexy photo posted to attract attention ORIGIN: 2010s social media ** Thirsty ** DEFINITION: Desperate for attention or sex ORIGIN: AAVE / internet slang ** Tomgirl ** DEFINITION: Boy with feminine traits ORIGIN: Recent (opposite of tomboy) ** Tongzhi ** DEFINITION: LGBTQ member in Chinese ORIGIN: 1980s, from "comrade" ** Top ** DEFINITION: Dominant or inserting partner ORIGIN: Mid-20th century sexual positions ** Torso pic ** DEFINITION: Shirtless body photo ORIGIN: App culture ** Trade ** DEFINITION: Masculine-presenting hookup partner (historic & modern) ORIGIN: Early 20th-century Polari/US → 2000s apps ** Trade queen ** DEFINITION: Man obsessed with picking up trade ORIGIN: Bar slang ** Traveling ** DEFINITION: Looking for hookups while traveling ORIGIN: App culture ** Twilight ** DEFINITION: To leave a bar/scene quietly or fade out socially ORIGIN: Localized bar slang ** Twink ** DEFINITION: Young, slim, smooth gay man ORIGIN: 1960s-1970s (possibly from Twinkie snack) ** Twink death ** DEFINITION: Idea that a twink loses desirability with age ORIGIN: 2010s internet slang ** Twunk ** DEFINITION: Muscular twink (twink + hunk) ORIGIN: 2000s–2010s ** U=U ** DEFINITION: Undetectable = Untransmittable ORIGIN: ** UB2 ** DEFINITION: “You be too” (HIV-negative) ORIGIN: App shorthand ** Unblock ** DEFINITION: Reverse block ORIGIN: App feature ** Uncuffing Season ** DEFINITION: Spring breakups ORIGIN: 2010s ** Undetectable (U=U) ** DEFINITION: HIV viral load undetectable ORIGIN: 2010s ** Unicorn ** DEFINITION: Bisexual person, often mythical / rare ORIGIN: 2010s poly/LGBTQ+ slang ** Vada ** DEFINITION: To look at someone ORIGIN: Mid-20th century Polari (from Italian "vedere") ** Verified ** DEFINITION: Profile verified ORIGIN: App feature ** Vers ** DEFINITION: Versatile in top/bottom ORIGIN: 1990s abbreviation ** Village queen ** DEFINITION: Gay man associated with NYC Greenwich Village ORIGIN: Mid-20th century NYC regional ** Vogue / Voguing ** DEFINITION: Stylized dance form from ballroom culture ORIGIN: 1970s–80s Harlem ballroom ** Voyeur ** DEFINITION: Likes watching others ORIGIN: Kink ** Walrus ** DEFINITION: Older, chubby, hairy gay man ORIGIN: 2010s US gay body type slang ** WeHo gay ** DEFINITION: Gay man associated with West Hollywood scene ORIGIN: 1990s–present LA regional ** Werk ** DEFINITION: Exclamation of approval; to perform fabulously ORIGIN: Drag culture; popularized by RuPaul ** Wolf ** DEFINITION: Lean, muscular, hairy gay man ORIGIN: 2000s bear subculture ** Woof ** DEFINITION: Scruff “like” signal ORIGIN: Scruff app ** Yas / Yass ** DEFINITION: Emphatic yes / enthusiastic approval ORIGIN: 1980s ballroom → viral 2010s ** Zaddy ** DEFINITION: Stylish, attractive older man ORIGIN: 2010s US, blend of "zazzy" and daddy ** Zhuzh / Zhoosh ** DEFINITION: To style, spruce up, or improve appearance ORIGIN: Polari → queer/fashion circles

I'm one of those guys. My friends have no idea I have a slutty side and LOVE anon fucks. 😊

As mentioned: I don't think it's ever a decent thing to lie. Whether it's a this or that, that or this, or a mix of both ... lying is simply not ok. Whatever the contrivance; it's just not ok to lie about stuff. Guys and parry, guys can change the subject, guys can do any number of things to avoid telling the truth. Any astute hearer of the previous will be able to understand quickly that the guy is simply not going to be honest, and either move on or accept the situation. Some may say that the guy in question should not be expected to answer certain questions, and that's a different discussion. The question in this topic though, is clear and unmistakable. And, my answer is no. If/when asked, any decent guy should tell the truth.

Yeah, it was ..... any sexual act you can imagine taking place on any/all three floors at any given time. There were other baths in Chicago of course, and I went to them occasionally. But "home" was always at Chuck Renslow's fuckjoints.

I recently got a Prince Albert piercing, saw there wasn’t many discussions on here about the process - so thought I’d post about my experience for those that are thinking about getting one. I’ve now had my PA for just over two weeks, so I might also update this as I continue on my journey with it. leading up to getting it I was very nervous. I’d been thinking about getting one seriously for about a year, but had been tempted for a lot longer then that. Everytime I had gotten close to booking in I chickened out being really scared about the pain. It took a lot of encouragement from a couple of guys I know to finally build up the confidence to book in and get it done. I’m in Melbourne, Australia, so I went to Piercing HQ in the inner suburbs. They’ve done hundreds of these piercings and I knew I’d be in good hands. That’s step one, make sure you find an extremely reputable piercing studio that has a great name for itself. If you’re near me, piercing HQ is the only place I’d recommend in Melbourne. the studio is extremely clean and hygienic, and all of the staff there were extremely welcoming, friendly and made and effort to make me feel comfortable. the appointment started with a consult about the piercing and taking a look at the jewellery. I want to eventually size up to a 2 or 0 gauge piercing, so out of the 3 starting options they recommended I started at 6 gauge. They don’t recommend starting any bigger than this, and that’s probably for the best. Looks can be deceiving, and compared to pictures I’d seen 6 gauge looks a lot bigger in real life compared to what I’d seen online. Might be because I was now picturing it being put in my dick… equally though, I’m glad I didn’t start any smaller. 10 and 8 gauge look way to small for my liking, but they may be perfect for other guys depending on your anatomy and taste. Next up I was taken into the actual piercing room. Again, very clean, very tidy, nice and comfortable. I was asked to drop my pants and get on the table and then we got started. The man doing the piercing started taking a look at placement, rolling back my foreskin to take a proper look at the head of my cock and find the right entry point. He was being supervised by a more senior piercer to make sure the placing was perfect. That took all of 3 minutes. The placement was marked by a toothpick dipped with black ink, barely felt it I had been nervous that I would get hard during the appointment, but in reality faced with a needle coming my way I was softer then I’d ever been. This is for the best as well, you don’t want any extra blood flow for what’s coming next. The piercer then took a couple of minutes to change gloves and get the jewellery ready. It had been properly sterilised with the proper machinery, so there was no worries in my mind about cleanliness. once ready he turned around and explained what he’d be doing. They use a tool, very similar to a sounding pole, but a lot more pointy, to enter into your urethra and act as a catch for the needle. Then they stick the needle in through the base of the head, and shortly after replace it with the jewellery. The most uncomfortable part of the process was the sounding pole entering my urethra. I have sounded myself before so it wasn’t unfamiliar, but the pointiness of the tool is a bit uncomfortable. I wish they were able to use a little bit more lube then they did, but realistically that discomfort was all of 30 seconds if not less. Once that was in my cock properly he explained that he’d be asking me to take a deep breath on his count, and as I took that breath he’d stick the needle through. I followed his instructions and as he stuck the needle in I felt a very sharp, but very quick, flash of pain. The pain was over in a moment, I would say less then 5 seconds. He then very quickly replaced the needle with the jewellery. At this point I had pins and needles in my hands and legs and was a bit light headed, but didn’t feel any pain - after the needle was done, so was the pain. One thing I hadn’t mentally prepared for was the blood. It makes sense in reflection, but being a cock piercing, there’s a lot of blood flowing through that area. And boy did I bleed a lot. He cleaned me up and wrapped my cock up with a combination of towels and used a glove over the top, secured with a rubber band to make sure it didn’t fall off. after a couple of moments we went back out to the main studio and began a bit of an aftercare consult. They explained to me all the precautions to take and the best ways to keep it clean and infection free. After paying, I was given the okay to leave. I did hang around in the studio on their couch for about 30 minutes, the light headedness was still there so I didn’t want to drive until I was ready. The staff were great, we had a bit of a chat, and after that I went on home. I had made sure to wear loose pants, but fitting underwear to keep things in place, but even with that the first day you are walking around like a pirate. Every movement is sensitive, and some movements create a little bit of pain. The worst part by far was the first time I had to pee. Following other online advice, I jumped in the shower for the first go and I’m glad I did. the first pee, and probably the first few after that, sting a lot. Drinking plenty of water to dilute it definitely helped, and that goes for the first few days if not week. The first pee though, was a lot of blood and honestly pretty gross. Being in the shower for this was the right bet, I was able to clean up easily and also take some time to appreciate how good the piercing looked. the first 2-3 days saw a fair bit of blood. The piercing will bleed significantly for the first couple of days, but each day you will see less and less. By day 4 there was only a little bit of spotting, and by day 5 there was none. I used a number of pads during this time to make sure everything stayed clean and hygienic. by day 4 I was that pent up from not cumming I decided to see if I could very gently get myself off. The aftercare instructions were simple, if it hurts don’t do it - yet. I was very slow and very gentle, and after what became a bit of an edging session, blew my load. Unsurprisingly to me there was a little bit of blood, but nothing like the previous days. Before the piercing I was also the kind of guy that shot ropes of cum - not anymore. The way the cum dribbled out of my cock was very different from what I’m used to, but it also seemed to make my orgasm last longer as my cock twitched more to try and push the cum out. Feels absolutely amazing. from then on I’ve been able to cum every day, but it’s only been after the two week mark that I can actually bate how I’m used to. Can have as much vigour as I want and the sensations from the piercing add a nice level to every orgasm. I’ve also been able to get back into fun. I’m a bottom so tops may have a different experience or timeline to me. But it’s been fun showing it off to all the guys. The only thing I’ve noticed is I may need to get bigger balls on the end of my piercing. When there’s lube on my cock the piercing has almost slipped out, with the ball entering my urethra and almost slipping out. I’ve caught it in time every time so far, but I imagine that’ll happen at some point. I’ve now had my cock sucked with it in now too, and it feels amazing. I’ve never been big on getting head, but I can see that changing now. A guys tongue slipping around the piercing sends waves down my cock and drives me crazy now. Overall I wish I had have done this years earlier. I’ve noticed compared to some people my healing has been very quick. I don’t know how much of a difference it makes but I’m uncut and have a very long foreskin. I think it helped the blood clot and speed up the healing process. I know of at least two cut guys who told me they had to wait weeks if not a couple of months before even bating. So it’s important to know this is my experience but yours might differ. There’s more I could write about the aftercare and about the first fun I had with it in, so if you have questions feel free to ask and I’ll respond when I can! If you want to see the piercing check out my X, same username as on here.

I think we need a new thread for 2026! im at 65 loads in the ass, 8 in the mouth. But it’s only this good because of my 80+12 load Gran Canaria trip 😹💦🐽

