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Part 6: The night at the beat when Evan and Nick fucked me with my hole pre-loaded with poz cum was only a few days ago. I felt used, as if what I wanted wasn't important and I was just an object for other guys, especially Nick, to use as they pleased without any regard for my personal well-being. It fucking turned me on, especially being forced to let Evan and Nick fuck me after my ass was sore and I needed to stop. It made me so incredibly hard. On one hand, I didn't want Nick to find out because I was concerned that he'd up the ante and use and abuse me even more if he knew I liked it. On the other hand, my dick wanted me to confess it to Nick and beg him to do his worst. Should I listen to my head and leave things as they are or should I listen to my dick and see what Nick's capable of? I had a few days for my head and dick to argue about the situation because Nick went to visit his grandparents for a few days, leaving the morning after the session at the beat. He gave me strict instructions to continue slutting myself out, but without him there, I could do it at my own pace. At home, Chris made up for Nick's absence by taking advantage of my freeuse status, fucking me and filling me with his cum, without caring if I got off or not. It was now about 4 or 5 days after the night at the beat. I was at work and received a message from Daniel, a friend who worked in an office building not far from me, suggesting we meet for lunch. Daniel was in the same friend group as Nick, Evan, and Patrick. I met him occasionally on our lunch breaks, so it seemed like a normal request and I said yes. Over lunch, we were chatting about random stuff, and Daniel said "So, I had dinner with Patrick last night. He had some interesting gossip for me". Shit. My stomach turned. I had hoped that my secret wouldn't get out to everyone this quickly. Maybe it was something else. I know I'm a slut, but I didn't want everyone from my actual life to know how much of a slut I am. That's supposed to be just for random strangers to know. I had to ask to make sure. "Ok, I'll bite. What new info has that gossip queen decided to share now?" Patrick, "Oh, nothing much really, just that you're a bareback slut who takes any and all loads, and said that Nick and Evan took you to a beat to try to collect as many loads as possible. He also said that Evan fucked you when you were blindfolded and you didn't know it was him. And I can tell from your facial expression now that it's all true. Am I right?" There was no point in trying to deny it. After all, he could check with Evan or Nick and they'd both confirm Patrick's story. I admitted that it was true, and admitted that I wasn't allowed to refuse any guy who wanted to fuck me, as long as they never used a condom. I was so embarrassed that Daniel knew, it was a bit humiliating. My dick was hard though. My dick was very happy that Daniel knew and that he was confronting me with the knowledge. We'd both finished eating, and Daniel said we should vacate the table so others could use it. I stood up and tried to subtly rearrange my cock so that it wasn't so obvious that I was turned on. Daniel saw it of course and laughed at me. We were walking back towards our respective offices and Daniel told me to follow him, that we needed to take a detour. I followed him but when I asked why, he just said that he'd tell me soon enough. We arrived at a toilet block in a small, quiet shopping arcade. I looked at Daniel and asked what was going on. Daniel just said that he was going to fuck me, he was horny and wanted to empty his balls before he went back to the office, he said he was going to fuck me bareback and cum inside me, and because I wasn't allowed to refuse anyone, I had to do as I was told and take his load. He told me to go into the toilet first, go into the cubicle at the far end, take my trousers and underwear off, leave the door opened, and then send him a text to tell him that I was ready and he'd come in and then cum in me. I did as I was told, except that the furthest cubicle was occupied, so I took the second furthest and sent him a message. My pants were off and hanging on a hook behind the door, and the door was open. While I was waiting for Daniel to enter, I noticed that there was a glory hole between my cubicle and the one Daniel had originally told me to use, the one that was occupied by someone else. Daniel entered, walked into my cubicle, and locked the door. He released his cock from his pants, and I got to see it for the first time. Wow. Shocked was an understatement. I had known Daniel for years and never suspected that he was packing an absolute whopper of a meat stick. Even bigger, both longer and thicker, than Nick's and I thought Nick's was big. He told me to suck it to get it hard. I grabbed it with my hands and guided it to my face, but at the same time gestured with my eyes to the glory hole. I wanted to remind Daniel that the next cubicle was taken, so he should probably keep his voice down. He looked at me and gave me the thumbs up, so I thought he understood what I meant. I started sucking and licking his thick cock head, lapping up some precum as it oozed out of the slit. I was embarrassed at lunch when Daniel told me that he knew that I was a slut, but now I was beginning to think it was worth it because Daniel had the kind of cock that I needed more of. It was very big, huge, probably the biggest I'd ever seen in person, but it was also a beautiful cock, perfectly shaped and designed. Daniel said "Yeah, suck my cock, get me hard and get my cock extra wet so I can fuck you". I quickly glanced at the glory hole and saw an eye there. We were being watched, and Daniel clearly wanted this random guy to know what was happening. Before long, Daniel's cock was fully hard. I vowed in my head to get him alone in private and measure it one day, but I estimated that it was probably about 10" long. I was a bit worried that I wouldn't be able to take it. Daniel pulled me off his dick, turned me round, and with a bit of extra spit, he pushed against my rim. It hurt. I didn't think this baseball bat was going to go in at all. I told him he was too big and suggested that we postpone until we could get some lube and had more time for me to open up. Daniel said I wasn't allowed to refuse a cock, and that includes his, so I had to force myself to relax because one way or another, he's going to bury himself balls deep inside me. He reached around and started massaging my cock, rubbing my precum all over the sensitive glans. This distracted me and made me relax, and right at that moment, Daniel pushed hard and his thick head popped inside me. I yelped in pain and said it was too big and it hurt. Daniel just said he knew it would hurt and I obviously needed more practice, so he shoved even harder and went fully in. I tried to pull myself off him, but with the toilet wall in front of me, there was nowhere to go. He gripped my waist and started fucking me, long deep strokes. It hurt like hell, but it also felt fucking amazing. My ring was on fire but my prostate was loving the battering, and my dick was delighted that I was being used. Daniel said that he needed to get back to work, so he picked up the pace, thrust in deep, and painted my guts white. He kept cumming and cumming. I lost count of the number of pulses, so I'm sure I had a huge serving of his baby batter inside me. The whole time, the eye never left the glory hole. Daniel looked at it and said "Do you want to fuck him now?". A voice from the other side said that the show was hot and he was horny as hell, but his doctor had told him not to have sex for a while. Daniel asked him why, and he said that he'd tested positive for gonorrhea and wasn't allowed to fuck until the antibiotics had done their job. Daniel told him that was bullshit, and he should fuck me anyway. I guess it didn't take much convincing because the eye left the glory hole and was replaced by his cock. Daniel told me to back up onto to and let the guy give me whatever he had. I guess our show had got him close to the edge because he bred me only a few moments after his dick first entered my spermy hole. Daniel leant down and whispered a message in my ear "I have to get back to work now, but don't leave here without thanking the man next door for his cum and everything that was delivered with it", then he opened the door, and left, leaving me without any trousers on, bent over with the random diseased cock still in my ass through the glory hole, and the door wide open and not within my reach. I stood up, the cock dropped out and returned to its owner's side of the cubicle divider, and as instructed, I thanked him for his load and bonuses. I got myself dressed and went to the basins to wash my hands and try to tidy myself up a bit. I hoped I didn't look too much like I'd just been fucked when I went back to work. I left the toilet block, and the mystery gono guy hadn't opened his door, so aside from his eye and cock, I would never be able to recognize him if I saw him again. I'm sure he'd recognize me though. So, within a week, I'd taken at least 2 poz loads, and at least 1 load with another bug. I wondered what my doctor would say if he knew what I'd been up to. As far as he knew, I was still taking my prep and being careful about who I played with.

Chapter 5 – I Can See it All Chapters 1 through 4 detail a time when I was taken, somewhat unwillingly, to an unknown location. I was blindfolded and put in a sling, where a few guys have played in my ass. I just took a huge fist from a hairy guy, and he finished me off by putting a butt plug in my ass. “OK, we’re gonna take the blindfold off.” The blindfold was removed. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust, but I saw five guys there, all naked or nearly so. Zak was there, grinning at me. There was a guy I’d put in his 30s, mostly smooth, with a nice, long, uncut cock. Another guy was probably in his 50s with a hairy chest and ass. His cock was shorter and thick. He might have been the one who fed me his load on the way here. Another guy was probably in his 50s too, with a nice, shaved body and cock. The last guy must have been the one who fisted me most recently. He was in his 40s, tall and covered in a pelt of fur. He had a thick beard and was in great shape. His arm hair was all matted down, and it glistened in the low light. We were in a warehouse-type building. Zak said that one of the guys owned a company that packaged organic herbs and spices, and this was his place. The sling was on a large mat, there was a sofa and some chairs scattered around, and a few other things, including a rim chair. They helped me out of the sling, and we walked over to the sofa. The younger guy picked up the bubbler and melted some T. He took a hit, then handed me the pipe and torch. I worked up a big cloud and sucked it down, then passed it on to another guy. We went around like this for a while, getting higher and higher as we did. The plug was still in my ass and, since I was slouching on the sofa, they could all see it embedded in my hole. “Get your ass in that rim chair.” I walked over to the rim seat and sat down. This was made with elastic straps instead of a toilet seat, so it helped to spread open my gaping hole. The shaved guy stepped behind me, pulled out the plug, and rubbed some more Slam Dunk up my ass. I heard him lubing up a toy too, which he placed on the floor under my ass. The head went into my ass just a bit, but I figured they’d want to see me take more of it. “Sit your ass down on this.” Bracing myself on the base of the chair, I pushed down on the straps to let more of my ass swallow the toy. At the same time, the guy was pushing it up into my ass. It started out at a normal thickness but progressed up from there. Then, I encountered the knot. “Get that knot in your ass.” I pushed out and down at the same time, feeling the knot expand my hole. When it popped in, more of the dildo followed, giving me another few inches deep in my guts. The feeling was awesome and only made better when the guy who put the dildo down for me reached up and started twisting and pulling it. Feeling the knot roll around in my ass was astounding. It was hitting all sorts of nerve endings, sending shivers up my spine. He would also pull it back so it almost came out before shoving it in again. With each new thrust, the toy went deeper and deeper into my ass. “Fuck, he has it in all the way to the base!” I felt proud that I could take the toy that deep. With all the drugs running through my body, my ass was relaxed and receptive to whatever they wanted to do with it. This guy worked the toy in my ass for a while, then Zak said that he had an idea. “I want you to ride my arm.” I watched as Zak lubed up his hand and arm. He slicked it up all the way to the elbow. I didn’t know if I could take all that, but we were about to find out. Once he was ready, the shaved guy pulled the dildo out of my ass. Feeling the knot pass through my hole got me more excited about riding Zak’s hand and arm. Zak rested his elbow under the rim chair, holding his hand straight up in the air for me. His hand was in a fist, so the initial penetration would be intense. I looked down into his eyes as I started to lower my ass onto his hand. First, I rubbed my hole all over his fist. This helped distribute the lube and also served as a good tease for both of us. When I was ready, I lowered my ass onto his waiting fist. Gravity was my friend and, with some minor adjustments to my position, I felt his fist begin to penetrate my ass. Right then, the shaved guy shoved the poppers under my nose. I paused on my descent to inhale the fumes, knowing that this would make the ride way more fun. Once they hit, I started sliding back down on Zak’s paw. He has fairly large hands, so the feelings were pretty intense. As my brain was spiraling, I kept moving my ass down onto Zak’s arm. He held it still, letting me control the speed and depth of the penetration. I sank as far down on Zak’s arm as I could. With his hand in a fist, he was unlikely to be able to navigate through the bend, but he made it feel amazing for me. As I bounced up and down, he was twisting and flexing his hand inside me. My strokes became larger until I was pulling up until his fist was almost all the way out of my ass before sliding as far down as possible. Again, the poppers were placed under my nose, and I took a deep inhale, ready to ride Zak’s arm for all it was worth. Fuck me, with the T, the poppers, the hot guys watching, and my sexy buddy Zak feeding me his fist, I was in heaven. First, I worked his fist deep, then twisted and maneuvered my body around. I was Zak’s hand puppet. The poppers made me focus all my attention on my ass and, on one of the downward strokes, I had a massive assgasm. The intensity of it made me stop moving with Zak’s fist embedded in my ass. He let me ride out the waves of pleasure and then started his own activities. Zak slid his hand back a bit and extended his fingers in front of his hand. In this position, he could go really deep. I sat on the rim seat with my ass wide open for his work and let him do his thing. He crawled through the curve in my ass, and I could see his fingers groping around through the hair on my belly. This was an amazing sensation and sight to see too. Zak worked me over, and I let him have his way with me. After a while, he decided that he wanted me back in the sling, so I rose up off his hand and walked over to the sling. Lube and ass juices were flowing down my legs since my hole was so open. I sat back in the sling, got my legs settled in the stirrups, and looked at Zak as he was lubing up his arms. “Someone should fist me while I’m fisting this pig,” Zak growled. The hairy-chested guy rose from where he was sitting and said, “I’ll take that on.”

