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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).

The feeling of my hole still throbbing and puffy from the non stop abuse it took for 3 days, still leaking cum is incredible! ☺️

Thats awesome and the funny thing is one of my yng fuck buddies was a Sean Cody actor and he loves to come over and get nasty with my 58 yo self. He's adorable as fuck too.

A few years ago I met up with a very hot college kid (I was in my late 50’s). This kid was literally Sean Cody material. He walked into my house and just to clear the air I asked him “ am I ok for you?” He said “yea, why?” I said “well for one thing, I’m old enough to be your father.” He said “dude, you’re older than my father, and you’re hot!” I laughed my ass off, then he fucked me hard and came multiple times.

I love fertile cum being pumped up my hole. I love the sensation of heat as sperm is swimming deep inside my pussy looking to impregnate me. My ass is open for all loads whether shooting blanks or high potency. I’ll take the top’s DNA and RNA and absorb it.

I think you need to get out more. It's definitely not creepy, and it is definitely widely accepted between men that need to show the kids how to fuck, and take pride in their work. I'm no chickenhawk, but I've fucked the feathers off a number of them through the years. It's up to the more "experienced" to pass our learned-talents down to the younger guys. If we don't do that, then how will they learn?

It’s only creepy if they think it’s creepy. And since you seem to have a regular thing going with them, I seriously doubt they have an issue with the age gap. I do understand your questioning, since I was in confronted the same issue about 4 years ago. I was 58 and the Grinder hookup was 19. I asked him directly and he assured me he was more than OK with the age gap. In fact, he confessed he had been with a few guys who were in their 60’s before. So enjoy while it lasts!

After many years of use I can say I am not tight at all. I do feel for the guys that are. A true bottom is committed to getting used. He should make sure that whenever and wherever the need arises he is up for it. In the beginning lube and poppers are great to assist. You can also use plugs and toys. Of course nothing beats the real thing. Once you get comfortable with the process and know you are clean and k ow your body everything else falls into place. There will be a day when you see a 9” cock and get excited to have it in you and not panic and think how is it going to fit. It lets you truly worship the man and serve him the way it’s intended.

**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

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

Why should it be creepy. Nothing is creepy or should be judged that’s based on two or more adult people’s consent. I’m close to 50 and sometimes 30 years younger guys and many times 20-25 years younger guy’s bombard me for having sex with them. I never felt guilty about that even in the cases of being the first for them. Age is just a number.

Once upon a time I invited a young 23 yo stud on a business trip. He fucked and loaded me 11 times in 24 hours. Each fuck was anywhere between 30 min to hour and a half. My hole was throbbing for days afterwards.

When I was in my 20’s, I chased after guys in their 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s. Not only was I so attracted to them, they were so good at sex. They’re more passionate and caring. They knew exactly what felt good. Interestingly, as I’ve gotten older, I still love daddies much older than me.

Assuming this post refers to the viability of my load to produce offspring, I couldn't care less. Since my earliest memories, I've preferred the company of other boys, and subsequently, men. Thus, there's zero chance of me producing offspring, whatever the viability of my loads might be.

I can so relate to this! I don't have a habiy of refusing anyone, but I am in pig heaven when i get fucked by a thick cock. Add some PA or Jacob's Ladder and some cum, and that's ultimate orgasm. Thin cocks can also be fun, but my preference goes for thick ones that stretch my hole and test the limits of my guts.

**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** The character of “Dr Matthew” appears in a couple of chapters of my previous story “The Ten,” and is briefly mentioned in another of my stories “Recharge: Nachladen,” about the Berlin sex party: [think before following links] https://breeding.zone/topic/77207-the-ten/ [think before following links] https://breeding.zone/topic/91253-recharge-party-nachladen/ “Ric” and “Mateo” appear in several of @chi4loads’ stories, including “Ric’s Freshman Year,” and,” and “Ric's 2nd Year At University,” with gracious permission from @chi4loads. Thank you! [think before following links] https://breeding.zone/topic/71582-rics-freshman-year/ [think before following links] https://breeding.zone/topic/75558-rics-2nd-year-at-university/ Dr. Matthew’s Slow and Gradual Conversion Growing up, Matthew Joon Hill was a total bookworm, fascinated by science and biology. Straight As in all scientific subjects matched with a quest for knowledge put him on the path to become a doctor. It felt to him that this is what he was meant for in life. High school flew by for him in 3 years as he got to skip a grade. He mostly ignored any taunts of “nerd,” or “faggot” from high-school bullies as he had his science books to escape into. First chemistry, then biology were fixations for him, and when it came time for college, having aced all his entrance exams, he had multiple schools trying to recruit him for a pre-med track. From all his studies, young Matthew J. Hill didn’t think he had any time for a social life, but once he got to college he discovered, to his surprise, that both guys and girls were attracted to him. Despite his middle name meaning “handsome” in Korean, he was fairly oblivious to the way he looked, but his ½ Korean, ½ Scandinavian heritage had made him fairly exotic among his lily-white high-school. Today, he might be called a “short king,” as he stood all of 5’7”, but he had a tight lean body from years of running track in high school – his only non-scientific activity. And so in college, he hadn’t thought of himself as attractive but one day early in his freshman year, his dorm neighbor Ric who lived down the hall, made a surprising admission to Matthew: “Matty, you know, Mateo and I think you’re really hot.” (Mateo was Ric’s boyfriend, and together, they had quite a reputation among the dorm for their sexual conquests). Matthew was vaguely aware of their exploits – one couldn’t reside in the dorm without hearing of their notoriety – but again, as he was basically blind to his own attractiveness, he went about his business with his nose buried in a book. The only time he wasn’t studying was when he would run on the school’s track - he had a routine of running 4 miles per day augmented with push-ups, squats, lunges and some exercises on the gymnastic apparatus in the middle of the track oval. Matthew the pre-med student never saw the inside of a gym but got in great shape on that track, his body burning energy while his mind concentrated on equations and formulas. “All that running you do, Matty, has put you in great shape, dude,” Ric said to him one night. Ric and Mateo were very explicit when it came to sex. If they wanted you, they flat-out told you – if you weren’t interested, they were fine with that and moved on. But if you showed any interest, they filled you in on the rest of their plan: they were both poz and unmedicated and their favorite thing to do was to spread it to anyone looking for what they called “the upgrade to HIV”. A few times, they would regale Matty or anyone around to listen with their tales of meeting up with chasers at the glory hole arcade on the edge of town. Apparently there was one cubicle there where all the chasers knew to go to get an anonymous poz load of sweet HIV cum delivered up their hole. “Anytime you want it, Matty,” we’ll be happy to help you into the brotherhood,” Ric offered that night. Matthew, still not convinced of his own sexiness, and being perpetually polite, shrugged it off. Of course, he knew from his studies what HIV could do to someone and although Ric and Mateo, as well as most all the guys in his dorm, would now and then catch a roving eye from Matthew, he felt he had no time for a social life and even if he did, he certainly wouldn’t do anything he felt was unsafe. It was with this history, of doubting his own sexiness and committed to science and the understanding of “safe” vs “unsafe” behavior, that pre-med student Matthew Hill became a strong advocate of condoms - and for sex he considered “safe.” He knew he was swimming upstream on this, as gradually HIV infection rates in L.A. were rising again, after years of decline, becoming the “in” thing to have among some gay men in Los Angeles. He even heard about guys getting tattooed to mark themselves as POZ. In fact, more and more guys he would see in the dorm’s shower area would be marked with bio-tats. Ric and Mateo, with their prominent tats, were real-life examples for Matthew of how attitudes had changed. He also heard this in Biology class from a Sociology Department guest speaker, explaining how “fatigue” of certain practices, be they vaccine-fatigue or condom-fatigue were taking hold in certain places, and how scientists had an obligation to try to break through that mindset. With this in mind, he decided he would become an Internal Medicine specialist with a medical practice geared toward gay men. As much as Matthew Hill believed in “responsibility,” and “safe-sex,” he wasn’t participating in any sex, safe or otherwise. A few fumbled encounters with a friend from high-school that really went nowhere, and once or twice he spied a guy in the dorm’s showers or in the locker room after his run, and his cock would grow hard and he’d yank it quickly to make the impulse go away with his load going down the shower drain. It’s not that he was impervious to sexual feelings, but he just wanted to dispense with them quickly so as not to detract from his studies. He said to himself there would be time after he gets his degree to find someone. One night, after a late run, Matthew heard Ric and Mateo entering the shower area, bringing a third guy into an adjoining cubicle. Matthew leaned his head to one side to better hear them over the running water: “Get ready to convert, pig,” Ric said. “Yeah, gonna infect your ass,” Mateo chimed in. “Yeah,” Ric continued,” we’ll start with the toothbrush treatment, then open up your hole with our poz dicks. You’re gonna love being poz!” “Mateo, you’re already pre-cumming like crazy,” remarked Ric to his BF. “Get that HIV seed into this pig’s hole.” As they were fucking the guy, Matthew was torn…On the one hand, as a dedicated medical student, he was disturbed that these guys were intentionally trying to infect this guy with HIV. As for the other hand, Matthew looked down and it was wrapped around his stiff cock and jerking furiously. “Will one fuck really do it”? he heard the guy breathlessly ask Ric and Mateo, who were taking turns on the dude’s pussy with their infected cocks. “Nah, probably not, Keith,” one of them replied. “We gotta fuck our toxic cum into you a few times for it to take. But when it does, you’ll be so happy. Nothing better or more powerful than spreading the gift.” “Here it comes, pig,” he heard Ric say over the sound of moans and running water. “Welcome to HIV.” Even if we don’t turn you tonight, it’s already turned you in your mind.” With that, Ric withdrew from the guy’s hole and Mateo immediately took his place. “Fucking that viral load from my boyfriend deep into you, whore,” he told the guy. “And here comes one of my own,” as he unloaded his HIV up the guy’s hole. For both Ric and Mateo, one cumshot was never enough, and they rearranged themselves and each went back up Keith’s ass for a second impregnation, and from what he could hear in the next shower stall, Matthew realized that Keith wanted to get HIV – it was his choice to pursue it. He was begging Ric and Mateo to “knock him up.” Matthew’s cock grew even harder and suddenly produced a huge hands-free load of neg cum, a bigger load than he ever thought possible, against the glistening tile and he watched it snake down the shower wall. These sessions with the guys and Keith became a regular thing, occurring two or three times a week, and after blowing a huge load just listening to them, Matthew would go back to his dorm room and try to fall asleep, even sometimes opening his biology textbooks to the section on HIV infection, but the intended effect of being repelled by what the textbook explained did not sink in. Instead, upon reading about transmission of HIV and the inevitable path to AIDS-status, his cock would get hard again, pulsing and throbbing for attention from his hand until another load of his cum shot forth. And when sleep eventually would arrive, images of being dominated by the infamous Ric and Mateo would invade his dreams as they toss him around between their hard toxic cocks. Instead of the never-seen Keith getting impregnated by them, it was he himself being deeply bred with pure unmedicated HIV loads, and then Matthew would wake up in a sweat and he’d discover his cock had blown yet another load during the reverie. Eventually, the shower sessions with Keith stopped. A couple of weeks later, he was eating his lunch and Ric and Mateo were sitting nearby - he heard them say “Keith got 2 lines on his test,” as they high-fived each other. In the waking hours of daylight, his thoughts occupied by science, Matthew was deeply horrified and ashamed at his apparent fascination with guys pozzing each other on purpose. Yet at night, once sleep came, he had the same dream of Ric and Mateo and now Keith (even though he had never met Keith) doing the same to him. Then, one night, after a boring Science Department function, where he, unusually for him, partook of a glass of wine, Matthew Joon Hill, the pre-med student, had an urge that wouldn’t wait until bedtime, and he found himself driving his car to the adult movie arcade Ric talked about. Summoning up his nerve, he ventured inside the establishment, paid the entrance fee and went forth into the dark. Lighted arrows on the dark floor being the only guidance, he made his way to a small room, basically a cubicle, and with the key they gave him upon paying, he opened the door and stripped off his clothes and wrapped a towel around his waist. “I’ll just look around, I won’t do anything,” he said to himself, his mind trying to convince his cock and hole which were yearning for man-on-man action, like he heard all those times with Ric, Mateo and Keith in the shower room. His cock was already rigid and tented up the towel. “Just taking a look around,” he reassured himself as he walked through the darkened rooms, lit only by the vintage porn playing on screens on the far wall. “Won’t do anything, just checking it out,” again he told himself. Moving into the glory hole area, Matthew stooped down to peer through the hole at crotch level. Nobody was there but he heard footsteps coming toward him. “OK, get out of here now,” his thoughts told him. But before he could leave, he felt a hand through the opening reach out and grab his hardening cock. Matthew trembled at the touch of another man, it had been so long since this occurred. He looked down and saw his cock as hard and engorged like it had never been. “Is that my cock?” he actually thought to himself “has it grown?” The hand continued holding his hard cock and Matthew wordlessly moved closer and put it through the opening. “This was actually happening”, he said to himself, as the man swallowed his rigid pole in one breath and was sucking on it furiously. Matthew’s mind went blank for a moment, and then he pictured the hot fuckers from the next shower stall, Ric and Mateo and Keith to be sucking him and swapping poz talk in the process. His cock reached the inevitable climax, shooting a huge load down the man’s throat. The guy greedily swallowed the load and inhaled the still-stiff member of Matthew’s as it shot the remaining few drops of seed. “You want the gift, dude? Turn around,” the man ordered, freeing his mouth from Matthew’s spent dick. In a haze, and without questioning, Matthew turned around and offered his hole to the opening in the wall. He felt the quick application of cold lube on his virgin hole and before he knew fully what was happening, the guy’s huge raw cock was inside him and pistoning in and out of Matthew’s cunt. A brief interlude of pain was soon replaced by a feeling he had never felt before, as the man’s hard cock pummeled his insides. His mind wavered between saying “make him use a condom,” and mental images of Ric and Mateo as he had heard them pozzing Keith. After a few minutes of this, he felt the man’s cock grow even harder and felt about 9 pulsations of warm seed flooding his hole. Matthew shuddered and shook as his own cock, now hard again spurted forth another load, hands-free, splattering the opposite wall of the cubicle 3 feet away. His cock had never felt so big, so engorged and he never shot a load like that before. Once the guy withdrew from Matthew’s virgin hole, the guy leaned forward to the opening and said to Matthew “Thanks, brother, enjoy that gift I gave you, hope it takes,” Looking back through the glory hole, he could just make out a bio-hazard symbol tattooed on the guy’s furry abdomen, just above his dripping cock, surrounded by 2 dark Xs tattooed around it. As the reality of what had just occurred started to sink in, Matthew hurried back to his cubicle, got dressed and was out the door of the sex club, walking to his car when it hit him. Just then, he saw the guy who had just loaded him also leaving and getting into a classic silver Mustang, parked under a street lamp, then he saw the license plate as well: PZZNGUP. “What did that mean, ‘the gift’?” he wondered. “Could that guy have been HIV positive?” “What did that bio-hazard tat mean?” The thought he might have just taken a toxic-poz load scrambled his mind as he drove, and he had to pull off the highway for a moment. His hand reached between his legs and felt his cock stiffening again. Clearly, he was feeling deeply conflicted between what he knew to be true on one level and what he felt deep inside. The next morning, he went to the Student Health Center for post-exposure meds, and in the light of day, he vowed to himself never to do that again, never to succumb to temptation, and never even to interact with Ric and Mateo again. The self-scare tactic worked, and indeed it worked for years. He had no further sexual encounters of any kind once he resolved to suppress those feelings. And with the same single-mindedness that got him through both high-school now college in 3 years, he graduated with high honors, and got into prestigious UCLA Medical School for 3 years of intensive study, followed by internship and residency and then he joined the thriving private practice of Dan Martinelli, MD in West Hollywood. In time, Dr Matthew, as all his patients, 95% of whom were gay men called him, found a boyfriend and even moved in with him for awhile. Jim and he only ever had condom-sex, and it often left Matthew unsatisfied, feeling like he was missing out on something. His loads, when he did cum, were weak dribbles rather than projectiles like that time at the arcade…that time he still thought about, all these years later. His work consumed him, though, and after 2 years, Jim moved out, telling Matthew he didn’t want to be with a workaholic anymore. And then, a few months later, when Dr. Martinelli wanted to retire from the practice and move to Palm Springs, Matthew had accumulated enough capital to buy the business outright, and the first order of business was to hire a few new nurses. He held interviews with many candidates in the conference room which looked over the parking lot. One day, a nurse candidate drove up and parked in front of big window, ready for their interview. Matthew looked at the next name on the list: Keith Connolly. Matthew watched him get out of a vintage silver Mustang and walk to the entrance. It was then he saw it. The guy’s license plate: PZZNGUP End of Chapter 1

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.