Fuck yeah!! In a heartbeat

Hey, pigs. Newest instalment. Remember Spencer from the first Intermission chapter? He's back, and this should put a few puzzle pieces together for you. ------- Chapter 23: Poz Me Up Before You Go-Go City Streets. 20:14 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location. Stag had deliberately wandered away from the rest of the group of infected smilers, set on following his own agenda. Instead of waiting for suitable clothing to wear in the chilly late October air, Stag had elected to wear only his camo pants and boots, leaving his muscular blackened torso exposed for all to see. He also chose not to stick to shadows, but to walk abroad in front of the rest of the world like nothing had changed for him. Doing this in secret was never going to be an option for the corrupted horny soldier. As he passed storefront windows, he occasionally caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass. One particular pane caused him to stop in his tracks. Stag had been passing by a main street restaurant that hadn’t been open in weeks, and the light from the street had hit him so perfectly that he could see, for the first time, exactly what he looked like in full. His ginger hair had darkened considerably, and his face had taken on a shade of grey that could only be described as “storm cloud”. His exposed skin, in fact, had this same shade all over his body. His veins spread out like black spiderwebs. He grinned in evil satisfaction. Cheaper than any tattoo I could have got!, he thought. And way more fun. As he observed his reflection with a wicked, impressed grin plastered on his face, he took the time to examine his teeth. The jaw had widened some to accommodate the new molars and fangs, and each tooth looked sharp and deadly to the touch. He could barely make them out, but the whites of his eyes were completely gone, and he looked positively possessed. The lanky, sinewy form he previously carried had grown into a muscular beast rivaling the best of Crossfit enthusiasts. Thick veins throbbed beneath the surface of his skin, and Stag started to get hard at the sight of himself. He reached into his pants and fondled his swelling member lightly, knowing he carried an instrument of mass destruction. He had a victim in mind for his first conversion, and had to stop himself from further pleasuring himself to save his demonic seeds for that gratifying moment when he shared them with his prey. Stag continued his bold march through the city to the warehouse district until he came in sight of the nightclub known as InfraRED, a popular gay bar with a dubious reputation. On this night, attendance would be as high as many of the patrons, and with a Halloween party in progress, Stag could do what he needed to without the need for secrecy or violence. Hookups were part of the everyday routine in this place, and no one would bat an eye or clutch any pearls over him having sex in a very public space. In fact, it was almost expected, but so were drunks, drug deals, fist fights, and barroom brawls, and harassment by the homeless who hung around the area. He came to the block, and saw that a canopy had been set up outside the club to funnel guests inside. This made it easier for club employees to screen guests for arriving intoxicated, and to keep the place from filling up too quickly, but Stag would not be deterred. He went to the back of the line, and spoke to no one as the line slowly moved forward. In his boredom, he lit a cigarette, and no one seemed to object to it. One man, dressed as a unicorn, turned around and saw Stag in all his toxic glory. Having nothing else to do while they waited, the unicorn opened conversation with him. “Damn, dude! That’s a really cool costume.” Stag nodded his head only once in acknowledgement, and did not wish to engage with anyone. He took another draw off the cigarette. “What are you supposed to be? You kinda look like a toy army guy.” Stag smirked without revealing his teeth. You have no idea, he thought. —-------- Dressing room at InfraRED. 20:09 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location. Spencer adjusted his tight nylon armbands, placed a blue baseball cap on his head, and checked his shiny baby blue shoes one more time before appraising himself in the mirror. For nearly three years, he had been gogo dancing at InfraRED, and tantalizing horny men with his erotic dancing and powerful physique. Gogo dancing had been a means to an end - surely someone who came into the club would be his ideal, but so far, the perfect man had eluded him. The pay for dancing was decent, and so were the tips that were frequently shoved into his G-string, but it wasn’t fulfilling. He made enough money to live comfortably, but as time wore on, this mode of living wasn’t going to be satisfactory for much longer. As he stared at his reflection, he ran his left hand over his thick chest, and sighed. “Is there more to life than this?,” Spencer wondered aloud. He then adjusted his girthy member inside the gold lame underwear, twisted the hat ever so slightly, and looked one more time in the glass. He had decided against wearing any costume; the unnecessary bulk, combined with his own overdeveloped bulk, could exhaust him physically before the night was over, and he needed to make some cash for car repairs. He had been a beefy satyr at last year’s party, but he was sweating so hard after the first hour that the hair had stuck to him, and he resorted to doing a sexy striptease of the costume. He felt the investment in his elaborate costume had been a waste of funds, and he wouldn’t make that costly mistake a second time. Taking a final swallow of water from a large jug, Spencer sighed with discontent that he was stuck in a rut. His physical growth had hit a plateau, and the sex work with no sexual gratification left him frustrated night after night. Satisfied that he was ready for the public, he nodded at his reflection in silent approval of at least his appearance, and went out from the dressing room to the auditorium. The beats and the constant thumping of heavy bass was already quite deafening, and he had danced to it a thousand and one times. Just another night, another dollar. He climbed up on his usual gogo box, and settled into the beat. —------ Stag scowled slightly when the bouncer closed the rope against him after the unicorn was admitted to the club. The bouncer could allow only five enter at a time, and Stag just happened to be the sixth. He glared at the bouncer silently anyway as the man clicked his meter five times. At least a few minutes would pass before Stag could enter, so he mentally reviewed his plan one more time. Meanwhile, the bouncer couldn’t take his eyes off the corrupted creature before him. Wow, this look is fucking hot, the bouncer thought to himself as he felt his heart beat increase in envious lust. I need to jump this dude’s bones. It must have taken forever to put all that makeup on. I wonder if he’s available. Stag was slightly shocked, amazed he could almost hear the man’s thoughts with ease. He smiled back at the man, enjoying the discovery of his newfound power. “Sick costume, bro,” the bouncer squeeked, his voice somewhat betraying his lack of confidence. Hearing himself catch in his throat, he cleared it once, and hocked a white goober to one side. “Sorry. That’s really sweet.” Stag locked eyes with the bouncer. “Thanks,” he growled. “You know,” the bouncer began in a playful voice, “zombies aren’t supposed to talk. Try to stay in character, it’s sexier that way.” The smirk indicated no malice behind the words, and Stag gave no reply. Instead, he answered the criticism with a toothy grin. The bouncer wasn’t expecting Stag’s costume to be so thorough, and his mouth opened slightly with awe. “This is killer. Do you mind if I get a pic? I’ve gotta show my roommate. He does makeup and special effects for drag performers, and he’d get such a kick out of this.” The bouncer was already taking out his phone, and turning on its camera. Stag nodded his head once, giving non-verbal permission, and came in close with the bouncer. Up went the phone, and with a press of the button, he now had a head and torso shot of the corrupted soldier in its memory bank. Then Stag stood by his side as the bouncer took a selfie of the two of them. “Thanks, man,” the bouncer said gratefully. “I ‘preciate it.” “App-preciate,” Stag corrected him in a growly voice. I should just spit on this fag and let myself in. Stag prepared to launch a volley of the neutralizing saliva, but stopped short of the act. Nope, can’t do that. Too many witnesses. It can wait. They’re all doomed, anyway. Stag showed admirable restraint and swallowed it back down when he returned to the front of the line. “You with your boyfriend tonight?” Stag looked back at the bouncer, staring daggers at him. He was still uncomfortable with the idea that he was gay, after years of protestation and repression, but after his orgy with his squad and forming a plan to violate someone he once crushed on, he decided he had better start accepting it and getting comfortable with the idea. ‘Boyfriend’ sounded strange to his ears, like a word meant for someone else. He shook his head once, again giving no verbal reply. “Ah, single, then?” Stag nodded once. “If you don’t score tonight, what say you and me take a little trip to hell afterwards?” Stag raised an eyebrow with interest. Stag grinned again. When he finds out what I am, hoo boy, he’s gonna regret those words. He blinked once, and then remembered. No! Stay focused. Your quarry is inside. HE’S the one you want. “We’ll see,” Stag answered, non-commitally shrugging his sculpted shoulders. No! an intruding voice commanded. He wants it - give it to him. Infect them all! Stag just felt like he had been caught cutting class. Sorry, Alpha. There will be time for both. You better remember our deal, the voice warned. Just then, the bouncer opened the velvet rope and unbarred the door, gently motioning for Stag to enter with the other revellers in the line behind him. “You five are next. Have a good night!” As Stag passed him, the bouncer winked at him flirtatously. Stag forgot the bouncer as soon as they were apart. —---- Interior of InfraRED. 20:30 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location. “Great costume, stud! Let me buy you a drink.” Stag had heard this line four times by now, and was no more invested than he was on its first three offers. This time, it came from a little twink who was dressed as the Good Witch in an off-pink tule gown, complete with a star-shaped magic wand and glittering tiara. Stag waved the offer away. “Not interested.” The Good Witch looked puzzled, but tried to entice him by tapping the wand to Stag’s forehead gently. “I want you to be changed for good.” Stag frowned at this deliberately silly act. “Oh, sister, I have been changed. For good. There’s no going back. Piss off before I drop a house on you. You don’t deserve what I have to offer.” The Good Witch looked things unutterable at him in great offense, then turned back to the bar. She silently took her glass, swallowed its entire contents, and replaced the glass on the bar. Stag was looking in the opposite direction when the Good Witch said in a surprisingly masculine voice, “Fuck you, asshole. Guys like you should be eaten by other zombies,” and stormed off. Stag walked away from the bar and toward the dance floor. As the EDM continued to pulse through the club, and the room swarmed with writhing bodies, Stag forced himself to stand in one place and scan the room. His wild appearance had drawn a great deal of attention, and Stag brushed it all off completely, sometimes with a joke, other times with his usual outright asshole remarks. After a few seconds, he beheld his intended victim, cluelessly dancing away on a gogo box. There he is. Beautiful and massive as ever. I’m going to give him such a surprise, and he’ll never see it coming. Like any good predator, Stag just observed the dancer. Watching with devious eyes and a wayward heart. Watching for any weakness, any opening that would give him a signal to act, Stag invented a number of schemes to trap his prey. His blackened eyes never left the muscular dancer. —------ As Spencer continued his gyrations, he suddenly felt like something wasn’t quite right with the world. The music shifted to something that had no percussion track in its first minute, and he momentarily lost the beat. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and then felt a familiar urge. Spencer climbed down from his gogo box, and making sure to swing his hips a little as he walked, he went in the direction of the bathroom. Stag noticed the exit instantly. Recognizing it as his opportunity, he followed Spencer at a distance. As Spencer entered the bathroom, he paid no attention to the skeleton man and the Jedi man making out just inside the doorway. The room smelled of piss and stale pizza and bleach, all mixed into one foul concoction. The stalls, though in good condition, were a covert invitation to gloryhole sex, and Spencer was working, so he went to the trough on the far right wall. Looking down, he observed that it was again filled with ice, sending up a chill that made him frown. Why the fuck do they do this? No one wants to drink piss on the rocks. Then he amended his thought. Well, maybe. Some pig somewhere must like that. Spencer extracted his eye-popping dick from his underwear, and began to relieve himself just as Stag came into the bathroom. The costumed couple left without a word, and Stag was grateful to them for the privacy he would need. Spencer continued his stream, but was getting annoyed that he had filled his bladder, and now couldn’t finish pissing fast enough. Come on, dammit. Every minute I’m in here is a minute I’m not getting cash. Hurry up! He closed his eyes in frustration, hoping a little concentration would force the remaining urine out. Stag silently positioned himself to stand directly behind Spencer, who was completely unaware of someone behind him. He grinned devilishly, savoring the moment. The last drops of piss finally left him, and Spencer lightly sighed with relief. He let the waistband of the underwear snap back to his hips, and made to turn around when something wet and sticky hit his face. “The…! The fuck is this…?!”, he exclaimed, his vision suddenly hazy. Before he could be fully sedated, he equated the view to looking through a window where the rain was so hard you couldn’t see through the running water. Stag spat at Spencer a second time, and the dancer was down for the count in seconds. —------- As Spencer started to come out of the fog, he was aware of a grinding sensation on his lower body. It felt familiar and good, and as he slowly came to the surface of his consciousness, he was also aware of the feeling of cold concrete underneath him, and the muffled sound of the thumping bass in the next room. On my back… Did I fall? The grinding sensation continued, and Spencer felt a comfortable warmth to contrast the hardness of the floor. The room smelled different. Gone were the acrid scents of the bathroom, and replaced with light dust and metal and something he could only describe as a deep red smell. Something masculine. Something rich and bold, not unlike the scents of whisky and tobacco and leather and man musk, all rolled into one. Stickiness was also registering in his mind, but he gave no thought to its source. There was also a weight on top of him, and his feet were elevated in a position he would never find himself in except during… Oh shit… He slowly opened his eyes, and what met his view was not something he expected. Something was fucking him and holding him down with both hands. Something with chemically-formed muscles, and a gargantuan dick, and it showed no signs of slowing down. Stag had dragged the comatose Spencer to the dressing room unobserved by others in the nightclub. No time was wasted in removing what little clothing Spencer had been wearing, and with another dose of spit on the dancer’s hole, he had got to work quickly. Now Spencer was starting to wake up. Neither of them was aware of how much time had passed. “W..What in the absolute fuck are you?” Spencer exclaimed, barely able to get the words out. Stag bared his teeth as he smiled wickedly while continuing to thrust his toxic dick into his victim. “What the hell are you doing to me?”, he demanded next. “Shhh, Spencer,” Stag cooed, “you’re just having a dream. Go back to sleep.” He stroked the man’s skull gently with one clawed hand, as if soothing a child that just woke from a nightmare. “Hhhhhow the fffffffuck… do you know… my name?” Awareness was settling in, and Spencer felt real fear for the first time in his life. To Spencer’s mind, his assailant was a mix between a bull and a man with the features of neither, save for the meaty cock that was tearing his hole apart. An unnaturally dark-skinned man with horns on his head and claws for hands was raping him in his nightclub. He didn’t understand the black eyes or the venomous teeth, or why both had liquid black streaming from those orifices. Nothing about this costume makes sense. “You fell off your gogo box, and hit your head,” Stag continued. “I’m just making you feel good, and giving you a little upgrade as a bonus.” Spencer became aware he was completely naked, save for his baby blue shoes, now elevated above his head, his shoulders pinned against the floor. He raised his head enough to see Stag’s girthy dick, and quickly determined that this was, in fact, not a dream. “No! Stop!” Spencer managed to yell. “Get off me!” “Take it, bitch,” Stag growled without missing a beat or a thrust. “Am I good enough for you now, Spence?” The words had a venomous bite to them, and Stag clearly intended to hurt his victim both physically and verbally. Spencer couldn’t connect the dots, the punishing thrusts of Stag’s infected cock clouding all coherent thought. Spencer never imagined he’d be a rape victim. But the powerful physique captivated his interest, and overrode his morality meter. When his head finally cleared, he was impressed by the bulging muscles of his rapist, and the black veins pushing against the surface of his skin. Stag was sweating like a pig, and thrusting harder with every minute. Spencer gradually became less resistant to the intrusion and the violation of his body, but his rational mind kept invading the moment. This guy seems to know me. Do I know him? Why are you letting this happen, Spence? This is a monster, a demon, and you’re enjoying having sex with it? Are you fucking crazy? HOOOOOOLY FUCK ON A STICK THAT’S HUGE! Stag had withdrawn himself fully, and then penetrated Spencer’s hole with his engorgement with great force. Spencer cried out. Stag licked Spencer’s face with his forked tongue. Spencer saw it coming at him. That’s funny. A tongue like a snake. That’s kinda cool. The chemicals in the saliva worked quickly, and Spencer began to relax again. Ah, that’s the stuff. Like… poppers? How did he do that? With his victim properly sedated just enough to keep him quiet, Stag resumed the infection process. During the first few thrusts, Spencer’s mind was all over the place: he experienced fear, great lust, excitement, and joyous sensations that didn’t match anything he had felt in his entire life. He’d have one hell of a story to tell in the morning. But there was the other side of it - the very act was terrifying, but so erotic and seductive, and beyond all his previous experiences. He thought for sure he was going to die from all the sensations and the terrible pain in his rectum and balls and prostate. That’s it, he thought. I’m done for. Goodbye, perfect body, goodbye perfect health, hello oblivion. But I swear I know this guy. Why can’t I remember? Between the assault on his sexual organs and how quickly this escalated, Spencer couldn’t get his brain to work. A strange yet familiar voice rattled through his head. No thoughts. Just focus on my cock. Stag fucked Spencer without mercy - Stag knew what he was capable of, and he needed a partner who could match his sex drive while already having a great physical headstart. The white hot pain was intense, and Spencer began to have second thoughts. His hands trembled as he tried to push himself upright, panic flooding in fast and unfiltered. His thighs hurt, his back scraped against the cold concrete, and Stag’s massive body loomed above him— black skin catching the light like wet latex. Spencer shoved at his chest. “S-stop— just stop— This is wrong. I don’t want this after all.” Stag didn’t budge. His grip tightened reflexively, overpowering Spencer without effort. The instinct was pure dominance—brutal, unquestioning, physical. He mentally began to try and force Spencer to stay, feeling like with just enough force, he could make Spencer do whatever he wanted with just a thought. Suddenly, Spencer let out a scream as he felt like a vice was squeezing his brain, a small trickle of blood flowing out of his nose. A flood of images slammed into his mind, with what he could swear was his ex’s voice echoing inside his head on repeat. Spencer gasped, tears beginning to flow down his face as fear began overtaking confusion. “STOP! IT HURTS! Get off— please— you’re hurting—” The words and mental feedback hit Stag harder than the physical resistance. His brow furrowed for a fraction of a second, like a wild animal momentarily recognizing it had bitten too deep. The growl in his throat weakened, replaced by something almost conflicted. His thrusts gradually slowed. He stared down at Spencer, lips parted, nostrils flaring. Then the guilt hit—blunt and uncomfortable. This wasn’t how he had imagined this going. Not with screaming. Not with terror. He was supposed to want the gift. Crave it. Break open willingly. And Spencer—Spencer was someone he had cared for before. Stag exhaled slowly, releasing the pressure without pulling away entirely. He shifted his weight so Spencer could breathe again, his hands flattening against the floor beside him instead of pinning his arms. When he spoke, it wasn’t aloud. It slid into Spencer’s skull like heat poured behind the eyes. Babe. You always wanted more than this. Spencer blinked hard, confusion warring with pain and adrenaline. Stag’s voice felt like memory rather than words, flooding synapses directly. Images flickered—unbidden, sharp: Spencer in the mirror, flexing his arms. Always complaining about needing more definition. Countless Google searches for “muscle growth cycle”. Stag walking in and hearing him whispering to himself, “Someday I’ll look like that.” Spencer’s breath hitched. “Stop—don’t— I didn’t say—” He shoved at Stag again, weaker this time. The mental pressure increased—not painful this time, but warm, insidious, sliding beneath the fear like oil. You wanted to be bigger. Stronger. Admired. You wanted everyone to stop and look. More images flooded in: Strip lights illuminating sculpted abs. Hands grabbing him at the club, not for pity flirts but hunger. Stage tips piling up. Cameras pointed at him. The struggle to walk through a doorway without getting hit on either side. Strangers staring in awe in public places. Spencer whimpered, overwhelmed. “That doesn’t mean I want—” Stag leaned closer, his voice now both in Spencer’s mind and in his breath against Spencer’s cheek. “We both know you wanted to be transformed. This is so much better and easier than all those rounds of steroids and bulking and cutting. I’m giving you exactly what you always wanted. Just trust me for once.” The fight faded from Spencer’s limbs. Not because he accepted, but because the promise wrapped itself around his desire like wire—tight, clever, exact. Stag’s guilt softened into confidence. He changed tactics completely. Instead of forcing Spencer down, he slid a hand to the back of Spencer’s head, not to hold him still but to steady him—an anchor rather than a restraint. “I could break you,” Stag murmured, sounding almost apologetic. “I can feel it. Just a hard enough squeeze and you’d be nothing but a mindless meat puppet. But that would ruin what I’m giving you. What I want for both of us to share.” Spencer swallowed hard, adrenaline fading into tremors. “What… what are you giving me?” Stag smiled, slow and certain. Everything you wished you could become. He fed images of Spencer’s skin turning black and shiny, muscles growing upon muscles, just like all the pictures Stag had found in the browser history on Spencer’s laptop when they were dating. His cock turning massive, balls becoming huge like a bull. Being able to shoot neverending streams of black foul cum out of his cock with ease. A proverbial sex demon. Outside, the crowd screamed at a bass drop. Inside, Spencer’s last attempt to crawl away dissolved into something breathless and hungry as Stag let the imagery grow richer, deeper, irresistible: Veins rising under skin, biceps thickening, chest and back growing ever wider. Dancers staring instead of ignoring, photographers chasing him eager to get another shot of his massive muscular body. Crowds chanting his name. A glass case filled with physique trophies. And the impalement of the hottest men in the world with his freakishly large dick. Stag fed Spencer one last image: an oily pair of discarded posing trunks with a large circular button pinned to the waistband, bearing the number 7. Next to them, a hastily-removed pair of combat boots, a half-filled bottle of wine, and a single red rose. Spencer needed no explanation for what that meant. His tears dried. His shaking stilled. He reached for the monster above without realizing he had done it. And began to push his ass back, moaning. Now he understood. This was truly a gift. Stag smiled as he felt the mental changes take root inside Spencer’s head. Things would go much smoother now. And with that, the conversion truly began. It had been so long since Spencer had sex with anyone and actually enjoyed it. The surprise hookup and incredible violation of this person battled in his heart, and lust won out. Spencer grabbed Stag by the horns and stared into his abyssal eyes, getting more into the sex than was probably safe. Screw it - let him keep going. This… this is too good. I’ll complain later. Good thing tomorrow isn’t legs day, or I’d be walking funny. Oh, God, I swear he’s in my second hole. Even my toys at home aren’t this big. Stag's jackhammering cock was tearing Spencer's hole apart, but neither of them cared. Spencer’s breath came shorter and shorter, his eyes rolled back in his head more than a couple times, and what began as hate sex and rape turned to a full-on glorious rectal assault that he didn’t want to end. Stag suddenly stopped his thrusting, and abruptly withdrew himself from Spencer again, and stayed out this time. Both men lay gasping, and Spencer’s vision was hazy. The sedating effect of the spit had long worn off, but the mental coercion had done its part, leaving Spencer wanting more. Spencer stared at the ceiling, gasping for air. Stag pulled down hard on his own scrotum, his hand acting as a cockring, and preventing his load from blowing prematurely. “Why… why did you stop? Did you cum?” Spencer asked, almost breathless. He could already feel the corruption spreading inside him while Stag took a break. “No, I’m too close,” Stag answered him. “Good,” Spencer answered, surprising himself. “I want to keep going. I need you to load me up.” Stag only smirked without looking at Spencer. I can feel it working in him already. He’ll be a fucking monster with all that mass, and what I’m giving him on top of it. But let’s savor the moment. Ten bucks says he’ll thank me in the morning. Spencer’s vision cleared enough for him to give another glance to his breeder. “This is driving me crazy. I have to know - do we know each other?” Stag smirked lightly. “You don’t remember? Think carefully, Spence. You really don’t recognize the sound of my voice in your head?” Try as he might, the name wouldn’t come to him, and Stag’s appearance had changed so much that he couldn’t possibly be recognized by someone Spencer hadn’t thought of in a long time. Out of sight really was out of mind. He had nothing to go on to even guess. After a minute of pondering, he had to admit it. “No clue.” “It’s Bryce. The army guy you decided wasn’t good enough for you, so you just threw him away like an old cum rag.” Spencer raised his head slightly in disbelief, and stared directly at Stag, trying to see the man that he rejected so harshly. “Holy shit… No fucking way!” “Oh, yes fucking way. I’ve been upgraded, and I wanted to show you my improvements,” Stag said wickedly. He sat up, and spread his arms out widely so Spencer could see everything. Spencer was in awe of the creature before him. He remembered someone too lanky and lean with a penchant for asshole behavior. And he couldn’t abide his smoking habit, either. It couldn’t possibly be the same guy. His skin wasn’t this color, and he had none of these body mods, especially not the meat on his bones. He would never have worked so hard to look like this and get me turned on. Way too self-centered. Did he do all this just for me? Spencer couldn’t give voice to his thoughts. The memory and the present reality were just too juxtaposed. But the sex so far had been mindblowing. Spencer had never been fucked like that before, and he was discomfited to realize he needed more from the mutated Bryce. While Spencer processed this, Stag could already see the corruption taking hold in the massive dancer. His toxic precum was working its magic, and Spencer’s skin had a different glow to it. The ice blue eyes were darkening, but still bore traces of the whites, and what little body fat Spencer carried was already starting to burn away. It will be a slow infection, but it’ll hit him hard when I fully empty my balls. Stag crawled back toward Spencer, ready to begin another round. “I will get you there, and I’ll be by your side for all of it. You deserve it. Now raise your legs back up. Time’s a-wasting.” Spencer could only comply, tempted with the prospect of getting bigger, and the hunger for the demon’s cock. He…yes. This. I think this is what I wanted to look like all this time. Why settle for what I am when I can evolve into something better? The temptation to exceed his potential outweighed any negatives, and with that, Spencer’s fate was sealed. “Take it easy this time, okay?” Spencer asked in a light voice. Get big, or die trying, right? Those were his last thoughts before he surrendered to Stag completely.

