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

Hi! Sorry for the long wait between chapters. Writing is hard and motivation is scarce. Fortunately, I had a hot encounter with a big hot bear recently that gave me a spark of inspiration so here's Part 3 of 4 to the story of the Dirty Daddy and the Dumb Boy. Not gonna lie, this was rushed and not spellchecked! Forgive any typos or stuff that just doesn't make sense. I just wanted this get this out ASAP. ------- Part 3 My vision was getting blurry and the room seemed to be slightly spinning. I soldiered on, determined to finish this job and collect the money I needed. I was eager to get out of this dangerous situation as fast as I could. I’ve never drank this much before so the effects of the alcohol were new to me. I didn’t know my own limits and unfortunately I had unknowingly passed the line already. While trying to fight against my spaghetti legs I suddenly felt Papa’s hands grab both of my shoulders which helped me keep my balance. He took a hold of my body and pointed me towards the bed. “Sit down on my bed, boy. You look like you’re close to falling over. Take a load… off.” It seemed like he was being courteous but I didn’t see the evil glint in his eye that would’ve indicated otherwise. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I just drank a little more than I should’ve.” He led me to bed, rubbing my shoulders along the way until I plopped down. He stood in front of me, putting his hands back on my shoulders, his giant furry belly at eye level with me. Glancing down I saw his huge cock tenting in his underwear, with a wet spot right where the tip of this mushroom head was. The thought of wanting to see his cock flashed in my mind, and then I noticed my own arousal making my cock stir, this was wrong. Papa started rubbing the back of my neck and head, each rub pulling me slightly closer towards him almost as if he was subtly guiding me towards his crotch. The musk emanating from his crotch was very strong. The stench invading my nose served as a reminder of what was at stake if I didn’t take control of the situation. I tried to move my head back but his firm grip on the back of my head kept me from retreating. “Relax, boy. You’re so tense right now. Just let Papa make you feel good.” Suddenly, he pushed my face into his crotch, I could feel the heat from his tool and a strong throb. I was going to protest verbally but he worked my neck with his big strong hands and I melted into him, they felt so good. Between the liquor, the massage, his musk, and sexual tension of it all, I was completely lost. I surrendered myself to Papa and let him run his hands all over me. “Good boy. Your body feels so good and soft to touch.” I let out a small moan. “I’ve never had a massage before, this feels amazing.” He became more aggressive, rubbing me all over my neck, back, and chest. Every once in a while he would graze my crotch, making my dick jump from the sensation. With one hand Papa grabbed my neck and forced my head upwards, my eyes met his gaze. Something was different, he didn’t have the kind, caring eyes that he had beforehand. His look was more stern, his eyes demanded my attention. He leaned forward and his lips met mine. His tongue forced its way into my mouth, meeting mine in a passionate kiss. With each passing moment he became more aggressive while we made out. Every once in a while he would break our kiss to rub my pecs, lick my neck and ears, or grab my cock. After making out for about five minutes, Papa pulled away. He took his underwear off and then tugged mine off. He began to slowly stroke my cock. My dick was harder than it had ever been before, leaking a bead of precum. “Your lips are so soft, I bet they’d feel amazing on my cock.” His fat cock looked and smelled delicious. Something about his nasty musk lured me in. His pheromones were doing their work on me… along with the liquor. I wanted it in my mouth but I still had some sense. “You have HIV. I can’t put your cock in my mouth, I don’t want to get infected.” Papa laughed. “Trust me boy, sucking on it is safe. It’s my cum that’s toxic anyways, no one’s ever gotten infected from just sucking on another man’s cock.” It sounded plausible enough to me and Papa seemed like such a nice guy, why would he lie? My mind was being tortured by the decision I had to make; Suck Papa’s dick or quickly make an exit. Flashes of the encounter I had with the older man I met while at college flashed through my head. The way he tried to seduce me, chickening out, and later having second thoughts about letting him have his way with me. While deliberating, Papa gave his fuck stick a couple of shakes and I watched thick bead of precum drip down and hit the floor. I thought to myself “Fuck it. As long as I'm just sucking him, it should be safe.” I opened my mouth and he took that as enough consent. He pulled into his musky crotch, his cock head slipped past my lips. I held onto his sides to find my balance, and began slurping his head, sucking it like a lollipop. "Mm, fuck boy—just like that," he says, the hard fleshy member throbbed as I sucked on it. I felt this fingertips massaging my head and subtly controlling my movements at the same time. He slowly pushed my head down into him, his dick sliding deeper into my mouth until he tickled my tonsils with his tip. "Good boy, that's a nice cocksucker! You’ve got a pussy mouth." "Thank you," I muttered, muffled by his member. I felt proud that I was doing such a good job sucking his dick, it was my first time and I was already getting compliments. I was eager to do a good job. I rolled my tongue around my cockhead for a second before slurping the shaft down, going all the way to the base of his 8 inch cock, and burying my nose into his fatpad. I immediately gagged. “Slow down, boy. Don’t kill yourself on my cock just yet. I like nice, slow head. That’s how my boys usually get me to blast my load down their throats, try it.” The idea of Papa blasting his load down my throat excited me but I knew it was dangerous. Sucking him was one thing, but letting him infect me with a viral load was different. I struggled against Papa’s firm grip on my head enough for his cock to slip out of my mouth. He looked disappointed. “Sorry Papa, I don’t mind sucking your cock but I don’t want you to cum in my mouth. You said it was toxic.” I was being assertive, finally taking control of the situation. Things had already progressed too far, I couldn’t believe the liquor messed with my mind and made me suck off his dirty daddy. “That’s why you have to swallow it all after I cum.” Papa said matter of factly. “Your stomach acid will do the rest of the work and kill the virus. Didn’t you learn that in school, boy? Now if I shot a hot load in your ass, that would be a different story. You’d definitely be in trouble.” Of course that’s how it works. How would I be so stupid? Papa’s logic made total sense to me. Sucking him off was fun and I didn’t really want to stop anyways. My only fear was getting infected by him shooting his load in my mouth but I didn’t have to worry about that if I just gulped it down. Papa moved closer to me, he grabbed the back of my head again and pushed his cock back into my mouth and I greedily sucked on it. "Fuck. That's good throat," Papa’s hips started to move in sync with his hands to gently fuck my face. "You’re doing a GREAT job, boy! You’re working that nut out of my sack.” "Thank you, Papa," I mumbled on his cock, trying not to gag. I looked up into his eyes and saw his face contort as he moaned and seethed in pleasure. His groans grew increasingly primal, grunting like an animal as he pushed his cock into my throat. I could feel it throb and expand as he got closer to orgasm. He was really into getting the motion of fucking my face. What started out as gentle and slow was becoming rough and frantic. Suddenly he pushed his cockhead past my tonsils, and touched the back of my throat. I gagged and tried to back up, but his hand on my head kept me steady as his cock started to throb and leak a ton of precum into my mouth. "I'm fucking cumming, boy! Here comes my toxic spunk, open that throat wide!" Suddenly I could feel his cock blast ropes of hot cum into the back of my throat. I made sure to swallow everything as fast as I could, it was difficult to do with Papa’s cock almost blocking my airway completely. "Fuuuuuck… fuuuuuck…" he groaned with each pump, his body convulsed while he thrust his dick into my mouth. It took a full minute for Papa to finish his orgasm. He withdrew from my mouth leaving a trial of slobber and cum from my lips to the tip of his cock. I made sure to swallow whatever was left in my mouth. “Whew boy, I needed that! Was that your first time sucking cock? You’re a natural.” He shook his cock at me, flicking a bit of cum into my face. I was still sitting on the edge of the bed at a loss for words, drunk and confused about what I just did. Papa walked around the bed and then laid down on it. He grabbed me and pulled into his bed with him. We laid side by side with his arm around my shoulder. He started stroking my cock while stroking his. I was amazed that he was still rock hard after cumming “I thought everyone went soft after an orgasm, how do you still have an erection?” Papa gave a slight chuckle. “I’m just always horny boy, as long as I’m turned on I can keep going. I can cum multiple times and the second load is always the biggest. ” He had impressive stamina for a man his age. He flashed a devilish smile at me. “You know… you made me feel really good with your mouth so maybe I can return the favor by making you feel really good too.” I was intrigued, everything he did to me so far felt amazing. “What did you have in mind?” “Flip over and lay on your stomach. Now.” I did as I was told. Papa sat up and climbed over me, straddling my legs between his while he knelt over me. I felt his cock slap my asscheek. “Just relax, boy. I’m going to take you to paradise.” I let out a sigh as he began kneading my back with his big, strong hands. At that point, I totally let go. My body was buzzing and I’m pretty sure I was drooling a little bit. In my drunken state I began to sink into the bed. I was starting to drift in and out of consciousness, not enough to black out but enough for my head to be enveloped in a hazy fog. Papa shifted around while massaging me and I felt his cockhead grinding against my crack, slowly parting my cheeks. “You ready for paradise, boy?” Papa asked. “Yes” I mumbled, unaware of what was about to take place next. “Good. Cuz you’re all mine now.” The predator caught his prey. Part 4 - The big finale will be out before the end of the year. (Hopefully).