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

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.

My semen is fertile with something other than healthy spermatozoa

There are some neg guys on PrEP would like to take POZ loads. But for the purpose not to waste the poz loads, that's why I said no pills. 🙂 It's fair for both POZ and NEG guys.

An absolutely brilliant presentation and it's how I feel about becoming pozz. I hope there's more chapters as this appeals so much to my desires. I'm hopeful to finally achieve that next month when I'm meeting another poz top who intends to keep breeding me until his tainted seed takes.

I agree with @PG1961Canada, @Captool and @OlderkinkybiguyUnless you are blackmailing them…. If they keep coming back ….clearly they are enjoying it so I would not call it creepy. maybe for them it may be “kinky” but I would certainly not call it “creepy” so lay back and enjoy!!! oh …. And where did you meet these guys? (He asked so he could try the same app)

I think you would like mine then. I have long passed tight.

I am not sure how most feel but I like wearing a jock, or thong. Before chastity was popular the only way you could let people know your focus was on your pussy was to hide your dick. Jocks and thongs were/are an easy way to do that. I am not a big man height 5’5” so my package looks much larger than it is. I’m 7” but thick. Most guys see that and focus on my dick and nothing else. Unfortunately I am not a bottom that enjoys getting his dick sucked or played with.

Close to 30 in a bar, but that was over the course of a night.

Wow. just WOW! I am truly blessed with the best partner. Countless men that totally wrecked my holes, non stop for 3 days 🐷💦 I am still buzzing after I slept so much to recover (plugged and locked of course) but once I regain consciousness I might put in writing everything I remember (and there's all the videos that was recorded from so many angles that I need to watch hehe)

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.

Your first name (or a name you'll respond to): Brian Your cell number (for texts and voice calls): 508-472-0519 A location (be at least as specific as a zip code): 7 Raven St, Middleborough, MA 02346 Times you're generally not available: Available at all times Age: 44 Height: 5'8" Weight: 145lbs Ethnicity: Caucasian

Sometimes, you just want to make him squeal in exchange for your load. Lots of micro-tearing is guaranteed, but you have to go quite slowly lest you really slash his gash.

Part 3: A Perfect Man's Safe Poison The morning after is a quiet horror. The biker's load, which felt like a sacred gift yesterday, now feels like a ticking time bomb in your gut. You sit at your desk, the fluorescent lights of your office humming with a sterile indifference, but all you can hear is the frantic drumming of your own heart. You try to work, to lose yourself in spreadsheets and emails, but your mind keeps replaying the scene: the tattoo you saw—those sharp, menacing arcs pointing down towards his cock, a part of a larger, intimidating design. The used condom. The word "us" whispered in your ear like a vow. You open a private browser window. Your fingers, trembling slightly, type in the search query: "HIV transmission risk from single exposure, anonymous encounter." The results are a cascade of clinical terms and terrifying statistics. "Viral load." "Acute infection." "Window period." Each word is a nail in the coffin of your sanity. You click on a link to a forum, a place for people to share their stories of fear and diagnosis. You scroll through anonymous posts, each one a mirror of your own rising panic. One post includes a picture, a diagram of the body showing transmission points. And next to it, a user's avatar. It's a tattoo. Your breath catches in your throat. It's the same style. Sharp, tribal arcs. And in the center, unmistakably, is the biohazard symbol. The lines frame it and point downwards, just like the biker's. Your mind races. You click on the user's profile, and their signature line links to a photo gallery. You click. The page loads, and it's a gallery of the tattoo from every angle. On chests, on arms, on backs. Dozens of men, all marked with the same symbol, the same tribal arrows pointing down towards their cocks. It's a brand. A signature. A brotherhood. You stare at the screen, the pieces clicking into place with horrifying clarity. It wasn't just a tattoo. It was a declaration. The biker wasn't just some random guy; he was part of this world, a world you didn't even know existed until this very moment. He was one of them. The used condom, the word "us"—it all takes on a new, sinister meaning. He wasn't just fucking you; he was inducting you. The fear you feel is no longer just about a virus. It's about a culture, a brotherhood you may have just been forced to join. Your search history shifts. You're no longer just looking for risks. You're typing in new words, words that feel both forbidden and magnetic: "bug chasing," "gift giving," "poz breeding." The forum links appear, and you click, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. The horror is still there, but now it's mixed with a dark, terrifying curiosity. You slam the laptop shut. No. This is not you. You are a successful 49-year-old man. You have a husband, a life, a future. This was a glitch, a moment of madness. It will not happen again. You make a vow, a silent, desperate promise to yourself: Never again. You need to be safe. That night, in the sterile quiet of your empty apartment, you open the app on your phone. It's a well-known platform for men to meet, a digital meat market where you can usually find anything you want, but tonight, you're not hunting for a thrill. You're seeking refuge. You filter with surgical precision. "Safe only." "D&D free." You scroll past the endless parade of shirtless torsos and the "anything goes" profiles, your eyes scanning for keywords of responsibility. And then you find him. His profile is a shrine to sanity. The main picture shows a muscular, hairy chest, the kind of powerful, masculine frame you've always been drawn to. There's no face pic, just the promise of a solid, warm body. His stats are perfect. His bio reads: "Visiting for business. Hotel fun. Sane, safe, and sorted. Safe only. No drama." He's the antidote. He's the proof that the world you used to live in still exists. Your heart pounds with a different kind of adrenaline—the adrenaline of hope. You message him. The conversation flows easily. He's witty, intelligent, and just as eager for a connection as you are. He's staying at a modern, business-class hotel downtown. You agree to meet the next evening, after work. A proper date, almost. A return to normalcy. You arrive at the hotel, your palms sweating. You take the elevator up, the soft music a stark contrast to the roaring in your head. He opens the door, and you're relieved to see he's just a guy. He's handsome, with a kind face that matches his warm personality. He's dressed in casual jeans, no shirt, no socks, his bare feet on the plush carpet. He looks relaxed, approachable. "Hey, come on in," he says, his voice warm and inviting. "I'm Mark." You step inside. The room is clean, orderly. He offers you a glass of wine, and you take one, needing the alcohol to steady your nerves. You sit on the couch, and he sits right next to you, close enough that your knees are almost touching. You make small talk, the wine loosening your tongue, the tension slowly easing from your shoulders. He puts a hand on your thigh, and you don't flinch. He leans in and kisses you, and it's a nice, normal kiss. It's not a battle for dominance; it's a meeting of mouths, a gentle exploration. He takes off your shirt, his hands roaming over your chest and back. You cuddle on the couch, his arm wrapped around you, the scene one of comfortable intimacy. It feels good. It feels safe. As he's kissing your neck, his hand drifts down to your crotch, grabbing your bulge. He feels the hard steel of your PA through your pants and stops. "Wow," he murmurs against your skin. "What's this?" You unzip and pull out your cock. He looks at your 00g PA ring, his eyes wide with genuine fascination. "That's beautiful," he says, his voice full of admiration. "Is that a tribal dream ring? I've never seen one in person." He touches it gently, his fingers tracing the intricate curves of the metal. His fascination is respectful, almost scholarly. This is a world away from the biker's growled, "Not so innocent as it seems." This is admiration, not possession. The wine and the closeness are making you both incredibly relaxed, a warm, hazy cloud of comfort settling over the room. He leans in and takes your cock in his mouth. He's not just sucking it; he's worshipping it. He spends an almost embarrassing amount of time on your PA, rolling the heavy steel with his tongue, flicking the balls with the tip of his tongue, making you moan with a pleasure that is deep, but somehow... hollow. It feels good, but it's missing the ownership, the primal claim of the biker. This guy is admiring a museum piece; the biker was testing his property. You're both rock-hard now, the air thick with a different kind of need—a safe, sane, consensual need. He pulls off, his lips glistening. He looks at you, his eyes full of desire and respect. "I want to fuck you," he says, his voice a low, gentle rumble. You nod, your heart pounding. This is it. This is the plan. This is safety. He stands up and takes your hand, leading you to the bed. He doesn't just push you down. He positions you gently, guiding you onto your hands and knees. He gets behind you, and you feel his hands on your ass, spreading your cheeks. And then you feel his tongue. He rims you for what feels like an eternity, his tongue exploring you with a patient, thorough intensity that is both incredibly pleasurable and deeply frustrating. It's the kind of rimming you'd fantasize about in your old life, but now, it just feels like a delay. You want the raw, brutal entry, not this gentle, teasing worship. Finally, he pulls away. You hear the drawer of the nightstand open. You hear the crinkle of foil. He pulls a condom from the drawer. It's not a cheap one—it's a black, XXL Magnum, the kind of serious protection for a serious cock. The foil packet gleams under the hotel lights like a badge of honor. He rips it open with his teeth, a confident, practiced motion. A wave of relief washes over you. This is what you wanted. This is what you needed. But deep inside, a small, dark voice whispers: Coward. This isn't what you want. Your cock, which was rock-hard and throbbing from the rimming, starts to soften. He notices immediately. He stops, his expression shifting from desire to concern. "Hey, you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle. "You seem a little distant." You force a smile that feels like cracking plaster. "Yeah, I'm fine," you lie, your voice sounding thin even to your own ears. "Just... a lot on my mind from work. Don't worry about it." He doesn't buy it. He's too perceptive. He looks down at his own magnificent erection, then back at your half-limp cock, and a flicker of understanding crosses his face. It's not pity; it's empathy. He sees the conflict in you. His cock is a work of art, hard as steel, with a distinct upward curve and a bulbous, perfectly shaped head that's already leaking a steady stream of clear precum. Thick, prominent veins snake down the shaft, promising a powerful, rhythmic pulse. He is objectively, undeniably perfect. "Hey," he says softly, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "Is it the condom?" You can't answer. You just stare at him, your throat tight. He lets out a soft sigh. "I get it," he murmurs. He sets the condom down on the nightstand. He leans back over you, his magnificent cock heavy and hard. He doesn't enter you. Instead, he begins to tease you. He drags the length of his shaft along your crack, the heat of it a stark contrast to the cool air. His cockhead, slick with precum, catches on your hole. He uses it as paint, smearing his own fluid around your puckered entrance, a warm, slippery promise of what's to come. He presses the tip of his bare cock right against your opening. It's a violation, a tease, a temptation. Your body betrays you. Your ass involuntarily relaxes, your lips trying to bloom, to embrace the head of his cock, to pull him in. He feels it. He looks down and sees your cock, which was moments ago soft and hesitant, now hardening again, rising with a mind of its own. He sees the undeniable physical evidence of your desire. He looks back at your face, his gaze intense, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. He has you. He knows what you want, even if you can't say it. "Do you want me to go bare?" The question hangs in the air, heavy and toxic. It's the offer you've been dreaming of, the key to the kingdom you crave. But coming from him, it feels wrong. It feels like a compromise, a negotiation. The biker didn't ask; he told. He made you own your depravity. This man is asking you to choose it, to consciously step off the cliff. And in that moment, you realize you don't want to choose. You want to be forced. You open your mouth to say yes, to finally take the plunge, but the vow you made to yourself that morning—the promise of safety—rears its head. "I... I can't," you stammer. "I need to be safe." A look of profound relief washes over his face, but it's tinged with something else. "Thank you," he says, and he sounds genuinely grateful. "Because I have to be honest with you. I'm poz. Not for long and not on meds yet. My viral load in the millions. So the condom is for both of us, you know? I can't risk passing it on, and you definitely shouldn't risk getting it." The words hit you like a physical blow. The universe is playing a cruel, sick joke. You came here seeking safety, fleeing from the unknown risk of the biker. And you've just walked straight into the arms of the known, quantifiable, undeniable risk. He was offering you the very thing you craved, but you were the one who put on the brakes. The failure is entirely yours. He picks up the XXL Magnum and rolls it down his impressive shaft. He enters you, and the fuck is focused and determined. He's trying to make it good for you, to prove that safe sex can be just as hot. He fucks you with a new intensity, his hips snapping, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The upward curve of his cock is a masterpiece of engineering, grinding relentlessly against your prostate with every thrust. It should be heaven. It is heaven, for your body. Your cock hardens instantly, responding to the expert, targeted stimulation. You feel the familiar, tightening coil of an orgasm building in your gut, stronger and more insistent than anything you've felt in a long time. He cums with a loud groan, his body shuddering against yours. You feel the powerful throb of his cock through the latex, the warmth of his load flooding the reservoir tip, a contained, captured explosion. The sensation is the final, cruel irony. He's cumming inside you, but not really. You're being filled, but not at all. It's a simulation of the act you truly desire, a perfect, safe, and utterly hollow imitation. Your own orgasm, when it finally arrives, is powerful and intense, a massive, gut-wrenching release that leaves you breathless. Your cum shoots across your chest in thick, white ropes. It's the kind of orgasm that should leave you satisfied, spent, and content. But as the waves of pleasure recede, all you feel is a profound, aching emptiness. Your body got exactly what it needed. Your soul got nothing. He collapses on top of you, kissing your neck, whispering how amazing that was. Then he does something that feels both intimate and horrifying. He scoops up a glob of your cum from your chest with his finger. He brings it to his own lips, tasting it with a curious smile. Then he leans in and kisses you, his tongue pushing into your mouth, sharing the taste of your own seed. Next, he lowers his head to your chest. You watch, mesmerized, as his tongue extends, pink and wet, and slowly, deliberately, laps up a large, copious glob of your own cooling cum from your skin. He rises back over you, his face hovering just above yours. Your own seed is a pearly, thick pool on his tongue. He doesn't swallow. His eyes are locked on yours, and a slow, boyish grin spreads across his face. It's a look of pure, unadulterated delight, the kind of smile someone gets when tasting their favorite forbidden treat. You can see in that smile that he genuinely loves this, loves the taste of cum, loves the intimacy of sharing it. But beneath the joy, there's a flicker of something else—a deep, familiar sadness. It's the look of a man who now sees his own cum not as a gift to be shared, but as a poison he must keep to himself. A poison, locked away in the swollen reservoir of a black XXL Magnum lying on the floor beside the bed. He parts his lips slightly, and a single, thick strand of your cum begins to drool from his mouth, a glistening, white bridge connecting him to you. It dangles for a moment, then drops perfectly onto your waiting tongue. The taste is immediate, salty, and familiar—the taste of your own failure. And then he leans in and kisses you. It's a passionate, deep kiss, but this time it's different. It's not a sharing; it's a force-feeding. He pushes the entire contents of his mouth—your entire load—into yours. His tongue swirls with yours, making you taste yourself, coating your throat with your own seed. It's an act of ultimate intimacy, a desperate attempt to connect, to give you everything he has. But as you lie there, his weight on you, the smell of his sweat and latex filling your nostrils, you feel nothing. You're a ghost in your own life. The perfect fuck was a perfect failure. You lie together for a while, his arm draped over you, his breathing slowing into a post-coital rhythm. He's cuddling. He's being a good, normal lover. And every second of it is agony. You need to get out of there, but the thought of leaving this warm, safe bubble feels like a loss. "Hey," you say, your voice flat. "I should probably get going. Early start tomorrow." He lifts his head, and you see a genuine flicker of sadness in his eyes. "Oh. Okay. Sure," he says softly. He doesn't want you to go either. "Just let me hit the bathroom real quick," he adds, giving you a lazy, regretful smile. He slides out of bed, his naked body confident and relaxed. He disappears into the bathroom, and you hear the sound of the fan clicking on, the door left slightly ajar. You lie there, staring at the ceiling, your heart a cold, heavy stone in your chest. You hear the sound of him pissing, a steady, intimate stream. Then the rustle of toilet paper. A moment of silence. Then the sound of the wastebin lid opening and closing with a soft thud. He comes back out, still naked, and pads over to the dresser to pull on his jeans. "All yours," he says, his back to you. You slide out of bed, your own movements feeling stiff and robotic. You walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. It's pristine, white-tiled, and smells of lemon-scented cleaner. And your eyes go immediately to the small, chrome wastebin tucked beside the toilet. You kneel down, your heart hammering against your ribs. There it is. It's not just a used rubber; it's a heavy, swollen teardrop of black latex, the reservoir end straining with the sheer volume of its super-charged contents, tied off in a neat, careful knot. You reach in, your fingers trembling as they close around it. It's not just warm, it's hot, radiating a fierce, living heat against your palm. The weight of his massive load is a tangible, shocking thing. You hold it up to the light. The milky contents are thick, almost cloudy inside, a potent, living memory of the encounter. You bring it to your nose. The smell is intoxicating—a complex cocktail of the sterile latex, the sharp, salty scent of his fresh, toxic seed, and the faint, earthy trace of your own ass from where he's been. This is it. This is the ghost of the risk. You should flush it. You should throw it away and walk out and never look back. But the addiction is a demand, not a request. You look at your reflection in the mirror over the sink—at the naked, "safe" husband who is about to do something profoundly depraved. There is no place to hide it. No pocket. No bag. There is only one place to keep this secret. You lean against the cool edge of the counter, spreading your cheeks with one hand. With the other, you press the hot, knotted condom against your hole. After being fucked by his magnificent large cock, your ass is still relaxed, open, and welcoming. There is no resistance. With a slow, deliberate push, the heavy, cum-filled condom slides into you with a wet, obscene ease. Your body accepts it, embracing the shameful trophy. You feel a strange, uncomfortable, and deeply shameful fullness. You feel like a smuggler, a thief, a pervert. You also feel alive. You stand up slowly, the feeling bizarre. A secret weight shifting inside you with every move. You wash your hands, the act so mundane it's surreal. You look at yourself one last time in the mirror. You look the same, but you are fundamentally, irrevocably different. You open the bathroom door and walk back into the hotel room. He's fully dressed now, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at his phone. He looks up when you come in, and his expression is soft, a little melancholic. You quickly pull on your clothes, the movements feeling clumsy and disconnected from your body. You stand by the door, the moment of departure hanging in the air between you, thick with unspoken words. He stands up and walks over to you. He doesn't go for a casual hug. He pulls you into a deep, tender embrace, holding you tightly for a long moment. You can feel his heart beating against your chest. It's the hug of a man who genuinely connected with you, who is sad to see you go. "It was really, really great meeting you," he says, his voice quiet and sincere as he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. "I wish... well, you know. Business trip." He gives you a small, sad smile. "Take care of yourself, okay? Be careful out there. Not everyone is as upfront as me." You just nod, your throat too tight to speak. He's the dream guy. He's perfect. He's even poz, the ultimate risk wrapped in a beautiful, considerate package. And you are walking away. You know you will likely never see him again. You turn and open the door, stepping out into the hallway without looking back. With every movement, you feel the condom inside you, a toxic bomb you are now carrying through the world. The walk to the elevator, the ride down, the walk through the lobby—it's all a dreamlike haze. The whole walk through town, feeling the toxic bomb inside your ass... what a mindfuck again. The walk home is a blur of paranoia and dark excitement. The weight inside you is a constant, physical reminder of your transgression. Every step, every jolt on the pavement, every time you have to clench your ass to hold it in, sends a fresh wave of illicit pleasure through you. You feel like a smuggler, carrying a precious, dangerous cargo through the mundane world of shops and pedestrians. By the time you reach your front door, your hands are shaking slightly. You unlock the door and step inside. The silence of your empty apartment is a stark contrast to the roaring in your head. Everything is neat, clean, and normal. The life you're supposed to have. You drop your keys on the table, and the sound is too loud. You kick off your shoes. You feel filthy, a contaminant in this sterile environment. You don't go to the living room. You go straight to the bathroom, your sanctuary and your crime scene. You lock the door behind you, a flimsy, meaningless gesture. You turn on the light and look at yourself in the mirror. You see your face, flushed from the walk, your eyes wide and dark. You see a successful 49-year-old husband. But you know the truth. You see a man who is carrying a used condom, filled with poz-cum, in his ass like a twisted trophy. It's time to retrieve it. You get on the floor, on your hands and knees, like an animal. You reach back and press on your hole, trying to push it out. It's not easy. Your body wants to keep it, to hold onto the secret. You have to bear down, your face contorting with the effort. On the one hand, you're being careful, not wanting to make a mess. But a darker, secret part of you wishes it might rupture, that the latex would tear and spill his toxic load inside you. You imagine the moment, the warmth spreading, the irreversible act. But it doesn't. It stays intact, a perfect, preserved ghost. Slowly, you feel the knot of the condom pressing against your rim. You push harder, and with a wet, obscene plop, it slides out onto the bathmat. It lies there, a glistening, deflated teardrop of latex. You pick it up. It's cool now, but still heavy. You hold it up to the light, the milky contents sloshing inside. You untie the knot. The smell hits you immediately—the sharp, sterile scent of latex mixed with the musky, complex smell of his cum, and the faint, earthy trace of your own ass from where it's been. You could flush it. You could throw it away. That would be the sane, safe thing to do. But you're not sane or safe anymore. This isn't just a used rubber; it's a vessel. It contains the very thing you were denied. The real risk. The toxic seed. A memory of the hotel encounter with one of the most perfect guys you have ever met. You carry it to the kitchen. You open the freezer. You move aside the frozen peas and the ready meals. You find a spot in the back, behind a bag of ice cubes. As you place the condom carefully on the small, empty shelf, a cold, rational thought cuts through the fog of your depravity. You know that freezing it will essentially sterilize it, killing any living virus. It's a scientific fact. It's the part of your brain that still functions, that still cares about self-preservation, offering you an out. It's not just a trophy; it's a safe trophy. A deactivated bomb. But that's not why you're doing it. You're not preserving it for its danger. You're preserving it for its memory. You're freezing the moment, the feeling, the scent of the perfect man who was poz, the risk he represented, the connection you threw away. The freezing is a lie you tell yourself to make the ritual bearable, but the truth is in the act itself. You are keeping a piece of him, a piece of the risk, a piece of the night you failed. You close the freezer door. You stand in your kitchen, naked, your ass still slick and tingling, a profound sense of calm washing over you. You know, with absolute certainty, that you will be back at that rest area.

