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I was cruising sniffies the other day when a familiar profile/photo of a sexy ass appeared. It was a cumdump I used to breed regularly about five years ago. This guy is a sexy man, handsome AF, tall, lean, muscular, and has an ass made for taking cock. We stopped connecting as I moved out of the area for a couple years. I immediately got hard thinking about breeding him again. I was at the gym last night and messaged him if he was taking dick. He got back to me right away like a cock starved bottom and said yes. I left gym all sweaty. Got in my truck drove over and parked. He was ass up and ready for my cock. He didn’t remember me, I didn’t mention that we fucked before. Funny how a cumdump takes so many cocks that they lose track of cocks they’ve had before. Anyway, I lick his hole, taste the previous loads he had inside him from earlier in the day. I slide my cock in and do long slow strokes, pulling out to see his gaped hole and cum on my cock. I keep pounding away like that and finally get ready to cum. I hit the poppers right after he did and told him I’m going to knock him up with my 7 day load. I let my orgasm take over and my cock busted a huge load. It pumped so much cum up inside his guts. I came down from my orgasm. Gathered my stuff and left. There was another car parked outside waiting, another car driving past looking for a spot to park. He was getting some cock last night. He is a sexy dude so I can see how he’d be getting lots of action. As I drove home I passed a former fuckbud’s house where I’d breed him good. He is a sexy porn star that lived there awhile ago and has since moved. Real bummer I can’t breed him anymore. The guy was extremely hot, beefy, muscular, beard, 9”uncut cock and a hungry hole. Anyway, hope the last night’s dude doesn’t disappear on me. It’s be really convenient to have a local cumdump to keep my balls drained.

I was sent an invite to a BB gangbang in London and jokingly showed my now wife. To my suprise and joy, she suggested we go. She took one Prep pill and I watched her get fucked by all the guy 13 cocks in total and many gave her multiple loads in her cunt. I know realise the one prep pill was useless and she was fucking totally unprotected. Unfortunately no poz but what an amazing night. I dream about her getting poz and being an Eve to loads of chasing guys including me.

This is my cock pumping my seed into his sweet fuckhole

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

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

I live near Union Station downtown so there are a fair amount of junkies and homeless around. I was walking my dog this morning, totally tweaked and filled with cum already, and this junkie asked me for money. I told him I didn't have any but if he gave me a load I'd give him a slam. He came back, fucked me on the floor. I felt his hole and it was loose as fuck and had some loads in it so clearly I wasn't the only one he'd fucked around with....

After it was dark and I could reduce the chance of people truly realizing the state I was in (looking like a total cumslut and partier), I had to walk the dog again. I didn't want to be out long mostly because it's windy as fuck and I'm tired from the fucking and partying. But regardless I do the same loop twice each day which passes by where I found the junkies yesterday. Come to think of it it's where I've noticed this every day, but just not thought anything of it. There they were again - at least two of them. The first guy that fucked me and the third guy who was too high to finish. I looked ridiculous with a giant puffy coat, baseball cap, face mask...but I walked over thinking "round two could be a good way to close the day." I walked up to them and started speaking semi quietly telling them I could give them more stuff if they wanted to go for round two. They looked at me like I was insane and then I realized they probably could recognize me (despite the dog). I took off the mask and cap and they realized what was going on. Let us go find our friend though so we don't leave him behind (they said he was off picking something up...). We agreed they'd text when they were ready to get in to the building. They indeed found their friend, showed up, I've got them a small baggie, and I got two quick, transaction, no bullshit loads back to back. This time it was #1 and #3 who came. #2 wasn't feeling it. IF THIS WORKS OUT and they hold their post in the small park in front of Whole Foods, I could have 1-3 built in loads whenever I want them for a very small price. 🙂

It's your body hair....so if you like your stuff hairy then fuck anyone who said it needs to be otherwise!....I, personally trim the shit outta mine but, I do like hair....I'm a friggin man and it's, in my opinion, sexy as hell!

I'm a cum slut bottom who is selective about hair. I don't suck full on pube guys, trim up and I'm all over it, I hate a mouth full of hair ... don't rim guys unless I find a smooth bottom... To each their own, we all have our wants, I like trimmed... not a fan of total shaved, but nice trimmed patch. I don't want pubes in my teeth, nose etc... there are plenty of guys that are into that, just not me

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.

This is a position you'll never win. You'll find people who love body hair and people who don't. You do you, and let them find someone else if they're not interested.

Ae you all know I'm 21 year old top busy in daily work studies and stuff so don't have time to shave or clean my bushes 😜, today I was using grinder because I want to breed someone really bad but one guy whom i already meet before , ask me did u clean myself I was like i just woke up it's 7 in morning and then he asked did i removed all hair around my ass and dick , like seriously being a dom top i want my sub slut to listen to my order and rimm me properly weather it's hairy or something else but yr sad he can't rimm me and meet me because I get bushes 😑😑in both front and back ,

Damn, I can't believe it's been 5 years since I finished writing Joey's story. I hadn't even thought about it until last night. After rereading this from the start, i remembered how much fun it was telling Joey's story. Sadly, it also made me realize something else: whatever happened to the guys who were pulled into Joey's orbit? Brian, from the gloryhole, who in under two hours had gone from wannabe top, to his conversion to Bitch. What happened with him after being put in Joey's clothes? Sweet, innocent teenager dad Marcus? Did Shawn do anything with those videos? Did he go back and have fun with Marcus? Pathetic closet fag, Ralph. Virgin until meeting and fucking Joey, though needing to be humiliated into what may have been his first, and possibly last, time on top? Did Ralphieboy contact Jeff and Fernando? Did he stay in the dorm and replace Joey as the communal cumdump? Were there more colors of jockstraps and might they have been his way of being a faggot fan of certain activities? Should I explore these faggot's stories? You guys tell me

Jerked to this a bit today and I contend that Pigs at the Troff is not only a great porn, but certainly the greatest watersports focused porn ever made. If I had a list of top 5 pornos I wish I could transport back and be in, this would be #2. I also think DickWadd managed to do verbal better than any other studio has ever done since. It could be tailored a little more and a little less "yeah yeah yeah" but they are saying other things too, and it's hot an additive. Now we just get thrusting moans with TIM and the very occasional and faint "you want this poz cum" every 30th scene or so. Take the DickWadd style of verbal and update it, turn it in to PozTalk, it would be amazing. Sad that the venue where the movie was shot and the corresponding event "Fort Troff Maneuvers" is no longer around. This movie gave me a lot of ideas of things I wanted to try (buttplug with funnel e.g.) that fortunately I've been able to cross a lot off of. (Being locked in a dog cage for several days getting dick in my hole and piss in my mouth being another....)

My Sex Goal for 2026 is to take a big hard cock in my ass, every single day. I'm already practicing, hitting the Adult Bookstore near me, twice a day, wearing my bare ass leather chaps, and climbing into the sling, where guys can just walk right up and fuck me.

Chubby cumdump hosting Black Friday. Starting at 8am, no load refused, ass up & ready for you. Visiting family in the Orlando area for Thanksgiving, getting away Friday morning for a cumdump session. Come by and drop your load off 🥵

I've never understood people who dislike pubic hair and hair around dicks. This is the way some people's dicks are. When the dick is inside you you can't see it so who the fuck cares? As an aesthetic thing, sure, we all have preferences, but once you're fucking? Makes no sense to me. Frankly, you're well rid of this princess.

Goals for 2026: continue with the hunky young stud who's fucking me several times a week and encourage him to bring friends more often. Get invited to (daddy) sex parties.

Just go outside at 4am looking like you're carrying a bunch of loads in you and are completely thwacked. You might be surprised lol. Actually headed out now to walk the dog again (now that its' finally dark and people won't be able to see what a trashy whore i look like as easily) and see if I can't snag another couple loads.

Always been a fan

Hairy is always better... shows higher testosterone.. embrace it! Id someone else doesn't like it, move on. Their loss.

He probably likes your cock, but doesn't like the bush. I'm not a big fan of real bushy junk either, especially ballsack.