Thank you for all the responses and feedback. here is the next part of the story. Let me know what you think and post what you think happens next. For the next couple of weeks. I tried to hook up with women. I would pick up chicks at bars, bring them home, and try to fuck them. I found that I wasn't getting hard enough, and the feeling wasn’t the same. I even booked an escort, and the same thing happened. I thought it was because I needed to fuck a sloppy, used hole. So, I organised my mate from the other night to come over and bang a bird with me. He was hesitant. He was married with kids, but we both knew he fucked behind her back. I fucked the bird after he had blown in her dozens of times, but my mind went to that boy’s beautiful, smooth body, perky white arse being fucked by a stranger… An older man. I went to my dealer. I needed what I had that night, which I learnt was meth. I asked him about poppers, and he, of course, knew what they were and had supplies. ‘Poppers.’ He said. ‘Yeah. I think that’s what it was called.’ My dealer just rolled his eyes. ‘How strong?’ ‘You sell it?’ ‘Yeah. I do. How strong?’ ‘Strongest you got.’ At first, it was casual. A smoke here, a smoke there. Weekend business. I’d still try to fuck girls, still go through the motions, still pretend my body was listening to the script I’d been handed. It never hit right. The release was there, but the spark? Dead on arrival. Then one night, I wandered back to that back room. Same door. Same low light. Same sense of stepping sideways out of the world. Inside, it was wall-to-wall blokes—old, young, built, broken, confident, desperate. Sweat, smoke, sex hanging in the air like a storm about to crack. I was raging hard, off my face, heart thumping like it wanted out of my chest. Whether I’d timed it perfectly or whether it was always like this didn’t matter—there was fucking everywhere. Bodies pressed, hands roaming, breathy sounds swallowed by the dark. Part of me still flinched at the idea of men on men. Old wiring dying slow. But I’d heard about glory holes. Urban myth made flesh. I shut myself into one of the booths. Tiny. Private. Loud in my head. I sat there for a moment, brain floating somewhere above the ceiling, cock heavy in my hand, answering a call I’d been dodging for years. Then— “Hey… can I suck it?” A whisper. Low. Close. Not from behind me. From the hole in the wall. I ignored it at first. Let the moment hang. Let the pulse build. Then something inside me finally unclenched. A quiet voice saying, stop fighting it. I never saw who it was. That was the point. Just a wall between us, solid and anonymous. I stood, guided myself forward, and pushed through the opening. The response was instant. Warm. Wet. A mouth closing around my cock with intention, not hesitation. Fuck. Whoever was on the other side knew exactly what they were doing. Took my cock deep, no theatrics, no mercy. No woman had ever handled me like that—so sure, so unafraid. My body answered before my head could catch up. I started moving. Slow at first. Then harder. The wall thudded as I lost rhythm, lost restraint, hips snapping forward like I was trying to disappear into it. The mouth didn’t retreat. If anything, it met me, took everything I gave. A hitch of breath. A gagged sound. Slicker now. Messier. Still there. I dragged the poppers under my nose, long and greedy, the room dissolving as I floated higher and higher. Everything narrowed to sensation. Heat, pressure, surrender. I didn’t last. Couldn’t. When it hit, it was violent and unstoppable, my cum spilling into the dark, erupting into a stranger who accepted it without a sound. No faces. No names. Just release. My worries about playing with men didn’t vanish overnight, but they thinned out, lost their grip. Curiosity outpaced fear. Before I knew it, that back room had me clocked as a regular. Familiar nods. Familiar heat. I started branching out—other cruise clubs, other shadows—and that’s where I learned about beats. Different geography, same hunger. I let blokes suck my cock without overthinking it. Watched men get fucked like it was live theatre, raw and unfiltered. No shame, no curtains. Just bodies doing what they wanted. My first time at a sauna was strange in how normal it felt. Like a football change room after training—same steam, same casual nudity, same sideways glances—except this time there was fucking and full-blown gay debauchery unfolding in every direction. And honestly? I didn’t hate it. I found myself studying physiques, appreciating strength, shape, presence. It felt honest. Unpretentious. Eventually, I wasn’t leaving the house for much else. Football coaching or cruising—that was the whole operating model. Everything else felt like admin. Busywork. Noise. My place was littered with paraphernalia. Pipes, baggies, the quiet evidence of a life slipping its leash. Control wasn’t gone yet, but it was wobbling. There were nights I turned up to football training high on meth—eyes sharp, patience thin, confidence blown out to dangerous proportions. I knew I was fraying. I just didn’t give a fuck. Finals were looming, and the team was humming. We were genuine contenders to take the season. On paper, everything looked solid. In reality, cracks were everywhere—especially with Scout. He wasn’t himself. Or maybe I was seeing him too clearly. I pulled the green light on him. Went hard. Harder than necessary. The team started whispering that I was favouring him, so I overcorrected—stares that lingered too long, pressure dialled up every chance I got. Punishment disguised as discipline. A few weeks out from the grand final, another training night rolled around. It was pissing down rain, cold and relentless. I didn’t soften it. Didn’t adjust the plan. I ran them into the ground anyway. By the end, they were wrecked—soaked, filthy, mud ground into skin and jerseys. Scout mouthed off. Pushed back. A fucking prick about it. I sent the rest of the team to the lockers, told them to clean up. Then I made Scout wait. Alone. Standing there in the rain and mud, while I let the silence do the work. “What the fuck’s going on, Scout?” I barked. “Finals are breathing down our necks and you’re acting like a complete wanker.” He just stood there in the rain, head bowed, water streaming through those sandy-blond curls. I clocked it. Hated that I clocked it. The night was doing strange things to my focus. “Scout.” “Mum’s pregnant.” That wasn’t on the training plan. “Oh.” I recalibrated. Corporate pivot. “That’s… that’s not a bad thing, mate. Why’s it got you this rattled?” I stepped closer, close enough to feel his heat through the cold. Grabbed his upper arms, gave him a small shake—half frustration, half something I didn’t have a label for yet. “Look at me.” He lifted his head. His eyes were wrecked—crystal blue, wet, lost. Not weakness. Confusion. The kind that pulls you under if you stare too long. “It’s yours.” “What?” “I saw that night. You were there.” My stomach dropped. Freefall. “Scout,” I said carefully, voice low now. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Adults fuck. It doesn’t mean—” “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Dad can’t have kids.” Silence punched in between us. Rain filled the gap. “Oh. Shit.” Before I could regain control—before I could coach my way out of it—he leaned in and kissed me. Soft. Brief. Electric. I froze. Thirty-plus years of rules, titles, and self-control screaming at once. Coach. Authority. Fucking adult. My body, however, missed the memo. He was 18. Yes. Legal age. But something felt wrong about it. Yet so right. Time slipped. Then snapped back. He pulled away first, eyes wide, already panicking. I was still standing there, rain dripping off my chin, pulse hammering in places it shouldn’t. “I—” he started. I should’ve stepped back. Should’ve shut it down. Instead, I bent forward and kissed him back; slower this time, deliberate, just long enough to admit the truth neither of us was saying out loud. The rain kept falling. And nothing was simple anymore. I poured a double rum over ice and necked it like it owed me money. Rolled a fifty, and laid out two lines on the marble bench. Snorted them without ceremony. The music was up, heavy metal, all distortion and threat, when the knock came. “Fuck. Not now,” I muttered. “Neighbours can fuck right off.” Another knock. Louder. My brain did the math at speed and came up with one answer I didn’t want. Scout’s dad. Holy shit. Either he was here to tell me I’d knocked up his wife… or to rearrange my face over what happened in the rain with his son. I poured another rum, swung it back, felt it burn all the way down. Liquid courage. Corporate risk management. I walked to the door, heart kicking, and pulled it open to whatever was coming. It wasn’t his dad. It was Scout. Soaked through. Hair plastered to his head. Rain dripping off his nose, his jacket, pooling at his feet like he’d been standing there longer than he should’ve. “Ah—Scout,” I said, buying time. “What are you doing here?” He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Words clearly stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat. “Come in.” I didn’t wait for permission. Threw an arm around his shoulders and guided him inside, quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Door shut. The lock clicked. The coke chose that moment to fully light me up. “Mate, you shouldn’t be here,” I said, too fast. “Fuck—you must be freezing.” I grabbed the throw rug off the big leather couch and tossed it at him. He caught it awkwardly, still half somewhere else, eyes darting around my place like he was already cataloguing the mess of it. Music thumping. Drugs humming. Rain left outside—but not really. The night had just escalated without a meeting invite. “I needed to see you.” “Shit… um. Now really isn’t a great time.” I glanced around the living area—drugs out, empty bottles everywhere, the place telling on me before I could. Scout drifted to the floor-to-ceiling windows, rain-streaked glass framing the Melbourne skyline like a postcard I didn’t deserve. “I knew you had a nice place,” he said, almost smiling. “Didn’t realise the view was this good.” “Yeah. Sorry.” I busied myself, scooping up empties, sliding a glass pipe off the coffee table like it hadn’t been there all along. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. What… what are you doing here?” He stepped in and tried to kiss me. I pulled away, heart punching, and retreated down the hall toward the kitchen. He followed. I dropped the bottles on the marble bench a little too hard. The coke was buzzing now, skin humming, thoughts outpacing judgment. He came up behind me. Close. Too close. His arms circled my waist; his hands slipped into my shorts. I wasn’t wearing jocks. He grabbed a hold of my shaft. I moaned at his touch. He squeezed slightly. My cock stiffened slightly. Intense, grounding and dangerous all at once. I sucked in a breath despite myself, my body reacting before my head could throw a flag. A low sound escaped me—half protest, half surrender. That was enough to snap me back. I caught his hands, untangled myself, and turned to face him. Put space between us. Not much, but deliberate. “Stop,” I said, quieter now. “We can’t just… do this.” The room felt smaller. Louder. Charged with everything we weren’t saying. “Yes,” he said, breath unsteady. “I want you. I always have.” He swallowed. “I’m in love with you, Coach.” “Scout… I’m not—” The words stalled. Weak. Unconvincing. “I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he pressed on. “After training. In the showers.” Not accusing. Certain. “Fuck.” My jaw tightened. “Scout, has anyone else seen you?” “No.” A pause. Then, softer—deadlier. “It’s our little secret. You… you open my eyes, Coach.” I turned away and headed back toward the living area, needing space, needing air. “You’re young,” I said, reaching for a reason like it might save us both. “You’re figuring yourself out.” He followed me. “I’ve done things,” he said behind me. “You know. I’ve… experimented.” I stopped. Looked back at him. “Done what?” He hesitated, then lifted his chin, defiant now. “I’ve sucked guys off before.” The admission hung there, quiet, deliberate, irreversible. The room felt tighter. Like a door closing somewhere I couldn’t see. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Scout started to tell me how he started fooling around with boys his age. But then his stories grew a little darker. He told me he has been going to beats and cruise clubs, and while he has not done a lot, he has sucked a lot of guys off. I was concerned for him. And I was. At first. But as he spoke, my body betrayed me. My cock was pushing through my shorts. Scout noticed. He told me how he met a guy close to my age; they didn't chat much. The guy gave him a smoke from a glass pipe, similar to what I had tried to hide. One thing led to another, and the guy took Scout to a private room, pulled his shorts down and ate out his arse. That surge of horniness rushed through him. In that moment, he wanted more. He hoped the guy would fuck him. The guy moved to Scout’s cock and blew him. Deep long strokes with his old man mouth. Scout felt his orgasm simmer, but he didn’t want to cum, so he pushed the old man off his cock. The man misread the moment. Or maybe read it exactly how he wanted. Scout described it like he was narrating a film he’d watched too many times, detached, oddly proud. Scout grabbed a hold of the old man’s boner sticking out from his aged body. Looked past the hairy belly and chest, and up into his drug-peaked eyes, then drove his dick balls deep down his throat. He reckons it was what he smoked that allowed him to go so deep. He had never done that before. The old man took it as a sign. Grabbed Scout by the back of his head and throat fucked him. There was a moment, he said, when he thought he might pass out. He remembered being so high that he didn’t care how the man was treating him. The man just fucked his throat, occasionally pulling all the way, then slamming it back in. Mucus puked everywhere, and Scout used all his willpower to push through and let the man fuck. The old man kept driving it deep. Scout felt his throat stretch open at every thrust. The old man moaned and announced he was going to blow. Scout thought he was going to shoot down his throat. Scout was prepared to get a good flood of this man’s cum, but he pulled out instead and unloaded over Scout’s face. My cock twitched at the thought of cum splattering over his beautiful young face. The story got me fucking horny, and the cocaine intensified it. I was sweating. I adjusted my cock. I noticed Scout. “Holy shit, Scout,” I said quietly. “Do your parents know you’re… gay?” “No. At least—I don’t think so.” He hesitated. “Dad wouldn’t take it well. He’s always going on about how dangerous gay men are. Says they don’t care who they hurt, who they infect. Talks about the seedy side of it like it’s all rot and disease.” “Because