Based on my experiences: Getting bred is amazing. I find there is more intimacy with bareback sex than with a condom. I don’t always feel cum in my ass. For me it depends on either how big the tops load is or how many loads I receive. I have had guys orgasm and not felt anything or had any leakage later. I have also received big loads and immediately felt wet inside and had leakage. If a take several loads, I definitely feel the cum inside me. Sometimes I can feel the pulsing sometimes not. For me it depends on how strong the tops ejaculation is and/or how thick the tops cock is. After I have been bred I have a blissful feeling. I feel happy that the top got off using my body and rewarded me with his load. I try to keep loads in me as long as possible. I don’t like to push it out. I want my body to absorb as much as possible. Getting fucked feels amazing to me. I have known since I was a teenager that I enjoyed having things in my ass. So I have always wanted to be a bottom. The first time I was fucked was by an older man at a bathhouse. It hurt at first but then became pleasurable. I was sore the next day. I was honestly unsure about it all for a few days afterwards but after a few weeks I was horny again and back at the same bathhouse getting fucked again. After a few times my body got used to it. Now it is a very pleasurable experience. I have been fucked by guys much older than me and much younger than me. I have never felt weird about it. We are all looking for the same thing and just want to enjoy the experience.

Hi Guys. Thanks for the comments. I agree the women are getting a little repetitive and I didn't intend for it to become a downer on the story. I guess I got stuck in a rut with the story line. I'll take some time to think around some new directions to take it.

Tbh I think sometimes I THINK I feel him. But often it's the body language when he cums and the noise he makes what makes you think you can feel him shooting.

You know you're a true cum dump when... you're in an XXX bookstore and there are no customers, so you strike up a polite conversation with the clerk behind the counter and she tells you that she and her coworkers routinely laugh about you and refer to as "the pig." Not "a pig." "THE pig." They refer to "the pig" and instantly know who that means and have a good laugh. I'm "the pig."

Pretty much every time I've been bred, I've felt the guy's cock pulsing inside. I can also kinda tell if he's just throbbing versus cumming when I feel everything getting both a little warmer and more slippery feeling . . . That and of course feeling the load slipping out of me later . . . or sooner, depending on if he wants to see it or if I'm getting fucked again right after 😉

Any Berliners or visitors (m/f/d) in Berlin during the holidays seeking some POZ pump n dump or gang breeding fun?

I mean, you are going to know when he’s cumming if it’s a good fuck. Last load I took was a few weeks ago and it was a big one. I was on my back in a bathhouse sling. He said he was gonna cum, so that was a sign… 😂 He finished with a series of hard thrusts, and then pushed deep and his whole body shuddered against me for several seconds. The most obvious sensation as he slowly pulled out was a kind of fullness (with the cock no longer being there) and wetness. He’d been fucking me pretty relentlessly for a long time to this point, so my hole was somewhat gaping and dripping cum without me having to do anything. I touched my fingers to my hole and could feel the cum slipping through them. He looked, laughed and just said, “Yeah…” There was a big mirror beside the sling and I regret not just savouring the moment more, swivelling around and taking a proper look at the result, but I was pretty dehydrated and spent. I picked up my towel and that felt very wet when I wrapped it around my waist as there was a lot of cum on my butt cheeks and on the inside of my leg. I did feel a little raw and sore, and conscious of walking around with a very used ass, but overall I was buzzing. The physical sensations are definitely there when you get fucked and filled with cum, but embracing the psychological is such a big part of it. If this is for you, it will feel absolutely and completely right to be in that position in that moment. That whatever other skills you possess, you were definitely made to do this. Knowing you’ve put in the mental and physical preparation to take a cock well and having clear, undeniable proof of a job well done is a really great feeling.

I started doing this years ago. Like others, I often go booth to booth looking for shiny spots on the floor. It really helped increase my cum consumption. It used to be a hard thing to get 10 loads in a session, but now I do it routinely. I often get 3 to 5 loads from the floor and occasionally a used condom.

After two of the three finishing in my hole, #1 jokingly said, "You gonna be around this week? Awesome, so will we. Whatcha gonna give us special for Christmas?" (while rubbing my hole) "I'll think of something." Then he says, "Don't feel like a piece of shit just because all you're good for in taking loads...cuz that is your job. At least you're really good at it. You know where we be." and they walked out.

It was a stressful day. I did a lot of overtime non stop this past two weeks. But sniffies been a gold mine with me with guys. A random guy chatted with me. I can see he had a nice cock. A big thick one. 7.5 looks big to me. I couldn’t suck him deeply. After work at 10 hour. It was 2:30 am in the morning. I went to a regional park to pee. I got a notification from a random guy. He won’t share his face picture but will show me his nice thick cock. I told him I want to suck him. He told me to drive to another park closer to his neighborhood. So I did. I passed by it and rerouted back. I parked next to his car. And I got out. We finally exchanged our names. I was like wow-he’s nerdy hunk. Long beard and stocky build. He led me to the picnic tables and he stripped his pants. I got on to suck him. It was soo thick and it hard to deep throat. He let me sniff some poppers. I got so relaxed and hornier. I had the urge to strip naked. He was blown away. He compliment my smooth skin. He made out with me. I begged him to give me hickies and bite, suck my nipples. He obligated every begs. I moan so much. He turn me around and he spit on his dick. He fucked me by bending me over. I was sniffing more poppers. I was enjoying it. I kept moaning louder. I didn’t care if the homes above us heard us. He kept fucking me harder. Until he dumped his seed deep in my hole. I was completely satisfied. Now we plan on to meet up couple of times at night after I leave work. He loved my tight smooth ass.

to me the most important thing to remember is being aware of what you can and can not control. the most important being: do i really want this? i was more like 27 and very attracted to the guy who spent time talking to me and then fooling around for a long time so by the time we got to it I was very ready willing and able. if you rush to just do it right away w just anybody you're pretty much setting yourself up for a "a don't think it's for me." situation. when i was younger i bottomed more like a top in the sense that my primary motivation was how getting fucked improved my orgasm. when i got older i learned to focus more on the actual pleasurable sensations of getting fucked and enjoying that rather than just focusing on if i cum or not. it's like a whole different thing. i mention this in part because being present and focusing on the moment also highlights how every top cums differently. some guys you can actually feel the cum hosing down your insides. other guys you can feel the cock pulsating inside you as he pump out the load. some guys are verbal, some guys are showy, some guys just breath a bit heavier and some guys stealth. likewise you body reacts differently. sometimes it trickles out n down your leg. sometimes your body expels it either in a wet fart or cramps that send u to the bathroom. sometimes it comes out the next day w your morning dump and sometimes your badly absorbs most of it.