Freshman Project: Jason (Part 9) Blake woke up on Sunday afternoon and reached out to wrap his arm around Jason, but the bed was empty. Conflicting thoughts ran through the jock’s head. He remembered almost everything that happened the night before and he was both excited and a little concerned. Ecstasy always made him a little emotional, but he had never before told anyone he loved them, not even Coach. Coach was the man he had devoted his life to and done whatever the man had ordered him to do, but he loved Coach like a father, not someone he loved as a partner. Blake had a bond with Aiden, but he didn’t love the sophomore. The boy had been fun to take under his wing and turn into a slut, but it was not the same connection he had developed with Jason. Did he actually love Jason, or had that just been the drugs talking he wondered. Did Jason love him, and would the boy still feel the same way this morning about taking multiple toxic loads from him last night? Had Jason run off this morning in regret as soon as he woke up? So many questions were running through Blake’s mind, and many of them were new territory of him. The jock got up and exited his bedroom. He heard some noise from the kitchen, which did not take much in his small one bedroom apartment to notice. Apparently Jason had not fled. Blake wiped the sleep out of his eyes as he entered the kitchen. “Good morning, Master. Coffee is ready, I’ll get you a cup, and the bacon and eggs will be ready in just a few minutes,” said Jason. The boy was naked except for his chastity cage as he slid along the counter to the coffee pot and poured a cup of coffee for Blake. He added just a small amount of cream, which is how Blake liked his coffee, then turned and brought the cup to Blake. Blake grabbed the coffee and took a drink. He hoped it would jump start his mind and allow him to figure out what was going on. “Good morning, Jason,” he finally managed to get out. “Did I put your cage back on last night?” he asked. “No Sir, but I when I work up this morning, I figured you would want it back on since you only took it off me last night so I could play with myself on the E. Thank for that Sir. I’ve gotten used to the cage and I like it on because it reminds me of my place as your Boy, I hope I didn’t do anything wrong Sir?” said Jason, hoping he hadn’t done anything wrong. “No Boy, it is fine. I’m glad you put it back on, you saved me the effort,” said Blake trying to cover for his surprise at finding it on Jason. “I’m going to go take a shower, have breakfast ready for me when I get back and we’ll talk more over breakfast,” said Blake as he tried to regain control over the situation. “Yes Master,” responded Jason as he turned back to the stove and tended the eggs. Blake’s eyes lingered over the V of the boy’s back as it joined his ass. He shook his head to break the spell this twink had apparently cast over him and headed to his shower. He entered his bathroom then warmed up the water till it was comfortable, then jumped under the spray. As he stood under the spray of the shower he thought about why he had gotten so attached to Jason. He was self aware enough to know to that he had a strong connection with each of the college boys he had converted, but none had been like this. He still occasionally saw Charlie and Ian as he supplied them with drugs to sell and collected their proceeds, but both young men had gone on to be sluts in different ways. While they still worked for Blake and Coach as dealers and whores under Blake’s direction, Blake was not fucking either one regularly. They both had found older Daddies that were their focus sexually. Aiden was still someone he would consider his Boy, but as Blake showered and got that clarity that sometimes come with shower thoughts, he realized that Aiden would be just fine without him. Jason on the other hand needed him in a way the others never had. The boy was just so naturally submissive and there was something that appealed to Blake in that regard. He had been unlocking the inner slut in boys these last few years, but he had been doing it because Coach told him to, now though, there was something about Jason that just hit differently. “Master, your breakfast is ready,” called Jason from the kitchen. The boy’s call broke Blake out of his deep thoughts over the Jason and the other boys. He quickly finished rinsing off then dried himself off with a towel. Before heading out to the kitchen naked, he went back to his room and pulled two bottles out of his nightstand. There were eggs, bacon, buttered toast, a fresh cup of coffee, and a glass of orange juice sitting on the table for Blake when he entered the kitchen. It was set for one person, even though there was enough food on the plate for two. Blake sat down in the chair. As soon as he was seated, Jason knelt down beside him, “I hope Sir likes.” Blake set the bottles down on the table, then looked down at the twink that was on his knees next to him, “Yes, I do like it Boy. I could get used to waking up to this. But we need to talk, please sit at the table with me and grab yourself a plate. We need to talk about last night, not as Master and Servant, but as friends, hopefully.” Panic flashed across Jason’s face, his first instinct was that now that Blake had fucked him, he was going to dump him. He tried to regain his composure as he pulled himself up off the ground, grabbed a plate from the cabinet and then sat in the chair opposite of Blake at the small table. He couldn’t bring himself to speak and stared down at his empty plate. Blake grabbed the two pill bottles and pushed them towards Jason. “We touched it on last night, but I feel we need to talk about this now, when both of us aren’t rolling. I’m HIV positive and I haven’t taken any medications in a few months, so I’m infectious. I care for you and I want to make sure I am not pressuring you into anything you don’t want. So these pills, which Charlie got me from the health clinic, are a full course of PEP, post exposure prophylaxis. I remember putting at least two loads into you last, and there may have been a third. You said you wanted them at the time, but now in the cold light of day, I’m offering you the opportunity to treat yourself, just in case I infected you last night and you’ve changed your mind.” Jason gave Blake a confused look, “I knew what was happening last night, I wanted it. Do you no longer want me?” “I want you, I want to be with you, but I don’t want you ever regretting your decision. I don’t want you, years from now blaming me, and saying I took advantage of you while you were high, I never want you to ever regret what we did,” explained Blake. “Blake, I will do whatever you say, including taking every toxic load you will give me, but I want you to know, I’m doing so because I want to. I want to obey you, it makes me feel like I’ve found my purpose in life. I’ve spent my life obeying my father, his Pastor, my mother, my teachers, basically anyone with authority. I know what it feels like to obey someone when you don’t want to, with you it feels different. With you I’m not just obeying you, I’m submitting to you, willingly. It feels right for the first time in my life. I feel like I’m no longer pretending to be someone else. I’m my true self finally. I don’t just not care that you are infecting me, I want it. I want to belong to you, I need it. Now, being honest, if you are just using me and want to make me another mark on your scorecard, if you don’t care about me the same way I care about you, if you don’t want to own me, now and forever as you said last night, well I’ll take those and we can go our own ways. I hope you will still by my friend and maybe help me find someone that will want me to be theirs. If you do want me to be yours though, now and forever, then go ahead and dump those down the drain cause there is nothing more than I want, than to have a part of you inside me forever, even if it is a potentially deadly virus. I want to be yours, now and forever,” said Jason, as he fought back tears in his eyes. Blake’s cock was rock hard. “Boy, grab those bottles, open them, and take out one pill from each bottle into your hand,” said Blake, his voice clearly indicating he was back in ‘Master’ mode. “Yes Sir,” answered Jason still not sure exactly what Blake’s answer was. Even though he wasn’t sure what was going on, he obeyed. He opened the bottles, and took a pill from each in his hand. His mind was racing, was this Blake’s way of dumping him, was he going to order him to take today’s dose of PEP instead of just coming out and saying he didn’t want him. “Now go over to the sink and turn on the water,” Blake commanded. Jason did as he was order. As soon as the boy got up, Blake grabbed the bottles and followed Jason to the sink. Jason turned on the water, the pills in his hand. He was devastated as he felt that Blake was about to order him to take the pills as the older boy’s way of letting him know that he had just been using him. Instead, Blake used his left hand to push Jason’s torso down, bending the boy over the sink. He set the bottles in his right hand down on the counter next to the sink, then used the hand to line his cock up with Jason’s hole. He roughly shoved his dry cock into Jason’s asshole. “You’re mine Bitch,” growled Blake as worked his cock all the way into Jason’s tender ass, which was still a bit sore from last night. Still it had the remains of Blake’s cum and the lube from the night before which helped a bit to ease the passage of Blake’s thick nine and half inch cock into the Jason’s ass. Once Blake had bottomed out in twink’s ass, he leaned in so his mouth was next to Jason’s ear. “I’m going to fuck you slow so that you have enough time to drop a round of pills into the garbage disposal each time I bottom out. I’m going to fuck you until both those bottles are empty. You understand me Bitch Boy?” He asked. “Yes Sir,” said Jason as he wiggled his ass, doing his best to adjust the position of his ass to accommodate Blake’s thick cock. He dropped the pills in his hand down into the drain with garbage disposal. “Good Boy! Here I’ll help you,” said Blake as he reached over and knocked over the pill bottles, spilling the contents over the counter. “Now grab some more and watch your chance at avoiding becoming positive go down the drain,” said Blake as he slide his cock almost all the way out. As soon as Jason grabbed a handle of pills, he started slowly thrusting back in and timed it so that he bottomed out with a hard extra little push as he saw Jason drop his handful of pills down the drain. “You are going to stay here the next couple weeks, only leaving to go to your classes, you’re quitting that shit cafeteria job; you’re my Boy now,” said Blake as he pulled back and waited until Jason had grabbed more pills off the counter. “Dump those,” he said as he started sliding back in the twink’s tight but no longer virgin hole. When Jason dropped the pills into the sink, Blake finished his thrust with a hard push, making sure all of his thick hard cock was up inside the twink. Jason was enjoying the rough slow fuck. Sure Blake was ordering him to drop the pills into the sink with each thrust, but Jason realized he was actually in control of this fuck. While his first handful had been whatever he could grab, by his third he was only grabbing a couple pills to drop with each thrust. By the fourth thrust, it was obvious to both of them what was happening and who was now driving this fuck as Jason was quickly grabbing one pill at time and throwing it into the sink as fast as he could. “Please Sir, give me your toxic load, poz me, convert me, make me yours forever,” begged Jason as he did his best to quickly drop pill after pill into the sink. Blake for his part was enjoying trying to time his thrust with Jason feeding pills into the sink. Eventually both young men gave up on the pretense of the scene as Blake started thrusting hard and fast into Jason’s ass. Jason for his part just swept the rest of the pills off the counter and into the sink. While Blake had come a few times last night, Jason had not. He had enjoyed himself and felt ecstatic bliss while getting fucked while rolling on ecstasy as he had several anal orgasms, but he didn’t have a true ejaculatory climax. This fuck though was doing it for him now that he was no longer tripping. Every time Blake thrust in he was hitting the boy’s prostate. The whole scene was so hot for both of them and Jason soon realized he was about to cum. “Sir, please permission to cum, please Sir,” he begged. “Yes Boy, cum for me, shoot that load, show me how much you want to be mine and carry my virus in you. Shoot for me Boy,” responded Blake as he started thrusting harder into the twink. It wasn’t long before he felt Jason’s asshole spasm around his cock as cum started pouring out of the boy’s caged cock. Blake reached down and grabbed the boy’s cock as soon as he started to feel the boy’s ass contracting around his cock. The chastity cage was on and keeping the boy’s cock from expanding outward, but the boy’s cock was firm and pushing the cage outward with most of the boy’s erection still inside the boy’s crotch. Blake collected the rest of the boy’s load into his hand. Once he was sure the boy was done cumming he brought his cum soaked hand up to Jason’s mouth. “Here Boy, eat one of your last negative loads. I’m going to be there and make sure you eat all your last negative loads before you are truly pregnant with my babies,” growled Blake as he place his cum covered hand over Jason’s mouth. Jason did his best to lick up as much of his own cum as he could. Soon though he felt his real reward as Blake grabbed his hips and thrust hard into him then held his cock there as the older boy started cumming. Jason smiled as he felt his Master’s cock unloading another toxic inside his unprotected ass. As Blake grunted and ground his crotch against his Boy’s ass, Jason reached over and turned the garbage disposal on to destroy the PEP pills.