he works for the AFP,” I said. “Pretty much.” That did it. The buzz faltered, just enough for reality to punch through. I hadn’t thought about it before. Not properly. The risks. Infections. Consequences that don’t show up immediately but linger, waiting. I’d spent years convincing myself danger belonged to other people—reckless people. I stared at nothing for a moment, mind spiralling, and wondered, too late, too honestly, what you could catch just from letting someone get that close. Scout was shaking a little. Still wet. “Hold on, I’ll grab a proper towel.” I went to the bathroom and checked myself in the mirror. Fuck, I looked like shit, stubble beard, bloodshot eyes, sweating, dripping down my shirtless body. My cock. Raging hard. I knew I shouldn’t feel this way about him. Scout was only 18. But he was such a beautiful boy, I couldn’t control it. I walked back in with a towel and found Scout naked, sitting on the couch, with a glass pipe in his mouth, heating the bulb and sucking in deep. “Fuck! Scout. What are you doing?” “Relax. Coach. Join me. I know you want to.” He stood up I admired his beautiful, young, masculine, smooth body. His six-pack framed by his V-cut, pointing down to his perfect, uncut, semi-hard cock and low-hanging balls. I must have been daydreaming. “Coach.” He handed me the pipe and lighter. I grabbed the pipe, holding it steady as I locked eyes with him. His pupils were blown wide now; the drug was catching up, sinking its hooks in. I lit it and drew slow, deliberate, smoke curling between us. Scout dropped to his knees. The movement alone sent a jolt through me. I pushed my shorts down just enough to feel the air shift. My cock flung up. Raging. My knob pulsed. My body answered before my head could intervene. Everything in me was awake, pulsing, unapologetic. I took another drag and looked down. My cock was hovering just above his head. Just below his blue eyes and slightly floating above his perky lips. Blue eyes, glassy, fixed on mine. Breath shallow, like he was waiting for permission that neither of us was brave enough to name. Time slowed. Smoke hung. The room held its breath. Nothing touched yet, and somehow that made it worse. He opened his mouth and pushed it over my cock. Soft lips, moist mouth massaged as he went deep. My mind was in all sorts. Between a daydream and reality. It was hard to tell. Guys have sucked my cock. But that was through glory holes. I’ve never watched a guy actually suck my cock. And Scout. He wasn’t a guy. He was a young lad, 18. Devouring my cock like a starved animal. Blue eyes locked on me. Spelling the words with his dilated pupils, I belong to you. Long, deep strokes. He kept his pace. He didn’t slow down. Kept pumping my cock deep down his throat. The drugs were peaking through my system, and I wanted more. I grabbed the brown bottle from the coffee table. Undid the lid. Instantly, the aroma aroused my senses. I noticed Scout's eyes shift for the first time. Still deep throating my cock, making it slick with his saliva and mucus, he took an interest in what I had in my hand. His eyes followed as I moved the bottle to each nostril and took in two long, drawn-out sniffs in each. The instant rush hit me. Scout didn’t have to say a word for me to know that he wanted what I was having. I lowered it to his nostrils. He repeated what I did without removing my cock from his mouth. I was in a rush. Scout’s eyes burned through phases. First that pearl halo, until the whites went raw and veined, like the drug was repainting him from the inside out. Awake. Gone. Claimed by poppers. I needed more, so I had another sniff in each nostril. I was peaking off my face. In a haze, and I knew Scout was at that same level. My concerns about being sucked off by a man evaporated. I was hungry. Aggressive. I just wanted to fuck. I grabbed Scout by the back of his head and pushed my cock down his throat, feeling it break past his tonsils and down his throat pipe. I was too far gone to be concerned with his comfort and fucked. Hard. I pumped, driving it deep with every thrust. Planting Scout’s face into my pub, crushing his nose into my musky sweat odour, ensuring he could not get away from the potent aroma. He didn’t pull away. He loved it. Bathed in it. He gagged. I watched his body reflex as he held back a spew. I kept going. It turned me on. I wanted it. I wanted him to puke as I skull fucked him. I took it up a level. It hit the mark. Scout puked as I face fucked him. Stomach fluid expelled out from around his lips past my thrusting shaft, exploding over his beautiful young face, slashing up my torso. There was an obscene amount, and it flowed. Scout never closed his eyes. His face was covered in his own fluids. It was getting too much for me. I felt my balls tighten. I wanted to keep going, but I didn’t want it to end. I used all my willpower to stop and pull out of his mouth. Scout coughed instantly. He was air-deprived that whole time. “Are you okay, Scout?” He kept coughing for a moment, body shuddering, breath uneven. Then it passed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes still glassy. “No.” I paused. “No?” “I loved it.” “I like feeling dirty.” I grabbed a hold of my slick cock and jerked at the thought of Scout being a dirty boy. I was about to push my cock back into his mouth when he stood up and bent over the couch. He pointed his perfect pale peach of an arse at me. Legs spread, back arched enough that his cheeks spread open, revealing his tiny pink hole. Untouched. Young. Virgin. I had that moment of wonder. Am I dreaming? I never thought of myself as gay. I fucked women. So why am I so turned on by this young lad's arse? I had never felt such an intense drive build up from deep inside me like I did at that moment. Scout turned his head. Face coated in his own mucus and stomach fluids. Even in his messy, dirty state, he was perfect, sexy, handsome and fucking beautiful. He didn’t have to say it. I knew it. I knew what he wanted. Needed. “Are you sure?” His glassy blue eyes twinkled. “You have never been fucked. I am in my fifties. I am older than your dad.” He didn’t take his glassy blue eyes off me. I moved in close. My slick cock is only millimetres away from his pink bit. “You are about to lose your virginity to an old man. Is this what you want? How do you want to remember your first time?” I placed my knob at the entrance of his virgin hole. Spit moistened his entrance. I tossed him the brown bottle. I didn’t have to tell him what to do. He went to it like clockwork, taking two long whiffs in each nostril. As he held his breath, letting the poppers rush through his body. I pushed my knob against his tiny pink hole. The mucus from Scout’s throat allowed for perfect lubrication as I felt his pink break and expand over my knob. “Argh!” Scout moaned loudly. Letting go of the poppers in his system. I was raging. Wild like a wolf, desperate for a feed. I needed to be inside him. I didn’t stop. I kept pushing. Knob was well past his opening, and my shaft was driving deep. His tight pink hole was trying with all its might to grip on and stop me, but my strength overpowered it, and it gave way. I wasn’t going to stop. I was balls deep; Scout was moaning a mixture of pain and pleasure. I didn’t care that he was a virgin. When I fuck, I hammer, and that was what I intended to do. I power fucked from the get-go. Driving deep and pulling all the way out, watching his tight grip on my cock pull every time. He had no power over me, and I fucked. Scout moaned louder. He placed his hand against my thigh to try to get me to slow down. Maybe stop me. But I swatted it away and drove deeper. Harder. I grabbed the back of Scout’s neck and pushed his face into the leather couch. His eyes were crushed shut. Moaning in pain… Not Pleasure. Mucus spitting and splattering every time from each of his cries and pleas. I wasn’t going to stop. I needed to fuck. I needed to break the young lad in. “Mm, yeah… Take your coach’s cock. Feel it break you open. Ahh… No condom, boy. I’m inside you raw.” I was power fucking him. His moaning shifted to a scream of pain. His tone was a language of his feelings. Feelings of a moment, wanting to lose his virginity to his coach, to wondering if this was the right thing to do. The pain must have been overwhelming. The lad’s pink virgin hole went from a tiny button to an instant stretched out tunnel being pulverised. “Ugh. Fuck-” He moaned in pain, “Stop. It’s hurting.” I had no doubt the neighbours could hear. I didn’t give the young boy time to adjust. I was a starving animal finally devouring my kill. I had fucked a lot of pussy. But it had never felt the way his boy hole felt. My concerns about my feelings for the lad were gone. I was lost in a new sensation, and I wasn’t giving it up. I was deaf to Scout’s moans. The boy’s pink buttonhole was mine. I owned it. I had no idea how much time had passed. I was completely fixated on fucking. The sensation was building up in my balls. My cock was beginning to feel an impulsive eruption. Scout went silent. He surrendered to the invasion. He gave in to my power over him. No. I looked a little closer. He was weeping. I knew I was meant to feel sorrow, but instead it tipped me over the edge. I took him. I took his virginity. I broke the lad physically and mentally. The fear in his tears confirmed it. I lost control. “Ahh… I’m cumming, boy!!” I shouted from the rooftop. My balls tightened, and my cock erupted. I moaned. I jammed my cock inside the lad with every shot of my load, injecting inside him. I grip around his neck, tighten. The lad was limp. Turned into nothing but a hole for my use. It had been a long time since I unloaded the amount I knew I was injecting inside me. Women weren’t doing it for me, and I never got the power orgasm I was having in that moment. It was new, it was a sensation, it was like his hole was a vortex drawing my energy from my body through my cock and into it. I thought I owned it. But it owned me. It took me. I was the fly. It was the Venus Flytrap now sucking my life force through every ejaculation. I didn’t think it was going to end. The sensation was too overwhelming, and I was shaking, pushing on the edge of hurting. Eventually, it did. The vortex let go, and I was released. I slumped on top of the lad like a dead weight. Huffing and puffing like I just ran a marathon. Scout, he just lay there, weeping and with a look that clearly said. What did I do? I was sweating profusely. Drenched in my own moisture, dripping all over the boy. I slowly felt my breathing dialled down. As it did, my primal mind set reverted back to its normal state. It was here that I had my first concerning thought about Scout. Fuck. Scout. My cock is still solid and inside him. I lifted my weight off him. Pulled my cock back. Scout’s hole gripped tight. “Ah-!” Scout yelped. He was still so tight. My cock was wedged deep inside it. Scout cried. “Argh! It hurts.” I tried to pull back again, but his hold gripped tighter. Scout cried in pain again. “Scout. I need to pull out. Just push through the pain.” I moved slightly, and he cried in pain. I had no choice but to just pull back. Force Scout to just accept it. I pulled back. His hole gripped on. I watched my cock pull out with Scout’s tender red hole, dragging out with it until only my large knob was left inside. “Oh God. Please stop!” Scout yelped in a hyperventilating state. “Scout. My knob is still inside you. Your hole is gripped around it. The only way is for me to pull out and you release me. Just accept it. It will be over soon. Just-Just-” I didn’t give him a chance to answer, and I pulled out. His hole was forced to release my knob. Scout screamed. I watched his hole, and for a moment it remained wide open, unsure what to do with itself. Its lips were red, raw, puffy. My load had no barrier in that slight moment; it poured out like a river of white running down the back of the young lad’s smooth balls. Then it retracted. Scout’s hole closed in, leaving a tight, tiny, red, puffy hole. Broken in. No longer virgin. The sight of my cum layered over Scout’s balls was too much. That deep inner urge to eat pearly whites boiled over the edge. I knelt down and cupped them in my mouth like a suction cup and sucked them clean. Scout seemed to relax. His hyperventilation slowed down. After I cleaned every drop of my seed off his youthful ball sack, I planted myself on the couch close to Scout’s head, heaving a breath like I just ran a marathon. My cock was slick with Scout’s arse juices and my cum. Tiny streaks of red down the shaft. I did some damage to him. Guilty struck me. Fuck. Scout said no. He begged me to stop. I didn’t. Fuck. I’m an animal. Did I just do what I think I just did? Scout had not moved. His face was still planted on the leather couch, mucus-covered, with weeping eyes. His perfect pale peach arse was still sticking in the air. ‘Scout?’ Strings of mucus streaking over his lips flapped through each of his breaths as his adrenaline subsided. He mumbled from behind the spit, ‘Coach.’ ‘Scout. Are you ok?’ He didn’t answer. My guilt turned to worry. I think I did do what I think I did. There was a knock on the door. Fuck! The neighbours heard. I grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around my waist, hands shaking as I hauled the front door open. Old man Larry stood there, his wife tucked under his arm, both of them wearing that tight, polite concern people reserve for situations they don’t want details about. “Hi. Yes. Um… can I help you?” The words tripped over themselves. The towel barely stayed put. My hair was slicked to my forehead with sweat and product, skin flushed, pupils blown wide. I must’ve looked cooked. The air around me was heavy; The scent of sex wafted off me, which must have been overbearing for them. “Sorry, mate,” Larry said, clearing his throat. “We just… heard a lot of noise.” “We thought someone might be hurt,” his wife added gently. I froze. Full system shutdown. The silence stretched, thick and unforgiving. Then I felt a hand settle on my shoulder. Warm. Familiar. Scout stepped into view beside me, calm as anything. Naked. Unbothered. Like this was just another Tuesday night. “Everything okay here?” he said evenly. Larry blinked. His wife’s grip tightened on his arm. “Oh. Right. We—ah—sorry,” Larry muttered. “Didn’t mean to intrude.” “We should go,” his wife said quickly, steering him away. She glanced back once, twice, eyes flicking between us as they disappeared down the hall. The door clicked shut. Scout wandered back to the leather couch and dropped into it like he owned the place. Like nothing had just detonated. I stood there for a moment, breathing hard, adrenaline still fizzing through me. The room felt altered; charged, wrong, irreversible. I paced once. Twice. Then sat on the edge of the coffee table, close enough to feel his presence, far enough to pretend I was still in control. Neither of us spoke. The silence said enough.