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

There is nothing mote intimate than a man's semen filling another man. That being said whether i feel his nutt is totally secondary than feeling his orgasm. The quickened pace of his penis fucking me, his deeper and faster breathing and of course the pulsations of his dick and the thought that every pulse is an indication of a volley of his seed coating my rectum and if the fucking was vigorous enough even soaking through my ass walls.

Fisting is one of the things I'd want tk take slowly so I could really appreciate my hole slowly stretching to accommodate more. Reading this just made me more excited to eventually start this journey. But I'll take my time finding those who will help and aid in this journey!

oink oink 😉 love to get ur charged seed in me

This is also me. It never stops.

At least 10 at the last party. More to come soon!! Excited to please so many tops.

Fantastic! Damn! You were in mind completely. I know the vid and watched multiple times and I went through the same mental hoops you wrote. Awesome!

30 or 40 loads sure sounds good! 🤤

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

Nothing is more enjoyable than feeling a cock pulsate cum inside you. Mmmm

Whatever, man. So sorry I don’t have the time or the disposition for this “very” interesting debate that is apparently so important to you. Just don’t be preachy OK? We are all tired of people with this attitude whether you see it or choose not to. Have a great one

Thanks for writing a really hot story with a beginning, a middle, and an end. It is so much nicer to read a story with a conclusion.