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

Okay so I was out of my house and walking to our meeting point which we decided , he came wearing a pink t shirt and black trousers I can see his biseps his dusky skin and all he signal me to sit on his bike and when I sat down in his seat he just shitted back more like move his ass to feel my dick twitching, inside my trouser we are searching places to do it we take a different road which has few houses build near that road , and i was thinking we will go those empty construction House to do things because nobody come at night but our luck was so bad that it's not safe to do it we will caught easily by the neighbor , we have to park the bike beside the construction side so it's obviously people will notice something is wrong . The road was not wide it's a narrow road and the street light area their but some are not working , after searching for 20 min and changing places he decided to park his bike beside therowe and it's just road us and wire fence of farmhouse and he park his bike in U- turn road because it's dark and and most of the part is coverd with trees and all and only the U- turn road light wasn't working and it was dark and it's just beside the fence of farmhouse anyone can see us from the farmhouse and if someone is passing by and saw us make my dick erect and Adeline rushing through my veins, I was so scared and he just kneel down beside his bike and I was standing, he said let me pretend that my bike is broke down and I'm reparing so if any one bike or car come to that road they will think something is wrong with the bike and you can't even imagine only 5 metre away was a house and people live their and taking a night walk I was just standing he just take out my cock from my trouser and he start smell my sweaty bush and and licking the little transparent fluid coming out from my dick , my dick is back and it's thick with pointed head and it's little bit curve and he try to take my whole cock in his mouth , and while grasping he said i have good dick and he wants me to fuck him if I have place but before I could reply he started sucking again wildly and then I just cover his head with my t-shirt and he is Just inside of t shirt sucking my sloopy cock , then I saw someone coming in his bike to our way i told him someone is coming but he doesn't want to leave my cock but when he stopped sucking and try to look who is coming we realised that biker take. A different path I feel so relaxed then I just try to thrust deep inside his throat he is choking I try to to do few more thrust and i want to cum inside of his mouth and at last I did but when I finsihed cuming he just spit the cum and I was so sad i want him to get rid of the evidence then he just wipe his mouth and said give me a hand I said okay sure i give him a hands he end up coming early then expected only in few strokes and he just saw both our cum lying in the road beside someone farm and we leave as fast as we can , i was wondering if someone goes for morning walk to that road will be see our cum or will lick it . Thanks for waiting patiently

Chapter 1 – The Setup Where the fuck am I? Zak and I had spent a wild weekend together a few weeks ago. We were smoking and bumping T and got lots of different things into each other’s hole. While we were talking during a break, I shared my fantasy about being abducted and taken to a place where I had to submit to multiple men. It seems he took me seriously since shortly after I showed up at his place for another session, a masked guy came in, put a bag over my head, pulled me out, and shoved me into the back seat his car. I was forced (OK, maybe forced is too strong a word) to suck another guy’s dick while we were driven to another destination. His cock was thick, but not that long. It was nice since I could easily accommodate him in my mouth, sucking down to the root and burying my nose in his pubes. His cock pumped out a steady stream of precum that I happily swallowed. I massaged his hairy balls while I was sucking him and felt down to his hairy hole. He pushed his legs together though, preventing me from going any further. I kept sucking his cock and playing with his balls. He was moaning, I was moaning, and then he blew his load down my throat right before we arrived at our destination. Next, I heard the car door opening and was dragged out of the car. They cut off my shorts and ripped off the t shirt I was wearing. I was naked, except for my flip flops, somewhere with people I didn’t know. My cock started to plump up at the excitement of this, prompting one of them to grab it while saying, “That’s not gonna be needed now.” Then, one of them forced my cock into a cage and locked it in place. “Walk!” I was led into a building of some sort. It seemed that we were in a sort of industrial space since I could sense a high ceiling and lots of open space around us. I heard a roller door close. Even with the bag on my head, some light got through and I was now adjusting to the surroundings. I smelled a spicy, grassy smell and thought maybe were in a warehouse that processed herbs of some sort. They walked me across the floor, feeling my hairy ass and occasionally slapping it as we went. “Oh yeah, this is gonna be good,” one of them commented. There were some grunts of assent, and I figured out that there were at least three other guys there. Maybe one of them was Zak, but I know it wasn’t his cock I had sucked, and I didn’t think he was the driver. We stopped walking and they turned me around. “Get in the sling.” I felt behind me and found a leather sling, ready and waiting for me. It’s tough to get into a sling when you can’t really see but I just went with it and laid back into it. Someone grabbed my foot and placed each one in a stirrup. I was naked, cock caged, spread open in a sling, in a room with guys that I didn’t know. My heart was pounding, more from excitement than fear, but it was weird to have no idea what was going to happen. One of the guys started rubbing my ass and hole. I instinctively moved down a little in the sling to open my ass for him. I heard him chuckle when I did that, then felt him starting to add lube to my ass. He must have been using Slam Dunk or something like that since it felt like chunks of lube being shoved in my hole. He was also smearing the lube all around my ass and hole. I reached down to spread my ass even more, but he slapped my hands away, telling me that my ass was in their hands and I was to keep my hands away from it. I heard the click of the torch and the bubbling sounds as he prepared some T. I could smell the acrid scent as the chemicals melted and then a cloud was blown into my face. I eagerly inhaled. “Don’t worry, pig. We’re gonna get you flying high.” They forced me to take a couple of hits off the bubbler. Again, forced might be too strong a word, but they were in control of my intake, and I was going to go along with whatever they wanted. I was well into the clouds when I felt some fingers penetrate my hole. The accompanying burning sensation told that they were giving me a booty bump too. My ass was becoming needy now and I wanted something in it besides a few fingers. I was handed a rubber tube with a nozzle at the end that I was told connected to a bottle of poppers. Whenever they told to me to inhale from it, I was to put the nozzle in my nose and breathe in. Poppers mixed with T would make my ass even more receptive to whatever was coming my way, and I was happy to comply to this. The burning had stopped and someone was playing with my hole. He was circling it with his well lubed fingers, sometimes sticking one or two fingers in and rubbing them around. I was enjoying the feelings and began to pulse my hole on his fingers. “This fucker is ready for more.” Soon, I felt something larger than a finger at my hole. It wasn’t a cock so it must be a dildo. I only hoped they would start out with something I could comfortably take since I had the sense that my ass was about to be seriously worked over. The dildo was dragged up and down the crack of my ass, grazing over my yearning hole. Each time it passed near my opening, I would flex my ass, trying to capture it in my ass. Soon, the guy placed the head of the toy at my entrance and began to push. The initial insertion was easy. My ass and the dildo were both well lubed and my hole was needy. It became apparent that this toy got thick quickly as I felt my hole expand around it as it was pushed into me. The guy driving the dildo knew what he was doing, pausing occasionally and sometimes twisting it around in my ass as he plunged ever deeper into me. This toy must be long since it felt like he had inserted a lot into me when he stopped pushing and just let the dildo sit inside my ass. The pulsing of my ass muscles made it move up and down and let great feelings course through my tunnel. Then, he began to pull it back. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he moved the toy, rotating and shaking it as he moved. He’d pulled it out almost all the way out when he abruptly shoved it in deep again. I moaned and spread my ass more. He chuckled and said, “I think he’s primed for you.” With that, he pulled the toy out. I immediately felt a hand at my ass, feeling around my hole and poking some fingers in. Two became three, three became four, and then I felt his thumb circling my hole. It stopped as he flexed it back into his hand and then his whole hand was sliding into me. Fuck, I love getting fisted. I love anything to do with ass – mine or another guys. Touching, stroking, rimming, fucking, fingering. But fisting is a special treat. When you get fisted, you’re literally opening yourself up to another guy. When you’re doing the fisting, it is so intense to feel the other guy’s heartbeat with your hand. It is a profound and amazing experience. This guy slid his hand into my ass up to his wrist. He just held his hand there for a while so that I could get used to the sensation. Occasionally, he’s twist and turn it, but he was taking it easy on my ass. Then, he growled “Poppers” at me. I grabbed the tube, put the plugs in my nostrils, and inhaled deeply.

A man’s hair holds his sent. I prefer to get used by men with hair. I find the senior holds intoxicating.

Look...if there's a thing, men will fetishize it. Dan Savage says that if a man required a shower cap, a canoe and a nun's habit in the room to come that man's bedroom would have those things. People love long hair, people love short hair, people love bush, people hate bush. The pendulum seems to have swung a little back toward au naturel.....

The homophobia calls coming from inside the house is always wild to me lol.

I had the misfortune to catch mumps right in the middle of puberty and it left me sterile (although I was told it probably wouldn't be permanent), and it would appear that I was sterile the entire time before I had a vasectomy to make sure I would sire any more sprogs. Apparently my sperm weren't good swimmers - more like drowners. I used the knowledge to fuck and breed as often as possible - both men and women.

True, and there is something akin to "making love" when that particular thing, characteristic, whatever, that just turns your crank is present in the other guy. For example, I just so happen to adore a hairy hole, for a number of reasons, and while I don't demean 'making love" at all, it's possible to get really close to "making love" when a physical characteristic that really pushes your buttons is present.

A feeder's hair is obviously their choice. But I almost always try to encourage them to think about trimming around the base of it. Not only does it make it look bigger and shows it off better, but it sure makes it better for the cocksucker not to have to deal with pubs stuck in his teeth. Before manscaping and trimming became a thing, I would often wake up in the morning and feel a pubic hair stuck before my teeth. It was kind of gross, kind of hot, but mostly just unnecessary.

Big black Persian muscular man my best friends boss. Witnessed a very young chav scaly twink sucking him off outside next to full garbage cans. Went down there he’s married with 6 kids. Even hotter now various there for a bit and on 3 occasions one of his little boys and girls kept calling their dad as he was being sucked!!!