The next day, Nigel was left on his own as his aunt was meeting a friend and Kevin had a job on the other side of town. He was excited but apprehensive about what had happened at the sauna. Had he really let those old men fuck him? It seemed like a dream, but his sore and gaping arsehole was evidence it wasn’t. He was worried about the toxic cum in him but also excited when he thought about it and couldn’t help wanking his little cock until it spurted in the toilet. Later, he decided to go into town with the vague idea of going to see a film. It wasn’t a great town, somewhat run down, but it had a canal running through it and as he was early he decided to walk along the tow path. It was a hot day and he began to get sweaty even though he was only wearing a tee shirt and shorts over his short, fat body. He found himself in an older area with a wall beside the path and a succession of tunnels over the canal. As he approached one, he saw a group of men standing under the arch which also seemed to have some kind of alcove in the back of it. They were mostly black, very rough looking and passing a bottle between them. He hesitated about walking through them but then recognised a small old man from the sauna who he remembered was called Arthur. “Well, well!” He grinned, showing off his blackened teeth. “If it isn’t Nigel from yesterday. How’s your bum? Still sore?” Nigel blushed as he approached the group. He intended to keep walking, but Arthur took his arm and a couple of the men barred his way. “He’s got a lovely arse. Fat cheeks and tight hole.” The men grinned and leered at him. Nigel felt afraid yet excited. He wanted to leave, but something made him also want to stay. One of the men offered him the bottle. He was a short, old black guy with a stained sweat shirt and trousers. “Have a swig!” He said in a tone which was more of an order. Nigel took the bottle. The liquor burned his throat and made his eyes water. The men laughed and one of them suddenly pinched his nipple through his tee shirt. He gasped but felt his cock stiffen in his shorts. Arthur produced some poppers and handed them round. The air under the arch was filled with aroma which made Nigel’s heart pound. “Good lad!” Said Arthur. “I’m sure you’d like to entertain my friends, wouldn’t you?” He indicated the alcove in the back of the tunnel. There was a pile of rubbish, and in amongst it was an old, stained mattress. “ I...I..dunno.” Said Nigel, his head swimming from the poppers. Around him, a couple of old men opened their trousers and were wanking hungrily. “Don’t worry. They just want to fuck you. You’d like that wouldn’t you? “Arthur stuck the bottle under his nose and Nigel felt himself led into the darkened alcove. “By the way, we’re all very toxic but you won’t mind being bred with their dirty babies will you? After all, you're probably already pregnant, eh?” Nigel’s head was swimming but the poppers had made him melt with lust. He heard Arthur say “Someone keep watch while we do him!” Then he was in the alcove and eager hands stripped him of tee shirt and shorts. He heard them sigh happily as they laid his nude body face down on the mattress. Something wet and slippery was rubbed in the cleft between his buttocks and then the first of them got on top of him and slid a heavy cock up his arsehole. He gasped with the size of it, but it felt so good he opened around it easliy Arthur stood in the tunnel looking along the path. Every now and then he glanced into the alcove, noting yet another pair of naked, sweating buttocks rise and fall on Nigel’s pale body as he was buggered. Two women were coming along the path. One he recognised from the sauna – Timmy’s mother was it? - but he didn’t know the other. As they drew level Timmy’s mum said “ Hello Arthur. What are you doing here? “ She glanced at the homeless guys and leered. “I think I know!” Arthur just laughed and licked his lips at her. “This is my friend, Jane. Her nephew Nigel is staying with her and he said he might come into town later so we’re walking in to find him.” There was a grunt and a low moan of ecstasy from the alcove. The women glanced at each other at the unmistakable sounds of sex. Nigel's aunt blushed as Arthur winked at her. Arthur grinned. This was a turn up! Should he? Should he? He giggled and moved the crowd aside so they could see the alcove. Nigel was naked, face down being fucked slowly, sexily by a fat black guy who had his trousers down. His naked bittocks clenched and relaxed as he thrust into the arsehole already lubed with several loads of spunk. Nigel turned his head and opened his eyes “Aunt!” He gasped. She raised her hand to her mouth “Nigel!” she said in shock. Timmy’s mother laughed and gave her a cuddle. “Naughty little so and so, isn’t he?”