Part 1 - True Story - Written by “Cole” in the POV of Nico. “Took your sweet time.” I said as I stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind me. My gaze flicks over Cole—assessing. “Moses home?” I don’t wait for an answer. Just brush past him like I belong here—because, honestly, I do. This house has been a second home for years. Don’t even know why I knocked. “No, he’s not.” Cole’s voice is tight, annoyed. “And you’re gonna get me in trouble. I’m not supposed to have anyone over.” I scoff. “Relax, tiny. It’s just me.” Cole—Moses’ kid brother, always trailing after us, always trying to keep up. I’ve known him since he was a scrawny little thing with skinned knees and too much to prove. I drop onto the couch like I own the place, stretching my arms over the backrest. “Happy late birthday, by the way. The big one-eight.” I smirk, eyes flicking to him. “Senior year treating you good?” Cole crosses his arms, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he’s debating whether to kick me out or let it slide. He settles on glaring. “Yeah, sure. Feels exactly the same, except now I get lectures about college and taxes.” I huff out a laugh. “Welcome to adulthood, kid. It’s all paperwork and disappointment from here.” Cole rolls his eyes, but there’s something in them—maybe amusement, maybe irritation. “You’re not exactly a role model, Nico.” I smirk. “Never claimed to be.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “What, you got big plans or something? College? World domination?” “Don’t know,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Just trying to get through the year.” I nod, because yeah, that’s fair. High school’s a whole mess of bullshit, and Cole’s always been the type to overthink things. “You’ll figure it out.” He scoffs. “Wow. So wise. Truly, I am blessed by your insight.” “Hey, you’re the one who said I’m not a role model.” I grin, kicking my feet up onto the coffee table. “Now stop whining and put on a movie or something. If I’m stuck waiting for Moses, I might as well be entertained.” Cole groans but grabs the remote anyway and begins scrolling through options. He can complain all he wants—he’s not getting rid of me that easily. I watch him, letting my eyes trace over his profile—sharp but soft in a way that stands out. He’s got that kind of beauty that sneaks up on you. Perfect complexion, all smooth angles and symmetry. Brown hair always neat, like he actually cares how he looks. Green eyes that somehow manage to look both bored and sharp at the same time. He’s Latino, but you wouldn’t know unless he told you. Not like Moses. Moses got all the Latin genes and left Cole with none. If you lined them up next to each other, no one would guess they were brothers. Moses and I, we look the way people expect men like us to look—tan skin, dark eyes, thick brows, sharp jaws. Built like we were made for violence. Like we’d fuck someone up for looking at us wrong. Cole? He’s the opposite. White-passing, preppy, clean-cut. Small-framed but just toned enough to not look skinny. He looks like he belongs in some private school wearing a sweater over his shoulders, not in this house, not anywhere near people like me or Moses. If he ever got pulled over, the cop would probably call him “son” and send him on his way. And the best part? He has no idea. No idea his big brother’s keeping me in business. No idea I sell meth. No idea Moses does it, either. I wonder if he’d look at me differently if he knew. If he’d stop pretending like I’m just some annoying family friend taking up space on his couch. He exhales sharply, still scrolling. “Jesus, there’s nothing on.” I smirk. “Maybe you’re just bad at picking.” “Maybe you can shut up.” I chuckle, shaking my head. He’s got bite when he wants to. But I bet he’s never needed to actually fight. Bet no one’s ever looked at him like a threat. Cole keeps scrolling, eyes flicking across the screen like he’s actually weighing his options. I’m not sure if he’s taking his time just to piss me off or if he really is this indecisive. Probably both. I stretch out, watching him frown at the TV. “Hurry up, tiny. We’ll both be dead before you pick something.” Cole exhales through his nose, then, with a flamboyant exaggeration shoves the remote into my hand. “Here. You pick, since you’re such an expert.” I smirk, settling deeper into the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. “Finally. You should’ve just admitted you suck at decisions five minutes ago.” I start flipping through the options, not really paying attention. I’m just killing time, waiting for Moses. Then Cole says, “I know what you do, by the way.” My thumb freezes on the remote. I don’t react right away, don’t look at him, just keep scrolling like he didn’t just drop that in my lap. “What are you talking about?” I ask, casual. Too casual. Cole leans back against the couch, arms crossed. He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to stop playing dumb. “I know what you do for work.” I scoff. “I don’t know what you think you know, but—” “You sell,” he cuts in, bluntly. His green eyes don’t waver. “And Moses buys.” A slow pulse of something heavy settles in my chest. I force out a chuckle, shaking my head. “That’s a hell of a thing to accuse someone of, tiny.” Cole just shrugs. “I don’t care.” That makes me glance at him, really look at him. His expression is unreadable, but he’s serious. I let out a slow breath, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “You don’t care?” I repeat. “You should. Normal people don’t just brush that kind of thing off.” He shrugs again. “I stopped expecting normal a long time ago.” I study him, waiting for him to flinch, to crack, to do anything that makes me think he’s just trying to get a reaction. But he doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head slightly. “What’s it like?” I frown. “What’s what like?” “That world,” he says, vague but somehow precise. “The dealing, the using. The whole thing. What does it feel like?” I roll my tongue over my teeth, considering. “Why do you wanna know?” “Just curious.” His voice is light, but there’s something underneath it. Something deeper. I think about lying, brushing it off, telling him it’s nothing, but I don’t. “It feels like control,” I say finally. “Like you’ve got the whole world at your feet. And like none of it matters at the same time.” Cole nods, like that makes perfect sense to him. He exhales slowly, then looks at me again. “Can I try some?” That pulls a sharp laugh from me. “Funny.” “I’m serious.” I narrow my eyes. “Not gonna happen.” Cole doesn’t back down. “Why not?” “Because it’s not for you.” He gives me a look, one I can’t quite place. “Maybe I don’t want to be me for a while.” His voice is quiet, but the weight of it lingers. I don’t say anything right away. I just watch him, this kid who has everything lined up for him, who has no idea what he’s asking for. “Go get drunk or something,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Find some other way to let go.” “I don’t want to drink.” His jaw tightens. “I want to feel what you feel.” That makes something inside me twitch, but I lie. “You don’t.” He holds my gaze. “You don’t know what I want.” I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “Not happening, Cole.” But he doesn’t drop it. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying me. “You know about ‘pnp’?” I frown. “The hell is that?” “Party and play.” He watches me, waiting to see if the words land. When I don’t react, he explains. “It’s a thing in the gay scene. Hooking up while high. Mostly meth, sometimes coke or G.” Felt that twitch again, but in my cock that time. “And?” I ask, voice flat. Cole leans forward. Calm, calculated—like he’s thought about this for a while. “I’m going to college next year. I’m gonna end up smoking at some point. You might not know, but it’s popular in my hookup culture.” His lips press together for a second, then he looks me dead in the eye. “The first time I do it should be with someone I trust.” I bark out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You trust me? That’s your first mistake.” “I do.” His voice is steady. Too steady. I drag a hand down my face, shaking my head. “Jesus, Cole.” It’s not like I give a shit what people do with their dicks. Never have. Cole being gay? Old news. Everyone knows, not that it matters to me. I’ve got my girls, maybe more than one, depending on the night. But Cole… I don’t know. He’s always been different. Soft spot doesn’t even cover it. Something about him has always pulled me in, made me look twice. Made me care when I shouldn’t. And now he’s sitting here, telling me he wants this—this inside him? “Why do you even want this?” I ask. “You don’t need it.” He shrugs, looking away for the first time. “Maybe I don’t want to be me for a while.” I know that feeling. I know it too fucking well. I sigh, thinking. I should shut this down completely, tell him no again, make sure he never asks. But part of me knows he’s right. If he’s going to do it—and he is—then better with me than some random asshole at a college party. I glance at him again. His perfect skin, his neat hair, his green eyes holding something deeper, something restless. I shouldn’t even be considering it. And yet. “I’ve tried G before.” He says too casually. Another cock twitch. “Excuse me?” He stands up without another word, disappearing down the hall. A minute later, he’s back, holding a tiny glass vial between his fingers like it’s nothing. Like it’s just another thing in his neatly curated life. I sit up straighter, narrowing my eyes. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.” He tosses it to me, and I catch it easily. Twisting off the cap, I dab my finger inside and press it to my tongue. A distinct sour, chemical taste—definitely GHB. I let out a slow breath, gripping the vial tighter. “Where the fuck did you get this?” Cole shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I have my ways.” I glare at him. “That’s not a fucking answer.” “Neither is ‘I’ll think about it.’” He crosses his arms. “So let’s make a trade. I get you high on G, and you get me high on meth. Seems fair.” I exhale sharply, rolling the vial between my fingers. “You don’t just have this shit, Cole. What the fuck were you planning to do with it?” He holds my gaze. “What do you think?” I don’t answer. He just told me. My cock twitches again, but followed by a strange mix of anger and jealousy pouring over me. I set the vial onto the coffee table, leaning back. “You’re a fucking idiot.” “So is Moses, and you still sell to him.” That one hits harder than I want it to. My jaw tightens, but I don’t argue. Cole tilts his head, watching me. “So?” I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’m not saying yes.” “But you’re not saying no.” I shoot him a look. “I’ll consider it.” Cole doesn’t gloat, doesn’t smirk. He just nods, like that’s all he needed to hear. Then, before I can stop him, he’s already moving. “Be right back.” “Cole—” But he’s gone, jogging into the kitchen. I stare at the vial sitting on the table, irritation curling in my gut. I should’ve flushed it or thrown it back in his face. But I didn’t. A minute later, Cole returns, carrying two cups. “Here.” I frown. “The fuck is this?” “Mixer.” He sets them down, unbothered. “If you won’t smoke me up, I’m taking G, and so are you” I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Not how this works, tiny.” “It is now.” His eyes meet mine. Jesus Christ. He’s really doing this. Really pushing. And the worst part? I’m not sure if I want to stop him. “Fine.” Cole blinks. “Fine?” I shoot him a look. “Yeah, fine. But don’t get ahead of yourself—I’m not smoking you up.” Cole just smirks, like he knew I’d fold eventually. “But when Moses gets home, you better be in your room. Last thing I need is him seeing you fucked up.” Cole doesn’t even argue. He just nods, pleased with the arrangement so far, like this is some kind of negotiation he’s winning. We sit there for a while, neither of us talking. Then Cole shifts slightly, turning his gaze to me. “Well? You’re the dealer. You need to measure it out.” I scoff. “Bossy little shit.” But I don’t argue. G’s not something you eyeball unless you’ve got a death wish. I glance at Cole. “You know how easy it is to overdose on this shit?” He nods, watching as I grab my phone and open the calculator, doing quick math. “Yeah. That’s why I trust you.” I pause for half a second. Then shake it off and get to work. I unscrew the cap, tipping out a careful dose, measuring with the precision that comes from experience. Cole watches intently, eyes sharp, absorbing every movement. Like he wants to learn. Like he wants to know exactly how this world works. I don’t know if that should worry me. Actually, I do. But I’m doing it anyway. I measure out just under a full dose for Cole—enough to feel it, not enough to fuck him up completely. He won’t notice the difference. Then I pour double into my own cup. If one of us is going under, it’s going to be me, not him. Cole doesn’t question it as I hand him his drink. He takes the cup, fingers brushing mine for half a second before he leans back against the couch. He doesn’t drink it yet, just swirls the liquid like he’s testing it. “You sure about this?” I ask, watching him. He lifts a brow. “Are you?” I don’t answer. Instead, I raise my cup. He does the same. We clink them together, and then I throw mine back. Cole hesitates for half a second before following suit. I watch him, as he downs the G, licking his lips after like it’s nothing, like this is just another night. Like we do this all the time. Silence settles between us again, heavier this time. We both know what comes next. Cole leans his head back against the couch, eyes flicking to me. “How long?” I stretch out, feeling the slow warmth creeping through my limbs already. “Give it fifteen.” He exhales through his nose, tapping his fingers against his knee. Waiting. Twenty minutes pass, and the G is in full force. My body feels loose, warm, like I’m sinking into the couch but floating at the same time. Everything is just good—my muscles relaxed, my mind foggy but not gone. My cock no longer twitching, but harder as fuck. The TV is playing something, but I’m not paying attention. G always makes me wanna smoke, and my fingers twitch with the urge to reach into my pocket, to take the edge off the pleasure creeping under my skin. I swallow it down, exhaling through my nose, still not sure how I feel about letting Cole go that far. Instead, I look at Cole, getting lost in watching him. He’s close enough now that I can smell the faint hint of his cologne under the warmth of his skin. He’s always been pretty, but right now, he’s something else entirely. The worst part? I can’t look away. Cole turns his head, catching me in the act. Damn. He tilts his head slightly, like he’s studying me. Then, with a slow smirk, he murmurs, “Feel good yet?” The G kicks in harder, spreading through my veins like liquid gold, making my skin buzz, making everything feel too good, too much. And Cole—Cole’s right there, watching me, soaking it all in. I exhale through my nose, smirking back. “You tell me.” His eyes flick down—over my chest, my arms, the way my fingers twitch against the couch. Then he licks his lips and lets out a soft, lazy chuckle. “You’ve been staring for a while.” Fuck, I need to look away. But I don’t. “Maybe I like what I see.” I don’t know why I say it. Maybe it’s the G talking, loosening my tongue along with everything else. Maybe it’s something else. But Cole doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t get flustered. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying me the same way I was just studying him. Then, like he’s making some kind of silent decision, he smirks back. “Yeah,” he says, voice smooth and slow. “I think you do.” This makes my cock throb harder than it ever has in the past. Blinking hard like I can shake the moment off. “Shit—” I rub a hand over my forehead. “Didn’t mean to say that.” Cole raises a brow, still smirking. “Yeah?” I exhale sharply. “Blame it on the G.” I wave a lazy hand between us, trying to smooth over whatever that was. It was the high, that’s all. Didn’t mean anything. Right? Cole just watches me, head tilted, like he doesn’t quite believe me. And maybe I don’t believe myself, either. I need to shift the energy. Fast. So, before I can second-guess it, I let out, “Fuck it. Let’s smoke.” Cole straightens slightly, interest sparking in his hazy green eyes. “Yeah?” I nod, already reaching into my pocket, fingers brushing the familiar weight of glass and baggie. “Yeah. But listen up first.” I try to sit up, but the G still has me melting into the couch, body slow, thoughts even slower. Still, I do my best. “This shit isn’t a game.” My voice comes out heavier than I intend, slurred around the edges but still firm. “You do it once, you’ll wanna do it again. Maybe not right away, but it’ll be in the back of your head. And when it’s in your head, it stays there.” Cole just nods, like he’s absorbing every word. I let out a slow breath, pushing past the warmth of the G curling in my gut. My hand dips into my pocket, pulling out the pipe and a bag of crystal. “First rule,” I say, shaking the bag slightly, watching the tiny shards catch the dim light. “You don’t call it meth. That’s a dirty word.” Cole raises a brow but doesn’t argue. “Crystal is fine. Or Tina. But mostly just T.” He nods again. “T.” I tap out a small amount, carefully loading the bowl, hands steady from muscle memory alone. The whole time, I can feel Cole’s eyes on me, watching, absorbing, taking in every little movement like he wants to learn it all. And maybe it’s just the drugs, but swear to god, he’s getting more attractive by the minute. I push that thought away, focus on what’s in front of me. The packed pipe. I glance up at Cole, meeting his gaze. “Last chance to back out.” Cole shakes his head, slow but deliberate. “I’m not backing out.” His voice is steady, not a hint of hesitation. He knows what he’s doing. Or at least, he thinks he does. “Alright,” I mutter, reaching for my backpack. I unzip the side pocket and pull out my torch, flicking the cap open with my thumb. The blue flame shoots to life, steady and hot. “Pay attention,” I tell him, rolling my shoulders, settling in. “You don’t just light it like a blunt. You gotta heat it slow, let it melt down before you pull. And you never hold it in—this isn’t weed. You blow it out right away.” Cole nods, eyes locked on the pipe in my hand. He looks like a kid in class, laser-focused, taking mental notes. It almost makes me laugh. Almost. I adjust my grip, rolling the pipe between my fingers, making sure the crystal is spread evenly in the bowl. Then I bring the torch up, the flame licking under the glass. The crystals start to sweat, then liquefy, pooling at the bottom before swirling into thick, white vapor. I keep the movement slow, rotating the pipe so it doesn’t burn too hot in one spot. “See that?” I glance at Cole. “That’s what you want. Not too much heat, not too little. Just enough.” He doesn’t blink. “Got it.” I smirk, then bring the mouthpiece to my lips, pulling in a deep, steady drag. The smoke fills my lungs instantly, a sharp warmth spreading through my chest. I don’t hold it—I don’t need to. I part my lips and exhale, blowing a thick cloud