Here is a new version of Part 8. I realized that I did a shit job of proofreading the first version last night. I blame the wine. *** Freshman Project: Jason (Part 8, revised) After Blake had recovered from his orgasm, he picked Jason up and set him on the couch. “Stay right here, I’m going to get us more water,” he said. Jason had a goofy grin on his face as he watched Blake, his cock still hanging out the front of his spandex shorts, go grab two water bottles from over by the DJ both. The DJ leaned over and said something to Blake and looked back at Jason. Blake shook his head as he replied and then carried the bottles back to the couch, sitting down next to Jason. He opened one of the bottles then handed it to Jason, “Drink up.” Jason drank some water as he watched Blake dig into his hip pouch and pull out the small bag that had the ecstasy boosters. Blake popped one into his mouth then took a gulp from his bottle of water to wash it down. He held out the other tab to Jason, “Here, take this, it will help keep these feelings going until its time for us to head home.” “Yes, Sir,” said Jason. He grabbed the tablet and quickly swallowed it down with a gulp of water. Jason was still horny and turned on after the intense fuck that took his virginity as he was still rolling and the horny house music was pounding through his body. He looked into Blake’s lap and saw the cock that had taken his virginity and injected the first toxic load into his ass. He slid off the couch and positioned himself between Blake’s thighs, then looked up at his Master, his eyes full of need. “Please Sir, may I suck your cock?” Blake looked down at the cute young twink sitting between his knees. Just a few weeks ago he had been a repressed little recovering jesus freak and now he was his drugged up sex slave. Blake nodded then grabbed the back of the boy’s head, feeling his sweaty hair in his palm as he pulled the boy to his cock. Jason immediately buried his face into Jason’s crotch and started licking his lube and cum covered cock. He was rolling and didn’t care that the dick he was licking and nuzzling had just been in his ass. When he first left home for college he would have pretended to be disgusted at that fact, but now his inner pig had been released and he loved the fact he was tasting the his ass and Blake’s cum. He lost track of time as he licked and suck on Blake’s semi-hard cock. He was in his own little world that was only broken when he felt a finger start to rub up and down his ass crack. His awareness returned to him and realized there was someone kneeling on the ground next to him. “Welcome to the family brother, is it okay if I eat your ass and taste our Master’s cum?” said a voice next to him he could barely hear over the music. Jason pulled his mouth of Blake’s cock and turned to see Aiden’s face just a couple inches away from his own. A quick wave of regret passed through the freshly deflowered twink as he remembered how much he had hated the flamboyant fag when he first saw him. Over the last few weeks he realized the reason he hated Aiden was that he was envious of the obvious slut and jealous of how comfortable the boy was with everyone know he was a sex object for men to use. The MDMA was hitting him from the booster and all his past hatred, jealously, and envy was washed away with feelings of love. Aiden wasn’t someone to hate or fear, he was his brother in his newfound religion, they both had been baptized by their priest of lust with his toxic seed. He didn’t answer in words but leaned over and kissed Aiden. Their lips both parted and their tongues communicated their mutual lust to taste the traces of Blake’s cum that lingered in Jason’s mouth. “Good boys,” said Blake as he stroked both twinks’ heads as they made out with each other on the floor in front of him. Eventually the two teens broke their french kiss and Jason returned to sucking his cock as Aiden moved behind Jason and helped the boy onto all fours so the nineteen year old could get his tongue into the eighteen year old’s ass. Aiden alternated between tonguing the newest member of the family’s puffy hole and roughly sticking his finger into the boy’s ass, doing his best to scratch up the boy’s rectal walls to help Blake’s potent semen gain access to Jason’s bloodstream. At first Jason would give a little yelp and pull away, but eventually it dawned on the drugged up boy what Aiden was doing and why, so he stopped pulling away and pressed his ass back against Aiden’s finger whenever it entered him. Eventually he felt Aiden’s head banging against his butt as the finger and tongue disappeared. He took a moment to give his jaw a break and pulled off of Blake’s cock which had regained its full erect glory. He looked back to see what was happening. Aiden was on all fours behind him, his head pressed against Jason’s ass as the DJ was squatting behind Aiden, his hands around Aiden’s hips as he drove his cock in and out of Aiden’s ass. “Get up and sit on my cock,” commanded Blake as he gently hooked his hands under Jason’s armpits and pulled him up off the floor. Jason went to sit down facing Blake but the jock turned him around and had him sit with his back against his chest. “I want everyone to see you as you ride me and I want you to see everyone watching us,” said Blake his he lowered the boy down onto his erect nine and half inch cock. Jason, with Blake’s help, bounced up and down on his Master’s cock as he fondled his own still soft cock. The feeling of Blake’s hands on him along with his own hand on his limp dick, combined with the thick cock in ass was a sensory overload. He was feeling everything and nothing at the same time. He did as Blake asked and tried to focus on the crowd around them. The number of people in the loft had doubled since they first came up there. Most were busy having sex in their own little worlds, but some where looking his way, including Aiden who was right in front of him getting pounded doggy style by the DJ who had obviously put a prerecorded set of tracks on so he could enjoy the fun. Jason smiled at all the people watching him get fucked for the second time that night. The DJ was a probably a mid-twenties black guy with dreds. He was staring at Jason has he pounded Aiden with a dick from what brief glimpses Jason saw was probably just a little smaller than Blake’s. He felt’s Blake’s breath on his neck as the jock leaned forward, “Raymond asked if he could fuck you while I was getting us waters. I told him no and that he would have to make due with Aiden tonight. I love seeing my boys get fucked by other men, but I don’t want you getting fucked by anyone else until I make sure you’re pregnant with my sons coursing through your veins. You understand?” Blake emphasized the part by giving a particularly hard thrust up into Jason’s ass. Jason leaned back and let all his weight rest against Blake’s chest as he fucked up into him. Blake moved his hands from the boy’s hips and ran them over his sweaty stomach and chest. “Yes Sir, I am yours to command,” he said melted into his Master. “Now and forever,” said Blake into his ear. Raymond started grunting loudly as he unloaded into Aiden’s ass then pulled out, stood up, and returned to his turntables. Aiden crawled up and squeezed onto the couch next to Blake. The two kissed for a minute as Blake continued to bounce Jason on his lap. When they broke their kiss, Blake told Aiden, “Break’s over, time to get back to work.” “Yes Sir,” said Aiden as he got up off the couch, rearranged his clothes so we was presentable and started circulating through the crowd. Jason was too far gone to pay attention to anything other than the music and Blake’s cock in his ass so he didn’t realize that Aiden was quickly quite popular and many pills and small baggies exited his fanny pack to be replaced by wads of bills. Sometime later, Jason found himself on the dance floor with Blake holding his hips as they danced to the music. Jason was still completely naked and Blake’s cock was still hanging out of his shorts. He was definitely starting to feel like the high from the ecstasy was wearing off. He was starting to feel tired but not sleepy. He leaned into Blake. The older boy recognized that Jason was starting to come down. Without saying anything he led the boy off the dance floor and back to the coat check. Without saying much they got their street clothes back on and Blake packed up everything else into his backpack. They held hands as they headed to the waterfront and walked along it. They saw the Bay Bridge all lit up in lights and by the time the sun started to light up the eastern sky they made their way back to the train station and caught the first train of the morning south. They arrived back at Blake’s apartment a little after seven on Sunday. They had a quick rinse in the shower then lay in Blake’s bed smoking bowl after bowl of weed until they fell asleep cuddling together listing to mellow music.