PART TWO: LUCK FOR THE CURIOUS Of DESIRED OBSESSIONS: RECKLESS REUNION | VOLUME II For a moment, all Felix could hear was his own breathing, fast and excited. He bit his bottom lip as he felt the erotic burning sensation from the shard. With the few thoughts the high hadn’t yet obliterated, he wondered if he was still under his blankets; this was too hot and too perfect, it had to be a dream. Then, the door opened. The boys walked in. The Latin guy, Tiago, whose name was tattooed down his arm, was chewing gum slowly, blowing bubbles and flipping it around with his tongue. He had a huge grin on his face with eyes wide to match. He was the shorter and skinnier of the three, and Felix was no expert, but through the netted shorts, what looked to be about nine inches was close to coming out of the leg. The black guy, Dreddy, was shorter than Logan with a tougher build. A purple durag was on his head, and his black jean shorts were baggy and sagged in the back. It was harder to tell what he was packing, but the raw confidence radiating off him was enough to make Felix’s hole twitch in anticipation. "This where the party's at?" Tiago said, peering through the stall door. “Our boy’s gonna keep a look out,” Dreddy added, fully opening the stall door and then locking them inside. Felix was kneeling in front of them, gyrating his hips ever so slightly, continuously up and down. "Ain’t no party with just one fool, though," Felix pouted. Dreddy was quick to reply. "That’s why we’re here, but I don’t see no fool." He exchanged a smile with Tiago and added, "You know, but I do see a mouth that’s way too empty." Tiago playfully thrust his hip forward twice, and his erect cock swung heavily under his shorts. Felix thought to himself, Oh my god... That thing was probably only semi-hard. He felt his hole clench and flex, a hungry pulse. "Dreddy, I think you’re right," Tiago said, wasting no time as he pulled out his uncut cock, not as thick as Logan’s but noticeably longer. He gave it two fast, hard strokes, and it stiffened even more. Yes, much longer. Felix's mouth opened in surprise for a moment. "Did it just get…" His mouth was already watering in anticipation. Tiago nodded. "He’s excited to get to know you. Show my cock some love, papi." Felix took Tiago's cock in his hand and lifted it slightly, allowing himself access to Tiago’s low-hanging balls. He made sure there was a small pool of spit, which he cupped slightly on the top of his tongue, and then licked up the front of Tiago's balls to the base of his shaft, increasing his speed as he glided off the tip. He gently pulled the foreskin back, shot a look up at Tiago, as Felix started to rotate his tongue and lips at the tip first, slowly adding more and more of Tiago’s cock into his wet mouth. Felix looked up as both of the guys passed the pipe back and forth, lighting it for each other. Tiago clicked the torch for Dreddy's hit. "Our boy Logan tells us you're a little party bottom." Dreddy blew the smoke down at Felix. "A slutty party bottom.". He took another long hit that Tiago encouraged by keeping the flame heating the glass. "Damn, you ain’t fuckin’ playin’! Fuck, that feels good!" Tiago threw his head back, a guttural moan ripping from his throat. Dreddy watched for a moment, completely still. "Yo, what I tell you the other night. Latin twink bottoms just get it." Dreddy started to tug his shorts down. His huge cock was pressing against the fabric, like it was ready to spring out on its own. Felix stole a quick glance as Dreddy teased his reveal. I wanna be surprised, Felix thought, these cocks are mine. He spit on Tiago’s cock and continued to suck it, the slick, smacking sounds filling the small space. "Yeah, a booty-bumped, cock-hungry little bitch like you got our dicks staying wet, right?" "Yes, papi," Felix slowly shoved the cock to the back of his throat and held it there, summoning more saliva, letting it pool and drip down his chin. "Yes, take it." Tiago applied pressure to the back of Felix’s head, holding him in place. "Mhm…mhm, that’s it. Choke on that shit." Dreddy pulled more of his shorts down. "Get that deep throat and get that mouth runnin’. That spit better be drippin’ down my dick the whole time." Felix took his mouth off Tiago’s cock, a thick string of saliva trailing with him, still connecting them. Felix smiled breathlessly and then opened his mouth wide with his tongue out, the little pool of spit cupped at the center, an offering. "That’s the kind of attention we deserve." Dreddy said proudly, yanking his shorts down and grabbing his 10.5-inch dick by the shaft, holding it up. He placed his heavy balls on Felix’s tongue and controlled the same glide Felix had done before, but this time, after he passed the tip, he plunged his cock into Felix’s mouth. With urgent hunger, Felix went back and forth between the two cocks. Slow, slow, he had to remind his high brain. Sometimes he would get too eager, too hungry. He focused on exploring each cock, testing their reactions to not just deep throating, but focusing on the sensitive heads, blowing cool air on the wet skin, jerking them with a tight fist before swallowing them again. Felix’s mind was a complete, blissful blank. Except for the insatiable need for more cock, of course. He was completely consumed by the lust and the high. Booty-bumped and creaming, his hole was growing wetter by the second. Tiago and Dreddy continued taunting him with moans and sharp slaps on the cheek with their spit-dripping cocks, marking him as theirs. “Alright, time to put this pussy to work.” Dreddy’s announced, as he moved behind Felix. His hands were rough, gripping Felix’s hips and pulling them up. "Get that ass up now..." Felix forced his back into a deep arch that presented his hole like an offering. He shut his eyes, his entire body trembling. It was thrilling. “Fill my pussy up with that dick, papi,” he moaned, the words a desperate, filthy prayer. He could feel Dreddy stroking the fat, leaking head of his cock against his puckered hole, teasing, smearing his own precum around the entrance, making his hole twitch and clench. The wait was pure agony. “This little party faggot wants it bad boy!" Tiago's voice was hushed and excited. His cock was oozing precum, and he pressed the tip against Felix's lips, not pushing in, just letting him feel the heat and bitter taste of his juices. Then, Dreddy didn't wait. He pushed forward, and the thick head of his cock entered Felix’s tight hole in one brutal, unrelenting thrust. The burn was immediate and sharp, a searing heat that bloomed deep inside but after a few second Dreddy didn’t have to do much to force him open, stretching him wider than he thought possible. Felix tried to hold in the scream, but it was ripped from his throat, echoing off the tiled walls. The sound was instantly choked off as Tiago took that exact moment to shove his own dick deep into Felix's mouth, using the cry as an opportunity to bury himself deep. Tiago spit on Dreddy's dick and Dreddy added to it right before he plunged it in again. Felix was trapped, as shocks started to hit his body, or at least that's what it felt like to him. All he could do was drool on the uncut cock pushing deeper into his mouth. But it was Dreddy’s rhythm that truly undid him. He didn't just fuck; he possessed. Each stroke was a deep, grinding withdrawal that left Felix feeling achingly empty for a split second, followed by a powerful, hip-snapping thrust that slammed home, burying every inch to the hilt. The force of it punched the air from Felix’s lungs, making his entire body jolt forward. Dreddy’s grip on his hips was like iron, pulling him back to meet every punishing plunge, ensuring there was no escape from the overwhelming fullness. Felix could feel the thick, ridged vein on the underside of Dreddy’s cock dragging against the part of his hole the Tina rock had melted. The friction that sent sparks of pleasure-pain shooting up his spine. He forced himself to relax his throat, to open up and take Dreddy's punishing strokes deep inside his guts while gagging on the sheer length of Tiago’s shaft as it began to fuck his face in earnest. As Dreddy established a devastating rhythm, pulling out halfway only to slam back in with long, powerful strokes that made Felix’s legs vibrate and threaten to give out, Tiago was in a different world as he milked the sensitive head of his cock on Felix’s tongue, swirling his hips. “Make sure you taste all that pre-cum,” Tiago grunted, his voice tight with pleasure. “Fucking parTy slut needs every drop, don’t you? Drink it up.” "Fuck, yeah, you like that?" Dreddy’s voice was a ragged pant behind him. "You like being stuffed with two big dicks, you little cock-hungry parTy whore?" His thrusts became harder, more erratic, his heavy balls slapping against Felix's taint with a wet, percussive beat that was the only rhythm Felix’s world had left. Felix managed to gasp for a sliver of air around Tiago's cock. “Yes, fuck… I fuckin’ love it…” He did love it, but the feeling was overwhelming and the sensation at this level was new. Was this how it felt to get fucked with a partied-up hole? It was almost too much for Felix to handle, his mind short-circuiting with every slam. Then, Logan’s voice cut through their haze from the doorway. “Park is gettin' a bit crowded, boys. We gotta move. Now.” The spell was shattered. Tiago and Dreddy both pulled out in a rough, sudden rush, leaving Felix suddenly, shockingly empty. He collapsed forward, gasping out a long, shuddering sigh that was equal parts relief and annoyance, he shuddered. “Easy now…” Dreddy laughed, giving Felix’s ass a sharp, possessive smack before helping him off his knees. Felix’s legs felt like jelly. “That was… woah…” Felix giggled, his voice a raw, hoarse thing as he leaned against the wall, fumbling with his shorts. Tiago was dressed in seconds and quickly walked out. Felix splashed cold water on his face, trying to come back to earth. Dreddy washed his hands beside him, and in the mirror, they caught eyes and shared a knowing, dirty laugh. As Felix pushed the door open to go outside, he quickly tossed on sunglasses from his pocket and pushed his hair back. He hadn't realized how much he had been sweating. He stopped suddenly and smiled. He wasn’t expecting all three of the guys to be waiting just outside the door. Logan stood in the middle, beaming. “What it must have been like in there…” he mused, shaking his head with a grin. Felix shrugged, a new, cocky confidence surging through him. “Well, it was just gettin’ started.” “So, then what’s good, lil’ papi?” Tiago asked, that grin returning to his face. Dreddy adjusted his dick in his shorts and looked around. “Yeah-yeah… soo…” Felix took in each of the guys, his body still humming with the aftershocks. “I mean, I live like two blocks away…” [END OF PART TWO] Next up, Part 3 in Volume II