Love making out with a freshly fucked hole oozing juices! A friendly cumdump I've hung out with a few times would ask me over, get popperd up and let me eat him out between men showing up to fuck him. I'd step aside when a dude came over, then resume eating him out after. The smells, the taste, his quivers!! I'd slowly edge then often bust all over his face.

So this was Friday of last week and I was working back in this college town and I was on sniffies while I was working and this blatino guy hit me up and asked what I was into and I told him I like to bottom for a nice big dick and he sends me a pic of a beautiful 7.5”. We set up a time in an hour and he shoots me the address. And I’m freaking excited since it has been a few weeks since I’ve gotten dicked down. So I finish my work and I head over and park down the street and as I’m walking I look over his profile and it says positive undetectable. So I shoot him a message and ask if he has recent test results and he said he does and he will gladly show them to me. So I get there and he leads me back to his room and he pulls out his phone and shows me his results and he shows me where he had just gotten his monthly shot and im a little nervous but the date was recent and I figure it’s probably safer to play with someone that has it and is on medication for it rather than messing around with someone who doesn’t know for sure. So he starts to strip down and I figure no Turing back now so I strip as well and he sits on his bed with his back to his headboard and I start sticking his cock and I can taste his precum. I ask him how long it’s been since he has cum And he said it had been a week. So I’m sucking him and he gets rock hard and I grab some lube from his night stand and I squirt some on my hand and wipe it on my hole and grab some more and put it on his cock and then I stood on the bed and lowered my hole down to his cock and it takes me a minuet to work his head into my hole. Then it pops in and I slowly lower myself down completely on it and I start pumping my ass up and down on his hard cock while holding onto his headboard and he keeps grabbing my ass and saying “fuckkkk” and I get up and I was going to turn around and sit back down on him and he jumps up and says he wants me doggy style so I get on my knees and lower my chest down and try to arch my back and he says “damn Thats a nice white ass” and he slides in and starts fucking me. He grabs my ass cheeks and squeezes them open and closed and says “ your ass is so wet” (granted I did the gas station water bottle clean out like 20 minutes before) but he is all over my ass. He puts his knees on the backs of my legs and starts grinding his cock deep and he says “tell me when you are ready for me to cum” and I say cum when ever I’ve got 45 minutes” so he fucks me like that for a bit and he has me flip over on my back and he tries to fuck me but the angle was off or something and it felt like he was hitting a wall so he has me get back on my knees and my chest on the bed and he starts fucking me hard and it feels so fucking good and I ask him if he wanted to pull out and shoot on my back and he just said “ naw, this nut is going in you” and he grunts snd pounds hard and I can feel his cock throbbing and pulsing in my ass he slumps over on my back and kisses my back a little and I can feel his stubble on my skin. He gets up and pulls out and I have him take a few pics of his cock at my hole and a few of me trying to push his load out. So he gets up snd i jump in his shower and I try to push more of his load out and it doesn’t feel like any is coming out so I get out and dry off and we talk for a min and I ask him to send me those pictures and he ends up never sending them. But I was back in that town today and I saw he was on 5 hours ago and I shot him a message but he never logged on but I’m looking to go back and get some more. He definitely knows how to fuck.

Well said. Nothing difficult to understand. For Tops, sharing our dna with other guys is totally natural, emotionally healthy, and sexually thrilling. Even better, the more we do it the more we need to do it. If anything about raw fucking is addictive, it's because there's no better way to connect with our brothers than to fuck/get fucked - particularly in a group setting. One to one is great, but a crowd of men breeding each other is fan-fukkin-tastic.