Chapter 5 – Coming To. Ray opens his eyes. The room is dark and is hard for him to focus on anything. The only light is coming from the tv. It’s playing porn still. Ray heard the video before he could focus on the video. The video is of some tweeked out twink being double teamed by a latino man and a black man. One at each hole. The man fucking the twink’ mouth is blowing clouds down on the bottom. This brings back the memories of how Ray got in the current situation. The memory of his brother smoking him out. The memory of sucking on his brother’s dick. The memory of smoking while he was rimmed. And finally, he remembered his brother penetrating his virgin hole. It took him a moment to fully recall the whole experience but It all came back to him. He felt so horny still. He became aware that he was jerking himself off while reminiscing on the earlier events. Still hard as a rock. He thought to himself, how long have I been passed out? That’s when Ray heard his brother from the other side of the room. W: oh look who finally came to. Ray heard another person snicker along with his brother. Someone else was with them now. Ray could not make anyone out in the darkness but he definitely heard a second voice. He found it hard to focus. Ray remembered that he was in a G hole and would need some time to come out of it. Damn his need for drugs and more drugs. Ray thought to himself that he should get up, grab his shit, and run out of there. As if reading his mind, Walt commanded his brother’s attention. W: Hey little bro. Want another hit? Without thinking, Ray nodded his head. His body betrayed his inner struggle to run away. W: hold up. Our guest has a special request. He wants to see how desperate you are for more tina straight boy. I’ve shown him a pic of your used hole. He wants to see it used in front of his own eyes. The thought of your desperation makes him hard. Ray gulped. What had he gotten himself into? He knew he should say fuck this shit and run but his brother had all the drugs. And he needed more. Always needed more. Walt came into the light of the tv with a new pipe with a huge bowl. It looked like double the size of the bowl he was used to using. It also had a thick stem. The quality of the pipe was definitely more than he was used to. Walt picked up a torch and ignited the flame. He bounced the flame on the bowl and melted the huge puddle inside. He released a huge cloud that filled the area exposed by the light of the tv. Walt handed the pipe down to his little brother. Ray lit up and exhaled the biggest hit he has taken so far the evening. He greedily took 3 more hits before he realized that his brother was shaking his dick in the air in front of him. Ray’s eyes looked up at his big brother, pleading with him to stop this humiliation. When the eye contact did nothing, Ray started to mumble out loud. R: please, Walt. Please brother, please don’t make me do this. Not again. I’m straight man. I have a girlfriend. W: yeah, I know you have a girlfriend. She comes around here trying to get at my dick for drugs too. Stupid bitch doesn’t get anywhere with me though. She doesn’t have the right equipment for my tastes. So she blows my friends for some smoke here and there. But from where I’m standing, you seem to be the better cock suckers anyways. And you have a tighter ass than she does. I mean, everyone has hit that at least once or twice. But you’re so new and tight, you put her to shame. Ray had a look of defeat on his face. W: oh come now, you have to have known she gives her mouth and holes up for drugs. Besides, you have no moral high ground to stand on. I mean, you sucked off your own brother. You took dick from your own brother. You got bread by your own brother, like a brand new cum whore junkie that you are. Just enjoy yourself and your new position. Ray knew what his brother wanted. He took in another hit and lunged forward engulfing the dick. White clouds escaped around the dick in his mouth. This made Walt and his guest start to chuckle again. W: See, I told you so. My brother, the little cock sucker.. Ray was lost in the giving the blowjob but he listened to the two men laughing. The voice sounded familiar but in his present condition, he could not making out who it was. Beside, it didn’t matter who it was. All that mattered was making his brother’s dick happy because that meant more drugs for him. He had to keep his mind on the drugs or he feared that he would go crazy given his current state. Walt pulled his now hard dick out of his brother’s mouth and slapped his face with the thick head. He let the trail of precum leak all over the boy’s face. He pulled his dick away and took a step backwards. This left Ray on his knees in front of the dimly lit area of the TV. Walt walked away for a brief moment and came back with a blindfold. He placed it on his little brother’s eyes and tied it really snug. W: you’ll leave this on. If you take it off or it falls off before I take it off, then you leave right then without any tina in your pockets. Keep the party going for me and my friend here and you’ll have something in your pocket later. Nod if you understand. He nods indicating that he understood. W: Good boy. Now my friend here is paying for your drugs right now. Come over here and make his dick feel appreciated. Good little straight boy tina slut. Ray was totally in the dark but walked on his hands and knees. He followed the sound of the other man’s laughing. He reached his pants. Ray reached up to the fly and unzipped him. He heard the man’s pants fall to the ground. Ray reached forward again, this time feeling the man’s dick tenting in his boxer briefs. He pulled the man’s dick out and jerked the growing dick. The man spoke in a hushed voice. Man: Lick my head. Make my head nice and wet bitch. Wet my 9 inches of meat. Ray did as he was told. He leaned forward and met the man’s boner. He licked the mushroom head like it was a lollipop. He was rewarded with some precum dripping from the piss slit. W: Good little whore. Here you go. You are starting to earn this. The pipe was pushed to Ray’s lips and Walt lit the bulb for him. W: I’ll light it. just take a moment and breath the tina in. No lazy hits today. I want to see you fucked up. I know you wanna get nice and fucked up. Walt twisted the pipe for his brother and Ray sucked in a huge cloud. He blew it out and immediately put his mouth back on the pipe. This second hit was faster and deeper. The third hit was well placed. He put his mouth on the dick in front of him and started making out with the dick. Smoke leaked out from the sides of his mouth. Without much prompting, Ray started full on blowing this stranger. He did as he was told to. Hands appeared on the back of his head pushing him further down on the throbbing dick. Ray gagged on the intruding meat in his throat. He backed off with spit leaking from his mouth to the mushroom head. Again the pipe was put to his mouth and the bowl lit for him. After two more good hits, Ray returned his mouth to the dick in front on him. Without warning, the man pushed his entire dick into Ray’s throat. He gagged a bit but hands were placed on the back of his head and Ray couldn’t get away. He was forced to swallow the entire length. Again the chuckles of his brother and than man could be heard echoing in the room. Man: That’s right, swallow my meat. You know just how I like it. Ray heard the words and froze. The man kept his rhythm and fucked Ray’s throat but Ray was still as could be. He knew he recognized that voice from the chuckling. The realization of who the man was made him start coughing. The man felt waves of pleasure with his dick in the whore’s throat as he coughed. It almost put him over the edge. Almost. The man pulled his phlegm covered dick out and smacked Ray’s cheeks with the access drool. Chapter 6 – Who’s the Homo Now? Man: Did little Ray just put one and two together? Walt walked away from the scene and to the nearest wall. He flicked the light switch on and the room became illuminated. At first this blinded Ray, as his eyes were used to the dim light of the TV. It took a moment, but his eyes adjusted and a look of horror came upon his face. There standing in front of Ray was his ex-best friend Zeek. Ray was in shock. How did he find himself in this situation. Naked, hard as can be, and sucking off his ex-bestie. Z: yeah buddy. I just love how well you suck my cock. Especially since I’m supposed to be the no good homo, right? Walt walked back to the two and feigned shock. W: Why, whatever do you mean by that Zeek? Z: Oh well, back when me and your brother were younger and just starting to smoke out, I let out a secret after one of our jerk off sessions. I told him that I was bisexual and liked guys sometimes. This freaked him the fuck out. He said I was hitting on him and only wanted to get at his dick. So he called me a dirty homo and kicked me to the side like yesterday’s left overs. W: oh damn. He did you dirty like that? Z: yeah, fucked up huh? Well, who’s laughing now? Who wants who’s dick now? All Ray could do is sit there in embarrassment. He had become lower than low. He wanted to get up and run away and never look back. But he looked over at his brother Walt, whom was waving the pipe as he reloaded it. This made him complacent and he remained in place. Zeek looked to his side and saw the pipe getting reloaded. He waved at Walt. Z: Plan C bro. W: Okay. I’m down Walt walked off to his dresser and came back with a baggie of powdered Tina. He handed it to Zeek. Zeek reached in and grabbed a pinch of powder and drizzled in on the head of his dick. He grabbed another pink and drizzled in on the length of his 9 inch dick. Z: oh come on now my little bitch. Come clean off my dick with your hot little mouth. Take it back in your throat in one go and we’ll start the pipe again. Ray went from frozen with fear to horny slut in the flash of second. He lunged forward and took the 9 inch monster into his throat like a seasoned whore. Once it was in, he started to gag but Zeek held him head in place. There was no escape from the situation. Ray’s mouth was filled with the awful chemical taste of raw Tina. But he loved the effect. He felt the headrush immediately. Before he knew it, a brown bottle of poppers were placed to his nostrils. Zeek held the bottle in place while Ray took a hit from each side of his nose. Zeek felt Ray hit the rush from the poppers and felt his throat relax. He took the opportunity to start to jackhammer Ray’s throat. Zeek’s balls were smacking Ray’s bottom lip. Z: yeah, I love this you dirty bitch. Zeek continued to assault Ray’s mouth for a few minutes. When he finally pulled his dick out, Walt immediately had the pipe up to Ray’s used mouth. Ray puffed out 3 good sized clouds. He tried to get back at Zeek’s dick but was slapped to the right cheek. The slap bounced in the room. Walt handed the pipe over to Zeek. He took a few hits himself before returning the pipe to Walt. Z: Hey Walt, help the chem whore to the bed. Put him on his back. Walt walked over to Ray and helped him to his feet. He walked Ray to the bed and had him sit on the edge. Zeek walked over and maneuvered Ray into the spread eagle position. Z: yeah, I like to see a good whore show off the hole before I strike. Hey Ray, play with your hole for me you Tina slut. Ray reached between his legs and started to finger himself. Walt bend down and spit on Ray’s hole to help him out with some lube. The spit helped revitalize the load that was already deposited into his ass before. Ray was pushing three fingers into himself. Walt approached Zeek with another baggie. This time, this baggie was filled with large shards. Zeek picked two out and handed the baggie back to Walt. Zeek approached the bottom as he assaulted his own hole with his fingers. Zeek grabbed the hand and pulled the fingers out. He placed the first shard into Ray’s hole and released his hand. Ray pushed the shard into himself. When he got all three fingers back in and started to feel the burn he tried to pull his fingers out. Zeek pushed on his hand so that the fingers remained in place. Z: Tell me when the heat stops. R: Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Z: yeah, let me hear it baby. Ray had made a whimper to signal that the burning had stopped. Zeek read the scene and pulled the fingers out of the hole. he placed the second shard just inside the boy’s hole. He placed the tip of his dick at the entrance. Z: Shhh, shhh, shhh… Zeek slowly pushed the second shard into the quivering hole. He stopped for a moment when he had pushed half of his dick into the boy. He waited for the shard to dissolve. Once he felt the hole quiver again, he pushed the rest of his dick into Ray. He bottomed out and held steady with his balls against the bottom’s bottom. Zeek pulled Ray’s legs up and placed them on his shoulders. He then pulled almost entirely out, leaving only his mushroom head inside the warm hole. He slammed back into Ray with full force. Ray tried to yell but found he had all the air punched out of him. He tried to yell, scream, something, but could only make a moaning sound. Zeek kept power thrusting like that over and over and all that he could make out was the damn moaning sound. Ray knew that moaning sound. He was very familiar with that moaning sound. It was the same sound he would get his girlfriend to make when he fucked her. R: Oh gawd… what are you guys doing to me? Ray looked around to try to get his brother’s attention. Surely he would help him and stop the man from raping him. When he found his brother in his view, he noticed that he had his phone out and was recording the whole ordeal. Ray was filled with embarrassment. Not only was he getting fucked like a common whore, not only was he dripping precum by the bucket load, not only was he getting a revenge fucking from his ex-best friend, but his brother was recording it. To Ray this was the stuff of nightmares and he thought this is what hell must be like…that’s what he was thinking but as he thought that, his body was in ecstasy. He kept dwelling on the fact that he was being recorded. The thought made his dick throb. Then without any warning, right in the middle of a passionate thrusting, he let out a loud moan as he shot his thick load all over himself. Zeek looked down at this whore wetting himself from the fucking he was delivering. He started to laugh. His laughs were echoed by Walt’s own laughs. Z: Looks like the little Tina slut loves my dick enough to cream herself. Zeek scoops up some of Ray’s cum and puts it to his own mouth. Oh the amount of times he had jerked off thinking about the taste of this guy’s nut. Now that he tasted it, he felt a sense of relief. He scooped another finger’s worth and tasted it again. This sent him over the edge and he grabbed Ray by the hips. He delivered another warm load into the bowels of the Tina whore. Z: Well, you took my load so well. Who’s the homo now? Zeek and Walt laughed like they were dying of laughter. Zeek collected his clothes and got dressed. He turned to the two brothers. Z: I’ll hit you up later to see if you want another load. And Ray, the next time I see you, I want you to say “I’m a fucking homo and I need another load from my man.” That will be worth a bowl or two. Zeek turned around and headed for the door. Walt threw on a pair of boxers and walked Zeek out the bedroom door. All Ray could do was lay there on the bed on his back and continued playing with his now empty hole.