If I could be a 24/7 cumdump, I would. I'm constantly craving it and I'm definitely a no loads refused boy

I see the terms Wataa and Chudai used on social media posts and was hoping to see a definition here.

Has anyone else taken a good look at Capitol Police Officer Michael Fanone. He had been badly injured on J6 but looks sexy AF now!

If they take my cock in then unprotected. Then they are responsible for when they catch from me. They almost never even ask my status let alone to use a condom these days.

I bottom knowing and wanting a studs load. knowing he’s gonna put his dna in me is enough of a warning

I play football and cycle so I have good legs and a decent arse but I also like my beer. So I go to the gym three times a week to keep in shape. As an added bonus, there were some hot guys in my gym and from the running machine I could watch them in the mirror. There was one guy in particular who always made my cock twitch. He was just under 6', black hair, smooth and as fit as fuck. I had never seen him naked - despite trying - but in his gym kit he always looked so hot. Always a white vest, slightly baggy but hinting at a fit body, shorts, again slightly baggy but tight enough to highlight what must be a great packet. A boy can dream. And I did. Often. At home from the gym I'd unpack my gym underwear and sniff them as I wanked to hardcore porn, alternating with poppers and imagining me and the guy getting it on. Anyway. One weekend I hadn't been out for a while on the tiles so a mate suggested heading over to Vauxhall for a leather and rubber night. I wasn't too keen. I had had a long week and fancied a quiet night in. But I decided to go and at least have a look. And watch. And if I managed to get myself sorted it was a bonus. And me and my mate often would have some fun together when we were there but nothing too heavy as we were both alike. Bottoms. So that evening I pulled out my gear to decide what to wear. First off I thought of leather. I had a harness and some chaps. But as I pulled them out a pair of rubber shorts fell out with them. I chuckled as I remembered buying them on a whim but never have the guts to wear them. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was the fittest I had ever been. Fuck it I thought. I grabbed the talc. I met my mate in Barcode for a few beers and realised that perhaps the shorts hadn't been the best idea. I was already beginning to sweat between my balls and my crack and wondered how it would feel later. But again I thought fuck it. I could always strip them off completely at the club. I had a rubber cockring on and the flyer had said leather or rubber. It just hadn't specified how much. After a few beers we headed to the club. We bought our tickets and checked in our clothes. My mate had clearly decided he was going to get "sorted" that evening as all he had on,once he had checked his clothes in was a jock, gas mask and a pair of waders. I slipped my poppers into the top of my shorts and I bid him good luck and said I'd see him at the bar. At some point. Inside it was already packed. Heaving in fact. I looked at the bar and decided to give it a miss. It was rammed and someone was being rammed up against it already. I decided to go for a wander. The dance music was humming and the air smelt of sweat, poppers and various other smells which made my cock begin to twitch. As I walked past guys some of them reached out appreciatively. I reached back on occasion but I was just in the mood for looking around. Everywhere I went there were writhing bodies, men kissing, sucking or, up against the wall, being fucked hard. I spied a corner and took up position. I clicked open my poppers and took a swag. I had bought a new type and this was the first time I had opened them. They were strong. So strong they made me momentarily dizzy. It felt good but I made a mental note not to over do it. Opposite me were two guys. The first had a clipped chest and pierced nipples. The second was on his knees. He was slim and feasting on the guy's enormous cock. Every so often he would pull away and wank it furiously. The first guy had his head tipped back and was enjoying the sensation which was clearly heightened by whatever he had taken. A small spark of regret flashed through me. Not the fact that the guy had a cock in his mouth but rather that it had been too long since I had been high. I had decided a few years back that having been promoted at work it wouldn't be a good idea. Next to them was another guy. He was watching me intently. I stared back. He wasn't bad looking. As he looked at me he pulled his cock out out of his leather shorts and started to slowly wank it. He was topless and not unfit. And his cock was pretty inviting. I slid my hand over my crotch and rubbed it as we looked at each other. The poppers were still working and when he winked at me I thought what the hell and walked over. He put his hand behind my head and pushed me down. I let him push me down and I took the head of his cock in my mouth. I love sucking cock and this wasn't a bad one. I heard him moan above the dull thump of the dance beat and push me down his shaft. I closed my eyes and started to suck him off. His cock tasted of others' spit which started to make my cock twitch. Just as I was getting into it someone tripped over my foot. I pulled back and looked up to see someone talking to the guy being sucked off. "Here. Take this." As I watched he pushed something into the guy's mouth and then pushed his fingers into the mouth of the guy kneeling down. He tweaked the guy's nipple and then began to walk away. As he walked passed one of the dim lights something made me look again. He seemed familiar. I don't know why but I stood up and turned to follow him.The guy I had been sucking off tried to grab me. I avoided his grip and shook my head. Without waiting for his reaction I started to follow the other guy. From the back I could tell he was wearing leather chaps and a harness. That was it. He looked fit. But what drew my attention was the purposeful way he was wading through the crowds. I watched as guys reached out. Sometimes he stopped to talk to them. On occasion he stopped and kissed them. But he just kept on walking. He entered the bar area and walked to a quieter part of the bar and talked to the barman. Clearly they knew each other as the barman leaned over and pushed his tongue into the guy's for a long time before turning around and giving him a bottle of water. I walked up and stood next to him. I ordered a beer. He was focused on something behind the bar. I cautiously looked at him in the light of the bar. It was the guy from the gym. I couldn't believe it. I took a second look to make sure. Yes. It was him. Here. Whenever I had seen him at the gym he had been suited and booted. Very well suited and booted. And for some reason I had always thought he was straight. It was the way he knew so many straight guys at the gym. I looked again. He was drinking from the bottle and I watched as a drop of sweat slid down his bicep. Suddenly he was looking at me. No. Glaring. I turned away. Embarrassed that I had been caught. He put the bottle down on the counter and I felt him leave my side. I could feel my face going red. Not from the poppers. Slowly I turned round and watched as he walked away. At that precise moment I made a note to change gyms. I sighed as well. He was even hotter than I thought and I noticed something about him I had never noticed before. Down the back of his spine he had a tattoo of some kind. It didn't seem to be one of those tacky tribal patterns. But I couldn't make it out. I decided to try and see what it was. But just as I was leaving the bar to follow my mate turned up. He was clearly high. I grabbed a bottle of water for him and we started to chat. He was sweating. And to be honest so was I. We had to stand close as the music was louder here and as we chatted he slipped a hand down the back of my shorts. He'd never done that before and it surprised me as I felt him finger the crack of my arse with his index finger. My cock jumped to attention. He leaned in and kissed me. Not a peck on the cheek but a full-on snog. I didn't resist as I felt his tongue in my mouth. He wasn't a bad kisser. But he wasn't excellent. But it felt good to be kissed. We stopped kissing and he pulled me away from the bar and back out into the club proper. We found a corner and continued to snog. He was an eager kisser and perhaps whatever he had taken had made it worse but his tongue was all over the place. He guided my hands to his arse so I dutifully squeezed his cheeks. Don't get me wrong he had a nice arse. Furry but chunky. I slid my hands down his crack and he moaned as I found his hole. It was wet with spit and lube. I pushed a finger in. It felt warm. My cock twitched again. He pushed me against the wall and handed me his poppers as he started to lick down my chest. I closed my eyes as he pulled down my rubber shorts to release my cock. The clod air hit my cock and balls and made me gasp as he over eagerly pulled my cock out and started to suck it. Too hard. I opened my eyes and looked down. He was totally chem-delirious. I pulled my cock out of his mouth and he started to lick and chew my balls. I looked up and started to take another hit of poppers. And there he was. Standing opposite me. Watching us. He winked and smiled and walked off. My cock went soft immediately. My mate tried to take my cock in his mouth again but I pulled up my shorts, pulled him up and kissed him. He wasn't even 'there'. I leant him against the wall and walked away. My face was burning again with shame. God. How long had he been there. What had he seen. I didn't need to change gym. I needed to leave the country. Or the club at least. But first I needed a piss. I walked to the toilets. It was heaving with guys fucking and sucking. But I wasn't in the mood. I was angry. At myself. Fortunately there was a cubicle free. Before anyone, or any group could take it I went in and shut the door. I rested my head against the wall and sighed. The cubicles were clearly designed for more than one person and suddenly I felt very small. I pulled my cock out and tried to take a piss. No good. I couldn't. I stood there for what seemed ages but in the end I gave up. I decided to leave. I could always take a piss on the way home. I opened the door and there he was. Standing in the doorway. "Finished?" he said. I went mute. He sighed and pushed past me swinging the door shut behind him. As I watched he slipped his cock out from his jock and started to take a piss. I couldn't work out if he knew I was there or not but I couldn't open the door as he had his hand on it. His cock was not even hard but I could tell it was a monster. Suddenly it all felt very intimate. There was nothing else to do so I watched as his pissed into the toilet. He swung his cock round making arcs of piss in the air. I was transfixed. I looked up and saw that he was looking at me. He winked and then turned back to watch himself pissing. Finally the stream ended. He shook himself and slid his cock back into his jock. He turned and looked at me. Suddenly he lunged forward and grabbed me around the throat. It took me by surprise and I fell back against the cold wet wall which made me gasp. His hand tightened around my throat as he leaned into my face. I could feel his breath. It smelt of beer. And poppers. His pupils were slightly dilated. We stood like that for what seemed ages. I could feel the heat from his body. I didn't move. Or breathe. He leaned in even closer and whispered to me. "Don't you fucking go anywhere you cunt until you've asked me if you are allowed to? Got that you filthy whore?" His hand squeezed tighter. "Got that?" he repeated. I nodded. Suddenly his other hand came out of nowhere and clipped me across the head. "What did you say fucker?" I wheezed out a "Yes" and his hand dropped to my shorts and squeezed my balls hard and fast. "What?" "Yes sir!" I whispered. I could scarcely breathe. He released his hand and I gasped for air. He leaned in all the way and kissed me. It was surprisingly gentle and made me gasp again. I looked up and straight into his eyes. "No fuck off till I come for you. Cunt." He pushed open the door and manhandled me out. I stumbled to the exit and turned back. He was standing there and there was already a guy on his knees starting to pull his cock out. He pointed to the door. I turned and left. (To Be Continued)