!!NEW STORY!! (Desired Obsessions will be an anthology series exploring themes, this thread centering around reunions too hot to turn from and too dark to not indulge in) DESIRED OBSESSIONS: RECKLESS REUNION | VOLUME II Part One: Long Games Felix burrowed under his blankets, a cocoon of total darkness that was supposed to bring sleep. It was useless. For an hour, he’d tried to ignore the nasty thoughts swirling in his head, but they only kept him tangled in the sheets. His fingers traced a slow, absent-minded trail over his nipples, down the sharp ‘V’ of his hips, across the caramel skin of his inner thighs. A touch he melted into. Rolling onto his stomach, he peeked out. 4:05 AM. The red digital numbers glowed. He’d been chatting with some dude from an app, but the screen was dark now, the conversation having gone cold long before. But he thought of the pics the dude had sent: a thick, uncut, hairy blonde cock from four different angles. One of them had a can of lighter butane next to it for size reference. Slowly, he ground his hips into the mattress. A low, "Mmm," escaped his lips as an erection began to press into the bedding. "Yes…" he whispered, giving in to the inevitable. Sleep wasn't coming. "I’m gonna get spun." But what kind of night should this be? Felix was no stranger to wild nights, quickly bored by anything mild. Something new, he thought. The raw, the unfiltered. He moaned again, pushing his hips off the bed, arching his back until his ass was high in the air, an offering to the empty room. An idea struck. "And why not get lit that way?" He threw the blankets off, went to his nightstand, and opened the drawer, retrieving a small black case. Inside were a few small containers of party favors and a liquid syringe. He uncapped one, trying to remember the amount his friend had used last time, then pinched small white rocks into the syringe and filled it with a small amount of water. As he shook it gently, he thought of the first and only other time he’d gotten high this way. A small group hosted by a vers friend. All night, all raunchy. He was crazy high and crazy cock-hungry. His dick got hard as he watched the rocks dissolve. This is going to be wild, he told himself. His booty bump was ready. He grabbed his phone, put on some porn, and laid on his stomach. He positioned his ass in the air, pushed his hole out against the plastic tube, found the right spot, and pressed the plunger. The cool water splashed against his inner walls. He tightened, slid the tube out, not a single drop wasted, and began to grind his hard cock into the mattress as he pushed the plunger, flooding his hole. The build was slow, but when the feeling crested, it was electrifying, far more intense than smoking. He loved the way it made his hole feel: warm and tingling, alive with anticipation for anything. He took a hit of poppers. Two nostrils deep. His lungs filled with the sharp scent. He saw precum leaking from his cock. He pushed his hips onto the bed, eyes transfixed on the porn playing from his phone, and ground his hard dick into the mattress, over and over. "Fuck, that is so hot," he cried out. The booty bump was taking effect. His head buzzed. The verbal cries from the porn invaded his consciousness, and he imagined himself as the bottom in the video, on his knees, hungrily servicing two uncut Latin cocks. Spit filled his mouth as one of them forced a cock deep in his throat. He took another hit of poppers. His hole burned with an erotic warmth that made his hard cock leak even more. In the video, the two guys getting serviced towered over the small twink. The size difference made Felix even harder. Lost in the fantasy and the euphoric high, he continued grinding his sensitive cock into the mattress, moaning along with the video. "Fuck, ahhhh." He desperately wanted to be that bottom, fucked by both men. The booty bump flooded him with images of their thick cocks stretching him, making him scream. The room was hot and sticky. All that mattered was getting cock. Felix moaned, “Fuck, I need it so bad.” Another hit of poppers. He got louder, his hips bucking faster, accenting the curve of his bubble ass. A double hit of poppers. He stopped. He lifted his hips up and away from the bed, taking deep breaths to ride the edge of the peak he’d almost hit. Edging, bringing himself to the brink and then denying release, was his new favorite game. The porn played on, but Felix knew he needed the real thing. He considered texting the top from the other night, who was particularly skilled, but then reasoned with himself. Felix was a connoisseur of "firsts," of the new encounter where everything was a discovery. Anon. He’d tried it and loved it, the blindfold and everything. He ran through a mental list of things he hadn’t done, a list that got shorter by the weekend, before he settled on… public play. After a quick, hot shower, he dressed. The high thrummed under his skin and seemed to vibrate as he packed his fanny pack with favors before heading out. The morning air was still cool, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body. It felt good. He cut through the park a few blocks from his apartment. It was a casual cruising spot he’d always been too jumpy to try. Most guys were around in the middle of the night. Too cold and too creepy, Felix thought. The edges of the trees seemed to shimmer against the grass, and it all blurred at the edges of his vision. Felix did a second booty bump post-shower. He found the park mostly empty except for people walking dogs and others doing yoga or sunbathing. He followed the path to the men’s bathroom. Sitting on the benches just outside would be the best place to start; it would be one of the only open places so early in the morning. He sat sideways on the bench, one leg tucked under him, the same-side arm draped over the back. All he’d have to do was arch his back, pushing his warm, tingling ass toward any guy who might look twice. He blinked a couple of times and laughed softly to himself. “I am fuckin’ flying.” He discreetly ground his hand against his tight red nylon running shorts. He was gently startled by a burst of laughter and loud voices. Three men walked towards him, their energy infectious and sloppy. Felix, keeping his gaze soft, clocked their sneakers, the baseball hats on the white guy and the Latin guy, the basketball jersey on the white guy that was vaguely familiar, and bits of their odd, slurred conversation. He was much too high to coordinate anything, but he looked back and away in their direction just enough to make sure they noticed. The guys settled under a tree across from him, glancing over as they continued their boisterous conversation. Felix smiled, which got the white guy's attention, it was curious and something more than just interesting. Alright. Time to kick this up a notch. Felix arched his back and stood, moving with deliberate slowness. All three guys watched. Felix turned and headed for the men's bathroom. It was deserted. The morning air was growing thick with the heat of the day, the scent of bleach overpowering the faint smell of piss. Three stalls, doors open. Two sinks. Felix went to one and looked at himself in the mirror that hung just above it. The bathroom door creaked open. The white guy, hat pulled low, with that jersey and grey sweatpants, walked in. His face had something about it, Felix thought, but their eyes locked instantly through the mirror. Felix stepped into the stall furthest from the door, and the guy followed, the door clicking shut behind him. Felix faced him as he grabbed his dick, pressing his sweatpants against it. He bit his lower lip, silently daring Felix with each squeeze of his growing cock. Felix dropped to his knees, the cold tile biting his skin. He pressed his face against the grey sweatpants, inhaling deeply, the dude’s scent mixed with sweat filling his nostrils. He slowly rubbed his face along the length of the bulge, feeling the heat and hardness beneath the fabric. “Fuck….” the guy said, his voice hushed but laced with excitement. “Ain’t you a dirty little piece…” Felix looked up, meeting a familiar gaze and kept it there while he put his mouth over the guy’s cock, tracing it up and down, feeling the shape and size through the fabric. “What? This?” Felix ran his lips along the shaft, teasing and tasting. Lifting the jersey slightly ruffled the team logo Felix was too high to place from across the park, but now, looking at the guy’s eyes through the mirror, Felix softly grabbed the man’s towering thighs as he pulsed his lips, teasing himself with the dick still trapped under the sweatpants. The fact that they both knew each other and were underplaying their surprise wildly turned them both on. A low, gruff voice, as deep as a high school memory, said, “Felix. Pull my cock out.” “Yes, Logan.” Felix whispered, obediently. He slipped his fingers over the grey waistband and pulled. Logan used to refer to Felix as a "pretty dope faggot." He specifically remembered imagining him to help him bust a Logan used to refer to Felix as a pretty dope faggot. He specifically remembered imagining him to help him bust a couple times fucking his girlfriend senior year.a couple times fucking his girlfriend senior year. Now he was a slutty faggot on his knees, teasing his throbbing meat. Logan’s cock was thick in the center and hung eight inches to the right, only halfway to being hard. The second booty bump had Felix focused on one thing, but a few shocked thoughts swirled around the utter disbelief that he was about to suck a dick he’d fantasized about many, many times. Felix rubbed his face against it, then inhaled the scent from his bush. “Fuck, you smell so good. Like a man.” “That’s right. You like how a real man smells, don’t you?” He grabbed Felix by the hair and yanked his head back to look up at him. “Don’t you?” “Uh-huh,” Felix whined, his eyes wide and begging. “That’s right. Keep worshiping that dick.” “Yes, sir, I’ll work for it.” “That’s right. You need to work for that cock.” “Oh, I will.” “Yeah? You deserve this cock?” “I do.” “You deserve that thick cock?” “I do.” Logan loosened his grip on Felix’s hair. “Even after all this time, you still gotta work for it. You know that, right?” “Mhmmm.” Felix started to kiss his cock, deep in worship. Logan had recognized Felix before he even realized he was part of his game. They knew each other, in a way. Same grade, some classes together, friends who might have mixed at some point. But it was alphabetical order—their last names landing them next to each other constantly. The group projects, the good mornings, the commiseration of being ‘just over it’, it had all brewed a friendly, low-key flirty vibe between the guy on the basketball team and the class vice-president on the debate team. Dark excitement burned in Logan’s eyes when he recognized something in Felix’s dark stare. He reached into his pocket and slipped something out. “Would you mind if I hit this right quick?” He flashed a small glass pipe, melted T coating the bottom. The same dark burn lit Felix up with a dark smile. “Nah, just as long as you let me blow a cloud on your cock.” Logan threw his head back and moaned. “Felix, Felix… you’re a bad little boy now, aren’t you?” He took a hit from his pipe and blew the smoke down at Felix. “Oh, Logan… I’m a very bad and very dirty little boy now.” Click. Logan blew his cloud down to Felix, slower this time, covering his face. “But still a little faggot. Wanna be my little faggot?” “I wanna be your little faggot,” Felix’s eyes pleaded with hunger. Logan lit the pipe for Felix. “Good.” He clicked the torch again, signaling for Felix to hit it again. “I told my boys to let me have some one-on-one time with you, since I knew you.” Felix didn’t even wait; he had his mouth back on the pipe before he’d blown out his last hit. “Now, I get to give them my little faggot. My spun little dirty slutty faggot.” Felix positioned his mouth around Logan’s cock, his lips hovering just above it, holding it there. The weight of it drove him crazy. He slowly pulled his head back while letting the cloud coat the thick cock. “Take another hit, faggot.” Logan pushed the pipe into Felix’s eager lips. “Fuck yes…” Felix inhaled as much as he could, eager to please. Logan took a long hit and blew out smoke rings that hit Felix’s face. “I’m ’bout to make you a whore for meth.” Then, with his free hand, he shoved Felix down on his cock. The tip was already hitting the back of his throat. “Yes! Get that thick cock wet….” Logan’s intense eyes gave way to his dark mind. “Get that thick cock nice and wet….” Felix’s spit streamed down his shaft, only to be licked up and then spit out again. “Get that thick white cock nice and wet.” Felix let out a moan as his eyes rolled back. He started sucking faster, stroking it four or six times, and then came to a sudden stop. He kept his tongue out, the cock resting on it, his eyes locked on Logan. His voice was small. “Is that thick white cock wet enough?” Click. Hit. Clouds. “I think you can do better service for this white cock.” He brought the pipe down to Felix. Click. Hit. Hit. Clouds. “Lemme show you how.” Logan said, setting the pipe down on a ledge on the wall, his hands now free to grab Felix and face-fuck him. Felix gagged on Logan’s cock, his throat tight from the hit and the deep penetration. He moaned around the flesh, his eyes wild from the wave of pleasure and the high that washed over him. Logan pulled back slightly, grinning down at Felix, high and sweaty. "You damn sexy taking that thick white cock." Felix nodded his head vigorously, unable to speak. He wanted it more than anything, and he'd do whatever it took to please this man. Without any further warning, Logan slammed his cock back down Felix's throat, choking him slightly as he started a slow but relentless pace. His hands found their way to Felix's ass, squeezing and pulling on the cheeks as he drove deeper. Felix could feel his eyes watering, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. The burning sensation in his chest only fueled his desire for more. He moaned and gagged around the cock, his body arching up into the assault. Logan felt his balls draw up tight as he neared his climax. He gripped Felix's hair tightly and started thrusting harder, his hips slamming against the smaller body. Then he quickly pulled his cock out of Felix's mouth, his grip loosening slightly. He watched as Felix swallowed hard, sucking down the drops of pre-cum. “Been edgin’ with my boys all morning," he murmured, running his fingers through Felix's wet hair. “But I think I’m gonna work up a bigger load for you." Felix leaned into every touch. “Yes, please. Thank you, sir.” “Let’s try, ‘Papi.’” Logan’s voice was playful and menacing. Felix smiled, his voice hazy. “Papi. Gracias, Papi.” Felix’s accent hit Logan like a train. “Sexy… fuckin’ sexy.” Felix felt Logan guiding him to stand. He was dazed, his legs shaking, but when their lips hovered so close together, he forgot everything. “I cannot believe this is happening… and that it’s happening this way.” “The universe, man.” Logan used his other hand to reach into Felix’s shorts, his finger searching for his hole. “We are two lucky fuckers.” One hand held the back of his head, another rubbed against his hole. Felix was frozen, wanting to beg Logan to kiss him, slap him, fuck him. He couldn’t speak. "You're one hell of a cocksucker," Logan whispered, his tone pleased. Breathless, Felix said, “It’s my favorite thing to do, probably next to booty bumps!” “Oh, yeah?” He paused for a second and reached into his pocket. “I think this little Latin cocksucker served this white cock good. I think I got a reward for you.” “Papi… I promise to show you how thankful I am.” “Put two of your fingers in my mouth.” Felix did as he was told and sighed with need when he felt Logan’s tongue on his skin. Logan let saliva build up and drip onto Felix’s fingers. “Wet your—” “Fucking hot.” Felix rubbed his fingers all around his hole. Between his index finger and thumb, Logan held a shard of T. He spit on it, keeping it between them, and nodded for Felix to spit on it. “Against that wall.” Logan forcefully ordered. Felix leaned forward and slowly pulled his shorts down. “Eager little faggot… I fuckin’ love that.” Logan felt his throbbing cock urge him to just shove it in. Rape the faggot, he thought, but gave in to another urge. Felix closed his eyes, waiting for the burn of the shard, but then he felt something else. Logan’s mouth, his tongue pushing against his hole. He cried out in surprise, then moaned random words from how good it felt. Logan went wild at how good Felix’s hole was. He spit on it and pushed his face hungrily into it. “This pussy… oh my god.” “You like my pussy, Papi?” Logan sucked at it and pulled his mouth away. “This pussy…,” he sucked at it again, “right here…” He wildly ate Felix, the moans only making him get sloppier. He spit on it one more time. “This pussy tastes so good. I like it a lot. Don’t get me obsessed with it now.” Felix pouted. “But, why?” He pushed his hole out, then felt a wet hand on his ass, then the burn of the shard Logan pushed into him. He let out a loud moan but then held his breath when he suddenly felt Logan on him, his hand covering his mouth. “You don’t want me to answer that. ‘Cause if I do, I’m so fucking turned on by you, I might go to a really dark place. Twisted things happen to little faggots if I do.” Felix pushed his ass against Logan’s pre-cum-dripping cock Logan slid his hand from Felix’s mouth to his neck. Felix, in a soft voice, said, “Maybe I’m a little faggot who needs twisted things to happen to him.” He pushed back on the rock-hard cock, lining it up to slide between his cheeks. Logan gripped Felix tightly and lined the head of his dick against his hole. “Careful what you ask for, Felix.” He rubbed his pre-cum on Felix and started to push the tip in. Felix held still, his hole relaxed. “Put it in me. Please. Logan, please. I need your big white cock inside of me.” He pushed a little bit more. “Yeah? Is that what you need? A big white cock to put you in your place? Fucking whore. You’re so high and hungry for it.” Felix begged for it. Logan pulled Felix back to look at him. “Just be a good spun little slut who’s ready for my boys, okay? My faggots would do anything for me and my boys.” “I’ll do anything,” Felix said, with daring confidence. Logan was silent as he looked at Felix. Then, he said softly, “Open your mouth.” He spit inside Felix’s open mouth. “Stick your tongue out.” Felix did, and as he was about to close it, Logan barked, “Hold it there.” Then he wrapped his lips around it, sucking at it. Felix couldn’t take it anymore. He started kissing Logan, who started roughly kissing him back, almost giving in and starting to fuck Felix right then. He tightened his hand around Felix’s neck; Felix squirmed. Logan pulled away, fast, and slapped Felix’s face—firm but not too hard. “Don’t fucking do that. Don’t kiss me like that. If you push me to get twisted…” Felix looked back, his eyes big, brown, and apologizing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t kiss you.” “No, uh, it’s not like that,” Logan didn’t know how to explain. He looked at Felix, like meat and prize, “when i’m really high and I want something so fuckin bad… I gotta control myself… you’ll do anything, right?” Felix was curious to know how reckless and enticing he needed to be to get ‘twisted Logan’, his ultimate reward. “Anything.” Logan went to the door and just before he called his boys in, he looked at Logan and said, “Prove it.” [END OF PART ONE] Next up, Part 2 in Volume II