The scenario you're describing—1,000 rectal ejaculations in 24 hours (one every ~86.4 seconds without any pause)—is, from a combined physiological, logistical, and medical standpoint, effectively impossible for a single bottom and extremely improbable even under the most optimized theoretical conditions. Here’s a breakdown of why, focusing on the hardest constraints: 1. The bottom’s physical limits (the real bottleneck) - Friction and tissue trauma: Even with massive amounts of lube, 1,000 insertions in 24 hours means constant mechanical stress on the rectal and anal tissue. After a few dozen to perhaps 100–200 partners (depending on size, technique, lube, and prep), micro-tearing becomes macro-tearing, bleeding, swelling, and eventual prolapse risk skyrocket. The rectum simply wasn’t designed for that volume of traffic. - Sphincter fatigue and incontinence risk: The external and internal anal sphincters would fatigue long before 1,000. Temporary or permanent fecal incontinence becomes a very real outcome. - Semen volume inside the rectum: 1,000 average ejaculations is roughly 2–5 liters of semen (closer to 2 L if volumes drop with rapid recycling). The rectum and sigmoid colon would distend massively; cramping, leakage, and eventual reflux out of the anus would be unavoidable without constant enema breaks—which eat into your 86.4-second window. 2. The top donor pool required Let’s assume you somehow solve the bottom’s durability problem (you can’t, but let’s pretend). - Best-case refractory period: A 20-year-old in perfect health might average 10–15 minutes between recoverable ejaculations if highly stimulated and using pharmacological help (cabergoline, low-dose sildenafil, oxytocin nasal spray, etc.). The world-record stuff (6 full ejaculations in 36 minutes) is an extreme outlier and not repeatable for hours on end. - Realistic average with drugs and youth: 1 ejaculation every 15–20 minutes per donor is already pushing biological limits. - Math: 1,000 ejaculations ÷ (24 hours × 3 ejaculations per hour per donor) = you need a minimum of ~140 young, healthy, drug-assisted donors rotating constantly, each managing 7–8 loads in the day. - If the average donor can only do 4–5 loads (more realistic), you need 200–250 men. So you’d need an absolute minimum of 140–250 highly fit, pre-screened, consenting tops on site, perfectly timed, with zero delays. 3. Logistical nightmare - You need at least two full-time fluffers per top keeping them hard and on the verge (because 86 seconds of insertion time leaves almost no margin). - Hygiene: Rapid partner change + anal sex + semen = massive bacterial infection risk (E. coli, gonorrhea, chlamydia, shigella, etc.) unless every top is tested that morning and showers immediately before insertion. Fortunately this is breeding zone, so who cares about that. - Queue management: A delay of even 30 seconds per changeover destroys the average. Documented extremes for context - The current “most creampies in 24 hours” record (Rusty Rocket, 2018) is 136, done with a rotation of pre-vetted tops and extensive prep. That’s 1 every 10.6 minutes—already 7× slower than the needed 86-second pace. - Even extreme gangbang records (Lisa Sparxxx 919 partners in 24 h) required frequent breaks, position changes, and still caused serious medical issues for the performer. Bottom line - Theoretically conceivable with: 200–300 young, medicated, hyper-fertile tops + industrial amounts of lube + a medical team on standby + a bottom with superhuman tissue resilience? Still only gets you to maybe 300–400 loads before the bottom is evacuated to the ER. - Human biology simply says no. So yes—impossible in practice, and even the most extreme attempt would end in serious injury long before reaching quadruple digits.

Is this for real?

Sharing my personal experience and thoughts: I started barebacking from the very introduction into and the beginning of my escapade to the world of relentless sex activity - I was underage at the time and have fucked quite a few holes ranging my age to late 40's before I came of age (16 years, here - in Israel). This was in the late 90's to early 2000's. At some points I have been on and off with condoms. I'm a total top, but had given bottoming 4 chances - two of which were condom sex and the other two were bare - just to find out I didn't like it (my personal taste only! I love you all, my fellow BB bottoms!) Since about 2006 I started leaning more towards bareback sex, and starting 2013 I decided to go bareback only. The arrival of PrEP in Israel - in 2017, and its rapid adoption by the sexually "promiscuous" populations here, has made barebacking significantly more available, as the use of condoms among PrEP patients started to become very rare. In Israel, we get sex-ed at school and at community clinics, and everyone is aware of the potential consequences of barebacking, despite the elimination the risk of HIV infection, but the pleasure of skin on skin, and for me, personally, the bare connection with my bottoms as I slide my dick in and out of their holes, and eventually shoot my loads inside them, is worth the risk of catching STD's. I believe most barebackers in Israel feel the same about barebacking. I'm not on PrEP, and never have been (please, no judgement and no lecturing. I have the right to make my own decisions as an adult of 40 yo), and my STD tally, after having fucked hundreds or more different holes) only stands on one case of throat Gono (I'm a big fan of giving rim jobs and blowjobs, and swallowing cum), and one case of penile Gono. This might be one reason I'm so promiscuous. Until early 2020, sexual health and PrEP habits were discussed before most of my sexual encounters, even at the baths, but after CoVid-19 restrictions were removed - around mid 2022, I noticed that these discussions were also removed off the table. To me it was the understanding that even if what the parties to the encounter disclose is 100% true and reliable, there is absolutely no way to eliminate the risk of catching STD's, so I just go ahead and find bottoms I feel I can connect to, and have my fun time with them. I also attend more anon action at the backrooms of the baths. I know that I can only rely on myself, and that I have to take care of my own health - get tested regularly and if I happen to catch something - treat it, knowing the risk I am taking as I fuck around - the risk of catching STD's, not excluding HIV. I do believe, however, that on the back of my mind, I assume that many bottoms I fuck nowadays are either Neg on PrEP or U = U, thanks to the availability of HIV treatment here. And, while some bottoms disclose their Poz status after I breed them, the assumption that in the 2020's I am less exposed to HIV infection, makes it much more comfortable for me to slide it in no questions asked. So, to conclude my own experience - PrEP did make bareback sex more available, for me, and even made it feel safer, although, as I already mentioned, I am not on PrEP.

Load count 14

Same for me, I’m turned on by a masculine dude in briefs, boxer briefs, or a jockstrap. Love seeing his sexy hairy ass up and hole exposed for my tongue and cock to enter him. Anything feminine like thong, panties, hairless ass is a turn off. I want to fool around with men, not men dressed up to look like women.

My dream relationship is with a woman into being cum sluts together constantly getting filled with loads

Taking loads next to another cumdump at steamworks in Berkeley all night starting at 5pm. Will post room number

Load count 22

sttill one of my faves after all these years

Nope, made me the cum whore I am today!