Before Steamworks bought it (and even for a couple of years after they bought it), Chicago's Steamworks was known as The Unicorn. I think the name change happened back in the 1990s. It was The Unicorn back when I first went to it.

Trying to gauge up to a 0g. Using a sounding rod to stretch from a 2g.

I obligate myself to honesty - when asked on sites to disclose, I am honest. When asked by an individual, I am honest. I feel comfortable with my anchor being honestly - and I go beyond to ensure that people know my status just to be sure. It is not anyone's obligation in any relationship (romantic, sexual, etc.) to disclose ad nauseum any and all things about themselves which may impact them coming together... especially when there is a well-understood and assumed "risk" associated with unprotected sex. But if you ask, I'll answer. Bottoms who can stealth a top with HIV are some super-human mutant @bikerarmpits - this is a very rare occurrence...and frankly, wouldn't be worth the douching effort of the bottom. My post link below, supporting @PozBearWI comment above. We all make questions, and choosing to be informed is one of them - so I'll live happily in the "I was honest when asked" universe...

From our POV @bikerarmpits; as we aren't privy to the actual conversation or gestures between the to guys; we really can only conjecture. Further, even if the poz guy is viral and the neg guy is not on PrEP; the one who wants to know has an obligation to ask. If neither asks then they've consented by default. To your fine what-if question, infection from that bottom is pretty slim. But risk I don't thing comes into play. So one tried to increase his pleasure by coaxing the tops load, so what? Except to them, it doesn't matter; and if our sex mate doesn't ask; it isn't our job to change the conversation from a hot sexual encounter to one having to educate the other on HIV risk is it?

Tommy's fingers twitched against his phone screen, scrolling through Grindr profiles with the practiced boredom of someone who'd done this too many times. His thumb lingered on a photo—some guy with dilated pupils and a lazy smirk, shirtless in what looked like a dealer's dim living room. The caption read "party favors?" and Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose. The room smelled like stale sweat and the faint chemical tang of leftover vape juice. He adjusted his grip on himself, hips shifting against the sheets, imagining the press of unfamiliar hands pinning him down, the burn of smoke in his lungs before everything went soft at the edges. His pulse jumped when the app pinged—another message from someone named "Cloud9" with a wink emoji and an address two blocks over. Tommy's fingers hesitated over the reply box. He could already picture the sticky heat of a stranger’s apartment, the way the carpet would feel under his bare knees. His thumb hovered—then the front door creaked open downstairs. His stomach lurched. He wasn’t expecting anyone. The footsteps were too quick, too purposeful, the kind that didn’t bother to wipe their shoes on the mat. The bedroom door slammed open before he could sit up. Two figures blurred into the room—one tall with a shaved head, the other wiry, grinning like this was fucking Christmas. Tommy’s mouth went dry. He opened it to yell, but the taller one lunged, a damp cloth reeking of chemicals smothering his face. His nostrils burned. His vision swam. "Easy, pigboy," the wiry one chuckled, knee digging into Tommy’s thigh as he fought. The taste of acetone flooded his mouth. His limbs turned liquid. Distantly, he felt fingers—rough, calloused—wrapping around his cock, stroking him through the haze. His hips jerked involuntarily. The last coherent thought before the dark swallowed him whole: *fuck, I’m still hard.* Cold linoleum pressed against his cheek when he blinked awake. His tongue felt like cotton. The room spun—fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows of figures moving behind him. A hand gripped his hair, yanking his head back. "Look alive," someone muttered. A phone camera clicked. Tommy’s vision swam into focus on the screen—his own slack face, pupils blown, spit slicking his chin. Behind him, Shaved Head smirked, gripping Tommy’s jaw. "Say *ahh*." Wrists jerked against padded cuffs. He was spread-eagled in some kind of medical sling, ankles hooked wide, the restraints biting into his skin. His cock twitched against his thigh—still half-hard—and the realization hit like a bucket of ice water. *Naked.* Blindfolded. The gag wasn’t fabric; it was silicone, contoured to force his mouth open just enough to breathe. He tried to scream. It came out a wet gurgle. “Should’ve answered my fucking messages, Tommy.” A familiar voice—Cloud9 from Grindr—low and amused, somewhere to his right. A fingertip dragged down Tommy’s sternum, nails scraping just shy of pain. “Would’ve been easier on you. But nah, you had to be a *tease*.” Something cold and metallic tapped against his ribs. “Think he’s ready?” The taller one—Shaved Head—snorted. “Oh, he’s ready.” The words dripped like syrup. “Look at him. Already leaking.” Tommy thrashed, heels skidding against the restraints, his pleas muffled into nonsense by the gag. His cock betrayed him, thickening against his stomach, the tip smearing precome onto his skin. The wiry one laughed, leaning in close enough for Tommy to smell stale cigarettes and mint gum. “Begging looks good on you,” he murmured, and then—sharp, sudden—the hiss of compressed air. The gag’s valve clicked open. A rush of chemical sweetness flooded Tommy’s mouth, his nostrils, the back of his throat. Poppers. His vision tunneled instantly, heat surging from his belly to his fingertips. His cock jerked, fully hard now, aching. Shaved Head gripped Tommy’s jaw, forcing his head back. “Swallow,” he ordered. Tommy gagged—too much, too fast—but the liquid burned down his throat anyway, thick as syrup. His muscles slackened instantly, limbs heavy as lead. “There you go,” the taller one crooned, palming Tommy’s cock with rough strokes. “Feels better already, huh?” Tommy’s head lolled. His thoughts dissolved into static, the world narrowing to the drag of calloused fingers on his skin. Distantly, he registered the wiry one rummaging through a bag—glass clinking, foil tearing—but his body wasn’t his anymore. It arched into every touch, every scrape of teeth against his neck. Something tight and elastic circled his bicep—rubber bands, pulled taut just shy of pain. Tommy’s pulse hammered against the constriction, his skin flushing hot where the bands bit in. The wiry one whistled low, admiring his work. “Look at that,” he murmured, flicking one band with a fingernail. It twanged against Tommy’s flesh, sending a jolt straight to his cock. “Veins popping like a fucking map.” Shaved Head chuckled, rolling a needle between his fingers. The glint of steel made Tommy’s stomach twist—but his hips jerked anyway, needy and dumb. “Gonna make you feel so good, piggy,” the taller one promised, thumb pressing into the swollen blue vein beneath the rubber band. The needle slid in with practiced ease—sharp, then gone—and Tommy gasped around the gag as something warm and liquid flooded his dick. Trimix, probably. His cock throbbed instantly, swelling thicker, heavier, the head purpling under the fluorescent lights. His balls drew up tight against his body, the skin there already tingling, oversensitive. The wiry one whistled again. “Christ. Look at him twitch.” His fingers traced the straining vein along Tommy’s shaft, featherlight. Tommy whimpered—half-protest, half-plea—but the sound dissolved into a moan when the taller one pinched his nipple, hard. “You are going to make a *perfect* slam pig,” Shaved Head murmured, lips brushing Tommy’s ear. His breath smelled like whiskey and spearmint. “All that wasted potential…” His hand slid down Tommy’s chest, over his quivering stomach, then wrapped around his cock again. The grip was merciless. Tommy’s hips bucked, helpless, his vision blurring at the edges. “See? Even now—” A sharp twist of his wrist. Tommy choked on a sob. “—your body knows what it’s for.” The needle gleamed in the light as the taller one flicked it between his fingers. “Nothing you can do to stop this.” Tommy’s cock pulsed violently against the rubber encasement, veins straining against the slick latex, the pressure so tight his balls ached with every heartbeat. The wiry one laughed—bright, delighted—and leaned in to press another soaked rag to Tommy’s face. Poppers flooded his sinuses, sharp as shattered glass. The room dissolved into fractals, colors bleeding into shapes that didn’t exist. His cock throbbed, trapped and desperate, the sensation magnified by the drugs singing through his bloodstream. He tried to scream, but the gag muffled it into a wet groan. Shaved Head moved first—fluid, practiced—palming a syringe from the tray with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times. The needle gleamed under the flickering fluorescents. Tommy’s stomach lurched. The wiry one straddled his hips, pinning him with bony knees, fingers digging into Tommy’s biceps hard enough to bruise. Shaved Head tapped the syringe with a fingernail, clearing the air bubble with a flick of his wrist. The liquid inside shimmered, oily and thick. “Left arm,” he murmured, and Tommy’s breath hitched when cold alcohol swabbed the crook of his elbow. The second needle slipped in—sharp, then gone—buried deep in the vein. Tommy’s pulse hammered against the intrusion. The wiry one grinned, pressing his thumb to Tommy’s wrist, holding him down like a butterfly pinned to corkboard. Shaved Head’s fingers curled around the plunger. Their eyes met—some silent signal—and Tommy’s throat clicked around a soundless plea. Both plunger depressed quickly and empty into Pigboys mind body and spirit. Tommy didn’t even feel the needles withdraw. The popper rush had already hollowed out his skull, reducing the world to a kaleidoscope of fractured light and sound. His lungs seized mid-breath—triple coughs ripping through him, wet and jagged. His chest convulsed. “Oh fuck—” His voice cracked. The fluorescent lights above streaked into white-hot halos. “Oh fuck—” His cock jerked, untouched, spitting precome onto his stomach. “Oh fuck me—” The taller one laughed—low, indulgent—as he wiped Tommy’s chin with his thumb. “Already are, piggy.” His fingers tangled in Tommy’s hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. “Look at you. Just—” A sharp slap to Tommy’s cheek. His vision swam. “—falling apart.” Tommy’s breath hitched, his lungs burning with the lingering chemical sweetness. The air tasted like burnt plastic and sweat. He barely registered the creak of hinges—the front door swinging open downstairs—over the roar of blood in his ears. Footsteps pounded up the stairs, too heavy, too eager. The bedroom door bounced off the wall with a crack. Two new figures loomed in the doorway—one built like a linebacker, his knuckles already wrapped in grimy tape, the other slim-hipped with a shock of bleached hair. Both reeked of stale beer and leather. The linebacker whistled low, eyeing Tommy’s twitching cock. “Fuck, he’s primed.” Bleached Hair grinned, rolling up his sleeves to reveal a latticework of track marks. “Like Christmas came early.” Tommy’s hole clenched around nothing as the taller one—Shaved Head—slicked two fingers with something cold and viscous. The lube smelled clinical, sterile, like a hospital corridor. Tommy whimpered around the gag when those fingers pressed in without warning, the stretch burning even through the chemical haze. “Relax,” Shaved Head murmured, twisting his wrist. Tommy’s thighs trembled. “Gonna ruin you so good.” The fingers crooked, and Tommy’s back arched off the table—a sharp, electric jolt straight to his cock. His balls ached—already swollen and tight—when the wiry one knelt between his legs, a trio of heavy steel rings clinking in his palm. The first stretcher clicked into place with a *snap*, the cold metal cinching tight around Tommy’s sack. His breath hitched. The second followed—tighter, lower—forcing his nuts to stretch obscenely away from his body. By the third, Tommy’s thighs were shaking, his dick *pulling* with every heartbeat, the weight dragging his balls down into a taut, flushed pendulum. The wiry one grinned, giving the lowest stretcher a sharp tug. “Look at that,” he breathed. “Like a fucking bellrope.” Tommy barely registered the laughter—low and thick, from somewhere behind him—until a broad hand clamped down on his shoulder. The voice was deep, honeyed with amusement. “Thas what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” Fingers—thick, blunt—trailed down Tommy’s spine, pausing at the dip of his waist. “We gonna milk this pig from the inside out.” The hand slid lower, calloused palm scraping over Tommy’s ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise. Tommy’s vision swam. His mouth worked around the gag—useless—as Shaved Head leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Breathe through it, pig.” His breath was hot, whiskey-sour. “Cause you got more cummin’.” Tommy’s stomach flipped. The words slithered under his skin, curling around his spine like smoke. “First stage of your pigboy transformation’s begun.” A wet chuckle. “Time to be consumed with pleasure.”