LOL ..... I reckon I wouldn't either !!!!! But then, for me, there's a bit of a difference between flossing and eating out a hot, hungry, well-seeded hole.

I don't think of breeding guys asses as a "fetish" - for us, it's simply the way we have sex. Sure, when hiv came along, it was either bag it or else. But the treatments came, we took them, and kept on fucking the natural way, just as we always have.

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

When I was 17, my older brother and his girlfriend used to take me to Studio 54 - this would be the very end of 1979 into 1980 - I was a senior in H.S. and the drinking age at the time was 18, but they never had a problem getting me in there. After a few hours of dancing, my brother and his GF would head to "Plato's Retreat" a STRAIGHT sex club and bathhouse, while I would head to the Ansonia Baths or one of the gay porn theaters like the Adonis or the David and fuck around then we'd all meet up at 5 or 6AM and head home. I went to Fordham University in September of '80 and turned 18 in November. By that time, I was going to The Anvil, The Spike, and The Eagle (seriously) and during breaks home in Nyack I would go to the two gay bars there which were called Reflections and Candlelight. Funny, I never got to Uncle Charlie's or the Monster or Ty's any of the milder NYC bars until I was 19 or 20!

Part 5: We arrived at the beat. In the car on the way, Nick told Evan the story of how we started fucked, and made sure Evan knew that I wasn't on Prep, but that I wasn't allowed to use a condom or refuse a load. Evan thought this was hot. He was on Prep, but fucked around so much that he often tested positive for one or more of the less serious STDs, and it had been almost 3 months since his last test. Nick said that I'd happily take anything that he gave me. I, on the other hand, started worrying about how long it'd take for Evan to tell everyone this latest bit of news. At the beat, a kind of forest or bushland area, lots of trees and privacy, Nick told me to strip off so that I was naked except for my shoes and socks. He put my clothes and phone in his backpack and went back to his car, where he locked my stuff away in his trunk. He led me to a place where guys often fuck and told me to wait there and offer my ass to anyone who came past, and he and Evan went separate ways with the plan to find as many guys as possible and herd them back towards me. I did as I was told, and by the time Nick returned, I had 2 loads of cum in my ass. Nick said I'd been a good boy. Nick had 2 other guys with him and told them that I was tonight's cumdump. Nick looked at one and said "as we discussed, you can go first", and he wasted no time in burying his cock deep inside me. The second guy flopped his dick out in front of my face, and I took the hint and started to suck. The guy in my ass was about average, I think. I didn't really get to focus on it much, but the one in my mouth was long, and had a big set of balls dangling between his legs. It was dark, but I guess he was probably in his 60s or 70s. The man in my ass picked up the pace, and I could tell that he was showing signs of an impending blast, and moments later, that's exactly what happened. He had a forceful blast that I actually felt in my guts, he definitely wasn't a dribbler. Older guy went behind me, and lined his cock up with my hole. Before he pushed in, he looked at Nick and asked "Are you sure this is ok? Is he happy to take my cock without a condom?" Nick said "yeah, of course. In fact, condoms are prohibited from his hole" With that, he applied some pressure. I forced myself to relax, and his cockhead push past my sphincter, followed slowly by the rest of his cock. He fucked slower than the first guy, and after about 10 mins, during which time Evan had returned with another random guy in tow, he asked Nick again if it was cool to cum inside me. Nick told him that I was taking as much cum as possible, and I needed his cum. He kept fucking, and then said "One last chance. I'm about to cum. Should I pull out or shoot my toxic load inside him". Nick - "Push in as deep as you can and breed him" Several deep thrust and loud grunts, with a final balls deep push, and his cock throbbed and released his risky load right where Nick had told him to shoot it. He stayed inside me for what seemed like ages, catching his breath, and, whether he intended to or not, keeping my ass plugged and sealed. When he finally withdrew and left the scene, Evan and his random guy came closer. When the other random guy got close enough to me, I recognized him as the guy who fucked me back when I let another guy make the decision, and whose cum was still inside me when Nick first fucked me. He recognized me too, and said that he had hoped to find me again and get his poz cock back inside my unprotected hole. He asked me who was giving permission tonight, and Nick jumped in and said that he was, and that any poz cock in more than welcome to empty toxic cum inside me. He did exactly that, his cock felt good inside me. He fucked me for a while, edging himself, fucking hard for a bit and then easing off. He explained to Nick and Evan that he wanted to work up a bigger load, and asked if they minded if he fucked for as long as he could. They both agreed that he should do whatever he could to increase the size of his load. They both got their hard cocks out and took turns using my mouth, both wanting to enjoy the situation, but neither wanting to cum in that end. Eventually, the cock in my ass throbbed and throbbed and throbbed while the guy attached to the cock let out something like a mix of a groan, a yell, and a scream, and I was filled up with another load of toxic goo. Nick and Evan exclaimed "Fuck yeah!" almost in unison. After the 4th cock of the evening, my ass was sore and tender. I think I'd had enough cock for the night. I told Nick and Evan that I thought I should stop there. Evan seemed disappointed, as I know he wanted to fuck me. Nick just said "Bullshit. You can stop when I say you can stop" He then asked Evan if he still wanted to fuck me, and Evan said "Of course, my cock needs to blow" and Nick said "Then shove it in, I'm the one who gives permission, not him". Evan was horny and thrust in hard, making me wince. He fucked hard and quick, as if he was worried that Nick would change his mind before he had a chance to cum. After only a few minutes, I had Evan's load added to the mix of cum inside me. Evan pulled out and Nick rammed his cock home, making me wince and yelp. Nick fucked me brutally and said "See what happens if you try to refuse me? There's no way I'm going to let your ass go without fucking you when you have 2 toxic loads in there that need to be massaged in" Thankfully it was a quick fuck, and he sent another batch of swimmers inside me. He pulled out and we all walked back to the car. I was naked, of course, because my clothes were in the car. "Clench and tighten your hole. Don't let any cum escape" Nick demanded.

Part 4: I learnt that the second mystery guy from the blindfolded orgy was our flatmate Chris. Apparently it was only organized as a threesome, but while the first guy was fucking me, Nick heard Chris come home and met him at the door to offer him a chance to fuck me. I only found out because a few days later, Chris was complaining to Nick about being horny, he didn't have enough time to find a hook up before work, and didn't feel like just tossing off. I happened to arrive home just at that moment and Nick said to Chris that the cumdump was back, so he should just fuck me again. "What do you mean, again?" I asked Nick said "shh, no questions. Chris is in a hurry and needs to fuck you. Pants down. Now!" I knew never to disobey Nick, so I did as I was told, Chris lined up his cock, and with a bit of spit, he was inside me. He fucked hard and quick. I guess Nick wasn't lying about him being in a hurry. Even with the faster pace, I recognized the feeling and style from when I was blindfolded, and knew that he'd been the second guy to fuck me. The one who I'd sucked while mystery guy 1 loaded me up, and who then added his load to the mix before Nick enjoyed sloppy thirds. Chris grunted and emptied his balls inside me. He finished getting ready for work and was out the door, but not so quickly that he didn't see Nick taking advantaged of me being loaded up and shoving his cock where Chris' had just been. "You know I can't resist a pre-loaded hole" groaned Nick as he sunk balls deep in one thrust, his large tool stretching me even more than Chris had. While fucking me, I asked him if Chris had been the second mystery guy, and that's when Nick confirmed my suspicions. Nick also instructed me to let Chris fuck me whenever, and where ever too. I know technically this was already covered by Nick's rules, but he wanted to make it clear. I tried to find out who mystery guy 1 was, but Nick is very good at keeping secrets and just told me that I didn't need to know, but that I'd probably find out soon enough anyway. After Nick ejaculated deep inside me, I had to quickly get myself ready to meet a couple of friends for dinner and a movie. When I arrived at the restaurant, Patrick and Evan were already there. I guess I was about 10 mins late. Nick doesn't seem to care if I have plans or not. His dick takes priority. Now, Patrick and Evan were nice guys, both of them also friends with Nick, but unlike Nick, neither of them could keep a secret if their lives depended on it. I think both of them need gossip in the same way that the rest of us need oxygen. Nice guys otherwise though. The main difference between them was that Patrick was quite uptight sexually and very very vanilla. And very judgmental of people who didn't fit his strict moral code. Evan, on the other hand, was as promiscuous as they come and loved to tell everyone about his latest exploits. He didn't know the meaning of the word "discreet" and would take great delight in, for example, pointing out a hot daddy with his wife and kids, and telling us that he'd swallowed that guy's load in a city beat just a few days ago. Patrick would often tell him that he was disgusting, but still seemed to lap up every tidbit and file it away in his memory. Anyway, after we'd ordered, Evan was regaling us with his latest stories, including tricking a safe only guy into taking his cock raw. Patrick was horrified, but still wanted more details, and telling Evan that he should use condoms because he could catch anything with his lifestyle. Evan looked across the table at me and said "well, I'm not the only one here who enjoys a bit of raw fun". I must have looked very confused, because I'm very discreet about my hook ups, and I make sure I never tell Evan anything. Patrick wasn't going to let it rest though "What do you mean?". Evan replied "Look across the table. I fucked him bareback and shot my cum inside him". Patrick looked at me and asked "Really? You let Evan bareback you?" I replied "No, Evan's never fucked me. I don't know what he's talking about" Evan went on "Well, maybe you wouldn't know. You were blindfolded at the time and had ear plugs in. I fucked you, then your flatmate came home and he fucked you. Bare too. Then we left, and I know Nick fucked you immediately afterwards. That's 3 loads in one session, if I'm counting correctly" I just looked at him and said "oh fuck. That was you" I could tell that Patrick was outwardly disgusted at me, but I bet under the surface he was living for this kind of situation. I was pissed off at Nick. I know he was allowed to let anyone fuck me, but he knew that Evan wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. And now that Patrick knew, I bet it would only be a matter of time before our entire friendship group knew that I was a slut and cumdump. I don't remember the rest of the conversation, or even the movie, because my mind was churning over what had happened and how I could protect my reputation, or even if it was possible. We left the cinema, and Nick was waiting for us outside. That was a surprise to me, I thought he had other plans. Patrick, his gossip glands in overdrive, asked him straight away if Evan's story was true. Nick put his arm around my shoulder and said "Yes, this is my new sex toy. Basically a fleshlight for me, and for anyone I want to share him with". Patrick asked if that meant we were in a relationship, but Nick corrected him and said that it was just a sex arrangement. Nick then said "Speaking of sex arrangements, I'm horny and I'm going to head to a beat. I came here first because I want to take my sex toy with me to see how many loads I can get inside him". Patrick was, as expected, aghast, and said "You're not serious are you? He could catch something!" Nick - "I really hope so. That'd be hot. Do you want to come and watch or join in?" Patrick looked like Nick had asked him if he wanted to eat cockroaches, and said that it wasn't his scene, and that he needed to go home. Nick looked at Evan and said "What about you, do you want to fuck him again?" Evan said "Fuck yeah, I'm in!"