Part Three: The Night of the Blackout It was hour six of the city-wide blackout. The summer had been hot, but now that it was August, the night was almost unbearable. With no A/C, people fled their houses and poured out into the city. The air was thick, wet, and smelled that way summer used to. The streets outside Daniel's family's apartment building had started to fill with the wail of police sirens. Looters were busting up the storefronts nearby; he knew his older cousin, who he lived with along with his uncles and grandparents, was part of that chaos. Their grandparents had left a few days ago on a summer trip one state over, and since Daniel's uncles were never home, he and his cousin had to watch the house. Since he was the youngest, his cousin had told him he had to stay home. He agreed without a fight; he had summer school homework that he was now trying to complete by the flickering light of a few candles huddled together on his small desk. His mind was half on equations and half on the low, restless hum of the night beyond his window. Daniel kept losing concentration in the dark and curious about what was going on outside, in the streets. His curiosity had always gotten the better of him, especially as he got older. When he first stumbled upon his uncle’s stash of porn videos in his drawer, he started attempting to watch them whenever he was alone. That happened very little, so each time was exciting, his very own “sneaking around”, and he liked doing something no one was supposed to know about. Tonight, the videos were out of the question. He imagined one of the scenes where a cop pulls a woman over and ends up fucking her on the hood of his police cruiser. He stood up from the desk; he had to do something about it. He wandered into the room his uncle and cousin shared. He knew there weren’t any magazines, and if there were, they would be of women. He didn’t like them, not in that way. He liked imagining himself as them, though. Next to the closet door was a clothes hamper, and laying on top was a pair of green boxers. He didn't know why, didn't even question it, he just took the boxers to the bed with him. He folded a pillow in half and laid on it stomach-down. He liked to grind his cock into pillows like that, so when he came, he felt it hot on his skin. He pressed the front of the boxers to his face and inhaled. He wasn't sure if they were his uncle's or his cousin's, but the material held a musky scent, faint with a bit of cologne. He rolled his hips against the pillow, up and down, dragging it out like a sexy, slow dance. He moaned and inhaled again. The smell made him grind deeper into the pillow. He imagined the scene again: the police officer’s cock, very long and veiny, incredibly hairy. When he started to pound the woman super fast, he would pull out, there would be a white juice on it, and he wondered how it would taste. That was his favorite part of the video. The officer said, “Suck my cock clean.” She threw herself to her knees and swallowed his cock, her tongue wiping every inch. Daniel had practiced on bananas and zucchinis and cucumbers after studying how the women in the porn videos would suck dudes off. His hard dick rubbed against him and the pillow, and it felt so good. He inhaled again, and on the third inhale, he put the boxers in his mouth. He thought of the cop’s veiny cock in his mouth, tasting his own juices after having it inside of him. He moaned again; this was by far the hottest thing he had ever done. Then, the familiar creak of the front door hit his ears. Someone had walked in. He leaped up as fast as he could, simultaneously tossing the boxers off the foot of the bed and the pillow to the top. The air seemed to shift in a way he couldn’t explain. He was about to ask who it was as he grabbed the bedroom door, ready to slam it and lock it shut, but then he heard a familiar voice. “Hey! I couldn’t tell if y’all were home! My bad, I used the key under the thing! It’s me, Juan!” Daniel was immediately relieved but then quickly on edge. He understood the way the air had shifted now. Juan was one of his cousin’s best friends. He was older than Daniel's cousin from failing a grade, maybe two, in the past, but they hung around together for years. Juan did look a bit older. He was tall, and Daniel noticed every summer how, when Juan wore white tank undershirts, his muscles became more defined. He was Latin, and Daniel's favorite part about him was the caramel color of his skin; it drew him in. Always in an ironed, pressed outfit, Juan was the kind of guy who always wore high-tops, most of the time brand new. Daniel asked him once, and he said, “I’m lucky with delivery trucks. I’m always around when they fall off the back of em.” Daniel was always alert and attentive when Juan was around. He would second-guess everything he would say, get flustered, and either say nothing or bomb a joke. But Juan would save them if he could, and if he was too slow and Daniel’s cousin used it to dog on him, Juan would shoot Daniel an eye-roll or shake his head quickly. So, Daniel decided he had a big crush on Juan a while ago. A couple of months back, there was a night Daniel’s cousin and Juan stopped by the house before heading out for the night. Daniel had been in the front room working on a long math equation, so he spread out multiple pages of paper on the floor. His grandmother was off in her corner sewing, and the TV was playing the baseball game. That was the only reason his cousin and Juan came into the front room. Daniel had shifted from this position so many times on account of how long he had been trying to solve this problem. He sat with his legs crossed, checked his work, and then shifted to laying flat on his stomach. He found a mistake and erased half a page, propping his head up on his elbows. When Juan and his cousin ran in to check the score on the game, Daniel was kneeling, sitting back on his legs, his ass angled upward. They yelled about the score and complained about a call, and his cousin said he’d be real fast and change his clothes. Daniel had been so focused on the equation and its multiple possibilities that he hadn’t been aware of his position or who he was positioned in front of. Juan greeted Daniel’s grandmother, who responded short and quickly. She didn’t care for Juan or most of his friends. “Damn, that looks hella confusing…” Juan said, just above Daniel. Daniel’s pencil froze. He felt odd for sitting the way he was. He managed to say, “It is. And, hella annoying to take up this much space.” He glanced over his shoulder. Juan had on all-black high-tops with gold trim at the bottom. The sneaker’s emblem was also gold. He kept looking at Juan. A smirk on his face, Juan said, “Looks like you got it all figured out down there to me.” Daniel sat up, feeling dumb, and shrugged. “I guess.” “Nah, nah. Don’t let me disturb you while you work. Get back down there and keep doin’ your thing.” Juan said as he turned to leave. But Daniel caught a small lick of Juan’s lips and an even smaller bite of the lower one. He swore he did. His heart and dick jumped. He smiled and put his chest down and continued to do his thing like Juan told him to. In the darkness, Juan held out his cell phone for light in front of him. Then he heard, “I’m just here, it’s Daniel!” followed by a floating candle down the hallway. Then, Daniel’s face appeared, and that made Juan smile, like it always did when he saw Daniel. Juan knew he was sweet on Daniel ever since he met him. He thought Daniel was a good soul and a little like a character from a cartoon that always makes it work. He would hang around all his friends, and not that anyone was mean to Daniel, only his cousin could be, but they weren’t all that inviting. So, Juan became the one to make sure Daniel felt included when he was around. Over the years, Daniel went from being awkward and nerdy to, well, what Juan thought was mad cute, at times, sexy and even beautiful. Juan wasn’t really into guys. He liked doing things with them on the DL (he gave head a few times but preferred getting it, he would never eat ass and never kiss). He knew he wasn’t straight but he wasn’t gay. He had to keep everything to himself anyway, so it helped him not have to figure any of that out. He just did what he wanted to do, and as he got older, in all the adventurous ways he learned how to do it. Daniel had feminine features, but he wasn’t all that feminine. He was still a boy and didn't try to act like a female. He was just different. He was Daniel, the person Juan would jerk off to all the time. Once, Juan had to use their bathroom to rub one out quick after he saw Daniel laying on the floor, his ass up. Presented. Juan locked the bathroom and shoved his shorts down. His cock was already getting hard. He grabbed it, left hand over, tugging it downward with full long strokes. The way Daniel was positioned, the curve of his back, the way his ass was slightly lifted, his ass round, not big but full…it was all too much. He imagined Daniel’s cousin pulling Daniel’s shorts down, for Juan to plunge his cock into his small hole. He switched to hand under his meat stroking faster as he imagined the way it would feel, better than a pussy, he whispered to himself. He thought of how Daniel would moan. He was small though and his waist was tiny. Juan even had girls telling him he was too big, so he knew Daniel would cry out. Quicker breaths escaped him, his foreskin felt heavy between his hands as it slid up and down. The thought of Daniel’s cousin holding him down and covering his mouth so his grandparents wouldn’t hear, made him shoot three long strands of white cum into the air, and onto his stomach. He shuddered as he squeezed his nut from the tip of his cock. He looked around for a towel but grabbed the nearest thing he could find, which was a green pair of boxers. He used them to clean himself of the cum. He grabbed some clothes off the floor and held them up when he walked out. He complained about having to step on them and told his best friend to stop being a slob. He tossed the pile into the bedroom hamper. He knew he needed to be around Daniel more. The feeling was growing stronger, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep himself from Daniel. Juan knew his smile was big when he saw that face in the candlelight. He complained to himself and asked why Daniel had to be so fucking cute. Because what followed were always dirty thoughts. And Juan was extremely creative when it came to his dirty thoughts. But tonight, only Daniel was at the house, and they hadn’t ever been alone before. And on account of the chaotic mindset the blackout had put on everyone, hell, Juan had smashed some windows, letting Daniel’s cousins and his friends into some stores. That adrenaline, running through alleys and how easily it was to lose his friends and to claim he just couldn’t find them, led him to the wildest and darkest sexual thoughts he ever had. All he had every intention of doing tonight. Lingering in a quiet corner of the house, Juan played up a small laugh. “You mean to tell me they left you here to protect the house?” Daniel rolled his eyes. “You’re funny, Juan…” “I did just walk up in here like nothing…” Juan teased. Daniel sighed and said, “That’s cause you knew where the key was. If anyone else tried to get in, I think I would hear it. Plus, I got this…” The wooden baseball bat that always sat by the door came into view as Daniel posed with it on his shoulder. Juan threw up his hands. “Oh damn! Okay, killer. I see you,” he laughed and then asked, “Could I wait here for your cousin since it’s hella crazy outside?” With a smile and a shrug, Daniel said, “Whatever.” Juan helped Daniel find some more candles and helped light them. In between flickers from the matches lighting the new candles and a lighter Juan had on him, their eyes kept meeting. If Juan was flirting, and Daniel thought he might be, it’s just him being nice and probably loving the attention. Daniel was excited but also something else he would learn eventually that the feeling was volatile. Daniel had still been horny from working himself up less than ten minutes ago, so he wasn’t surprised when a tidal curiosity came with a raw, growing urge when he wondered what Juan’s dick looked like. Was he uncut? He hoped he had a bush of pubic hair. Daniel liked the thought of it because he assumed the more you have, the more it keeps the scent. He had never been close enough to one to know for sure, but he knew it was a strong possibility. They talked about baseball and liking wrestling, which Juan was surprised about. Daniel quickly replied, “I’m into how strong they are… their arms, and muscles…” He stopped himself quickly, realizing he had to back himself out of the gay corner. “So you like the dudes… the muscles…?” Juan asked simply. Daniel stammered, “I–I like, like my favorite wrestlers, yeah! And, I appreciate… the muscles cause I wanna have them too one day.” He prayed he saved it. “You don’t need all that muscle, papa.” Juan said, but then stopped himself from saying more. He did a quick and playful tug at the crotch of his jeans. Did that just happen? Daniel asked himself quickly. Then when Juan shifted himself on the couch, the way they were sitting on the couch, it was too dark to see, but Daniel was sure he was hard. He thought of the woman from the porn on her knees, him on his knees, in front of Juan. Juan had almost told Daniel, “You are beautiful like this. For me.” The idea that Daniel was for him, a claim, made his dick get rock hard. It caught even him off guard, and he adjusted out of instinct. He saw Daniel’s eyes fly down and then away. He knew he saw it. Daniel flipped his legs up onto the couch and sat on the back of them. “Whatta a little flirt,” Juan thought to himself. His gaze was confident as he quietly slid closer. His every movement was deliberate: a small slide of a hand here, a lingering nudge after a joke there. It didn’t take much to get Daniel’s attention, but to get him to let things like his homework lay forgotten on the desk, he had to take his time. It paid off when he knew they achieved that and every sense was zero focused solely on Juan’s presence. Daniel caught on quickly to how Juan kept taking chances to touch him. He felt excited and special. He learned the feeling, to be wanted and to have it come from Juan. It was a thrilling feeling and he thought he was responsible to be grateful for it. Juan’s teasing became bolder. Daniel’s poses grew to suggestive. And then, Daniel noticed that Juan’s arms, resting on the back of the couch they sat on, were now almost around his shoulders. He felt Juan’s fingers touch the back of his neck. Daniel shifted closer to Juan. “Why do you look at me like that?” Juan said, his voice low. “Like what?” Daniel asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Juan quietly laughed, as if embarrassed, “It’s like you’re burning for me.” Then he turned away, smiling. Daniel shrugged and smiled. Juan then said, “Maybe it’s like how I've been waiting for you.” Those words rushed through Daniel. Was this happening for real? Flirting and even being touchy was one thing, but to hear Juan say words like that was crazy. He felt dizzy. Daniel looked up at Juan, in the way he now knew to always look at Juan, to pull him in. Juan’s hand moved down Daniel’s chest, and a warmth built up inside him. Then he pulled him closer, but that startled Daniel. Juan’s hand pulling him closer, the smell, the faint scent of cologne and sweat that clung to Juan’s skin made him want but also scared. “Someone might come home…” Daniel squinted in the candlelight, but it was too dark to see clearly. “Nobody here but me.” Juan whispered. He then grabbed Daniel's chin and turned him to face him. “Do you like it when I do this?” His finger traced Daniel's neck. Daniel closed his eyes. “Yes,” he exhaled, and a soft moan whispered. “And you like this?” Juan grabbed Daniel's leg gently and ran his hand up to his ass. Daniel moaned, “Yes, but… I’ve never… I mean, nothing like this.” Juan grabbed Daniel’s face. “Daniel, you know me, right? You trust me?” Daniel hesitated for a second but then nodded his head. He reached for the hand Juan had on his thigh and put it back there. He slowly slid his hand off of Juan’s, wanting every inch of their skin touching to count. Juan squeezed Daniel's thigh a couple of times before moving to his ass cheek. He finally got to squeeze it, he finally got to touch what was going to be his. Daniel stiffened a few times when Juan squeezed his hands. He thought that must be why he does it a couple of times. He tried to tell himself to chill, he wanted desperately to relax. Juan squeezed his ass one more time and took his hand off. Daniel quickly thought, maybe he is turned off now. That quick cause he couldn’t just chill the fuck out. But then, he quickly saw why Juan did that. Juan reached into his jacket pocket and took out a glass pipe. Daniel shook his head. “I don’t smoke weed.” Juan laughed. “This ain’t weed. I know you don’t. I wouldn’t do that. This stuff is just for us.” Daniel was silent as he saw white crystals coming from a little baggie fall into the glass pipe. He didn’t ask what it was or why it crinkled when it was heated up. He was curious about how the smoke rolled inside of the glass bulb when you inhaled and fascinated by the huge clouds that would appear from your lips. “The way it stays, you know, in the air…” Daniel finally said. “Like, clouds, right papa?” Juan offered. Daniel leaned forward, excited, because he knew he was doing something he shouldn’t be doing. With a boy, that something told him, he should not be doing this with. “Clouds, yes papi…” Juan loved how Daniel hadn’t even realized how far his mood shifted. Now he was much more flirtatious and forward. He felt his hard cock pulse; he needed to use it soon. For Daniel, the hits he took off of the glass pipe gave him control of his body in a way he never knew he had the ability to do. “Can I have another hit?” Daniel asked. Juan had just taken a hit, pipe and torch in hand. “Of course you can, here…” he replied, keeping them both close to him. Daniel let out a small giggle and wrapped his legs around Juan’s waist but did not sit on his lap; he held himself up. Juan was amused and incredibly turned on. “Put this in between those pretty lips.” He cued Daniel to inhale. “Keep going… keep going… Now hold it in.” Daniel did as he was told, fighting to hold his breath. “You’re a good boy.” Juan whispered as he gently pushed his hips up. Daniel exhaled his clouds and, just in time, pushed his ass down. A low, almost sigh, “ahhhh…” escaped Juan. Daniel softly moaned as the final bit of clouds passed his lips. “Shhh, we have to be quiet…” Daniel whispered. “Don’t tell me to shhh…” Juan joked. “Shhhh…” Daniel teased, with a playful swivel of his head. Juan pushed his hips up. “I said you don’t shush me…” he joked back. Daniel really felt Juan’s huge cock press onto his ass. His mouth watered, and he brought his lips closer to Juan’s. “Shhhh.” Juan pulled his head back out of habit. He got thrown by Juan’s face getting close to his, wanting to kiss and this irritated him. But when Daniel got that look on his face, confused and a little hurt, Juan didn’t have to think at all. He pushed his lips onto Daniel’s. They both were completely still for a moment. Juan realized Daniel was still not that experienced at kissing and he had to guide him. Juan would do one thing and then Daniel would follow and pick up how their lips were supposed to fit together. Juan eased in their tongues, and eventually Daniel’s arms were around Juan’s neck and Juan’s were on Daniel’s waist. Daniel was a quick learner. They made out; it was wild and wet. They both were moaning out of relief and release of finally tasting each other. Daniel loved the way Juan’s arms held him in place and went up his back, and how strong they were. And as Juan did this, his need to claim Daniel, and the idea that he possessed him, grew with each throb of his dick. Juan laid back. “You seen porn, right?” Daniel nodded eagerly. “You know how they suck the guys’ dicks?” “Yeah.” Daniel said with a smile flashing across his face. Juan unbuttoned his jeans, pushed his boxers down, and pulled his 9-inch uncut cock out. “Wanna try it?” Daniel stared at it intensely. He grabbed it and felt it. It was heavy and thick and had the perfect bush. He used his other hand to feel Juan’s balls, which were bigger than any he had seen in porn before. He was mesmerized and a little in disbelief that this was finally happening, that this was Juan. He slowly pressed his face against the shaft. It was the same length. He took a deep breath in, inhaling his scent. He gently rubbed his face on it. A soft and low moan came from him. “Holy fuck…” Juan said quietly. The candle flickered across Daniel’s face as he began to kiss Juan's cock. He took his time and slowly started to lick it. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, papa.” Daniel was shocked but still horny as fuck and impatient. “Can you open your mouth now?” He grabbed his dick and tapped it on Daniel’s lips. Daniel opened his mouth. Juan laughed. “Gotta open it wider than that if you’re gonna suck my dick.” Daniel forced his mouth to open wider. His mouth was so warm, and they both moaned on contact. He moved Daniel’s head up and down. When he noticed he could go faster, Juan instinctively knew what to do. He started to run his dick faster, in and out. “Oh yes, Daniel, just like that now—” he stopped because Daniel started to slurp on it up and down. Instinct, Juan thought to himself. “Fuck yes, you like that cock, don’t you?” He moaned low. Daniel’s eyes met Juan’s, and as he took his lips back for a second, said, “I love your cock.” Juan’s eyes blazed something dark. He nodded his head, “I think you were made for this dick. Your mouth is so small.” He started to push his hips faster. Daniel started to gag. “But, look at you, it’s so good Daniel, your mouth was made for me, so you gotta take it… come on, papa, take it in your throat.” Daniel squirmed but couldn’t move as Juan held his head in place, fucking his mouth. Afraid he would throw up, he started to whine and twist. Juan let Daniel out of his grip and sighed. “Too much?” He sighed again as he said, “Putting it to your throat shows me how much you want it. That makes it mean something.” Daniel breathed heavily, catching his breath and coughing. “I… don’t wanna throw up.” Juan was silent, just staring down at him, stroking his dick. Daniel grabbed the glass pipe and said, “Light this for me.” Juan, surprised, hesitated but then clicked the torch on. Daniel took a huge hit and two more after Juan made him, then slid his mouth back on Juan’s dick, taking it deeper this time. “Hell yeah, that’s my good boy.” Juan grunted through his teeth. “Use that spit, come on now, I love it hella wet with your spit.” Juan was taken out of his body for a moment, staring at Daniel suck his dick wildly, with hunger; it was intense. There was a special kind of darkness in Daniel’s eyes, and he knew Daniel could see it in his too. With a devilish smile, Juan produced a small bottle of lube from his pocket, and Daniel's eyes widened with both excitement and fear. "Don't worry," Juan teased, "You want this and you know it." Juan was incredibly turned on but just seeing Daniel naked. He was perfect and soft. He wanted to kiss him all over but stopped himself and instead, had Daniel on his back and legs up in the air. He gently pushed his finger against the tightness of Daniel's hole, slowly giving way to his touch. Daniel gasped, his body tensing slightly before relaxing into the sensation. Juan's finger slid in deeper, and Daniel moaned softly, his hips involuntarily pushing back against the intrusion. “Come on now,” Juan whispered, his voice low and soothing. “Let me in.” Daniel took a deep breath, trying to relax his muscles. Juan's finger moved in and out, lubricating the way for more. Daniel's moans grew louder, his body responding to the new sensations. “You like that, don’t you?” Juan asked, his voice husky with desire. Daniel nodded, his eyes closed tightly. “Yes…” Juan added another finger, stretching Daniel gently. Daniel's moans turned into soft whimpers, his body writhing with pleasure and a hint of discomfort. “You know, I’m being nice by doing this for you,” Juan soothed, his other hand stroking Daniel’s back. “No one would do this for you. But, I am.” Daniel exhaled and relaxed into Juan’s fingers, he stared up at him in that way. Daniel’s body began to adjust, and he started to push back against Juan’s fingers, slowly giving way to his touch. "Oh my god," Daniel breathed, his body trembling and getting used to the feeling. "It feels… different.” "Imagine how it’s gonna feel when it's my cock inside you." With every passing moment, Daniel had sensations that overwhelmed him. He felt like he was on fire. But those same emotions flooded him with a desperate craving for more of Juan. But was also terrified of being ripped open. Juan removed his fingers"You're ready for me now," he whispered, positioning himself between Daniel's legs. “Um, But, Juan, I don’t know about this.” Daniel looked around wildly. Juan gripped Daniel's hips tightly to pull back his attention. “We got you all relaxed already, don’t go ruining it.” Juan entered him slowly, but gave Daniel very little time to adjust to his size. Daniel's breath hitched as he felt the thick, uncut cock pushing into him, stretching him to his limits. Daniel whined; he didn’t know what to do. He wanted it, but it hurt. Something told him to tell Juan to stop, but he didn’t say anything. Juan had never felt what he was feeling now. It wasn’t just Daniel’s tight hole; it was that he was taking his virginity. He got crazed by knowing he was the only dick that’s been inside of Daniel. He pumped his hips back and forth and his moans turned to growls. Daniel started to whine louder, so Juan put his hand on his mouth. Daniel’s eyes got wide. He squirmed, but that only made Juan want him more. “Daniel, you were grinding up all on this dick. Then you were slurping it up. I don’t get teased. I take.” The pain was intense; Daniel was trying to beg Juan to stop and pushed against Juan’s chest. Then Daniel realized Juan had picked him up and brought him to the top of the desk. Juan’s eyes caught Daniel’s with an intensity that made Daniel hold his breath. Then with a forceful low voice, Juan said, “Grab the desk with both hands.” Daniel gripped the edges of the desk. As Juan continued to fuck him, he gripped the desk harder with every slam of the huge cock. He thought of the way he grabbed the desk as a way to maintain some semblance of control. Then he felt a jolt inside of him, and then another. Daniel’s cries became moans that grew louder, Juan's pace quickened, his hips slapping against Daniel's ass with increasing intensity. Juan's thrusts became more erratic as he knew he was close to busting. He gripped Daniel's hips tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled him closer, needing to be as deep inside him as possible. "Fuck, Daniel," Juan growled, "I wanted to fuck you for so long. I waited for a long ass time. I'm not going to last much longer." Daniel kept feeling waves or jolts in his stomach. He had stopped trying to pull away from Juan because the jolts, they started to feel good, he couldn’t believe the sounds coming out of his mouth. He was turned on. Juan took his hand off of Daniel’s mouth. He grunted, thrusting faster and faster. Their eyes were locked on each other. Daniel’s eyes rolled in the back of his head, closed his eyes and whispered, “Please…” “I’m gonna bust inside you. I’m gonna be the first load you take Daniel … fuck fuck!” Juan buried himself as deep as he could go, his cock pulsing as he released his load inside Daniel. The feeling of Juan's hot seed spilling into him was enough to push Daniel over and jolt him, ripping through his body like a hurricane. His cum shot onto the desk in thick, sticky ropes. The sensation of Juan's throbbing erection rubbing against his prostate kept sending waves of pleasure coursing throughout his entire body. "That was… fuck, Daniel…" Juan whispered, his voice filled with satisfaction and wonder. Daniel looked at Juan and was confused. He couldn’t understand how he could feel such opposite things at the same time. He wanted Juan to stop because it hurt, but then he felt the most amazing thing he’s ever felt before. “I got carried away. Did I scare you?” Juan asked, looking away. Daniel cleared his throat. “Yeah.” Juan grunted, sighed and looked away. He instantly felt terrible but was embarrassed to show that so he fronted, annoyed, “Yo, you were all up on me, remember? You wanted this. You and me, we wanted the same. Juan stared out the window. “Yeah, but you asked if … are you mad?” Daniel asked quietly. “Nah,” Juan looked at Daniel. “I ain’t trippin’.” Daniel stared back at him, his eyes sad but curious. Juan looked away, but all he could see were those eyes. “So you wish we didn’t fuck now or something?” Juan asked. Daniel shook his head, sitting on the couch with Juan. “No, I don’t wish that. I wanted it.” Juan grabbed his chin. “You promise?” Daniel put his hand on Juan’s. “I promise.” Then he wrapped his arms around Juan and held his head to his chest. "I remember how nervous I was," Daniel whispered, the memory vivid in his mind. "But something just clicked when I took you in my mouth." Juan nodded, his eyes dark with desire as he recalled the sensation. "Yeah, 'something clicked,'" he laughed, then added, "Like you’d been waiting your whole life to do that." Daniel smiled, remembering not just the nerves but also the pride he felt hearing Juan's deep moans echo through the empty house. Sound encouraged him, drove him to make it through that experience. Then he recalled how he gripped the desk. "I couldn't get enough of those sounds you made," Daniel admitted. "Every moan made me want more." "And then I couldn't take it anymore," Juan continued, his voice husky with the memory. "Damn... when I thought about the fact you were a virgin. That sent me." Daniel nodded, recalling how Juan had him on his back, looking down at him. "You were so intense, like I was the only person in the world." As they talked through their shared memory, their bodies responded to the recollection, the past and present merging in their heated exchange. "I guess that night I was... I know you planned it," Daniel whispered. "You’d been watching me for months." He crawled up Juan’s chest, his fingers grazing his pecs. "I may have been a virgin, but I wasn’t an idiot." "Every time you said my name," Juan replied, tracing Daniel's jawline with his finger. "Sometimes, over and over, like a prayer." Their conversation shifted, tapping into words that would have been impossible to voice if it weren’t for the darkness of the blackout and the struggles they both had faced in adulthood. "I think that’s when I fell in love with you," Daniel admitted. "Right there, somewhere in the middle of that blackout." Juan's eyes softened at the confession. "I didn't know how to handle what I felt for you back then. You were so young, so innocent. I was messed up, and I knew I was bringing you with me." "I went with you," Daniel replied. "I know that now. There came a point when I couldn’t, and then I didn’t." Juan felt tired at the memory of when they didn’t have each other in their lives anymore, when he had to be alone. “I know now that not having you is worse than anything I was scared about before." Daniel felt Juan tighten his grip on him. Then he asked, “Why didn’t you try to get a hold of me?” Juan shifted his grip on Daniel so they could look at each other. “I wasn’t about to decide for you again, not like I did before. You had your life,” he said, his voice lightening a bit. “It ain’t like I didn’t keep tabs on you, no lie.” He paused before continuing, “I didn’t wanna ruin that. I didn’t wanna do what I do; I wanted to let things play out the way they were gonna play out, feel me?” Daniel looked at him in that way, and they were off. Sweat dripped where their skin made contact, slowly falling as they both took each other with a wild type of recklessness, a side effect of moving the fuck on. [END OF PART THREE]