The loss of Joshua still cut deep, even two years on. It was a crisp February day in the Rockies—perfect blue sky, fresh powder that sparkled like diamonds. We’d driven up for a spontaneous weekend, just the two of us. Joshua was fearless on skis, always chasing the best lines. While I nursed a coffee in the lodge, he kissed me quick—tongue teasing my bottom lip—and said, “One more run. Be back before you finish that.” He never came down. A hidden tree well, high-speed impact, catastrophic head trauma. Instant. No chance to say goodbye. The patrol found him buried in snow; the hospital confirmed what I already knew in my gut. I sat in that hallway clutching his wedding band, the world reduced to white noise and the smell of antiseptic. Sarah was my first call. Joshua’s ride-or-die lesbian best friend since their university days—loud, fiercely loyal, the one who’d tease him about his flannel obsession and drag us to every queer event in Toronto. She drove through the night, arrived at dawn, and became my anchor. She handled the calls, the paperwork, the funeral when I couldn’t string sentences together. And when the first shock wore off and the long, grinding grief set in, she stayed—bringing food, forcing me to shower, holding me while I sobbed on the bathroom floor. She saw the parts I tried to hide: the way my body shut down completely for the first year—no erections, no fantasies, no interest in touching myself or anyone else. My cock stayed soft, my hole untouched, desire buried under layers of guilt and emptiness. By the second year, frustration crept in like a thief. Random hard-ons that led nowhere, failed jerk-off sessions that ended in tears because every stroke felt like betrayal, a couple of Grindr attempts where I couldn’t even get it up because another man’s hands on me made my stomach churn with shame. I’d come home alone, balls aching, cock leaking uselessly, hole clenching around nothing, and curse myself for still having a body that wanted. Sarah heard it all over late-night coffees and tear-soaked texts. “You’re not betraying him by wanting to feel good again,” she’d say quietly. “Joshua loved you alive, Moshin. He’d hate seeing you punish yourself for having a libido. Pleasure isn’t disloyalty—it’s survival.” She started nudging me toward the gym more intentionally. “You’re still going late nights. That’s good. But maybe let someone see you there. Not to replace him—just to be looked at again. To feel desired without the guilt crashing in.” She’d noticed Tim when he transferred in—29, built like he lived under the barbell, quiet confidence, no drama. Single, grounded, and—importantly—aware of loss without turning it into his whole personality. After watching me finish a set of hip thrusts one night—ass flexing hard under the lights, sweat running down my smooth back, face flushed in a way that wasn’t just cardio—she decided. “Moshin,” she said, catching me at the water fountain, “there’s someone new on the desk tonight. Tim. He’s good. Let him look at you. Let yourself be seen. You deserve to feel eyes on your body again without it meaning you’re forgetting Joshua.” She walked me over. Tim looked up, eyes steady and warm. Sarah made the introduction: “Tim, Moshin. He and Joshua were basically gym royalty here. Joshua was my best friend. Moshin’s been carrying a lot.” Tim extended his hand. “I’m sorry about Joshua. Sounds like he was one of the good ones. Glad you’re still here killing it.” His gaze lingered—on my sweat-damp tank clinging to my nipples, on the way my shorts hugged the firm swell of my bubble butt—for half a second longer than polite. It was the first time in two years a man’s eyes on me made my cock twitch instead of my stomach turn. That was the beginning of the slow burn. Tim never rushed. He noticed everything: the sweat tracing my spine after sprints, the way my shorts rode up during squats exposing the smooth dip where thigh met ass, the hitch in my breath when he stood close to spot me—his chest brushing my back, forearms flexing, crotch grazing the top of my crack for one heartbeat too long. He’d text after shifts: “Kept replaying those hip thrusts. Your ass bouncing like that. Fuck.” “Could smell how turned on you were tonight. You were leaking through your shorts.” “Been hard since you walked in. Thinking about bending you over and sliding in raw.” I’d read them in the dark, legs spread, hand wrapped around my cock—stroking slow while I pictured him: thick, veined, uncut head pushing past my rim, stretching me open after two years of nothing. I’d edge for hours, balls heavy and aching, pre-cum pooling on my stomach, then stop just before I came because spilling without him inside me felt wrong. Sarah watched the whole transformation. “You’re practically humping the air when he’s around,” she’d text. “I’ve seen you go from numb to this dripping, desperate mess. Let him fuck the grief out of you. You’ve earned it.” The night it broke was biblical rain—sheets hammering the windows, thunder rolling through the empty gym. I’d pushed myself to destruction: heavy deadlifts, ass-to-grass squats, hip thrusts that made my glutes burn and my hole throb. By the time I staggered to the desk, I was drenched—tank transparent over my nipples, shorts dark with sweat and the obvious wet spot at the front where I’d been leaking for an hour straight. Tim didn’t speak. Just stared, pupils blown, throat working. Then, voice barely audible: “Tanning room. Now.” I followed, cock straining, pre-cum soaking my jock. Door locked. Warm amber light bathed us like oil. He slammed me against the wall, mouth crashing into mine, beard scraping my smooth jaw raw, tongue fucking deep while his hands yanked my tank up and over my head. He palmed my ass hard, fingers digging into the firm meat, spreading me through the soaked fabric. “Been dying to get my tongue in this hole,” he growled, dropping to his knees and ripping my shorts and jock down. My cock sprang free—dark, flushed, dripping thick strings of pre-cum. He ignored it. Buried his face between my cheeks. Hot, wet tongue lapping flat over my pucker, circling, then spearing inside. I cried out, hips bucking back onto his mouth. He ate me ravenously—sucking, licking, groaning into my ass, beard burning the tender skin until I was shaking, sobbing his name, pre-cum dripping steadily onto the floor in long strands. He stood, clothes shed in seconds. His cock was obscene—heavy, thick, veins bulging, foreskin pulled halfway back, swollen head glistening and angry red. “First dick in two years,” he rasped, stroking himself once, pre-cum webbing between fist and slit. “Gonna wreck this tight little ass. Make you remember what it feels like to be filled and bred.” Lube poured over three thick fingers—no preamble—breaching me, scissoring wide, curling hard against my prostate until my knees buckled and I begged, “Please—Tim—fuck—need your cock—” He lined up. Blunt head kissed my rim. Pushed. The stretch was brutal, glorious—raw, burning, perfect. Inch after thick inch splitting me open, filling the hollow ache that had haunted me for years. I keened, forehead pressed to the warm vinyl bed, ass high, hole fluttering helplessly around his girth. He bottomed out with a guttural groan, balls flush against me, and held still—letting me feel every throbbing vein, every heartbeat buried inside. Then he fucked me. Slow at first—long, dragging strokes that dragged over my prostate with every pass. My bubble butt jiggled with each deep thrust; his hands gripped my waist hard enough to bruise. “So fucking tight—sucking me in like you were made for my cock,” he panted, pace building, hips snapping, skin slapping skin in wet, filthy rhythm. He reached around, wrapped a rough fist around my leaking shaft—stroking fast, twisting at the head, thumbing the slit smeared with pre-cum. “Come on my dick. Show me how bad you needed to be bred after all this time.” I shattered—back arching, hole clamping vise-tight around him, cock erupting in thick, endless ropes across the bed, vision flashing white as two years of pent-up release tore through me in shuddering, sobbing waves. Tim snarled, thrusts turning erratic, then slammed home and came—hot, flooding pulses painting my insides, breeding me deep while I trembled and milked every last drop from him. He didn’t pull out right away. He eased us both down onto the tanning bed, rolling so I was sprawled across his chest, his softening cock still buried inside me, cum slowly leaking out around the base and down my inner thigh. His arms wrapped around me—strong, grounding. One hand stroked lazy circles over my sweat-slick back; the other carded through my damp hair. His lips brushed my temple, soft now. “You okay?” he murmured, voice wrecked. I nodded against his neck, throat tight. “Haven’t… felt anything… like that in so long.” He tightened his hold. “You’re safe here. With me. Whenever you need it.” We stayed tangled until the rain slowed, bodies cooling, his cum still warm inside me, leaking in slow, sticky trails. He finally eased out with a soft groan, both of us wincing at the loss, then pulled me back against his chest. We didn’t dress immediately. Just skin on skin. His hand resting possessively over my softening cock, thumb brushing idly over the head, smearing the last drops of my release. Sarah came in for her morning shift around 6 a.m. The gym was still quiet, rain reduced to drizzle. She was restocking towels when Tim walked out of the back hallway—hair mussed, shirt wrinkled, a faint hickey blooming under his collar. He caught her eye, gave a small, knowing smirk, and jerked his head toward the tanning room hallway. She raised an eyebrow. “You good?” He shrugged, casual. “Moshin stayed late. We… talked.” Sarah’s gaze flicked to the hallway, then back to him. She saw the flush still on his neck, the way he walked with that post-fuck looseness. Then she looked at the tanning room door—slightly ajar, light still on. She didn’t ask for details. Just nodded once, slow and satisfied. “He needed that.” Tim met her eyes. “Yeah. He did.” She texted me later that morning while I was still in bed, ass deliciously sore, Tim’s cum dried on my thigh: “Saw Tim this morning. Looked like he’d had a very productive night. You good?” I smiled into my pillow, typed back with shaking fingers: “Yeah. Really fucking good.” She sent one emoji—a simple fire—and nothing else. She’d watched me crawl through the dark. She’d nudged me toward the light. And now, for the first time in two years, I wasn’t walking alone. -‐--‐--‐--‐----------------------------------- As always my stories are based on true events. Names remain the same. I add erotica for readers to enjoy the event. Dedicated in love to all those who saw their loved ones just dropping dead during the AIDS crisis. To anyone still here, chest tight, eyes burning: If you’re reading this with your hand pressed over the hole where your person used to live… I see you. Two years (or five, or a lifetime) of waking to cold sheets, flinching at “touch,” choking on guilt the second desire stirs—you’re not broken. You’re carrying a love so big it carved you hollow. Joshua didn’t leave a manual for this. He just left. And for too long I thought wanting again meant murdering the only man who ever made me feel whole. But Sarah was right: living isn’t betrayal. Letting someone see the scars grief tattooed on your soul, letting them press their mouth to the places that still bleed, letting your body remember how to shake, leak, clench, and come undone… that’s not replacement. That’s the last stubborn proof that your heart refused to stop when you begged it to. If this story cracked your ribs open—if it made you ache for the day your own door locks, for the night someone looks at you like you’re still worth fucking, still worth filling, still worth the mess of tears and cum and whispered names—hold that ache like a fragile thing. It’s not disloyalty. It’s the avalanche’s aftermath: proof the snow can melt, the sun can touch skin again, and the body can still arch and sob and spill under someone else’s weight. When your moment comes—rough or tender, raw or slow—let it wreck you. Let it rebuild you. Let yourself cry while you come. Let yourself whisper his name and someone else’s in the same ragged breath. You’re allowed. And if these words made tears slip down your face in the dark… good. That means you’re still alive enough to feel the whole goddamn thing. That means you’re still here. And right now—that’s more than enough.