Yes, regardless of whether it is my cum or someone else's.

I have confidence in you. I have a Monster Training Plug from Mr-s-leather. It’s no longer listed on their site. So I measured circumference of mine—about 11.5”—so comparable to Acorn XL. I have been able to take it multiple times. Currently, I can’t even get close. Need to get my starter plugs out and get back to practicing.

Absolutely love it

I don't even know what I do to influence it? lol i just got an alert ....i wouldn't have looked either

This has amazing potential if the story continues.

Got my last load this afternoon at Basement Studios - on day pass- Gran Canaria

Part 6 Phil pulled his cock out of my cunt. Mike immediately pushed an extremely long and thick plug deep into my pussy. Then Mike led me into another room. Several guys with hard, dripping cocks were already waiting there. I was strapped onto a fuck bench, my pussy pointing nicely upwards, just the right position to fuck it hard. Mike started messing with my balls. My balls were tied tightly and the whole sack was pulled down tightly. The rope was then attached to the floor. I could feel the pull on my balls clearly, and with every thrust it became even more intense, unless I actively pushed my ass towards my fuckers. Then the Master stepped in front of me. "You will be used relentlessly by my buddies in front of the camera for the next few hours. Everyone will spray their POZCUM into your slave cunt several times. Everything will be broadcast live on the internet and will also be available for download later. We will make sure that your face is always clearly visible. Everyone should see what a dirty slave whore you are." The Master gave a signal and the plug was brutally torn out of my cunt. My hole didn't have time to close before one of the guys rammed his T-covered cock balls deep into me. At the same time, I was pushed forward violently and I had to moan loudly because I felt like my balls were being torn off. I quickly pushed myself towards my fucker to reduce the pressure on my balls. My fuckers liked that I stuck my pussy out towards them. One after the other used me, and each one shot his first load deep into my ass after just a few minutes. Then the rope around my balls, which had turned dark blue by then, was loosened and I was laid down in a sling. Once I was securely fastened, the second round began. Every guy who stepped between my legs had dipped his cock head in T-dust first. So equipped, they penetrated me again one after the other, without consideration, without mercy, focused only on their lust and satisfaction. Most of them pulled out completely and thrust right back into me balls deep. This time, it took them all significantly longer, and after what felt like two hours, some of them even fucked me a third time before the last one let go of me. Mike then immediately stuffed the huge plug, completely covered in T-dust, deep into my cunt again.

My achievements says I'm also a grand master.

Tell me what you think

Who said anything about only one round

The Coleherne, Earl’s Court, London. Got my arsed fucked many times by guys I picked up there. It was a starting point for many young guys first experience

I used to work with guy who possessed 10" cock & thick as a Red Bull can. He'd drive me to work & a quick fuck before we started. Lunch time was another guaranteed load but, if we were both quiet we'd meet in a toilet cubicle. Didn't always get a load but just the fucking was always worth it. I'd get another full load & plugged after work. Sometimes the plug would be there the early load or if I was so full & leaking I'd take it it out. That fucking weapon fucked me so hard everytime & he could load me with massive loads. This went on for nearly ten years before he passed with HIV related cancer. He certainly knew how to fuck, whether in a toilet or on a bed.

[think before following links] https://thisvid.com/videos/big-bare-cock-for-asian-sub/ the verbal top is 🔥

Your encouraging comments are a huge turn-on, thank you. Here's another short chapter before Christmas. This one is still just online fantasy—just the toxic words of a giftgiver. But I promise, we are getting there.. the next one is the real thing. So bear with me! Happy Christmas! Part 5: The Giftgiver's Typed Poison Night falls, and with it, the familiar ache. You sit down at your laptop, the screen's glow a sterile comfort. You don't even bother with the forum tonight. The stories are just ghosts. You need a connection. You need a possibility. You turn to Romeo, your old, familiar hunting ground. You set the filters to your new truth: Safer Sex?: "Let's talk." You join every community related to bareback and poz, scrolling through the lists of members, filtering for tops. You're deep in a community called "Gift Givers Netherlands" when a particular post catches your eye. It's from a user named ToxicDaddy. The post isn't just a comment; it's a manifesto. He's arguing against the "sanitization" of bareback culture, and his target is specific. He's railing against the neg guys who seek out gift givers while being on PrEP. He writes, "They want to live the fantasy, but they don't have the balls to go the full way. It's a cheat, a lie. They're just tourists in our world, not pilgrims." Below his text, he's attached a picture of his latest lab results, the viral load number circled in red, followed by a series of explicit, high-quality photos of him fucking and breeding different asses, his biohazard tattoo on his chest clearly visible. He's not just talking the talk; he's providing proof. He's a purist. Intrigued, you click on his profile. His profile picture isn't a body part. It's the symbol of a cock ejaculating dozens of tiny, swirling biohazard icons. It's a flag. A declaration of war. His stats are just as direct: 45, 6'2", 185cm, 95kg. His location? Amsterdam. A jolt goes through you. Amsterdam. A three, maybe four-hour drive. It's not a fantasy continent away. It's a possibility. Not for today or tomorrow, but a planned trip... that was possible. The distance makes it safe for now, but the proximity makes it dangerously real. You drop him a tap—a pig to show that you like his kinks. A moment later, a message appears. He: Great profile. Saw you are also in all of these sleazy poz groups. I'm poz, med-free, high VL. Only fuck bare! You? Your heart hammers. This is it. No games. The truth, right there in the opening line. Your hand instinctively goes to your crotch, kneading the growing bulge through your jeans. You: Thanks! Exactly what I'm looking for! 🙂 I’m neg, not on PrEP. He: Good. I hate PrEP. It's a chemical condom that can't even break. It ruins the fun. So you're a chaser? The confirmation is a relief, but his direct question sends a new thrill through you. It's the first time you've said it to someone like this. You: I think so... He: Good. It'll do you good when that poz cum is inside. With my high VL the effect is long-lasting. A shiver runs down your spine. You undo your fly and pull out your hardening cock, your fingers wrapping around the steel of your PA ring, giving it a twist. He's talking about permanence, and he has the lab results to prove it. You: I want that... the real thing. He: I know you do. I also wanted it - wanted to get pozzed. I eventually surrendered to it. Most guys see it as an infection, a mistake. They're wrong. It's a communion. The most intense connection to another man I've ever felt. Your hand freezes on your cock. This is different. This isn't just about fucking. He: It's the ultimate act of trust. To look another man in the eye, knowing he carries the virus, and to open yourself up anyway. To let him past your flesh, past your defenses, and into your blood. Submitting to him, accepting his toxic gift... that's something divine. It changes you. It binds you to him forever. I wasn't just looking for a fuck; I was looking for that bond. And when I found it, when I felt him cum inside me and knew my life was changing forever, it was the most beautiful moment of my life. The confirmation sends a jolt through you. He's not just living proof; he's a disciple of the very act you crave, a high priest of the faith. You reach into the drawer beside your desk and pull out your dildo and a small bottle of lube, your hands trembling slightly. You: It's a huge turn on that you get off on pozzing a neg ass. He: Honestly? It gets me very hot. It should be fun for both of us, right? You: Fuck yeah. Are you playing with yourself too? He: Fuck yes. I've been rock hard since you told me you were neg and not on PrEP. The thought of him, a few hours' drive away, getting instantly hard because of your commitment, because you're one of the purists, is intoxicating. It's a validation you've never felt before. You slick up the dildo and press it against your hole, teasing yourself. He: You got poppers? You: Yeah. He: Good. Take a hit for me. A deep one. Then I'll tell you exactly how I'd breed you. Your hand trembles with excitement. You grab the small brown bottle, unscrewing the cap. You bring it to your nostril and take a long, deep sniff. The rush floods your system, warm and dizzying. Your hole relaxes. He: You feel that? Take another one. You: Yeah... He: Good. First, I'd massage your hole with my precum. Just the tip, rubbing it all over you, leaking precum in your hole, getting you slick with my poz fluid. I'd hold you, pull you close against my warm body, and whisper in your ear what's about to happen. I'd nibble on your earlobe while I'm doing it, letting you feel my cock get harder against you. As he types, your own cock is dripping precum like a faucet. You scoop it up with your fingers and use it to slick up your own hole, imagining it's his. He: Then I'd place the tip of my cock right at your entrance. I wouldn't push. I'd just let it rest there, letting you feel the heat of it, the weight, oozing more precum into your guts. I'd kiss you, deep and slow, while my charged cockhead is poised to enter you. I'd tell you to relax, to breathe, to open up your man cunt, extend your slick asslips to pull me in. You're stroking your cock in time with his words, the fantasy so real you can almost feel his breath on your neck. He: Another hit. This time for both of us. And two more. You hear the faint, imagined sound of him sniffing in your mind and take another hit yourself, the second wave even more intense. You're so close. You can feel your orgasm building. He: I'd push just the head in, slowly. So you can feel every millimeter. I'd look you right in the eyes as I enter you for the first time. No rubber. Just me, raw, skin-on-skin. As he says this, you slowly push the head of the dildo inside you with a soft moan, feeling the stretch, the imagined penetration. He: Then I'd stop, letting you get used to it, letting your neg body accept my poz cock. I'd kiss you again, my tongue in your mouth, my cock in your ass, connected at both ends. I'd go deeper, inch by inch, reaching your inner sphincter, coating it with precum, getting it as slick as your asslips, stretching it until my head pops all the way through. His words are a command. You pull the first dildo out, your hole feeling suddenly empty and desperate. You reach into the drawer and grab the biggest one you have, the one that always makes you feel like you're being split open. You slick it up, line it up, and push it in all the way, breaking past your inner sphincter with a sharp, pleasurable ache that makes you gasp. You've matched his description perfectly, feeling the intense stretch, the full, imagined penetration. He: I'd start to move, so slowly, pulling out almost all the way, then sinking back in. I'd tell you how good you feel, how tight your neg hole is. I'd keep talking to you, my voice a low whisper, telling you how my high viral load is getting ready to fill you up, how you're going to be mine. Asking you one last time, if you are sure. That I will be changing your future forever. Asking if you are ready to accept my gift, accept me! The finality of his words is devastating. It's everything you crave. This is it. This is the connection you've been searching for. It's not just the act, it's the intimacy, the shared surrender, the divine beauty of it all he described. The brutal fantasy of a stranger taking you is nothing compared to this—the idea of a true, willing, sensual pozzing. He: I'm close, chaser. Tell me you want my charged load. Beg for it. You: Please... breed me... give me your charged load! I’m so ready for it! Make me yours! He: That's it... I'm gonna kiss you as I cum... looking so deep into your eyes, I'll see every hot spurt of my charged load painting your soul from the inside, marking you as mine. Take it... take my high VL toxic fucking seed! You cum with a loud, guttural groan, a huge, explosive load. The first shot hits your chest, but the next spurts are so powerful they fly up, hitting you squarely in the face. A thick, warm glob lands right over your left eye, blinding you. You slump back in your chair, the dildo still inside you, panting, and for a moment, you just sit there in the sudden darkness. A sharp, chemical burning starts. It's not just the sting of salt; it's a fire. You try to blink it away, but you can't see. All you can do is feel. The burning in your eye feels like a promise. It feels like a virus taking hold, like a toxic charge searing itself into your very optic nerve, marking you from the inside out. The pain is exquisite. It's a shadow of the real thing, a phantom pain, and it's the most blissful, agonizing sensation you've ever felt. This is what it feels like to be claimed. The chat goes silent for a moment. He: Fuck... that was hot. We'll talk more tomorrow. You: Yeah... okay... You log off of Romeo, your body buzzing, your chest sticky with cum. The fantasy was perfect. That's when you see it. A new notification has popped up on your screen from Romeo, a message that arrived at the exact moment you were shooting your load—almost like a sign from hell. Your heart hammers in your chest as you click back over to the app. It's from a profile you've never seen before. The username is stark and simple: BREEDER. You click on it. The profile is sparse, almost menacing. No pictures, no stats, just a location: a few kilometers away. He's real. He's close. You see the list of forums he's a member of. It's a who's who of every poz and breeding forum on the platform. He's not just a tourist; he's a native of this world. He's the real thing. And then you read his message. It's not a long, explicit fantasy. It's short, direct, and chilling. "Saw you online. You look like you need the real thing."