**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 2 Dr Matthew froze for a few moments. This must have been the guy who loaded him full of poz cum a few years prior. He remembered every detail and almost nightly, for over 7 years, has played it back in his head before falling asleep. For it was then, at night, tired from long days of preaching safe sex and PrEP use to his patients, that the encounter with the biohazard guy at the glory hole would puncture his steely resolve, and memories of Keith’s huge poz weapon penetrating and unloading pure HIV seed into Matthew’s hole. Of course, it had to be Keith who was on the other side of the partition, who else would have that license plate? He made up his mind, right then and there, not to hire the tall, hot nurse with the full beard and tufts of dark chest hair spilling over the top of his scrubs, his buff arms straining against the material. “No, don’t hire him,” he said to himself “no matter how good a nurse he might be,” he had convinced himself. Or so he thought. “Welcome to the practice”, he found himself saying to Keith 20 minutes later. Keith had handled himself well in the interview, answering all the questions and even strongly implied that he could bring in a following of new patients who would need HIV care, but not going into details about how and why they’d be newly poz patients. Dr. Matthew heard all of this on one level, but inside his mind he was replaying that quickie at the arcade with this gorgeous specimen of manhood who unbeknownst to Keith had planted his poz pole up Matthew’s ass and seeded him deeply with a huge load of toxic HIV cum. Dr Matthew struggled to keep his composure, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as his cock was responding in an unprofessional NSFW way. By every measure, Keith became a model employee and was quickly advanced to the Head Nurse position. To Dr. Matthew, he became indispensable. And sure enough, Keith would refer a lot of new patients to Dr. Matthew’s practice, all gay men and almost all newly pozzed. Most of them would get put on meds right away and be content with that. A few, however, deferred meds until “some point in the future,” as a lot of them would say. Dr. Matthew, being the open-minded doctor he had trained to be, and wanting to be responsive to his patients’ needs, listened carefully and would always advise guys to start meds, but if that wasn’t their wish, he would counsel them on how to stay healthy and not spread the virus. It went on like that for a couple of years, preaching meds, or safe sex and condoms and as soon as Dr. Matthew would finish up and leave the exam room, he’d head back to his office, close the door, and grab his expanding cock and jerk it furiously at the thought of poz guys loading him up with HIV. He knew in his head it was wrong, but his cock said otherwise. Eventually, he started noticing guys coming back for follow-up appointments with biohazard or scorpion tats on them, usually just above crotch level or prominently on one bicep or both. Even a few guys boldly had the words “HIV” or “AIDS” tattooed on them. Then, the dark Xs started making an appearance as tats on guys…and they began to proliferate on their subjects. Eric, a new patient Keith referred, even had 5 Xs branded across his abdomen. And fewer and fewer of his newly pozzed patients would start meds right away. He felt his education of his pozzed patients starting not to take hold with them and wondered what he could do or say differently. On the first day that new patient Randy came in, Dr. Matthew delivered his standard speech about meds and Randy said he’d get the Rx filled right away. Matthew watched as Randy left the building and threw away the pamphlets and the prescription in a trash can. Randy returned late on a Friday afternoon about 6 few months later for follow-up labs and he noticed 2 black Xs inked across his mid-section. Finally, he worked up the courage to ask: “Randy, if you don’t mind my asking, and you can tell me to MYOB, but what are the Xs meant to represent?” Randy, already a veteran poz father to over 20 men, spoke up and for the first time, proudly and unashamedly articulated the concept of The Ten to the young idealistic well-meaning doctor. “Each one stands for 10 guys I’ve helped into the brotherhood of HIV,” doc”, Randy explained. “Every 10th guy we poz, we get another X marked on us. There’s a whole brotherhood of guys pozzing chasers. It’s an incredibly powerful feeling knowing your HIV is gifted to someone else!” Dr. Matthew had suspected this was the case, as so many of Keith’s friends came in as new patients, all of them poz – some of them to go on meds, and some not. Still, the idea that there was an organized group of men doing this was way beyond what he could comprehend. His mind was reeling at the thought of Randy and Keith and all the other hot poz men he’s been treating. He hurried through the rest of the appointment, only pausing to look at and explain to Randy’s his viral load numbers and they were impressive…Still, Randy was in good health and professed no symptoms other than a greatly enhanced libido, for which he smiled at the thought. “Doc, since I went poz,” Randy explained “I’m thinking about breeding every hour of every day…if a day goes by where I don’t blow my poz load inside at least one dude, I’m an unhappy guy. Luckily, nearly every day I get to fuck at least one chaser…and I wouldn’t have it any other way, Doc!” This was the last appointment for the week, and he saw Randy to the door, then turned back to his office, the lab printouts still in his hand. The young idealistic doctor took the papers to his office, locking the door behind him and closing the shades on the window. He laid the papers on his desk, sitting in his big chair and quickly unbuttoned and lowered his pants. His cock was already rigid and as he looked at the results: Viral Load, CD4 count, and thinking of all the men in this burgeoning group called “The Ten,” rejoicing and spreading HIV at will…he could not control his cock or the thoughts racing in his head. He stood up and with a few final frantic tugs on his hard member, he blew his load over the papers, the neg load pooling right where the Randy’s HIV numbers were. He felt possessed by the thought of going POZ…he knew it was wrong on so many levels but once the idea imprinted itself in his brain, he couldn’t help it - he felt powerless to resist. He knew he was a medical professional with a reputation to uphold , so he decided that if he was going to indulge in bug-chasing, he would at least go out of town to do it, where no one he knew might see him. That’s why early Saturday morning, he was on the I-10 to Palm Springs. Atypically, traffic was mercifully light, and in a bit over 2 hours, the young doctor rolled up to the Cathedral City Men’s Club, a place he had heard about from Keith. A banner inside the entrance proclaimed “PIG WEEK 2025 .” He went into the office and there was one available room left. The desk clerk alerted him to the shower hose in the bathroom for prepping one’s hole, and told him where the “play areas” were on the grounds. One hour later, Dr. Matthew ventured over to the play area which was a black tented area, the entrance obscured by thick heavy curtains. He went in and let his eyes adjust from the bright desert sunshine to the dark environment. He was ready, he was going to take any and all loads that these Palm Springs guys had to offer. Finding an available sling in the corner, he settled in it, his feet in the stirrups and his near-virgin hole exposed. Did he know what he was doing or how to act in this place? Not entirely…but his hardening cock and twitching hole led him into the sling. He closed his eyes and waited. It wasn’t a long wait. Soon, a warm hand was fingering at his hole, then a warm tongue flicking and finding its way inside him. He moved with the motions of the guy rimming him and finally opening his eyes, saw the man positioning his hard raw cock at Matthew’s opening, forcing its way inside and settling in balls-deep inside the young idealistic doctor who knew in his head this was wrong but was powerless to stop it. The guy fucked him for awhile but then vacated his hole for another dude in a sling to the left. Dr. Matthew was briefly disappointed but within seconds a new guy took his place inside the young doctor’s hole. “Oh, it’s like a try-out all the merchandise for these guys,” he thought to himself as the second man withdrew and moved on and was soon replaced by a 3rd cock in his ass. And this went on for some time, until the very first man to penetrate him returned and resumed his fucking of Matthew…With his eyes acclimated to the dark, he made out the outline of a scorpion tat on the guys pec. This was a poz cock he was getting! The guy heaved and huffed and finally announced that he was going to breed the young doctor: “Take that dirty poz load you fucking whore!” he exclaimed as eight or nine shots of toxic semen got blasted inside Matthew’s guts. A few of the top men gathered around, Matthew recognizing the 2nd guy from earlier who said to the breeder as his load was delivered into Matthew’s butt: “Nice, Frankie, get that unmedicated seed up in the little bitch,” and with that Frankie pulled out and the second man went back inside the doctor “I’m gonna blow, take that poz cum, you little fucking slut!” This brought a few more men to cluster around the sling and soon enough Matthew had four, then five, then six poz loads up his hole. The men were relentless in their fucking…no sooner would they drop a viral load in the young doctor’s cunt would they move on to whoever was in the next sling and repeat the insemination there. Was it really like Randy and Keith said that the virus demands multiple breedings and wills it to be so? Medically speaking, he knew that didn’t really make sense, but here was contrary evidence as these poz unmedicated viral men repeatedly blew their dirty loads up Matthew’s ass, and also his sling neighbors. This went on for over 2 hours during which Matthew figured he’d taken at least 15 loads of viral cum from about 10 guys. The guy they called Frankie contributed 5 of those and from what Matthew could tell, Frankie spent a lot of time fucking the other guys in the room, but only would load up Matthew’s hole. “I wanna give my HIV babies a fighting chance up in that newby cunt of yours, kid,” Frankie said as his 5th load of HIV cum was blasted into Matthew’s hole “increase my odds that it’s my strain that’s infecting you into the brotherhood, pig!” Finally, Matthew’s blown-out hole had had enough and as the crowd of men had thinned out, the young idealistic doctor took himself out of the sling and, unsteadily at first, made his way to the exit. Frankie, spying him as he was leaving came up to him wielding a lucite buttplug. “Here, get this up that bug trap of yours, brother…let those AIDS-loads soak in, you don’t wanna lose any,” and he roughly bent Matthew forward and the plug found its way inside Matthew’s blown-out cunt with ease. Matthew retreated to his room, his mind abuzz with what he had done. He was so excited and keyed up that, finally falling onto the motel bed, his cock once again sprang to life, and shot a hands-free load of neg cum up into the air. “Was this my last neg load, or my first poz one,” he wondered to himself as he relaxed, plug in place holding all that HIV inside him. After a long nap with the plug inside him, Matthew started to feel hungry…he hadn’t eaten all day, so he took himself to a local bistro…his mind was still swirling at what he had done but his hole, wet with poz cumloads and stuffed with Frankie’s buttplug, felt sated. He was looking over the menu when he heard his name. “Matthew?” someone called. He looked up and there was his mentor, Dr. Dan Martinelli, from whom Matthew had bought the medical practice 2 years earlier. “What are you doing in P.S?” Martinelli asked, as Matthew motioned for his mentor to join him and Dan sat across from him. “Just a quick getaway,” the young doctor replied “I needed a little holiday…and what about you?” “Oh, as you know, I live here now…I’m meeting some friends for dinner, they’re in town for a…convention,” he said, “at the men’s club down the road. Oh, here they come now.” Matthew looked up from the menu and past his mentor Dr. Martinelli, to see none other than Frankie and 2 of the other poz men who just a couple of hours ago, blew their toxic cum up Matthew’s ass. Matthew thought to himself how retirement agreed with Dan Martinelli, with his salt-and-pepper hair and beard and his tall frame, with the same green eyes. He was rocking a hot body for a man in his 60s…thin but muscular in his sleeveless T and shorts. Frankie and company approached and greeted their friend Dan. “How do you know this little cumwhore, Dan?” Frankie asked, in his usual booming voice, to which Martinelli spun around and said to Frankie “Him? You mean Matthew?” “Fuck yes! We spent the afternoon loading up that little bitch with HIV, and he took 5 loads alone from me, and a lot more from these guys” Frankie announced, pointing to his friends. “Why, Matthew, a man of hidden talents,” Martinelli smirked at his young protégé. Frankie and his entourage moved over to their table, and Martinelli turned back to Matthew and said “I need to go join them, but when did you start chasing, Matthew?” “I guess you could say it started today in reality,” he replied “but it’s been building inside me for awhile.” Dr. Martinelli nodded in agreement:“Yeah, I spent my career trying to keep guys negative, but once I retired, I stopped my meds so I could pass the gift around, and I’ve never been happier.” and with that Dr. Martinelli lifted up his shirt and revealed several bio tats and a dark X tattooed on his furry midsection. “Got my 10th poz son just a couple of weeks ago. Such an incredible feeling to create poz sons with your strain!” With that, Martinelli joined his friends, greeting each of them with a deep kiss and laughing at the depravity of pozzing up guys at will and dropping HIV loads into the little idealistic doctor. As Matthew resumed looking at the menu, his phone buzzed: a text from Dr. Martinelli: “Hey, you want some more loads? I didn’t get to go to the Men’s Club earlier, but my cock is gonna burst if I don’t get some relief. Balls full of HIV babies for you, kid. Meet me in the parking lot…now!” Dr. Matthew and Dr. Dan Martinelli met 30 seconds later in the parking lot, Martinelli taking his protégé’s arm and leading him behind a dumpster. “Right here, in the open?” Matthew said as Dan was leading him by the elbow “don’t you think…” “I’m not asking permission, whore,” Dan interrupted. “We’re doing this right here and right now, my balls are gonna fucking explode. When you poz up, Matty, you’ll understand. It takes over your whole being, to breed and seed and replicate,” he said, loosening Matthew’s belt and dropping his pants. A hard push on Matthew’s back sent him leaning against the wall, and Dr. Dan unbuttoned his own jeans and spit on his raging boner. Removing the buttplug Frankie had shoved inside Matthew’s cunt, and with the benefit of the streetlamp above, Dr. Dan could see Matthew’s gaped hole glistening with AIDS-cum from Frankie and Co. The buttplug also glistened with the cumloads of so many men who fucked and bred the young doctor and Martinelli shoved it into Matthew’s mouth. “Taste that poz cum straight outta your hole, you little bug-chasing bitch. You like taking those bugs, boy?” he said as he positioned his HIV pole against the young doctor’s hole. “Here are some more for you,” and he plunges his toxic fuckstick up inside Matthew, the cum already up there making it silky smooth and inviting. “Oh, baby boy, I’m not gonna last long in this cummy pussy of yours, get ready for my poison load. Pure high-viral unmedicated AIDS-cum for your greedy cumhole.” Dr. Dan thrust deeper up Matthew’s cunt and delivered fresh shots of HIV inside the young doctor, about 9 cumblasts in all. “I’m super viral now that I stopped my meds over a year ago,” I know we’ll never know for sure, but I hope it’s my strain that turns you,” he said, shuddering and shaking with his cock depositing the last few drops of HIV inside Matthew. He withdraws his cummy pozzing stick from the young doctor’s hole, replacing it again with the buttplug. “I’m going back to my friends now, whore,” he says, reaching for his phone. “I’m texting you my address. I’ll unlock the door with my phone app, just make yourself comfortable. By ‘comfortable’, I mean ass up and waiting…I’m not done with you.” Dr. Matthew did as instructed, and 90 minutes later, Dr. Dan returned home and found the young doctor ass up and waiting. Over that night, Dr. Dan forcefully filled his cunt with 3 more loads of HIV that evening and finally at 3am released him from his dominance and Matthew returned to the hotel wiped out, his happy hole remaining plugged, absorbing all those sweet viral loads. He would have a lot to tell his nurse Keith on Monday morning but for now, Dr. Matthew Joon Hill, noted safe-sex and condom advocate, who had written thousands of prescriptions for PrEP to his patients, went to sleep with about 18 poz loads soaking into his hole. He slept sounder than he had done in years. End of Chapter 2