Bob’s Visit Bob has been a great friend since our college days. Together (although often at a distance over the phone), we celebrated our milestones and we grieved our losses, including the young death of our house mate and friend Dan during the worst days of The Plague. Years ago, he was the first person I told when I found out that I was HIV+ and he listened to me talk out my fears. Though our paths after our university days diverged, we always talked every few months just to catch up. With my career and job travels, it was easy to unintentionally lose touch with friends. So, one day, after about two years absence, I picked up the phone and called Bob. He was thrilled that I called him, but he sounded a little down. I asked him what was wrong and he told me that his marriage had ended about two years earlier. I asked if he wanted to take the Acela (train) and spend the weekend at my place and we could talk and have some drinks. He readily accepted. The following weekend, Bob showed up on my doorstep, and we embraced as two old friends. “So, what happened?” I asked Bob. “Ugh. It’s a long sordid story and I only have myself to blame,” Bob replied. Bob’s wife, Maria, had long suspected that Bob hadn’t been faithful to her (you know -- the Italian guy thing). But she had never directly confronted his infidelities. One weekend, their doorbell rang and Bob answered it. Their neighbor and his wife furiously entered Bob and Maria’s home to confront Bob. “The guy was jabbing his finger against my chest and yelling at me, and Maria walked in and demanded to know what was going on,” Bob said. The neighbor said, “Your husband gave my son syphilis and chlamydia!” “Their 20-year-old kid was home from Brown University for the summer. This guy was hot. I mean, smoking hot body and not at all twinkie. Varsity baseball player…you get the idea. Well, I popped his anal cherry within the first week of his summer break. I fucked him all summer long and he was insatiable…he was always bugging me to fuck him, so it was kind of worth it. Anyway, he went back to Brown last fall and started fucking his girlfriend again after the summer break. Then, he found out I gave him some STDs when he received the results from his team physical exam. Shit, I didn’t even know I was infected. Anyway, he infected the girlfriend, and he had to tell her. So, she broke up with him and then she told his folks that their perfect son was a diseased faggot!” Bob always was a drama magnet, and I wasn’t surprised that his infidelities caught up with him occasionally. “Sex with Maria stopped long ago, so the marriage was sputtering along, and it was just a matter of time until it was pronounced dead anyway,” he explained. “I’m just glad I never gave her any kids.” I knew for a fact that Bob had knocked up at least three girls in college, but they all had abortions fortunately. “So, what’s next?” I asked. “We sold the house and divided all the property up. So, it’s like a clean slate for me,” he said. Fortunately, Bob’s business was doing very well and he’d managed to shelter it from the divorce somehow. We decided to go to a local bar for dinner and had some good quality time talking about nothing and everything in our lives. It was getting late, and we left the bar to head back to my place. I settled Bob in the guest bedroom and then went to bed myself. I hadn’t been under the covers for five minutes before Bob knocked on the door. I told him to come in. Bob was naked and walked in with a sexy dumb grin. He had kept in great shape and his big soft cock hung down over his balls. He walked over to the bed and got in next to me. We kissed and he whispered into my ear, “It’s been too long since we did this.” I didn’t say anything, but I started to nibble on his otter pecs which still drove him crazy. His cock was instantly hard as a rock, and was dripping precum onto my tonsils a few minutes later. “I hope you got those STD looked after,” I commented with a smirk as his cock head popped out of my mouth. “Sit that smart ass of yours on my face, you sexy cunt,” Bob replied. I was on top of Bob and he parted my ass cheeks as he dove in and started to rim me out. I was facing his feet and started to suck his cock in a 69 position which Bob has loved since I’ve known him. I was moaning like a bitch in heat, as I went down on his cock. I pulled off, “I need you to pound me right now,” I moaned. I got up and straddled Bob looking into his eyes, as I lowered my ass to his cock head. I reached back and rubbed his head all over my hole, using his pre-cum to lube up my tight pucker. I put the pressure of my weight on it as Bob held up a bottle of poppers to my nose. I huffed the brown bottle, and he slid right into me. I rode him for a few minutes, and he sat up and tongued my nipple, and I raised my arm so he could huff my pits. He sniffed in my scent as he got even more excited. He positioned me on my back so he could put my feet against his hairy pecs and then he entered me again. We looked at each other as he piston fucked me like a cheap whore. We both loved rough fucking. My cock was rigid and leaking as Bob punished my prostate. I was on the edge of cumming when Bob grunted and I felt him flood my hole. Once he was done, he pulled out and took my cock in this mouth and sucked it like a man with an insatiable thirst. I screamed as he sucked every drop out of me. We were both spent, physically and mentally. Bob put his hairy arm around me as he was the big spoon to my small spoon, and we drifted off.

My ex and “gifted” once fucked me so hard that I had bruises from his fingers of where he was holding me while taking me from behind. He was all man. We still hook if from time to time but he is now in his late 60’s and doesn’t pound as hard.

He walked over and sat at the other end of the couch facing me. He opened his legs and stroked his hard huge obelisk of a cock. "Massage my balls and finger my perinium please", he said I thought for a second. It seemed safe enough. It's not like he asked me to suck his cock. I crawled over to him and sat between his legs. As I did that he lowered his left leg around my waist and his right leg came up from the ground and around my waist as well locking me in a bit. I started to massage his balls and search for his premium. He quickened his stroking of his mammoth cock. I worked his balls and found his perinium. He "Yeah boy work Daddy's balls and knot", he moaned. I couldn't help but stare at his huge cock. It was gorgeous. It was not just long at least 9" but thick and his veins made it so sexy. His cock head was large too like a plow. Being this close for the first time I noticed there was a hole like a piercing under his cock head. I kept massaging his balls and knot. He kept moaning. "Ahhh yeah. Go ahead and play with my hole baby, please" he moaned. I paused. He wants me to play with his asshole I thought? Isn't he a top? What about his disease? He must've seen me think. "Dan don't worry you can't catch AIDS from rubbing my hole or sticking a finger up it." he said jokingly "Oh yeah I know just never been asked to do that to a guy before. And aren't you a top" i said casually I reached further down and found his hole. He slide back and up to allow easier access. I played with it teasing it and massaging his balls. "Go ahead and stick you finger in", he said "I thought you were a top" I said "Yes I am but it feels good and second a good top knows how to take a dick too once in a while. That's what makes him a good top" Rick said "I don't have any lube near by lets use our cum" Rick said He pointed at the cum on me and his leaking precum. I rubbed my finger in both and then tried to stick it in his ass. He was tight and I didn't want to hurt him. "Go ahead don't worry just stick in easy. Slowly" Rick said looking at me I slowly pushed in and my finger went. He let out a moan. I pushed my finger in deeper. "Swirl it around and pushed it deep and hook it back to you" he moaned I did just that. It felt tight and wet and warm, like a pussy. It reminded me this first time I fingered Jane. Rick kept moaning and stroking his cock and playing with his nipples, all the while his eyes locked on me. I love the way he looked at me. It made me feel safe, loved, beautiful, sexy and that he was in caring control. As I hooked my finger back, he let out a deep moan. "Ohhh yeah do it baby do it for Daddy", he yelled My fingers went into overdrive, I worked his sweet spot and his balls. After another 20 seconds, he yelled. "Ughhhhhhhh here it comes", he moaned My eyes left his and focused on his huge hard cock. I was focused on it. He was slowly pumping not fast or erratic and his precum was just oozing out and then a small spurt of this cream popped, then a spray of drops all over, then large spurts came shooting out of his hot cum. I felt his ass squeeze hard around my finger as he orgasmed.

Rick was still behind rubbing my chest and shoulders, once in a while teasing my nipples which still sent shockwaves down to my cock even though I had just cum. His head next to mine whispering in my ear. "Yeah good boy. How did that feel. You came good.", he said "It was amazing. I never felt such a strong orgasm before. What you said about my nipples and perineum was so right. It felt so good", I said He stood up and moved to the side of me. His cock was sticking out at me only a few inches from my face. "Yes and there is so much more I can teach you about your body and giving into your pleasure. I want to make you feel so good." Rick said his lips burshing against my ear. I leaned into his lips. As I turned I saw his huge meat. "Sorry you were so busy helping me you didn't cum yet", I said "Its fine. I wanted to help you experience deep pleasure. Did you really enjoy it?", he asked I nodded, "Yes it was incredible, I am still calming down from the high", i replied. While my cock was not erect it was still a little hard. That normally doesn't happen. "You still look horny my boy", he said looking at my cock and stroking his "Yeah still energized, normally I go soft by now. I don't know why its still hard", I replied Rick then knelt by me. And started to massage my legs and relax me. "Ohhh boy you came a gallon didn't you. We better get you cleaned up. Do you mind if I help?" Rick asked "Sure its all over me" I replied "Do you mind if I taste your cum" he asked I didn't know what to say. I thought for a second. He tasted my leak so might as well. I nodded. He took his fingers and scooped it up and placed it in his mouth and sucked his fingers. The way he did it was so sensual and then he swirled it in his mouth to taste it and then swallow. All the while looking me in the eyes. "You taste so good Dan. Here try it", he said while scooping it up and placing it in my mouth like earlier today. He sensually teased my mouth and massaged my mouth and tongue. It waslike my mouth and tongue were having sexy with his finger, so sensual and erotic. I tasted my cum and swallowed. "Tastes good right", he asked with his fingers still teasing my mouth. I nodded. He fingers pulled out and seductively touched my lips. He scooped up more and lightly seductively entered my mouth again this time he instructed me. "Yeah just suck my finger baby, enjoy the flavour of your sweet cum, taste it baby, its sweet nectar, that's it tongue it, suck on my finger. Make my finger feel good baby. Ohhh yeah" he said His words taking control of my mouth and tongue. My tongue flicked his finger tips and swirled around his finger and sucked on it like it was food. I tasted and savored my cum. It did taste good. "Dan, you are so handsome and beautiful " he said staring at me His words were working their magic. His left hand was now massaging my thigh. My cock was hard again. "That's it baby good boy" he said pulling out his finger slowly and swirling my lips. In the moment my lips reached out to suck his finger again, like it was missing his finger in my mouth and I sucked on it again. Holding onto his finger in my mouth. "Yeah you like that don't you" he said smiling at me His finger scooped up more cum and again back in my mouth and was hungry for his finger and my cum. I tongued, licked and sucked on his finger. Again he pulled it out and teased my lips. My lips responded on their own and kissed his finger and my tongue stuck out and licked it. "Hmmm yeah good boy", Rick said teasing me. His hand on my thigh making me feel good. He scooped up more cum from my belly and smeared it on my lips. My mouth tried to reach out for his finger but he pulled it away. "No, just lick it off your lips", he said I did in a hungry sexy way, licking my lips while Rick stared at me "Do you mind if I lick it off of you please? There is so much to clean up" he said smiling "Ughh ok just not my cock" I said "Ok" he replied as he patted my thigh and kept it there. He moved closer to me our bodies touching, his cock now poking my left leg and he leaned over and grabbed my hand holding my hard cock and moved it over off the side. He squeezed my hand as he moved it thereby squeezing my cock. It throbbed and leak some cum. He then started to lick the cum off me. Starting at my groin and pubic area. I shivered as the way he licked up the cum caused a shock of pleasure. Licking and sucking and nibbling the cum out of my pubic hair and slurping so close at the base of my cock. Then he worked up my belly sucking the cum in my belly button. I let out a soft moan. Then up my abs and chest, licking and sucking causing shocks down to my cock. I started to breath harder. Then he started to suck and lick both my nipples that were covered in my cum. Electricity to my now rock hard cock. He kept on my nipples licking them and teasing them even after the cum was all gone. It felt so good I let out a soft moan. He then sucked and pulled gently on my nipples with his teeth. "Aaahhhh", I moaned whipping my head back in both pain and pleasure. He went on teasing my nipples and sucking on them for what seemed like an hour but was only not even a minute. At this point my cock was leaking precum again. He stayed there for a while working them then up my neck licking the cum off the side of my neck and also nibble. I let out another soft slightly high pitch moan. Then the cum on my ear lobe as he sucked it and I melted and let out another moan. My hand on its own started to massage my cock now which was leaking precum again. "Yeah you got cum all over.", Rick said our lips inches away. "Do you mind helping me? I didn't get a chance to cum yet", he said "Sure how can I help", I said. As the words left my mouth I reminded myself he has HIV.

After a few minutes Jane and I got dressed and went to the bar. We got to the bar and hung out with her friends. I used my fake ID to buy drinks. Jane is older than me at 22 it helped make me look older when she got carded first. After the bar I took her home and then went back to my place. Jane asked me to come inside her place but I had a lot to drink and needed to get to bed. She wasn't happy. On the way back to her place she even was rubbing my leg and cock. It got a little aroused but not rock hard as usual. She kept trying to rub me but it only got slightly hard. We got to her place I kissed her and she got out of the car a bit miffed. When I got home I changed into underwear and an old sleeping shirt. It was tight and didn't go all the way down to my waist. Also all my usual underwear whites were dirty so I had to use one that my gf gave me last Christmas. It was a spandex like low-rise bikini style brief. It showed a lot up front and in the back. She liked when I wore it. I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I put my stuff into the cabinet, I looked at his medicine bottles. The script was dated from 3 years ago and both bottles were empty. I went back to the bedroom and looked up the drugs out of curiosity. Holy crap. He has HIV. A bunch of things ran through my head. He touched me, I let him eat my cum, he touched my cock. We were in the pool together. He stuck his fingers in my mouth. A rush of emotions flooded me as well anger, frustration, and even excitement. I sat down and relaxed. I needed to calm down. I'm not some uneducated person. I know it can only be transmitted via body fluids or blood. Jane and I took tests before we had sex. I am better than this. I calmed down and felt better about it. I like Rick, he has been really good to me and I want to be supportive of him. My cock got a hard from the excitement which I felt strange about. I rubbed it a few times. I kept thinking why I am I getting aroused. I thought of Rick, hanging out at the pool with him, the way he looked at me, the way touched me the way he made me feel sexy and beautiful. I was rock hard now and leaking precum. But he has HIV I thought. I couldn't figure out why I was still hard as a rock. It was a little after 1am and I was tired. I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

I was working in a hotel a few years ago at the reception. 2 quite hunky Russian men checked in to a small room (all the rooms were small) with a single double bed. the morning they checked out I had to go up and check something in the room. in the bathroom I found a used condom in the waste basket, and knowing it was from one these two hunky Russians, I’m pretty sure I drank the jizz out of the used condom. I only have a vague memory of that today though

I think that what's unpardonable is to lie. When guys breed, and neither guy asks about status, assumedly neither guy is all that concerned (for a number of reasons, i.e. on PrEP, not on PrEP, chasing, whatever). At the fuckjoints I go to, I can't remember any guy even asking me what's in my loads.

I love sucking bbc, hell I love sucking cock period but love the contrast of a black cock in my mouth. Have sucked my share of avg black cock as well. I'm 8" and am usually bigger than most of the cocks I suck. I'm far from a size queen, I care more about the size of a guys load than the size of his cock. That being said when I'm lucky enough to get a nice bbc or bwc I'll worship that beauty for all it's worth.