Before 2013, I played with condoms most time. I only had BB sex with my BF and some "trusted" regular FBs. But since I experienced BB sex and loved it, I did stealth some randoms guys too. Also got stealthed by some. One day I went to play with a guy at his place. He used condom. And I came back home. The next morning when I used toilet, I found out the condom left in my ass. I was kinda panic but also felt excited.

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.

I fuck bare anyway but if a guy wanted to “stealth” me I would be down. Hot fantasy

Can't it just be whatever it is to whoever is doing it? Why does it need labels?

PART 2 Since that first night taking my new daddy's first poz loads it had now been 2 months. I tested poz a few weeks back, as was expected. I got pretty lucky, no flu, just a quiet seroconversion and two thick red lines on my test. He was so turned on when i sent that simple little text "so it happened, you pozzed me". We continued to meet on the weekends when his wife was out of town. I never asked about their situation. We were just fucking, having fun, and I was loving the inhibition-free poz on poz sex. I wasn't on any meds, neither was he, and we felt great. Potent. Fast forward a bit, it has been over a week and a half since we met up and, as was now always the case, I was inexplicably horny and could only be satisfied with cum dripping from my newly poz body. But it was Thursday, and he can't meet during the week. Still, i asked anyway. I waited and waited but he didn't reply. I couldn't stand my exploding sex drive any longer so i got ready and left to hit the nearest gay bar, a frequent pickup spot pre-poz. Pretty quickly a cute younger twink latched on to me. I tend to be a bottom, and his energy screamed please top me, but tonight something felt different. Maybe I wanted to be in control. Maybe I wanted to breed someone. I took another look at this cute little twink grinding up on me and thought, well fuck it. I need to cum in someone. We went back to his place and with very little conversation got right into it. He never asked about a condom, status, nothing. He couldn't get me in him quick enough. It wasn't all that special of a fuck in most regards (remember im a 90% bottom boys) but as I was getting closer and closer it become more euphoric as I realized I as about to shoot my own poz load into this pretty little slut. As far as I knew, I was about to knock his ass up, and I loved it. Without a word I shot rope after rope into him, and kept thrusting for a few moments to ensure I shot it all deep. Too overcome with what had just happened, I got dressed and bolted. I was almost home when my phone buzzed. Poz daddy. He was inviting me over after all. Strange I thought, but I was now so horny and excited to tell him what happened tonight that I headed right over. Much to my surprise, a woman - presumably his wife - opened the door. I blushed and couldn't manage a word, busted I thought. She was pretty, young. She had a look about her that told me she was also an absolute killer. "Well come on in boy" she quipped at me, almost sternly. Here we go I thought, this is about to be really uncomfortable. As I entered the kitchen, there was poz daddy. He looked amused. I was lost. She entered behind me and went to stand by his side. Finally he spoke - "This is kat. She's my life partner, my other half. And yes, she's poz too.", and kissed her longingly. I was in shock. "I've been encouraging him to poz himself a new toy for months, but I have to admit, you're not what I expected. I hear you gave it right up too. Hmm maybe a bad little boy." she said playfully. "I think it's about time I observe you boys". Poz daddy now made his way over to me. My heart was pounding as he grabbed my cock and leaned in for a kiss. "Been busy boy? You smell like sex". At which point I had to spill the beans. Tell them how i had just probably pozzed some slutty twink across town. Kat nodded with approval as I concluded my tale, and he, grinning only said "maybe a little bad indeed. Let's charge you up, you earned it boy" and dragged me towards the bedroom. She followed, walking lightly, enjoying the view. Another night, 3 more huge poz loads in me. She watched the whole time and dished out her own set of good boys as I begged for his seed over and over. He dominated me and fucked me harder and harder. I was in heaven. Full of his cum again and in bliss. And all the while, as he pounded me raw, all I kept thinking about was who else i would love to poz next. I could feel I was beginning to change...or maybe that's just the influence of a big poz cock buried inside me. Who knows, tomorrow is a new day.

Part 4 The 4 men were spent. My throbbing hole oozed cum, and I just lay on the floor, my brain spinning in a million directions at once. I still felt shame at being raped by these 4 black men, but I also still craved more cock inside me, fucking me, pounding me, breeding me like a common bitch. I was so confused. Without a word Mr. Jackson approached me with something in his hand I had never seen. It was long like a big dick, and got wider near the end of it, really wide, then it suddenly narrowed and had a base on it. "Pull his legs up!" He told one of the men. My legs were quickly pulled over my head, exposing my dripping hole. Mr. Jackson started to push this thing into me, stretching my asslips further open until it reached a painful point, at which he stopped. Looking down, I could see some of it still sticking out of me. Mr. Jackson just stood up and lined his boot up with the end. Raising his leg, he kicked the end full force, ramming the rest of it all the way in me with one brutal thrust. "AAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGG" I screamed as I saw stars and almost passed out. Mr. Jackson just hit my shock collar and the men all laughed as I jerked around the floor, screaming and crying, pain engulphing my body from head to toe. Eventually it subsided a bit and the men grabbed me. One forced a ball into my mouth, buckeling it right around my head. Another grabbed my ankles, tightly wrapping rough rope around and around immobilizing my legs, and another grabbed my arms and did the same behind my back. Then I was picked up and placed into a leather body bag and zipped up tight. I could hear the men leaving as I was left bound in darkness. I have no idea how long I spent like this. I know it was hours. I had lost all sense of time. I tried not to think about the position I was in. Just yesterday I was happily at home with my family, and now I was literally a piece of fucked up property with no idea or even say about what was going to happen to me. My body ached. My jaw ached. And mostly my ass ached with what felt like a log jammed up there. My head spun, my heart raced, and I alternated between screaming and crying and praying into my gag, all while I sweated buckets. After who knows how many hours I spent like this, I suddenly felt myself being picked up and thrown over Mr. Jackson's shoulders. I was carried and dumped into the back of the truck, and felt it start to drive away from the cabin to God only knew where. We drove for what must have been a couple hours. I could tell we were back in the city by all the sounds around me, even though I was still in my dark cocoon. Eventually we stopped and Mr. Jackson got out of the cab and unzipped my sack. "Don't say a word slut!" He ordered me as he undid my gag and untied my arms and legs. "I told you I was your pimp now, and your about to make your first sale." I secretly wept a little inside as I realized I was really going to be made into a prostitute. Another step closer to the devil. He just attached a leash to my collar and pulled me off the truck. Thankfully it was dark, so no one could really see me as I was led naked to the front door of a run down house. Mr. Jackson rang the bell and we were admitted inside. It was dimly lit but I could see several people. On the couch was a woman passed out while a guy was fucking her. In the corner sat a young shirtless guy pushing a needle into his arm, his eyes rolling back into his head as he pushed the plunger. He was really skinny and sickley looking. Mr. Jackson just led me past these people into a back bedroom. There were two black men in there sitting on a dirty bed, passing a glass pipe between them. The larger of the two stood up and leered at me. "Dis the Jesus boy? Damn....mighty fine piece of white boy pussy!" He said handing Mr. Jackson a bag of powder. "His cunt nice and stretched?" "It needs a lot more stretching!" Mr. Jackson laughed pushing me face down onto the bed. "But it's got a good start!" With that he grabbed the huge plug in my ass and ripped it out hard. I howled as a new burning tore through my body yet I felt oddly empty. I wouldn't have to wait. Almost immediately a cock almost as huge as the plug slid deep up into me. My poor ass had no choice but to take him. The other guy held the pipe up to my mouth and told me to suck. Without hesitation I put my lips around it and inhaled my first ever hit. He made me hit it several times while the big guy kept fucking me. When the pipe was empty, he grabbed my thighs and started to pound me as hard as he could. His cock curved upward and relentlessly rammed a spot deep inside me that set me on fire. Soon I was moaning and grunting like a true whore, begging for it harder and harder. He gave me all he had, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back, bending my body while he pummeled me. "Damn nice pussy! You found a good one here! It's almost a shame he's going to eventually be a worthless used up cumdump! Take it you little whore! You ain't nothin but a little meth whore! Take my cum you faggot!" He buried himself balls deep and unloaded his seed far into my guts. I just panted and moaned as I felt his cock throb. After he pulled out the other guy stuck his cock in me. He wasn't as big, but I didn't care. I just wanted him in me, fucking me, using my pussy as a cumdump. He rode me for a while before he too shot his load in my hungry pussy. When the men had finished, Mr. Jackson just pulled me off the bed and pushed me into the living room, past the boy in the corner and the passed out woman on the couch. The guy that had fucked her was long gone. "That will be you one day, Jesus boy. A fucked up, passed out hole for anyone to dump in." I shuddered a bit at the thought, as my dick got hard at the thought. Mr. Jackson just pushed me out the door and into the truck cab, pushing me onto the floor. I just lay there, my ass dripping fresh cum as we drove off to our next stop.