Apologies for the long gaps in new chapters. I work full time and have a partner that needs taking care of. I get into funks where it is hard for me to find the energy to write but I do intend to finish this story before I die. Fortunately I have quite a few years. This chapter doesn't have a lot of penetrative sex, but it sets up tings to come/cum. I find I enjoy writing the story more than the blow by blow of sex. Hope you still find it erotic. **** Freshman Project: Jason (Part 6) The routine for the next two weeks was basically a repeat of that first Monday session. Jason came over every other day for training. Blake always found some reason to discipline Jason and the boy was learning to enjoy the mix of pleasure and pain that resulted from the spankings or from the flogger that Blake used on his back. One of the reasons to punish the twink is when he had his first hands free cum while getting fucked with a dildo. He had tried to ask permission, but Blake had denied it while still continuing to work the boy’s prostate. After that session, Blake had locked up Jason’s small cock in a chastity cage, telling him that it was to constantly remind him that his purpose was to provide pleasure to real men like Blake and not to be focused on his own pleasure. Blake also introduced Jason to bondage during the second week by tying the boy to the bed and blindfolding him. First Jason was tied face down while his ass was worked over by a larger dildo than he had previously taken. This one, which Jason was not allowed to see, was actually one that was a custom made model from a cast of Blake’s cock. Seeing the boy be able to take ‘his cock’ with just a little bit of discomfort convinced Blake the freshman was ready for the real thing. Also during the sessions, Blake was working on by the boy’s mind. Telling him what a good slut he was, and how it was his purpose in life to be fucked by real men. Blake told him that he would never be satisfied with just one cock, he would need a constant stream of cock to satisfy his ass. At the end of their session on Thursday night of the second week, Blake had Jason sit down next to him on the couch. “So Jason, our session is over for tonight. I don’t have any travel or swim meets this weekend and I wanted to know if you wanted to go to a rave up in the city with me on Saturday night, you know, like a date,” said Blake as he reached over gently ran his hand over the boy’s blushing cheek and through his brown hair which was starting to get wavy as it continued to grow out. “A date?” croaked Jason. He had been starting to fear that Blake was only interested in him as a sexual plaything, a toy to be used. While Jason was enjoying that, he also wanted something more than that. Despite what Blake had been saying about needing lots of cock, at this point Jason still just wanted one, he wanted Blake’s even if it meant taking it bare. “Yeah, you know, we can take the train up to the city, grab a light dinner, then there is a gay bar I know where I can get you in, then we can go the rave which starts around midnight, dance through the night, and take the train back down in the morning. I really like you and want to hang out, even if we aren’t having sex, although you might want to rinse out before we head up there, just in case,” said Blake, winking at the last part. Jason tried to hide his excitement, “Uh, okay yeah I guess.” Blake laughed and pulled the boy in for a deep passionate kiss. “You guess?” he said when he broke the kiss. “Yes, I meant yes,” said Jason laughing as well, “What should I wear?” Blake got up and went into his bedroom and pulled a small rainbow jockstrap out of his drawer of clothes he had bought for the use of his various boys. He returned to the living room and tossed it to Jason. “Wear this, a pair of nice jeans, a clean t-shirt, and your school hoodie, you’ll look like just what you are, a super cute college boy twink.” Saturday evening Jason stood waiting for Blake at the train station. He was dressed as requested and had also made sure he was all clean, inside and out. He had put the larger plug back into place after cleaning out to make sure his virgin ass was lubed up and loose. He didn’t know if Blake was going to want to fuck him tonight, but he was ready for it. He had made up his mind, he would let Blake fuck him and do it raw. He wanted, no needed, to feel the hunk’s thick cock sliding into his ass. He wanted his Master to truly own him and be a part of him. Jason arrived at the train station before Blake. There were about a dozen students hanging around waiting for the train up to the city. Jason avoided eye contact, he was sure that if anyone looked at him they would know he was hoping to head up to the city for sex. He was relieved when Blake arrived. Blake was wearing jeans and a swim team sweatshirt over what Jason expected was one of the tight fitting underarmor shirts he favored. He also had a backpack on that looked full. Jason tried to play he cool, he gave a wave and said, “What’s up Blake.” Blake smiled and walked over to him and pulled him into a hug. He grabbed the freshman by the back of the head and gave him a hard kiss. Jason’s body reacted as it had been trained, melting into the big jock’s body and kissing him back while his brain was screaming at acting like a fag in in front of all these other students. “Hey babe, you ready for our date?” asked Blake loudly. Jason blushed as he noticed several of the women that had been checking Blake out give looks of disappointment. “Yes, Sir, uh Blake,” sputtered Jason, not sure what to call this senior jock that had taken control of him. “Blake while we are around normies in public,” said Blake as he winked. Just then the trained pulled into the station on its way north. Blake took Jason’s hand and led him onto the train. The took seats and made some ideal conversation for the near hour long trip north. Blake asked Jason about his classes and other mundane topics. Once they arrived in the city Blake took Jason to a place that made really good salads. He explained that they would be doing Ecstasy at the rave, so they needed to eat light. After dinner Blake took Jason to a bar on Folsom Street. There was a large black man checking ID’s at the door. Blake saw that Jason was nervous as they approached the door. He bought his arm around Jason and nearly dragged him to the door. “Hey Deshawn, is Jerry here yet?” asked Blake, clearly knowing the bouncer. “Yeah Blake, he’s expecting you,” answered the bouncer. He looked over at Jason smiled. Jason shivered, he had the sense that this is what an antelope felt when getting stalked by a lion. “This one legal?” Deshawn asked. “Not to drink, but he ain’t going to get anyone on a registry. Besides, he isn’t drinking tonight and I’m only sharing his mouth tonight,” said Blake giving a little laugh. “Pity, I would love to have enjoyed his ass on my break, but I wouldn’t mind raping that throat of his,” said Deshawn as pulled back the leather curtain that covered the doorway and waived them inside. The inside of the bar was dark and the place was about half full as it was still early. House music pumped out of the speakers at a level where it could be heard but still allowed conversation. There were two levels with the main bar on the first level then stairs halfway back that led up to another area of the bar. There were several TV’s playing porn. The porn was a mix of twinks, leather daddies, and muscle bears depending on which screen you were looking at, none of the performers were wearing condoms. Blake led Jason past the bar and the coat check that was next to the stairs. They headed to the up the stairs to the upper area. There was a lot of benches along the wall where people were sitting, drinking and talking. Jason realized that the upper area was a lot larger as it extended out sideways where as the front part of the bar had been narrow. Jason noticed there was another doorway with a leather curtain on it at the back end of the upper area. Blake went over to one of the benches and set his backpack down. He dug through the backpack and pulled some things out. Jason wasn’t paying attention though as his focus was still on checking the place out. Most of the guys here were wearing some type of leather, fetish gear, or uniform. They ranged from a few twinks to mostly older men. They were all shapes and sizes. Jason heard someone saying “strip” but continued checking out the crowd. A gentle slap across the face brought his focus back to Blake. “I said STRIP,” said Blake, clearly annoyed that Jason had missed the command the first time. Jason’s training instantly kicked in and he quickly stripped off his hoodie and shirt. He folded them neatly at set them down next to Blake’s backpack. He was about to start on his jeans, when Blake gave him more instructions, “Take your shoes off but put them back on after you take your jeans off. Leave the jockstrap on.” Jason did as he was ordered. He was glad the bar was fairly dark, he could just imagine how bright red he was from the embarrassment of standing in a public bar in just a jockstrap. He could tell that he had drawn the attention of quite a few of the patrons. “Sorry gentlemen, this one’s taken tonight,” said Blake as he pulled a leather collar out of his backpack. “Present,” he barked at Jason. The freshman was grateful for all the training Blake had done with him. He found it easy to fall back into the subby headspace and just follow his Master’s orders. He assumed the position, should width stance, chest out, head up, eyes down, his arms behind his back at the waist. “Good Boy,” said Blake, smiling. He fastened the collar around the boy’s neck. He then took a small padlock out of the backpack and locked the collar. “A locked collar lets everyone know that a Boy is taken. Most respectful men will not touch you without getting your Master’s permission first. Still some less respectful men will still want to cope a feel. If they do you will let them. If anyone asks for a blow job, you will give them one. If anyone tries to take out your plug or put anything in your ass, you yell ‘FIRE’ repeatedly as loud as you can. Any questions?” “Yes, Sir. Why fire?” asked Jason confused. “Because if you yell for help or scream rape, it will just draw a bigger crowd, while yelling fire will get staff’s attention that something is wrong. No one here wants this place going up in flames. Now let me grab one more thing from the backpack and then I want you to put your clothes in the backpack and take it to the coat check,” said Blake. “Um, Sir, how much should I tip the coat check, er, slave?” asked Jason. “When you give him the bag, tell him your Master didn’t give you any tip money but instructed you to offer him a blowjob instead. If he takes you up on the offer, you do what he asks, but remember, nobody removes your plug or puts anything in your ass. You are to do anything else he or any other employee requests, you got that? I know everyone that works in this bar. If you don’t do what they say, I’ll know.” “Yes Sir,” said Jason meekly. This was not how he was expecting his ‘date’ with Blake to go when he had been fantasizing about it the last few days. He watched as Blake reached into the bag and pulled out a metal tin, it looked like one of those butter cookie tins that everyone’s grandmother used for sowing supplies. “Now put your clothes in the bag and take it to the coat check Boy. I have some business to attend to with the manager of the bar. I’ll be back in a few minutes, after you are done at the coat check go the bar and tell the bartender you are Blake’s Boy, then do whatever he says.” “Yes Sir,” said Jason. The lack of enthusiasm in his voice was clearly obvious because Blake frowned. The jock grabbed the twink’s collar and pulled the boy in close, “Listen Jason, I know you want me, I know you think you want to spend the rest of your life devoted to me. I’d like that, but you have to know, this is who I am. This is my world. I am not monogamous. I don’t want to be with anyone who wants only to be with me. I’m a kinky ass fucker. If you are going to be with me, you will need to share me and share yourself to whoever I want. I know you grew up thinking being gay was bad, that all gays were going to get HIV and die. Well, everyone is going to die someday, and HIV is treatable, so why not enjoy the fuck out of life while we have it. Do you want to spend your life worrying about what other people think about you or do you want live it to its fullest and have more fucking fun that you have ever known?” Jason’s mind worked furiously to process everything that Blake was saying. What stuck out to him was Blake saying that he would like have Jason spending the rest of his life devoted to him, but that he had to share, both Blake and himself with others. He recognized the tone and way Blake had addressed him, not as Master but as an equal. “Yes Blake, I understand. I want to have fun. I’ll do what you say Sir.” “Good now go have fun, but remember no one fucks you. You are my Boy and I’m going to be the one that takes your virginity, you got that?” asked Blake. “Yes SIR!” exclaimed Jason enthusiastically. “Good Boy,” said Blake. Then then grabbed Jason by the back of his head, getting a fist full of the boy’s hair and pulling him in for a hard kiss. The kiss lasted for almost a minute as Blake devoured the boy’s mouth. When Blake finally released Jason. There were several men standing close by groping their crotches as they watched the older college boy dominating and making out with the nearly naked young twink was clearly not old enough to be in the bar. Jason’s small cock was straining inside it cage. He could understand how he could be so turned and so humiliated at the same time. He was standing in jockstrap, wearing a cage, and a butt plug in the middle of a bar with a bunch of older men [banned word] on him while being ordered around like a slave. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused on his orders. The rest of the bar faded except for Blake faded away as he did as he was told. He packed his clothes up in the backpack and then turned to head down to the coat check. He noticed that Blake was already headed back behind the bar and through a door that read “Staff Only”. Several of the men stayed and watched Jason as he was packing the backpack. They all seemed to recognize and respect the locked collar. One did say, “If you ever want a new Daddy, give me a call,” as he slipped a business card into the strap of his jockstrap. The coat check was staffed by another twink that was a few years older than Jason, although he looked like he had lived a rougher life than Jason. He was wearing a dirty stained jockstrap and had a collar on as well, but his wasn’t locked. Jason noticed he had a few scabs on his body and seemed to have a bunch of marks on the inside of his arms. He handed the backpack to the young man. The coat check boy seemed to recognize either the bag or him cause as he grabbed the backpack he said, “You must be Blake’s new Boy. My name’s Greg, what’s yours?” “Um, Jason,” replied the freshman. “Cool, nice to meet you Jason. No charge for you since your with Blake. But tips are appreciated,” said Greg. “Well, he didn’t give me tip money but told me to offer you a blowjob instead. He said to do whatever you wanted as long as you didn’t take out my plug or put anything up my ass,” said Jason. He was still shy and nervous even though he was standing in just a jockstrap and collar in the bar. It helped that the guy was talking with was dressed similarly. “Sweet, I don’t get many breaks back here, come on in,” said Greg as he opened the bottom half of the coat check door. He put the backpack on a counter in the back of the room, leaving room for Jason to enter the small room. He pushed pass Jason and closed the half door with them both inside. Greg leaned against the wall sideways with his left shoulder towards the open half door. “Get on your knees bitch,” he said to Jason. Jason’s let his mind go and went back to his training. He got down on his knees, “Yes Sir.” Greg laughed, “I ain’t no Sir, call me Greg, but just cause I’m not a Sir doesn’t mean you ain’t my bitch right now.” The well used twink reached down and pulled the pouch of his jockstrap to the side revealing a large cock that was stuffed into a small black metal chastity cage that held the shaft in a small tube. Jason looked up in confusion. Greg smiled down at the young naive college boy. This boy was going to a school that cost more money that Greg had ever seen in his lifetime. “Like I said, I don’t get many breaks and I have piss badly. Get your mouth on the end of the cage and be my urinal. I know Blake, you’ve tasted his piss, time for you to drink mine.” Jason hesitated, sure he had perved on Blake’s piss stained jock before but he had never drank his piss. Yet Greg seemed confident that if he was Blake’s Boy, that he would have drunk Blake’s piss before. He wondered if drinking his piss is something that Blake would want or expect from him. He would gladly drink Blake’s piss if he asked him to, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to would he drink this stranger’s piss. Yet he remembered, Blake had ordered him to do whatever he was asked as long as he kept his virginity intact for Blake to take. Apparently he waited too long as Greg grabbed his hair and pulled his head over to his caged cock, “Fucking drink it pig or you’re going to wear it and then have to lick it up off the floor.” Jason grabbed the man’s thighs then quickly wrapped his lips around the end of the cage. A second later his mouth was filled with piss as the older twink let go. Jason had, like most boys, tasted his own pee before, and knew there was something different about this piss, but he didn’t want to be covered in piss the rest of the night, so he drank it all down. “Ah thanks dude, I needed that,” said Greg after he was finished relieving himself into the what he figured was a spoiled rich college boy’s mouth. “It’s been a day or so, but there might still be a bit of a fun time in there for you,” he said with a laugh. “What do you mean?” asked Jason not understanding. “I did meth a few days ago, so there might still be some in my piss is what I mean you stupid kid. Now get out of here,” said Greg as he shoved Jason to the side, knocking him over. Greg opened the bottom door and held it up as Jason picked himself off the floor and scrambled out of the coat check room. Greg’s laughter followed behind Jason as he made his way over to the bar as Blake had instructed. He wondered what effect if any the meth tainted piss would have on him. He got to the bar and waved his hand to get the attention of the bartender. The bartender finished pouring the drinks he was working on then came over to Jason. “What? I ain’t serving you regardless of how good a fake ID you may flashed Deshawn,” said the bartender. “No sir, I don’t want to order anything, I’m Blake’s Boy,” said Jason. “Oh, okay, well get back here and sit over there,” said the bartender pointing to a stool on the inside of the bar at the far end. Jason obeyed and went behind the bar and sat of the stool. It drove the plug into his ass, which made his cock twitch inside his cage. So far he wasn’t feeling any effects from the piss. The bartender served a couple more men that were waiting them came over and handed him a couple gummies. “Blake said to give these to you when you came over. I think they are pot gummies.” Jason took the gummies and ate them. He was already very much into his subby head space and went along with what was asked. About ten minutes later, it was getting hard for Blake to tell time, he was definitely feeling something but he wasn’t sure if it was from the piss or the gummies, he felt a large hand grab his shoulder. He snapped his head up to see who it was. Deshawn was standing over him. “I’m on break boy, let’s head to the backroom,” said Deshawn as he put his hand on the back of Jason’s neck. Jason got to his feet and almost feel. “Mmmm, that’s what I like to see, I nice fucked up boy. I can’t wait to have some fun with you,” said the large black man as he helped stabilize the boy. He lead Jason up the stair and through the leather curtain into the backroom. While the bar had been dark, the backroom was almost pitch black. From what Jason could make out, it was a maze of wooden panels painted black in the middle with booths around the out walls. Deshawn led him into one booths. “Get down on your knees bitch,” ordered Deshawn. Jason obeyed. “Open my pants and get my dick out slut.” Jason dropped to his knees and reached up, undoing his the man’s belt and opening his pants. Deshawn adjusted his pants down a bit so they revealed his large package help in place by his jockstrap. Without even thinking Jason buried his nose into the man’s pouch, smelling his musk. He ran his tongue over the fabric tasting the man’s essence. He reached up and pulled the jockstrap down, freeing the monster cock. It was much bigger than Blake’s. “Yeah you southern cracker bitch, suck that big black cock,” said Deshawn. Jason took the head of the cock into his mouth as he grabbed it with a hand. He could feel it stiffen in his hand as he licked and suck the head. It soon grew enough that he could wrap both hands around it as he fit as much as he could in his mouth. Once it was fully hard, probably around eleven inches, Deshawn grabbed the boy’s armpits and pulled him up to his feet. “I’m going to fuck that tight virgin ass of your boy and ruin for Blake’s small white boy cock,” growled Deshawn as he spun the boy around and pressed his face against the side wall of the booth. He reached his hand down and started to pull the plug out of the boy’s ass. Jason was feeling the effects of the weak chem piss and the pot gummies that were starting to kick. He was so fucking horny and wanted desperately to lose his virginity, but something cut through those horny thoughts, Blake’s order to not let anyone remove his plug or put anything in ass. “No, don’t. My Master said no,” begged Blake. “Your what?” asked Deshawn. “My Master, Blake, he owns me and I’ll do whatever he says. He said I can’t let anyone play with my ass. He wants to take my virginity, please don’t,” said Jason. “But you want it don’t you boy, you want this big black cock up your ass. If you it were up to you, you would let me fuck ruin your tight little hole and cum inside you. Then you’d let all the dirty old perverts in this bar take their turns shooting their cum inside you. You wouldn’t say no and you wouldn’t insist on a condom, would you, you fucking slut,” said Deshawn into Jason’s ear as he pinned the boy’s body up against the wall, his huge hard cock pressed against the smaller boy’s back. “Yes, yes I do, but please no,” admitted Jason. “Fine,” sighed Deshawn as he stepped back and freed the boy. Jason fell to his knees and his head was quickly grabbed by the bouncer who forced his dick back into the boy’s mouth. He faced fucked the boy hard. It was way more cock than Jason had ever sucked before, which was just Blake’s. He did his best, but there was a lot of choking and gagging. Deshawn didn’t care, he had many a drugged up white boy choking on his cock before. He just focused on getting as much down the boy’s throat as he could until he was ready to cum. When he felt his load ready to be released he pulled out and stroked himself until he shot a huge load all over the college twink. After he finished shooting his load all over Jason, he pulled the boy up to his feet by his hair. He then led the boy out the backroom and over to wear Blake had left him to pack up the backpack in the upper room. Blake was sitting on the bench drinking a cocktail. “So did he let you fuck him?” asked Blake. Deshawn sneered at Blake, “No, he wanted it bad. He probably would have kept saying no as I raped him, but I don’t rape boys, they got to beg for it. Here you go, you won.” The large bouncer, who was probably twice the size of the jock, pushed Jason over to Blake. He reached into his pants and pulled out some cash and tossed it to Blake then turned and headed towards the front door, his break over. Jason was confused, but happy to be back with Blake. The jock pulled him in between his legs and hugged him. “I’m so proud of your Boy. You did a great job of following your orders. I have just one question for you, if Deshawn and not stopped, would you have yelled ‘FIRE’ or would you have let him rape you? Be honest,” asked Blake as he hugged the boy and rubbed his back, running his hands down to his ass and playing with the plug. Jason moaned as his Blake played with his plug. He was torn, he didn’t know how to respond as he didn’t know what answer Blake wanted. The words “be honest” resonated with him. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have stopped him, I want it so bad, I need it. He talked about letting the whole bar fuck me and cum inside me. I wanted it so badly. I’m sorry,” said Jason, sobbing. “I’m so proud of you Jason. I would have loved to see you taking load after load from random strangers, that would have been so hot. I’m glad you think it is hot as well. Someday we will do it together but for now its time to head over to the dance. Go fetch my backpack Boy,” said Blake. Blake recognized the order. He was definitely feeling the effects of the drugs, but at this point it mainly was the pot and Jason was used to serving Blake while stoned. “Yes, Sir,” he said then headed down the coat check. Greg was all business and immediately retrieved Blake’s backpack when he saw Jason approaching. He handed Jason the bag, “I can’t wait to party with you more.” Jason grabbed the backpack and returned to Blake, handing it to him. Blake pulled out Jason’s clothes and set them down on the bench. “Go ahead and put your clothes back on. I’d love to show my sexy boy off and have your parade down the street naked, something we will have to do next year at Dore and Folsom, but its a little chilly tonight.” As Jason was putting his clothes back on, he noticed that Blake put a large manila envelope that seemed to be stuffed full into the backpack. Once Jason was dressed, Blake put the backpack on then lead the boy over to the bar. Blake motioned for the bartender who immediately came over. “What you need Blake?” He asked. “Two bottles of water, please Adam,” said Blake. The bartender pulled out two bottles and handed them to the jock. Blake handed one bottle to Jason as he reached into his pocket a pulled out a baggie that some large pills, about the size of SweetTarts. He took two out. “Open your mouth Boy,” he instructed Jason. Jason did as order. Blake put on the of the tablets in his Jason’s mouth then put the other in his own. He drank it down with a mouthful of water as he motioned for Jason to do the same. Without any hesitation, Jason took a swig off his water bottle and washed the bill down. “Sir, can I ask what that was?” “That was some fucking prime MDMA, X, ecstasy. In about an hour from now you are going to be feeling better than you ever have and we are going to be shaking our asses off at the rave. Let’s get going,” replied Blake as he led his slave from the bar and onward to his next adventure.