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

Part V © I watched as my mate continued to gorge himself on my master's cock. Only in my min's eye could I imagine it as he writhed in the pleasure he was clearly receiving as he took hit after hit of poppers, moaning all the phrases that I wanted him to say to me. Struggling was useless. I sat there mute, slumped over in defeat. Finally he pulled my mate off his cock and clearly pushed himself back into the pouch of the jock. He leaned down and whispered to my mate. "Good cunt. Almost worth having you do it again." My mate sighed and gazed up. "Thank you Master Peter. Thank you." Peter! His named was Peter. I moaned with pleasure as I discovered something new about my mater. Peter looked up and realised what had happened. Before he could react a fist smashed into my mate's face, pushing him to the ground. Peter grabbed him by an ankle and dragged him back into the bedroom. The door slammed shut. Silence. Then I heard dull thuds. I shuddered. The door opened and my master came out alone. He strode up to me and grabbed my chin. "Okay cunt Boi. What next?" I moaned in expectations and fear. My heart was racing and every touch was like an electric shock through my body. My cock was so hard and wet. I was sweating. He stood up and pulled my head back by my hair. I screamed from the pain. He straddled me and pushed his crotch into my chest. I could feel his hard throbbing cock against my stomach. He looked deep into my eyes. "Playtime" he whispered. He leaned over me. It forced his pit into my face. I breathed in deeply. My god he smelled good. Sweaty. Musky. I wanted to lick it. He unfastened the leash from the chair and swung behind me. In one fluid movement he undid my arms and then my feet and pulled me off the chair. The blood rushed to my feet and I almost collapsed. He kept me upright and moved me away from the chair. He held on to the leash and moved round to face me. I dared to look at him. His pupils were dilated from whatever he had taken and there was a light sheen of sweat all over his body making his muscles glisten. I moaned in ecstasy. He pulled me over to the sofa and forced me across he. I felt him straddle me, his cock pushing against my speedo clad arse. I pushed back, grinding my butt against him. He smacked me hard on the back of the head. "No Cunt Boi. You do as you are told." I whimpered and moved my arse away from his cock. I saw a hand reach down along the sofa and recover the toke bag. Then I felt a finger trace down my back. I moaned from the simple intensity of his touch. Once agin I felt his finger trace down to the top of my speedos and thens pull down the top of my trunks. This time he kept pulling until my arse was exposed. Then he stopped. I didn't dare turn around. His breathing was heavy. I could hear and feel it. Suddenly the most incredibly pain hit my arse hole. I struggled to get away but he leaned into me and held me down. My arse buckled as I felt his finger invade my tight arse. And now I realised why the pain was so intense. It was still sore from the rough fucking of the weekend before. I closed my eyes from the pain and saw lights across my eyelids. I screamed into the ball gag as his finger tore into my tight hole. Plunging it and ripping my hole sideways. Just as suddenly he pulled out. I heard him open the toke bag. I moaned and clenched my arse. He laughed and suddenly the searing pain again as he pushed something up my arse. He leaned forward. "One." I moaned as I heard him open the toke back again before brutally ramming his finger back into my butt. "Two." I could feel two objects - pills - up my arse. He dragged me to my feet and pulled me across the floor. In my mind I was praying for him to stop. He hoisted me up and fastened the leash to something and pulled. I felt myself rise up off the ground until I was precariously balanced on my tip toes like some grotesque ballet dancer. He walked back to the bag and reached down to retrieve something. He turned around and was holding a black butt plug. I looked at him as he approached. I couldn't move and he knew it. He spun me round. Hard. Then grabbed me and stopped and spun me the other way. The pulled me to a stop again. He walked around me and before I could relax he rammed the butt plug into my hold. God how I screamed. No lube. No poppers. No time to react. I felt the butt plug pushed deep into my hole, ripping against the sides of my arse. Then he pulled up my speedos. He returned to face me. "A point I think. Your arse is so tight. I'm going to enjoy breaking you in." He smiled and retrieved the poppers from his pocket. He flipped them open and took a deep, deep swag. I eyed them enviously. He lifted them almost to my nose then removed them. "No." He started walking around me. I tried to follow him round as he started talking. "Time to start testing you. I'm not sure you're up to this. I think you'll not last. But first a few rules." I turned and grabbed me around the waist. "Control word. Simple. There isn't one. Why would there be? I'm in control not you. Why give you control at all. You try and stop me and I'll only be harder. Hurt you more. So don't scream or moan or beg me to stop. If you do I either won't or I'll throw you out naked." He spun me round and kept talking. "No. No more rules. There are no rules. I am the rule." Suddenly I winced as a pain shot through my stomach. I automatically crunched up my legs to lessen it. He stopped me spinning. "I see it's working. Good. All whore boys have had an e pushed up their srse but I'll let you into a,it'll secret." He grabbed me and wrapped me in his arms. I sighed as I felt his hard, sweaty body against mine. I suddenly felt safe. I felt his tongue trace along my jaw and to my ear. I shivered at his sensuous touch. He leaned in further. I could feel his hard clock against mine. I didn't dare move. "The second pill. The one you just felt is a pure caffeine tablet. Like the ones you use to stay awake. It dissolves more quickly and reacts with this e. It's an interesting combination." As he said it I started to feel something happening deep in my arse. He was right, I had had an e pushed up my arse. Who hadn't. But he was also right that this was different. I could feel the slow build up of the e as it dissolved but something else was kicking in. Something more intense. I could acutely feel the butt plug in my arse but it felt strange. Alien. It felt like it was growing larger. Impossible. "Now you will be feeling something completely new." I nodded. "Like your arse is shrinking." I nodded again. "That's the caffeine. It's making your muscles tighten. What's interesting isn't that it'll make your arse tight enough to fuck but ..." And he leaned in ... "Imagine how it will feel as I pull that butt plug out." He stepped away and wiped the sweat from his face. He sighed and stretched and pull off his harness. He dropped it to the ground. He stood before me and slowly undid the belt holding up his chaps. "I think you deserve a little something for your patience." He undid the zips of his chaps and pulled them off. He turned around and bent over. I moaned as I watched the muscles in his arse flex and bulge and he undid his boots and kicked them off. He turned around to face me in his jock. He stretched his arms over his head allowing me to drink in the sight of his torso as it rippled. The e was taking effect. I gazed at him longingly. All I could think of was licking his body all over. Worshipping every inch. I needed him. He walked toward me. He unclipped the poppers and took a deepmsniff. He pulled me closed. His mouth touched the end of the ball gag and he breath out down the tube. My mouth and lungs filled with his poppered breath. Before I could react he sucked the air back into his mouth. And then back. I started to get dizzy. His hand reached up and pinched my nose. I panicked and began to struggle as I fought for fresh air. I looked at him. His eyes were closed. He was holding me so tightly. I saw spots before my eyes. He suddenly released and I dragged fresh air into my lungs. He stepped back and looked at me. His eyes were wild. "Oh yeah. Play time. Big time." He reached to grab me.

Part III c I arrived at the gym just before 8.00pm and headed to the changing rooms. The gym was just beginning to thin out as the office workers headed home. When I walked into the changing rooms I was hit with that incredible damp smell of changing rooms - sweat, steam, showers. It was enough to make me cum. I found a quiet set of lockers and started to get changed. As I looked around I felt that everyone was looking at me and smirking. My stomach had tightened as I momentarily considered not turning up. But then I remembered my journey to work and thought better of it. I didn't want a rougher encounter. Well not on the tube. I closed my locker and grabbed my hand towel and heading out into the gym. As I quickly scanned around I realised it was still pretty busy. But despite looking around I couldn't see him. At all. I didn't know what to do. Had he even turned up? I decided to carry on and do my standard routine. If he was here he would see me. And the fact that I wasn't wearing a singlet. My heart sank. Perhaps he had already seen me and left. I got onto the running machine and started it up. I normally ran for fifteen minutes but I couldn't get into my stride. Part of it was that it hurt when I breathed. Clearly the bruising was more than skin deep. I stopped after five minutes and stretched by the running machine. This was always the best part as there was a mirror where I could admire my legs and arse. My running had not only made me trim but according to every one I had sex with, gave me an incredible arse. My mind flicked back to the last orgy I had attended. Many years back. I had gone with a mate and ended up being fucked by too many men to mention over the host's sofa. Each had complimented me on my bubble butt and tight hole. My cock stiffened forcing me to change my train of thought. I took it was an opportunity to scan the gym again. Still no sign. I headed over to the floor mats. Lying on my back I started to do sit ups. Against the bruising made it difficult and I barely managed to do half the number I normally could do. I sat up. I was sweating. And still no sign. Perhaps I should call it a day. He clearly hadn't turned up. My temper flared. The fucker. Who did he think he was. First leading me on in the club. And then on the tube. And now. I stood up. Fuck it. I would finish my work out and if he hadn't turned up I would head home and perhaps search grindr. I had a few local buddies who might be around and might want to fuck my arse. I'd see. I moved over to the weight machines. Free weights had always scared me. First, all the muscle marys gathered around them territorially and secondly I didn't know quite what to do. The weights machines were always better. And emptier. First arms. I walked over the bicep curl and adjusted the weight. I stopped and lowered it one notch. I was clearly sore and didn't want to over do it. Especially if I wanted a cock up my arse later. By the end of three sets I was soaked in sweat. It wasn't only the bruising but probably the come down. I smiled. At least I would have a sweaty jock to chew on later. Next the 'pec deck'. Again I adjusted the weight and sat down. The three sets nearly killed me. I had been gripped really hard in the club. Crushed almost so it was inevitable that my chest would be sore. But I was angry and pushed myself. Still no sign and the pec deck was in front of a mirror which gave me a clear view of the whole gym. Not only was it empty bar me and three other - not so cute - guys but he wasn't here. I headed over to the shoulder press. I really didn't like this machine but that was okay as it was in a corner and I usually just pretended to use it. I adjusted the weight and settled into the seat. As usual I tied the strap across the lap like the instructor had told me. It was habit really. I never every thought I would pull enough weight to need it. I leant forward and put my head in my hands. What was I doing. I was chasing some muscle guy whose name I didn't even know around a club, a train and a gym. I had been fucked remorselessly by some complete stranger, spent a fortune on gym gear and fucked some twink bareback. And now I was beginning to feel the comedown. I sat up. Right, I decided. No more drugs. No more fucking around. And no more muscle guy. I'd finish my workout and forget him. And take the bus to work. I gripped the bars of the machine and tried pushed up. I couldn't. It was too heavy. I'd forgotten to adjust the weight. I started to turn around ... "Don't turn around fuck boi." I froze. I felt the strap around my waist tighten. "I've been watching you. Looking around the gym to see if you could spot me." I could feel his breath on my neck. I shivered. "Doing some pathetic kind of workout as you searched for me. Not even fucking straining a muscle you pussy boi. And what's this? No fucking singlet? I told you I wanted you in singlet." I mumbled I was sorry. "What cunt boi?" "Sorry Sir." "That's right. Sorry. Sorry for your pathetic performance in the club. Your reaction on the tube. Your fuck in the shop. And now your fucking shitty work out." I stiffened. Except in my jock. He chuckled. "Oh yeah I know all about your fuck session in the shop. That's a real whore's den. I was surprised that you fucked Tommy though. He likes men. At least he did this lunchtime when I pushed my raw cock up his arse and made him finger my cum out of his hole and eat it." I moaned. From shame. And from the image of my muscle guy fucking "Tommy". "So cunt boi. What are we going to do?" He pulled the strap tighter. I winced. "Should I take you home and fuck you? Should I just fuck you here? The gym is empty enough. I could fuck you in the shower cubicle and get it over with and move on. To someone better. Find a cunt boi who isn't such a whore. What do you think?" I whispered that I was sorry. That I had 'purchased a singlet like I was ordered to' but that it hadn't been clean to wear to the gym. I begged him to forgive me. All whispered. I heard him clear his throat. "Tell you what fuck boi. I'll do this. Because I think even a cunt like you needs a second chance. Are you listening?" I nodded. "Right. I want you to spend the rest of this week working out. I want you to punish your body. I want you to make it as perfect as you can. It will never be perfect enough for me but I want to notice a real change. And so you are going to have to work hard this week. Very hard." "Then on Saturday you will go to an address as directed. There will be instructions. You will follow them exactly. And don't think you can cheat. I will be here watching you. I will know if you have been working out. And if you haven't then you will have failed. Failed me. And failed yourself. Don't wank. At all. Now fuck off home." He pulled the strap even tighter making me emit a yelp. And then he was gone. Quickly I unstrapped myself and stood up. He was nowhere to be seen. What was I to do?

Part III a I don't exactly remember getting home. Even now I have flashes of images but nothing concrete. Picking myself off the floor. Re-entering the main club. Collecting my clothes. Falling into a taxi. But nothing definite. But I do remember waking up the next morning. Sore. Battered. And when I looked in the mirror, bruised. There were finger marks around my waist where I had been held as I had been fucked. My arse was incredibly sore. I touched it gently and winced. And my cock was sore. I knew that because it was still erect. And that was the thing. Despite everything that had happened. Everything that had been done to me. The thought of it made me hard. In fact the first thing I had done when I had woken up was have a wank. Despite the pain of touching my hard shaft. Despite the pain as my spunk flew out of the head of my swollen cock. I had wanked and remembered every single moment of my abuse. Even a long hot bath didn't ease the pain I felt. And it also didn't dampen the exhilaration that I felt inside. Or the fact that my cock simply wouldn't go down. So I gave in to it. I opened a fresh bottle of poppers and lay in bed all Sunday. I watched the hardest, dirtiest porn I could. Bareback. Piss. Groups. I wanked. I ate my own cum. I fingered my sore arse. I contemplated a dildo but even the touch of its plastic head against my hole put me off. I didn't think I would be fucked for a while. By Sunday night I was exhausted. And cum dry. And finally I fell asleep. I don't remember my dreams but I woke up the next morning refreshed. And my cock had gone down but it was still sore. I looked at myself in the mirror. My lip was still swollen and the bruising around my waist had faded. I got dressed for work. I didn't want to but I had recently been promoted and I didn't think it was wise to call in sick so soon. I locked up my flat and headed for the tube. I was relatively early so knew the trains wouldn't be too full. Perhaps if I got in early I could leave a bit earlier too. I got into the lift at the station and walked on to the platform. Normally I would look at the men around me and work out which ones I would have sex with. Today I couldn't. My mind was blank. So numb. I hadn't even processed what had happened on Saturday night. And when I tried my cock started to harden. And that hurt too much. So I let my mind go blank. The train arrived and I got on. There were no seats so I stood at the end and leaned on the connecting door. I closed my eyes. I was tired. I should have stayed home. I could feel myself falling asleep. The train pulled into the next station and more people got on. I was pushed back against the door. I winced as my bruises reacted against the pressure. I closed my eyes again and tried to ignore the crush. I hated commuting and promised that I would start cycling to work again. Suddenly I felt a hand brush my crotch. The train was crowded. It was clearly an accident so I closed my eyes once more. It happened again. And this time it was more insistent. I looked up. It was him. I couldn't believe it. Where had he come from? Had he followed me onto the train? Had he just got on? He glared at me and I looked down. His hand was balled into a fist and he was rubbing it against my crotch. As the train jostled he pushed it harder and harder. My cock - of its own accord - grew hard in my trousers. I winced from the pain. I looked up again. He wasn't even looking. He looked for all the world to see as if he was listening to his music. But I could see a hard look on his face. I dropped my hand and touched his fist. Suddenly I felt a foot crush my shoe. I yelped. The pressure didn't ease on my foot. It pressed down harder. Deliberately. I moved my hand away and looked up. He was glaring at me. I dropped my hands to my side. I felt his hand unball and start to knead my aching cock hard and cruelly. I tried to push it away and again his foot crushed my shoe. The train lurched and he pushed up against me. I was powerless. I felt his hand expertly pull down my fly and enter my trousers. I moaned as he yanked my cock hard. Really hard. And out of my trousers. I panicked and looked around. I was sure someone could see. He was yanking - not wanking - my cock hard. He was pulling my foreskin back and now I regretted all the wanking from the night before. His foot stayed pressed on my shoe. Applying pressure and pain. I closed my eyes. I was scared. Suddenly it all stopped. The train had pulled into the next station and he was moving away. I stood there confused. And then I realised that most people were getting it. I quickly grabbed my cock and forced it back into my trousers. God it hurt so much. I looked up as he pushed passed. He took one look at me and winked and with expert grace he dropped something into my lapel pocket. And then he was gone. The doors closed behind him and the train started moving away. He was standing on the platform starting at me. And then he was gone. I slumped against the connecting door. My cock was swollen in my trousers. And I could feel precum leaking into my pants. Suddenly I remembered and pulled a piece of folded paper from my pocket and opened it. It was typed. "Did you not think I wouldn't find you? You are mine cunt. I bet you've been wanking all weekend. Did I say you could? May be I won't bother with you again. You are pathetic. But perhaps one more chance. Be at the gym tonight at 8.00pm. Wear a singlet. Shorts. Blue. A jock. Do not talk to me. Do not look at me. Just obey me."