straight up to the ceiling. The rush hits fast, that familiar electric clarity slicing through the G’s haze. My pulse kicks up, my skin tingles, my brain sharpens like a knife. I close my eyes for half a second, letting it settle, then look back at Cole. “Your turn.” I hold out the pipe, the bowl still cloudy with vapor. “Let’s see if you were actually paying attention.” Cole takes the pipe, holding it carefully, but instead of going for the torch, he looks at me. “You light it for me.” I pause, fingers tightening slightly around the torch. There’s something about it—something I can’t put my finger on, something that feels… personal. Too personal. Anyone who knows this shit knows it’s an unspoken thing, a quiet kind of intimacy. And suddenly, I remember what Cole said before—about pnp, about the way fags do it. And I gotta admit—they got that part right. It’s hot. In a way that makes no damn sense. A slow burn, a flicker of heat curling low in my stomach. A weird kind of trust. I don’t get it, not really, but I feel it. And yet, I do it anyway. “Alright,” I murmur, voice lower than I meant for it to be. I tilt the pipe in his hand, angling the bowl just right. “I’ll tell you when.” Cole nods, lips parting slightly, eyes flicking between the pipe and my face. I hold his gaze as I bring the flame to the glass, warming it slow, just like I did for myself. The crystals liquefy, then swirl into vapor, thick and milky. “Now,” Cole inhales, his green eyes locked onto mine. His lips close around the mouthpiece, cheeks hollowing slightly as he pulls, the vapor disappearing into his lungs. I watch the way his throat moves, the way his eyelashes flutter for half a second before he exhales, a smooth cloud spilling past his lips. It’s a good hit. Clean and controlled. Thought it wasn’t possible for my cock to throb any harder, but I was proven wrong again. I clear my throat, shifting back slightly. “Not bad.” Cole tilts his head, exhaling the last of the smoke. “Told you I was paying attention.” I huff out a small laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, yeah.” But the warmth is still there. That weird, lingering heat in my gut. I ignore it. I take the pipe back from him, flicking the torch on again. “One more.” Cole just smirks. “Whatever you say, dealer.” An hour slips by, the minutes blurring into smoke and warmth. Every time, I light the pipe for Cole, watching as he inhales, his lips parting slightly, his eyes hooded as he exhales. He’s a fast learner—too fast. Takes to it like he was made for this. I should stop him. Should’ve stopped after the first hit. But I don’t. Eventually, I glance at my phone, noting the time. Been two hours since I first stepped through the door. I lean back into the couch, stretching, feeling the way my muscles buzz under my skin. “Moses is taking his sweet time,” I mutter. “What’s he even out doing?” Cole hums, his head tilted against the couch, gaze flicking toward me. He hesitates just a second before saying, “He’s staying at his girl’s place tonight.” I pause mid-motion, giving him a look. “What?” Cole shrugs, lazy. “Won’t be back until tomorrow.” Something clicks into place in my head. I stare at him for a long second, then let out a dry, amused scoff. “You little shit.” Cole smirks, eyes glinting. “What?” “You played me.” I shake my head, exhaling a laugh. “You knew he wasn’t coming back tonight. You set this whole thing up.” He doesn’t even bother denying it. Just shrugs again, looking way too pleased with himself. “You wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.” I let out another sharp laugh, shaking my head. “Unbelievable.” But, lowkey? I’m impressed. Cole’s always been the quiet, follow-the-rules type. The preppy golden boy, the one who didn’t pull this kind of shit. Or at least, that’s what I thought. Turns out, he’s got more in him than I gave him credit for. I drag a hand down my face, still smirking. “So what, you planned all this just to get high with me?” Cole tilts his head, lips curling at the edges. “Would you have come if I told you the truth?” I don’t answer. Because we both already know. I lean my head back, letting the high settle deeper into my bones before glancing over at Cole. “How you feeling?” He exhales slowly, a small, lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Great.” His voice is smooth, relaxed. “Didn’t really feel the G much, though.” I raise a brow. “Yeah?” He nods. “I mean, it was nice, but it didn’t hit me like it hit you.” He tilts his head, eyes flicking over me. “You wanna do more?” I consider it for a second. I am feeling good—buzzing, floating, perfect—and nobody’s coming home until tomorrow. There’s nothing stopping me. I shrug. “Fuck it.” I grab the vial from the table, rolling it between my fingers before twisting the cap off. Cole watches as I measure out two doses into my own cup, then pour a single one into his. I go to hand him the cup, but he doesn’t take it right away. Instead, he looks at me, eyes sharp despite the haze. “Give me the same as you.” I hesitate. First-timers shouldn’t push it too far. That’s the rule. But I think back to how easily he took the first dose, how steady he was, how he never wavered. Some people can just handle it well. Cole’s one of them. “Alright,” I murmur, pouring the extra into his cup, matching my own. “Your call.” I watch Cole as he downs the G, licking his lips absentmindedly before setting the cup down. He runs a hand through his hair, fingers raking through the strands before letting his arm drop over the couch, closer to mine now. “You really do this all the time?” I flick my eyes to him. “What, the G?” “All of it.” He gestures vaguely. “T, G, dealing, all of it.” I smirk. “You already knew the answer before you asked.” He tilts his head slightly. “Still wanted to hear you say it.” His smirk lingers, and he leans back just a little, stretching out, mirroring the way I’m sitting now. He’s comfortable. Maybe too comfortable. And he’s watching me like he’s waiting for something. I roll my tongue over my teeth, “You feeling it yet?” His smirk widens just slightly. “I think so.” Fucking cock won’t stop throbbing. I push past it, shifting forward, reaching for the pipe again. “Good. Then let’s keep it that way.” I exhale toward the ceiling, watching the cloud drift up, feeling the rush settle in my bones. Then I glance at Cole. I smirk, shaking my head, then pass him the pipe, torch still in hand. “Here.” Cole takes the pipe without hesitation, bringing it to his lips. I lean in, closer this time, and light it for him, watching as the vapor builds. “Now,” I murmur. He inhales, slow and deep, just like I showed him. The smoke disappears into his lungs, his green eyes flickering toward me as he holds the hit for half a second—long enough for me to reach for the pipe. But before I can grab it, Cole moves. His free hand shoots up, fingers tangling in the back of my hair, pulling me in, dragging my face toward his before I can even register what’s happening. Then his lips are on mine. And before I can even process that, he exhales—the hit rushing past my lips, into my lungs, filling me up, hotter than it should be. Shotgunning. An intimacy. A challenge. A fucking game. My whole body tenses, mind short-circuiting between the drugs and the heat of his mouth, his lips, the way he holds me there, fingers gripping my hair like he’s testing a boundary he already knows he’s breaking. The high kicks up, sharper, hotter, sending a pulse through my veins that makes me forget, for half a second, that I’m supposed to be in control here. I rip myself back, fast, like I’ve been burned. “The fuck was that?” My voice comes out sharp, cutting through the thick haze of smoke and G and whatever the fuck Cole thinks he’s doing. Cole leans back slightly, but he doesn’t look guilty. He doesn’t even look surprised. If anything, he looks amused. “Relax.” His voice is smooth, too smooth. “Just having fun.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, scowling. “That’s not—” I exhale hard, jaw tightening, forcing my pulse to slow the fuck down. “That’s not how this works.” Cole tilts his head, watching me, that lazy smirk still tugging at his lips. “No?” I shake my head, reaching for the pipe, more out of habit than anything else, just to have something in my hands. “You don’t pull that shit with me, Cole.” He shrugs, stretching out, looking too damn comfortable. “Seemed like you liked it.” Something in me snaps. Before I could react to what I was doing, my arm was already outstretched, hand wrapped around Cole’s throat, pinning him to the couch. I lean in close, lowering my voice, making sure he fucking hears me. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.” Cole’s smirk falters—just a fraction. But it’s enough. I let him go, trying to shake the weird, charged energy out of my system. I don’t know if it’s the G, the T, or the fact that Cole fucking made out with me like it was nothing, but I feel wired, too hot, too aware of everything. Cole watches me for a long moment, then exhales, like he’s letting it go. Then Cole shifts beside me, exhaling softly. “Alright,” he mutters. “Maybe I crossed a line.” “It’s a small town,” he says, voice quieter now. “Not a lot of options.” I frown. “Options?” His lips press together for a second, then he lets out a dry laugh. “Gays, Nico.” He finally looks at me. “There’s, like, five of us here. And they’re all…” He trails off, shaking his head. I raise a brow. “All what?” “Fem,” he says flatly. “Bottoms. Good friends, but not exactly great for, you know…” His hand gestures vaguely between us. “Experimenting.” I huff a small laugh, shaking my head. “Jesus. You really just said that.” Cole shrugs, unbothered. “It’s true.” Then he leans back against the couch, tipping his head to the side as he studies me. “I’ve got a type, and none of them fit.” I narrow my eyes. “And what’s your type, exactly?” He hums, dragging his fingers lazily over the rim of his empty cup, pretending to think. “Older. Built. Not soft.” His eyes flick over me, slow and deliberate. “Masculine. A little dangerous.” I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. “Subtle.” Cole just smirks, unashamed. “You asked.” “And it’s not just the looks, either. It’s the energy.” His fingers drum against his knee, gaze flicking to mine again. “That… intensity.” My jaw tenses. I look away, shifting in my seat. “Sounds complicated.” “It is,” he admits, then exhales through his nose, his smirk fading. “Not that it matters. It’s not like I’ve actually done anything.” That makes me pause. I glance at him again, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?” He shrugs. “I mean exactly that. I haven’t done anything.” I stare at him for a second. “Wait.” I shift toward him, eyes narrowing. “You’re telling me you’re still a virgin?” Cole huffs out a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, Nico. I am.” I blink. Then bark out a laugh, shaking my head. “Couldn’t be me.” Cole rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no shit.” I smirk, leaning back again. “Damn. A virgin at eighteen?” “What, you lost it at, like, fourteen?” he shoots back, raising a brow. I shrug. “Fifteen.” Cole groans. “Of course you did.” I just grin, taking another hit, letting the smoke curl lazily from my lips. “You’re really out here trying to experiment, huh?” He exhales dramatically. “You have no idea.” I shake my head, chuckling. “Poor thing.” “Fuck off.” But there’s no heat in his voice. Just that same lazy smirk, that same energy humming between us. Cole shifts, getting more comfortable on the couch, eyes flicking to me with something that’s both amused and too curious. “Tell me about straight sex.” I pause mid-inhale, pipe still between my fingers. I exhale a slow cloud of smoke, smirking. “What?” “You know,” Cole says, waving a lazy hand. “Fucking bitches.” That makes me actually laugh, the kind that shakes in my chest. “Jesus, Cole.” He grins, eyes flickering with amusement. “What?” “You saying it like that.” I shake my head. “You sound like a kid trying to prove something.” He shrugs, still grinning. “I mean, I have to know what all the hype is about. Why do you guys love it so much?” I huff a laugh, stretching my arms over the back of the couch. “You’ve never been with a girl, obviously.” Cole makes a face. “Nope.” “But you’ve seen straight porn.” He snorts. “Unfortunately.” Then, mocking, he adds, “Couldn’t be me.” That makes me laugh again, shaking my head. “Yeah, yeah.” Cole tilts his head, watching me. “So? Explain” I smirk, exhaling another slow breath of smoke. “It’s the way they react, man. The softness, the sounds. The way their bodies move. It’s like…” I trail off for a second, trying to find the right words. “It’s powerful. Controlling how they take it, how they moan, how they come apart under you.” Cole listens, head tilting slightly, eyes sharp even through the haze. “So it’s about dominance?” I smirk. “It’s about control.” Cole hums, gaze flicking over me, unreadable. Then he exhales, shaking his head. “Yeah. Couldn’t be me.” I chuckle. “Yeah, I figured.” Cole shifts again, pulling one leg up onto the couch, turning more toward me. “And you don’t ever think about it differently? Like, I dunno, being on the other side?” I raise a brow. “What, letting a girl take control?” “No.” He gives me a look. “I mean with a guy.” My jaw flexes slightly, but I keep my expression easy. “No.” Cole watches me for a second longer, then smirks like he knows something I don’t. “Interesting.” I shake my head, smirking right back. “You’re something else, you know that?” He grins, leaning back again. “I try.” I take another hit, letting it sit heavy in my lungs before I pass the pipe back to him. And as he takes it, fingers brushing mine, I can’t shake the feeling that this conversation isn’t over. Not even close. Cole takes the pipe, bringing it to his lips, waiting for me to light it. He’s steady, smooth, confident in a way that should make me stop and think. Should make me ask myself why the fuck I’m still here, still entertaining this, still letting it happen. But I don’t. I bring the torch up, flicking the flame on, watching the crystals liquefy and swirl into thick, white vapor. The moment it’s ready, I murmur, “Now.” Cole inhales, slow and deep, his green eyes flicking up to meet mine as he pulls. And fuck, I need my cock to stop this throbbing. With that, I break. I reach for him, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him toward me, pressing my lips against his as I inhale his hit straight from him. His breath stutters for half a second before he exhales, feeding it into me, the smoke burning between us. But the second he tries to push deeper, the moment his fingers curl into my shirt, trying to pull me in—I shove him back. Hard. Cole stares at me, chest rising and falling, lips still parted, green eyes blown wide with surprise. “What the fuck?” I drag a hand down my face, breathing hard. “I can’t.” Cole’s brows pull together, and then—irritation. “The fuck you mean you can’t?” I shake my head, jaw tight. “Not like this.” Cole scoffs. “Not like what?” I glance away, exhaling hard through my nose. I don’t answer. I can’t. Because I know myself when I’m high like this. I know the way it takes me over—how my dominance turns razor-sharp, how I get aggressive, controlling. I know how I take, and that’s not something you throw at someone who’s never done this before. Not someone like Cole. He watches me for a long second, then shakes his head, letting out a frustrated breath. “You’re fucking teasing me.” I glance at him sharply. “That’s not what this is.” “Bullshit.” His jaw tightens, his fingers flexing against his knee. “You keep pulling me in just to push me away. What the fuck do you want?” I don’t answer. Because I don’t know. Cole tilts his head slightly, smirking—but it’s pissed now, not amused. “I get it.” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You think I can’t handle it.” I clench my jaw. “Cole—” “You still think I’m some kid.” I exhale sharply, fingers curling into fists. “It’s not that—” “Then what?” His voice is sharp, cutting through the haze. “See? You are a tease. Just like one of your bitches” I snap. I grab his jaw, tilting his head up, making him look at me. His lips part, his breath stutters, but he doesn’t pull away. Cole’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t pull back. If anything, the challenge in his eyes sharpens, his lips curling at the edges like he wants this reaction from me. Like he planned for it. His fingers flex against my wrist where I’ve got him by the throat, testing, feeling the way my grip tightens. But he doesn’t try to pry me off. He just looks at me. Green eyes dark, lips parted, chest rising and falling. I lean in closer, my grip firm but controlled, voice dropping lower. “You really wanna test me, Cole?” His smirk wavers—just slightly—but he holds my gaze. “Maybe.” I exhale slow, shaking my head. “You think this is a fucking game?” Cole hums, the sound vibrating against my fingers. “Feels real to me.” Something deep in me twists at that, something dangerous. The high amplifies everything—the way his skin feels under my hand, the way his body shifts beneath me, the way his breathing picks up just slightly but he doesn’t look away. I slide my thumb over his jaw, pressing just enough to make him tilt his chin up for me. “You’ve got a smart mouth.” Cole exhales a slow, shaky breath. “So do something about it.” I snap. I crush my mouth against his, swallowing whatever smart-ass remark he was about to throw at me. Cole doesn’t hesitate. He leans into it, gasping softly against me before he fists my shirt in both hands, pulling me closer, pressing up into me like he’s been waiting for this all night. And fuck, maybe he has. I shove him back into the couch, my weight pressing into him, my hands gripping tight—his throat, his waist, his hip—feeling, claiming. He groans, the sound sharp, raw, like he’s never been handled like this before. Like he’s never wanted to be. And now he’s got me—high, reckless, dominant—right here, giving him exactly what he asked for. And I’m not stopping this time. Not until he knows exactly what it means to push me. I stand up slowly, rolling my shoulders like I’m shaking off the last bit of restraint. My jaw is tight, my eyes dark, my whole demeanor shifting into something heavier, something final. Cole watches from the couch, breath still uneven, lips still parted from the force of the last kiss. He doesn’t move yet, just waiting, watching. I exhales through my nose, running my tongue over my teeth before speaking. “Get up.” Cole blinks, his pupils still blown wide, his body still buzzing from the drugs, the tension, everything. “What?” I tilt my head, eyes narrowing. “You heard me. Get the fuck up.” Cole swallows, pushing himself up slowly, cautious, but not scared. Not hesitant. If anything, there’s something eager in the way he moves, like he’s been waiting for m to take control like this. I sit back down, reaching for the pipe, tapping out another hit. I don’t even look at Cole as I flick the torch on, heating the glass. “Strip.” The single word cuts through the thick air. Cole exhales sharply, his fingers flexing at his sides, his breath catching slightly like it finally hit him—this is happening. I exhales a thick cloud toward the ceiling before finally looking at Cole