My New Life I kept the plug in all night and all the next day, and when I was done with class at three thirty I went back to Anthony’s hornier then I had ever been in my entire life. I found him sitting naked in his living room, Max on the floor, and five new guys who I had never seen before getting blown by Max. “Good you’re here,” Anthony said, and he led me back to the sling, pulled the plug out of my ass and said to this new group, “Ok. Go.” I spent that night as I has spent the one before, my ass wide open taking each cock as it came to me. At the end of the night Max dumped a thick load in me and then so did Anthony, and then the plug returned. “You’re going to keep that in at all times boy, the only time you’re to take it out is when you’re gonna get fucked. Understand?” I nodded. “Ok, now I’m going away on business till next Monday which is when I’ll see you again. You’re task is to take another twenty loads before I get back that gives you four day to get twenty loads. I already know of two that you’re gonna get and I’ve given your number to everyone who bred you today or yesterday so that should help you, but you had better spend some time on a4a and grindr and find yourself some new loads to take. Understand boy?” “Yes Sir.” “Good. Now get out.” Max smiled at me as he left and showed me the new contact he had added to his iPhone. It said Dumpster and listed my number. “Tom had work tonight, so expect a call from him tomorrow he as sad he missed that sweet cunt. When I got home I felt the same elation as the night before mixed with a new dread. It was one thing for these guys to come to Anthony’s place and find some kid they didn’t know open and ready for cock but for them to have my number and probably my name. The anonymity that I felt had protected me was gone, but then again that was an illusion too because Professor Ross knew and I had to go see him in the morning. I took a few deep breaths and decided to just go to bed and see what happened in the morning. I woke up the next morning to my phone ringing; I looked at the screen and saw a number I didn’t recognize. Groggily I answered. “Good morning cumdump.” My heart stopped. “Who is this,” I stammered. “Professor Ross boy. I was thinking about your warm cunt all day yesterday and I figured rather then stopping class and breeding you right there in front of everyone that I would have you come to my office in half an hour to get your first load of the day.” “I just woke up Professor… and I haven’t showered…” “Don’t bother, I know you got bred last night. I wanna see that dried cum on your ass cheeks. Half an hour boy, don’t be late.” He hung up. For a few moments I lay in my bed frozen, then I felt my hole twitch around the base of the plug still firmly mounted there and I knew what my decision was. I jumped out of bed and grabbed a pair of gym shorts pulled them over the tighty whities I had put on before bed, tugged a sweat shirt over my head and started to walk across campus to the English building. It took nearly fifteen minutes to get there but with the plug up my ass they were fifteen very arousing minutes, buy the time I got to the main doors I was in heat. I had never been to Professor Roth’s office so it took me almost another fifteen minutes to find it. So at exactly twenty eight minutes after the professor had rung off I knocked on the half frosted glass door to his office. When the professor opened the door my heart skipped a beat. It hadn’t been a dream, I really had been fucked by my professor at my first gang bang and I was now standing at his office door to get fucked by him again. Ross smiled and usered me in. For what seemed like forever he just stood there with his back against the now closed door in his well tailored tweed suit the only evidence that this was not a normal student teacher meeting was the pronounced bulge which was forming in the front of his pants. “Good morning boy.” “Good morning Professor.” “Well don’t just stand there, take your clothes off and come suck my cock.” I tore my clothes off and rushed to kneel in front of him my plugged ass arching backward inventing him in as I released his throbbing cock from his trousers. The full nine inches sprung forward and I eagerly rapped my lips around the mushroom head. He grabbed the back of my head and forced his cock down my throat till I gagged on it. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes but the Professor just smiled and started face fucking me. Despite gagging and spluttering on his cock and frequently panicking that I could not breath I could tell that my hole was yearning for his cock flexing and winking it begged to take his load. The Professor suddenly shoved his whole cock down my throat forcing me to deep throat him, in my panic trying to gulp down air I swallowed hard and felt his cock just slid down no longer choking me. As my throat relaxed so did my ass and out popped the plug a long with a little trickle of cum. “Man your hole is hungry for cock today, look at how it just spit out that plug.” He pulled his cock from my throat, “Ok boy, bend over my desk.” I got up and walked over to the large wooden desk that took up most of the room and bent over it, my ass pointing towards the Professor. I squeezed my sphincter muscles making my hole wink as invitingly as I could at him. But the Professor didn’t need much encouraging, he walked over and in one move sank his entire cock into my cum slicked hole. I moaned loudly and the Professor clamped his hand over my mouth. “Quite whore,” he whispered, “or the whole building will hear you.” Silently he began to pound me hole and I desperately tried not to make a sound only allowing the occasional squeak to make it out. The Professor clearly intended to make this a fast fuck because there was none of the longs slow teasing that occurred last time just a determination to dump a load in my cunt. He hammered away relentlessly for what must have been fifteen minutes, during the course of which the desk must have shifted a good foot from the force of his pounding, before he sunk balls deep inside of me and unleashed a ******* of cum on my bowels. It was if a river were flowing inside of me. Then he let his cock slacked and fall out of my cunt and having retrieved the plug from the floor stuffed that back into my ass. “Ok, get dressed boy, and don’t be late for class.”

PART TWO The door opened and I heard foot steps coming down the hall. I panicked a little trying to pull away from Anthony’s pounding cock but he caught me with his strong hands and continued to fuck my hole as two men came into the room. I stared at them in horror of what they had found, but neither one of them seemed surprised to find Anthony with his cock buried in some strange guy in fact they looked pleased. “Don’t worry boy, they're here to help you learn your true place. Max and Tom live downstairs. They graduated two years ago and decided that some things,” he slammed into my ass particularly hard a few times, “in this town are just to good to leave, so they stayed.” I looked at the two men and realized that they weren’t that much older then me. In fact they looked like the frat boys I lusted over every day. One of them was about my height but was built like a football player, he had short blond hair sticking up under a baseball cap, as I watched he pulled his wife beater t-shirt over his head revealing pits bursting with dirty blond hair. The other was the perfect all American boy, about six foot with brown hair a strong jaw and swimmers body, he wore a black t-shirt and sweat pants which were beginning to reveal a sizable bulge. “How about you boys get naked and give this cumdumpster something to suck on while I give him the second load of his life.” A small part of my brain wondered why I was letting this happen, why I was pushing my ass back against this man I had met not three hours ago and had already blown a load in my, until then, 'condom-only' ass, but then I saw the blond boy (who I would later learn was Max) pull his jeans off revealing a pair of white briefs fit to bursting with a fact cock and stunning balls and I didn’t care any more. Tom was faster then Max and had already dropped his sweat pants before Max could pull off his underwear. Tom was like a mini version of Anthony, in fact he was probably what Anthony had looked like ten years prior, lithe and dark with thick patches of hair starting to grow together all of him. His cock was not as long as Anthony’s but it was certainly thicker. This all American boy was swinging not a bat but a can of Guinness, and all around the base and over his nice round balls was a thick dark bush. Max was much less hairy then the other two men, he had thick pit hair and incredibly hairy legs and ass, but other then that his torso was almost smooth. His nipples were a bright pink and his skin a pail white. His cock was probably eight inches long an nearly as thick as Anthony’s. Despite the sensible part of my brains warnings I knew as soon as I saw those two cocks that I needed them inside me and I knew I needed their loads in my cunt. Both men got down on their knees in front of me and pressed their cock to my lips. Obediently I opened my mouth and began trying to acuminate them both. Behind me Anthony had begun grunting and pounding like an animal and I knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Just as Tom began to force his cock deeper into my mouth Anthony grabbed my hips and slammed balls-deep into me. Once again I felt the astounding pulsations of his cock deep in my gut and then the rush of warmth as his cum filled-up my cunt. After a moment he pulled-out with a wet sloppy plop and staggered to his feet. Max wasted no time in sliding his cock into my gaping hole while Tom started to fuck my face. I gagged on the cock slamming against my tonsils while I bucked back on the cock ramming my ass. Although I couldn't see Anthony, I could hear him chuckling in the background. “Look at you now, being spit roasted by two former frat boys with two loads up your sweet cunt, when just this morning you had never been bred before. Are you having fun, boy?” “God yes,” I tried to answer around Tom’s insanely fat cock. All three of them laughed at the muffled sound and Tom redoubled his efforts and fucking my throat. Max’s cock had me writhing all over the place as he deep-dicked me, pulling almost all the way out before sliding it slowly back into my cum lubed hole again and again. But good as his cock felt I needed his load. “Tom, pull-out the boy’s mouth for a minute. I need him to be able to answer me.” Tom pulled-out of my mouth at Anthony’s bidding and moved behind me with Max. Anthony squatted down in front of me, his now half mast cock right in my face. Gently, he lifted my chin so I was looking him in the eyes. “You’re a good boy. Now, these two frat boys are gonna finish using you sweet new cunt pretty soon 'cause we don’t wanna wreck it too bad before your coming out party tonight. I’ve invited around fifteen guys to come over in an hour to breed your hole. There are no rules except that all loads must go in your cunt. Do you want those loads, boy? Do you want your load count to be at least eighteen tonight?” Max had changed from slowly sliding his cock back in each time to slamming his cock back up my cunt just as hard as he could. All that I could say between grunts of pleasure was “YES!” “Good boy, now Max, give the slut what he needs.” Max grunted savagely and started to jackhammer my hole. I could feel cum spewing from his dick inside of me, splashing against the walls of my cunt. No sooner was Max done then Tom was working his way inside me calling, “My turn.” Despite the vicious poundings I had received that day Tom’s beer can thick cock was still stretching my hole out even more. He pushed inside slowly but steadily, until the whole thing was inside and I could feel his pubes against my ass cheeks and his balls resting against mine. He held still for a moment before drawing back slowly and building up the pace of his fucking till he was like a jack rabbit who had just gotten out of jail. Max leaned in close and whispered to me, “Itn't Tom’s cock amazing?” “Fuck, yes.” “I love taking his cock.” “I can’t wait for his load!” “You’ll get it soon.” “God, I’ll be so loose then it’ll just drip out.” “You think you’re loose now? Just wait until we double-dick you." “You want my load, boy?” Tom said panting. “Please breed me! I need you load in my cunt!” “Yeah fucking pig.” Tom slammed balls deep again, stretching my hole just a little bit more to accommodate it’s base as shot after shot after shot of cum rocketed into my bowels. “Just wait pig, at the end of the night Max and I are going to make sure your cunt can handle whatever the world throws your way. “Put this in his ass,” Anthony came back into the room and handed Max a black butt plug, a really big black butt plug. Without hesitating, Tom pulled out of my ass and Max slammed the plug in to make up for the lack of cock inside of me. “Ok boy. You’ve got twenty minutes till your party guests get here. We’ll get you in the sing in a few minutes, but first I think there is something you should see.” He motioned to Max and Tom who helped me to shaky knees and led me down the hallway to another room…