Here you go, lads - let me know what you think of it... Part II I turned to walk back into the toilets. And stopped. What had just happened? Had he really spoken to me? I touched my neck. It hurt from where he had gripped me by the throat and squeezed. That was real enough. As was my hard cock in my shorts. I turned around again. He had ordered me to leave. I should. I didn't want to risk annoying him. Not because he would hurt me. But because he might not. I looked around and wondered if I could loiter outside the toilets but there was nowhere to stand. The corridor was too narrow and I didn't want to risk it. I was also confused. Did he recognise me from the gym? I didn't think so. He had never noticed me at the gym. Why had he let me stay in the cubicle then? Did he find me attractive. He couldn't, I mused. He was a muscle guy and I clearly wasn't. It was all too confusing. I walked back into the main bar. The lights had been dimmed even more. All around most of the guys were now bollock naked. As I entered hands grabbed for me. I didn't resist as I was lost in thought. But I didn't stop either. I walked to the far end of the bar where I had first seen him. As I turned round a guy knelt in front of me and pull down my rubber shorts. I didn't resist as I felt his hot mouth engulf my cock. My hand automatically went to the back of his head and pulled him deeper onto my hard cock. It felt good. I pulled open my poppers and took a deep hit. Fuck this guy was good. He was swirling his tongue around the head of my cock like an expert as one hand kneaded and pulled gently on my balls. I flattened my hand against the back of his head and slowly started to face fuck him. I looked down. It was the young guy from before. He was damn good at this! No wonder the other guy had been moaning. I put both hands behind his head and pushed deep down his throat. He didn't even gag. The poppers were making me feel all warm and sweaty. I pinched my own nipple and looked up. Guys all around were watching and nodding appreciatively as the young guy serviced my hard cock. I couldn't see him though. A thought flashed through my mind. He was still in the toilets. The centre of attention. And it wasn't with me. My cock started to soften again. I pulled out and looked down at the guy. I leaned down to kiss him and whispered I was sorry. My hands travelled down further to reach for my shorts. They weren't there. I knelt down til I was face to face with the guy as I searched for my shorts. Fuck it. He had slipped them off and now they were no where to be seen. I stood up again. I was bollock naked apart from a rubber cock ring. What the fuck was I going to do? I was going to stay. I was so horned up now that I needed to find some release. I had been bollock naked in clubs before. And I knew that I looked better than I had ever looked before. But what about the muscle guy? I was suddenly angry. Fuck the cunt, I thought. He wasn't around. I was too proud to hang around. Guys here wanted me and they could have me. I pushed my way from the bar and headed into the club proper. As I walked out hands reached for me again and I stopped every time so that I could feel sweaty flesh on my skin. More than once I kneeled down to take a hard cock in my mouth. Savouring the taste of other peoples' sweat and gob and cum on those hard shafts. I savoured the feeling as guys felt my sweaty arse and probed and teased my hole. But I moved away whenever I felt a cock against my arse. No yet. I didn't want to be fucked just yet. The main club was now a seething mass of sex to a hard dance beat. Everywhere men were fucking, sucking and kissing their way into drug-fucked oblivion. As I wasn't high it was like I was standing above them. Observing. Part of me wanted to be in the middle of that drug-fucked orgy but another part of me wasn't so sure I wanted to get that lost. Anyway where would I get drugs now? Just then I saw my mate. He was standing there looking at me. He winked and beckoned me over. "Having fun?" I told him I was horny and needed a 'little help'. He chuckled and reached down into his boot and retrieved a small bullet of paper. "MDMA" he whispered. "Just enough." He winked and walked away. I pulled open the paper and without caring who saw tipped the white powder into my mouth. It was bitter. Very bitter. So I washed it down with my water and then dropped the bottle on the floor. I loved MDMA. It worked quickly and kept me hard. And it didn't take long to take effect. Soon I was wading through walls of flesh. Rubbing against other sweaty bodies. Kissing. Groping. Licking. Sucking. Giving myself totally to the sensations around me. High on drugs. Drunk on poppers. I licked precum from my lips from all the cocks I sucked. I licked the sweat from mens backs and chased it down to their cracks. I buried my face in the pits of men I didn't even look at. It was fantastic. And then suddenly he was there. Watching. Again. I froze as he glared at me. Then I noticed. My mate at his feet. Kneeling there. Eyes glazed over. The muscle guy had his hand on the top of his head. Owning him. My mate looked up at him and smiled. And received a smack around the head for it. My cock stiffened. I felt precum ooze from the head of my cock. That should be me. He raised a finger to his lips as if bidding me to be silent. As if he knew I wanted to scream in frustration that he had chosen my mate over me. I wanted to turn and run but I couldn't . I was stuck to the spot. And suddenly he moved away from the wall and turned away from me. The sea of fucking flesh parted as he continued to walk deeper into the club. My mate tried to stand up and follow him. He was violently pushed away and fell. Lost in a sea of mouths and cocks that buried him. The guy turned around. Stared at me. And winked. Then beckoned me to follow him. I didn't hesitate. I now ignored those same hands and mouths that had been enough until then. Now I was wanted. I followed him into the deepest recesses of the club. I had never ventured this far back before. I had been told this was where the most extreme hardcore sex happened. Guys wild on drugs, high on sex, just wanting to be used. He walked ahead of me. No one touched him. Every so often he would stop and look over his shoulder and smile. Once he stopped just under a dim spotlight and stretched his hands above his back. I watched as the muscles rippled under his sweaty skin. I was in awe. I walked passed men fucking. Fisting. Pissing on one another. All the things that only moments before I craved were no longer important. I was completely focused on following him. Suddenly he stopped. And then he was gone. Nowhere to be seen. I panicked and moved faster. I was at a dead end. Where did he go? It was impossible. I began to panic. I had lost him. Shit. but as my eyes became more accustomed to the gloom I made out a recess on my left. I turned and stood before it. This far back the music was but a dull thud. I heard someone move within. "Get in here fuck boy. Walk until I tell you to stop." I shivered. From fear. And expectation. Gingerly I walked into the gloom. I had no idea where I was walking. Or what I was walking into. The MDMA was at full pelt in my body. I was sweating. I was shaking. I was so hard it hurt. "Stop." I stopped and stood there shivering. "Cold are you fuck boy?" He was behind me. I jumped. I could feel his breath on my shoulder. I started to turn around. "No." He smacked me on the back of my head. Hard. "Don't turn around cunt. Who said you could. I saw you. Whore. Sucking any cock you could. Licking every arse. Gulping cum. Do you think I want me whoreboy to do that?" I shivered. He smacked me on the back on the head. "Answer me" he whispered into my ear. My legs almost gave way as I felt his mouth so close. "No. No Sir." He chuckled. "No. That's right. I decide when my whoreboy needs to perform." Suddenly I felt his fingers trace down my back. I moaned as I felt it trace my spine. "A fittie aren't you my cuntboy." I nodded as his finger slid between my arse cheeks and tease my hole. "Spread your cheeks for me boy. I want to see if this hole has been used. It better not have been." I bent over slightly and spread my cheeks. I hadn't been fucked that night. Or for weeks. I was so tight. I felt his finger push against my hole. I moaned again as he ran his finger over my arse. "Good boy. Not been fucked in a while I would guess." I nodded again. "Good. And taken candy I would guess too?" I nodded again. "Yes sir. Some MDMA." He chuckled. "Gay boy." Suddenly he grabbed me from the back, an arm around my neck and pushed a finger into my mouth. Before I could resist he was rubbing my teeth and gums. The taste was very bitter. "This will be more like it." I don't know why but I struggled which only made him clasp his arms around my chest. I struggled for a while longer until I realised it was useless. He was strong. And whatever he had given me was kicking in. A warmth invaded not only my stomach. But my cock, balls and arse. I could feel the sweat streaming off me. My head was spinning. I could hear the blood rushing through my veins. "Good boy. There doesn't that feel good." I couldn't even nod. He was now standing pressed against me. I could feel his hard cock through his jock pressed against my arse. I pushed back. I wanted his cock. He laughed. "Hungry cunt boy? No. Not yet. Not yet." His hand moved down the front of my body and grabbed my cock. I moaned. He gripped the shaft tight making me moan even louder. "Mmmm. Hard. Feels good in my hand. You will make a good slave boy with a cock like this." I nodded. His hand moved up my body to my neck and squeezed around it. He leaned forward and kissed me gently on the neck. "I am going to fuck you up. You hear me? I am going to own you. You cock. Your arse. Your body. Your mind. Your soul. When I want you I don't give a fuck where you are or who you are with. You will come to me. Immediately. Understood?" I nodded as his hand gripped my neck tighter. "Yes Sir. YES!" My whole body was now burning with desire. For sex. To be used. He moved away. I tried to turn around but he slapped me on the back of my head. "No boy. don't turn around. I know what you need." I winced in anticipation. My hand went to my arse and I wiped sweat off and lubed my hole. "Tell me what you want" he whispered. My mind was reeling. "I want your cock sir. I want you to fuck me. Hard. Harder than ever before Sir. I want you to own my arse." He chuckled. "Good boy. Although I am going to have to teach you to be a better begger. But not tonight. Bend over. Spread your cheeks." I obeyed. I bent over and spread my cheeks. And nothing. I held my breath. Still nothing. I started to turn my head. "DON'T MOVE!" he yelled. Suddenly I felt his arms around my waist and the most agonising pain imaginable as I felt his cock rip into my arse. I yelled from the pain and my knees buckled. He lifted me up and push his cock further into my arse. I tried to push away as he fucked me. It was too much. His cock was ripping a hole in my gut. I retched from the pain and struggled to break free. He held me tight around the waist and continued to plunge in and out of my arse. I began begging him to stop. I told him - begged him - to pull out. Whatever he had given me wasn't dulling the pain. It was intensifying the feeling. Every thrust made lights flare up behind my eyelids. I could hear him grunting with each thrust. His breathing hard and laboured. "Want some poppers cunt boy?" I opened my eyes. I didn't understand. I felt the poppers pushed into my nostril and splash up my nose. I breathed in. Anything to help with the pain. But something was wrong. My mind wasn't working. "Good boy." No. This was wrong. I couldn't understand how he could be fucking me and feeding me poppers. I could feel his breath on my face. And his cock in my arse. Ripping me open with ever deeper thrusts. His cock? No. Not his. I panicked and started to struggle. He realised that I had discovered what was going on and I could hear him laughing. He leaned forward into my face again and grabbed me by the chin. "What fuck boy? Don't you like it? Don't you like being fucked? Used?" He gobbed into my face and smeared it in. The guy fucking me was still driving deep into my arse. He wasn't stopping. The pain was reaching a crescendo in my arse. "Please. Please stop" I begged. He grabbed me by the chin again. "Stop. Isn't this what fuck boy wanted. A cock up his arse?" I moaned. He laughed. "You didn't think I was going to fuck you did you boy. No. You aren't worthy. You think I would put my cock in your arse? After what I've seen tonight. After watching you stare at me in the gym. Lusting after me. Making me the centre of your wank fantasies at home. Me fuck you? No." The guy fucking me pulled me up. And pressed me against his body. His cock, deep in my arse, started to pulse. The muscle guy stood up. "Can you feel it? Can you feel his spunk?" I could. I could feel the guy behind me shaking as he started to cum. I could feel the bristles on his clipped chest. Suddenly I knew who it was. The was the first guy I had seen. He was fucking me. Against my will. He shuddered as I felt his cum shoot into my arse. I tried to move away again but he held me in his iron grip. He licked and kissed the back of my neck as he came. And came. And came. His hot spunk filled my arse. Suddenly I panicked again and writhed desperately to get free. His hand shot forward and grabbed my cock. Squeezing it hard he started to roughly jack me off. I screamed at the sudden pain but he didn't stop. But it didn't take long. A dozen hard sharp twists and suddenly I was shooting spunk. As I shot the guy behind me let me go. I feel to the ground. Into my own spunk. The muscle guy knelt down and grabbed my face. Holding open my mouth he made me taste my own hole - he fingered my sloppy cunt, and then made me lick his hand clean. I lay on the floor in a ball. My arse was fucked raw. My cock was throbbing with pain. Suddenly I felt a boot on my face gently pressing down. "You just might do fuck boi. You might just do." And then he was gone. To be continued...