The next day Kevin had to pick up some supplies and fuel the truck, so he picked Nigel up after lunch. It was a hot day and the loose tee-shirt Kevin wore to hide his floppy tits was stained with sweat when Nigel climbed in the cab. The youth was wearing shorts and a skimpy tee shirt over his plump torso which exposed his ample belly. For the first time, Kevin wondered if Nigel might be gay. “So where are we going.” said Nigel sarcastically. “We’re going to a place I went yesterday to check the job I did was ok.” He looked sideways at Nigel. “It’s a gay sauna.” Nigel’s eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. “The men tend to wander round naked.” He continued. “So you can stay in the truck if that bothers you.” Nigel felt his heart beating and a tightness in his shorts. He had never seen men naked before except in the porn he watched. “N..n..no that’s ok.” He stuttered. “I’ll come in with you.” Kevin smiled to himself “oh ho!” He thought. “This might be fun. Was his wife’s snooty nephew getting excited?” They parked in a side street and rang the bell. Bill answered the door in singlet and shorts. “Hi. Thought I’d come back and check the cistern is working ok.” said Kevin Bill smiled “And check out a few of the regulars whilst you’re here I bet! Who’s this?” Kevin blushed and he saw Nigel look surprised. “This is my wife’s nephew, Nigel.” said Kevin. “He’s working with me today. He’s 18 so it’s ok.” Bill licked his lips and stared at the lad who blushed and looked down at his feet. This could be good for business, he thought. He was sure Kevin had brought Nigel for reasons other than checking the cistern! “Come on in,” He said. They went into the lobby which was hot and steamy. “Why don’t you go and check the cistern?” said Bill. “Take as long as you need. Nigel and me will have a cup of tea and a nice chat.” Kevin grinned, picked up his tools, and disappeared upstairs. “Well now, Nigel, have you been to a sauna before?” Nigel shook his head and then his eyes nearly popped out of his head as a nude old man emerged from a side room and waved at Bill. “Morning!” He said, scratching his scrotum and making his dangling penis sway between his spindly legs. “Hello Sid. Kevin’s upstairs checking the toilet. This is his nephew.” Sid grinned and grasped his cock. “Hmm..perhaps I’ll go and check him out! See you later Nigel.” He went upstairs, showing off his wrinkled bottom which glistened with sweat. Bill noticed Nigel was breathing heavily and sweating. “Never seen a naked man before?” He asked. Nigel shook his head and unconsciously rubbed his shorts. Bill stripped off his tee shirt revealing his hairy torso. Then he came round the counter. “We’re all men together here.” he said, dropping his shorts and standing naked before the lad. His cock rose beneath his belly, the warts angry around the tip and drooling pre-cum. “And that means you don’t wear clothes when you’re here.” Nigel was shaking with a mixture of fear and excitement. What had he got into? Yet he was mesmerised by Bill’s heavy cock and hairy body. It was so unattractive and yet to see it naked was so sexy. He thought he should leave, but he didn’t want to go without Kevin and he so wanted to touch that cock. Bill leaned on the counter. “Well?” He said. “You can wait outside or leave your clothes on the counter and I’ll show you round. Which is it to be?”

Kevins story continued By the time Kevin showered and dressed, he was beginning to feel embarrassed and slightly ashamed at what he had done. He mumbled goodbye to Bill at the desk and headed for his truck. He should never have succumbed to them. But after all, he thought, hadn’t he enjoyed it? The succession of cocks in his arse had been so sexy. He unlocked and got inside. What about taking it bare from those toxic old trolls? He was pretty sure Eric had been converted in that disgusting old sauna – what if he was also pregnant now? Yet, he thought, they were so free, so animal like and breeding each other as nature intended. He realised his tiny cock was stiff in his jeans and the tee shirt under his tits was wet with sweaty excitement. He started up and headed for home. His wife met him at the door. “You’re late” She said with a sneer. “Where’ve you been?” “Busy” He replied, wilting under her gaze. “You know Eric’s sick. I had to cover for him today.” “He told me when I phoned him to find out where you were.” She said “At that sauna he spends so much time at. Did you have a nice time there?” He paled. Did she know? Had Eric told her? She laughed. “I don’t care what you’ve been up to. You’re no use to me!” Kevin went through to the living room and groaned aloud. Sitting watching the television was his wife’s nephew, a fat, spotty youth called Nigel who usually treated Kevin with as much disdain as his aunt. “Hello Nigel.” He said. Nigel glanced at him and carried on watching TV. Kevin sighed and went to make himself some tea. His wife came in to the kitchen. “How long is he staying?” Asked Kevin. “A couple of days,” she replied. “I told him he could come out with you tomorrow as I’m off to meet a friend.” It didn’t appeal to Kevin at all to spend a day with Nigel putting him down. And then he remembered he’d promised to go back to the sauna to check his work was ok. Should he introduce the irritating Nigel to Bill, Sid and Arthur? He grinned to himself. Maybe….he thought.

I would never support genocide. It is ridiculous that speaking up for people with no human rights is threatening to others.

Traveling to OKC Nov 2-7. Looking for breeders. Any Oklahomans or other travelers in the area want breed this silver, ginger, daddy, coach’s bear hole? 1:1 or group is good fun. Omni Hotel in Bricktown.

Always needs filling

I would never visit a country like Israel. So dangerous and human rights are so far from the civilized world.

Very hot, man...