again. “I said strip, faggot.” I hear him whisper “fuck” under his breath. Like a small whimper. His fingers go to the hem of his shirt, gripping it, lifting it slowly—almost too slow. Testing. Watching my reaction. I exhale another stream of smoke, my eyes tracking every movement, every inch of skin revealed. Cole lets the shirt slip off, tossing it aside before moving to the button of his jeans. His fingers work the metal, the sound of the zipper cutting through the thick silence of the room. I take another hit, inhaling deep, letting the warmth crawl through my veins, amplifying everything. Cole pushes his jeans down his hips, stepping out of them. He’s standing there now, exposed, chest rising and falling, fingers twitching at his sides. But he’s not shy. He’s not covering himself. He’s waiting. I set the pipe down on the table and lean forward, elbows on my knees, dragging my tongue over my bottom lip as I look Cole up and down, taking my time with it. Not just a pretty face, but a pretty everything. His dick hung their uncut, freshly shaven, smooth until his legs, covered in carpet of hair. I looked up at him with a smirk and motioned for him to turn around. Now, I’ve seen a lot of ass in my day, but I’ll admit, there’s something about his. Perfectly round, smooth. Innocent. I tilt my head, smirking. “Now get over here.” Cole steps forward, closing the small space between us, his breath coming a little quicker now. He’s standing right in front of me, bare, exposed, but not nervous. Locking eyes with him, I reach down and tug at the bulge in my pants, gripping myself through the fabric. I was rock hard and couldn’t take it anymore. “Get on your knees.” Cole lowers himself. When he settled onto his knees between my legs, looking up at me with those blown-out green eyes, lips parted, chest still rising and falling— “Fuck, you look good like that.” I let out greedily “Now take my cock out of these jeans,” I demanded. Cole didn’t hesitate. His hands moved immediately to my bulge, one palm pressing firmly against it, his fingers curling to squeeze. A small smirk ghosted across his lips as he felt the weight of me through the denim. Then, with steady hands, he reached for my zipper, dragging it down with agonizing slowness. I lifted my hips slightly, helping him as he tugged my jeans down past my thighs. The moment they pooled around my ankles, my cock sprang free—thick, uncut, and standing proud, a full nine inches of me throbbing in the open air. My dark pubes framed it, a stark contrast against my skin. Cole’s breath hitched. His eyes widened, a mix of hunger and awe flashing across his face. He licked his lips unconsciously, his gaze locked onto me like I was the only thing in the world he wanted. “Go ahead faggot, taste it” Cole’s breath shuddered as he exhaled, his lips parting, so close I could feel the warmth ghosting over my skin. His fingers tightened instinctively around my shaft, stroking slowly, teasingly, as if testing my patience. I smirked, threading my fingers through his hair, gripping just enough to make him gasp. “Did you not hear me? Put that mouth to work.” My voice was low, firm, an order he had no intention of disobeying. With a slow motion he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste the head of my cock. A soft groan rumbled in my chest as I watched him, savoring the way his lips stretched over me, the warmth of his mouth enveloping the tip. “Good faggot,” I murmured, tightening my grip in his hair as I guided him lower. Cole moaned around me, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core. His tongue swirled, tracing every ridge, every sensitive spot, his movements both eager and controlled. His hands braced against my thighs as he took me deeper, inch by inch, his throat relaxing as he pushed himself further. I let my head fall back against the couch, pleasure surging through me as he worked. The wet heat of his mouth, the way he hollowed his cheeks and sucked, the sinful noises slipping from his throat—it was intoxicating. “Fuck, just like that,” I praised, looking down at him. His eyes met mine, dark and needy, desperate to please. I gave him what he wanted, thrusting gently into his mouth, watching as his lips stretched wider, as his throat tensed around me. He took it, moaning as if he needed this as much as I did. His fingers dug into my thighs, urging me on, silently begging for more. And who was I to deny him? I tightened my grip in his hair, yanking his head back just enough to force his eyes up to mine. His lips were already slick, parted, desperate for more. “You’re taking your time,” I murmured, my thumb brushing over his swollen bottom lip before pressing against his tongue. He let me, obedient, his eyes dark with need. “I didn’t tell you to tease, did I?” He shook his head, my thumb still resting on his tongue, making him struggle to answer. “No, Sir,” he managed, voice hoarse, breathless. I smirked. “Then do it right.” Without hesitation, he parted his lips wider, taking me back into the heat of his mouth. This time, I didn’t let him set the pace. My hand in his hair held him still as I pushed deeper, his throat tightening around me as he tried to adjust. His fingers gripped my thighs, nails digging in, but he didn’t pull away. He knew better. “Relax,” I ordered, my other hand settling heavy on his jaw, guiding him. His lashes fluttered, a choked sound escaping him as I pressed deeper. When he finally opened up for me, his throat flexing, I groaned in satisfaction. “That’s it,” I praised, keeping my grip firm as I began to fuck his mouth in slow, deliberate strokes. His moans vibrated around me, sending pleasure curling through my spine. I controlled every movement, every inch he took, every breath he struggled for. He let me. He wanted this—wanted to be used, to be owned. His hands trembled against my thighs, but he didn’t resist. He let me push, let me test his limits. My cock slid deeper, his throat tightening, and I held him there for a beat, watching the way his eyes watered, the way his body shuddered. “Look at you,” I murmured, thumb stroking his jaw as I pulled back, letting him gasp for air before pushing in again. “So desperate to please.” A needy whimper escaped him. I held him there for a moment longer, feeling the way his throat flexed around me, the way his breath hitched, his body shaking from the effort of keeping still. His fingers clenched against my thighs, his chest rising and falling in shallow, controlled breaths. Then, finally, I eased back, my grip in his hair loosening as I pulled out of his mouth. A wet gasp tore from his throat as he sagged against me, his lips red and glistening, spit connecting us in thin strands that broke as he swallowed hard. I let my thumb trace the edge of his jaw, tilting his face up so he had no choice but to meet my gaze. His eyes were hazy, his pupils blown wide, his chest still heaving as he tried to steady himself. “Breathe,” I ordered, my tone softer now, but no less commanding. “Think you can handle more, boy?” His breath hitched, but his answer came immediately this time—steady, certain. “Yes, Sir.” I tilted his chin up higher, forcing him to hold my gaze. “That’s what I like to hear.” Then I leaned in, my lips ghosting over his ear as I whispered my next command. “Stand up,” I ordered. He moved immediately, though his legs shook slightly as he rose. I watched the way his chest rose and fell, the way his fingers twitched at his sides as he fought the urge to reach for me, to cling to whatever I decided to give him. “Turn around,” I murmured. His lips parted slightly, his pupils still blown wide, but he obeyed without question. I let my eyes drag over him as he turned, taking in the way his body tensed under my gaze, the way he seemed to fight the urge to squirm. “Good boy,” I praised, letting my hand trail down his spine, slow and deliberate. I felt the shudder that rippled through him, the way he sucked in a breath as my palm ghosted lower. Then I leaned in, my lips grazing the shell of his ear as I gave my next command. “Bend over.” For a split second, he hesitated—just long enough for me to tangle my fingers in his hair and pull his head back slightly. “You heard me.” My voice was low, firm, leaving no room for doubt. “Bend over.” A whimper slipped from his throat as he nodded, his body moving instinctively to obey. He braced himself against the nearest surface, his hands gripping the edge as he arched his back slightly, presenting himself exactly how I wanted him. I smirked, trailing my fingers down his spine again, feeling the way he shuddered under my touch. “Now that’s a sight,” I murmured, stepping back just enough to take him in fully. “So eager. So obedient.” I let my palm rest on his lower back, pressing down just enough to keep him in place. “But let’s see if you can stay that way.”

I do it all the time at ABS and Bathhouses, sometimes at Men's Rooms if I can find any!!! I have been stripped/told to strip and walked from room to room nude, and clean each room, walls, chair and floors!!! LOVE IT!!!!

FUCK YOU'RE FUCKIN HOT AND I WOULD LOVE TO PLAY WITH YOU!

I’ll up it, my best friend, straight & hot, always crashes in my guest room, usually with whoever he picked up that night. I take his used condoms and squeeze his cum out onto my cock or swallow it. Closes I can get to having sex with him!

I LOVE ATM. Being a top, I can only clean up and taste peer tops breeding ass at parties and so. Never miss a chance to suck them clean, hopefully getting them to pee down my throat as well

I love all the fresh cum at video booths 😛 Everytime i go, i always look in the trash bins for used condoms and suck out all the cum from them.