It is a total pleasure. I love to rim deeply but when the ass is full of fresh cum, I go absolutely wild! 😜

Uh, at church yesterday. I had volunteered to clean stuff out of the basement. The Mexican janitor was also there. About 30, He was short,.built like a tank, with beautiful eyes and jet black beard.. he's always been flirty. After helping me carry out trash he winked at me at the dumpster. I smiled. He told me I was a nice looking Santa Clara and he loved my beard. Could be touch it? I said of course. The touch became a kiss, Since no one was around I fondled his bulge. He unzipped pull out a short but bear can thick uncut cock already dribbling precum. He turned me around, bent me over and fucked me. No preamble, just straight in balls deep. Pounded away, popped, I licked him clean (fortunately just his cum and ass juice) he zipped up and we finished cleaning the place up. He then guided me to the bathroom and fucked me again, then had me drink his piss,. He got my number so there may be a repeat.This morning I was complimented on doing such a good job. I said honestly that the janitor deserved recognition too....

I enjoy long fuck sessions. While I am sure I could cum a lot faster, I prefer to have extended and sensual fucks where I can really enjoy all of the sensations that a bottom's hole can provide. I'm essentially edging my cock until there's just no way I can last any longer. Usually a minimum of 15 minutes at a sex party (where other tops might be waiting for their turn, and especially if the bottom already is loaded with cum) to 45-60 minutes for one-on-one sessions where we have a great connection. Thankfully, my refractory period is short and I can fuck again in 5 or so minutes and cum a second or third time. My enjoyment for longer sessions was always at odds in porn shoots. Often I was the last one to cum in a scene - but those cums were intense. That's because I hadn't been allowed to cum days beforehand, was usually fucking a wonderfully sloppy hole and watching all the other hot tops in the intense shoot really loaded up my balls for a powerful release. The closest thing to intense cums in porn have been at Horsemarket parties, where I'd be fucking for hours along all the other stallions.