rawTOP

A few years ago my Lover and I were stricken with night fever, our code word for anonymous raw sex in back rooms, the baths, and movie houses. We both needed it bad, so we headed to the gay movie house. Since it was barely around the corner, we got there in minutes. As usual, we wished each other good luck and parted. The place reeked of Mancunt and Poppers. I took a seat to watch the flic. The two dudes on the screen were stripping, flesh-on-flesh, 69ing, fucking, shooting their Manjuice in each other’s mouths and guts. It was time to patrol the back room. I prowled the darkened corridors with years of blatant familiarity. I sat on a bench and unzipped my fly, unfettering my rock-hard Rod. A hand grabbed it. "OH, fuck me! Fuck me!" a voice moaned. Before I could answer, a Bubble Butt sat right down on my Cock. I hadn’t planned on fucking, hoping to get sucked; but by then I didn't care. Waves of pleasure careened down my Shaft. My Balls were just about to release their prize. Suddenly, Bubble Butt was gone. "Shit!" I cursed the darkness, tucking my aching Dick back in, and walked away, hoping maybe Tight Ass wanted me to follow. But he was nowhere to be seen. I sat back down and felt on either side of me. No one. A match flared. For a few seconds I glimpsed a few men across the aisle. A Black Guy caught my fancy and for an instant we made eye-contact. His match went out. I reached in my pocket and flicked my Bic. Someone sat down beside me. We both lit up. It was the Black Dude. "Follow me," he demanded. I pursued him into the john—a small Hell Hole where piss hadn’t properly flushed in years. We went into a small stall. I dropped my jeans, unburdening my throbbing Shaft. He dropped his pants and turned to face me. "OH MY GOD!" I cried out, staring at a rare 12-incher. It was the real McCoy. I dropped to my knees and sucked that swollen Dick. I ran my hungry tongue down his massive Undershaft to his mammoth Balls. I had to do each one independently. Both just wouldn't fit. I sucked that colossal Black Rod with well practiced precision. I wanted to enjoy that stupendous Manshaft every which way I could. I’d encountered only 4 or 5 that size in my lifetime. So I kept changing how and what I did, plying him with every trick in the book, anxious to drain that epic Ball Sac. I got him moaning, licked his Asshole, then went back to that gigantic Cock, gently nibbling the humungous Shaft as I went. As he slowly pumped the Monster Head in and out of my mouth, my right hand rubbed, squeezed and cupped his massive Nuts. My left hand pumped my own Meat. I didn't want either of us to come soon, but I couldn’t afford to let that one get away. Finally hot Jizm filled my mouth. Ropes and ropes of it. My left hand grew sticky with my own Cum. After his last squirt, he pulled out, disappointment all over his face. "You wanted to get fucked?" His Seed dripped down my hand. His face hung almost as low as his member. "Yeah, I’d hoped to." "I just couldn't help it." "Yeah, I know." His words spoke volumes. “Every time a guy gets a glimpse of my size, they never get around to fucking. “ “Just as well. I’m POZ.” "I’m a Bugchaser, man!” He zipped up his jeans and unlatched the door. “Wait!” I exclaimed, my mind whirling. I couldn’t let this rare bird get away. My BF would never forgive me. “My Lover’s here. He’s POZ and a Top. And he isn’t on Meds.” I took his hand and drew Daniel into the Lion’s Den.

I hit the baths Monday night and things were really dead. I counted a mere eight cars in the lot. I had the good fortune to find an old compadre lying in the Sling. He's POZ. In fact, he has full blown AIDS. What with the cost of Meds and the precariousness of his health, he only ventures out maybe once a month when he feels at his peak. He's extremely wasted and effeminate—a real mincing queen, but very gentle. I once observed him comfort a drunken boy who'd just been dumped by his Boyfriend. I watched as they embraced and he wiped his tears away. At that time I still didn't know his name, for all the years I'd seen him around. I guess that's true of many of my casual acquaintances. Most of the guys avoided him like the plague. They bitched and moaned about him almost to his face. Yet I never heard him rebuke any of those Screaming Queens. I know I wouldn't have been so kind. He climbed in the Sling—his Cock and lumpy Ass on display and up for grabs. I pictured myself kneeling down to lick his Hole, my Dick sliding in his Cunt. Yeah, I had a secret passion for the guy. How gladly would I have drunk his piss and eaten his shit to fuck his bony Ass. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. But not just yet. I didn't want an audience in case the guys freaked out (as I was pretty sure they would) and ostracized me as well a him. It was cowardice on my part, simply put. How I despised my wimpishness. I was drowning in my own timidity. Reluctantly acknowledging there was no white knight in shining armor cuming to ride his haggard Ass, he knotted his ragged towel about his meager waist and smiled at me and everyone as he pranced past. I decide to fraternize with the boys and listen to them bitch and moan about the dude. Cowed by my cravenness, I didn't say a word in his defense . Still I was beguiled by his she-male thing, the AIDS thing, the hole ball of wax. It made him seem so vulnerable and impotent—though impotent was hardly the proper term. But the character assassination never ceased, and it was not my part to remonstrate. Before checking out, I searched the Maze for him. He was lying on a leather bench. I wasn't sure if he were asleep or waiting for his paladin. I couldn't deny I admired the man. It took guts to cum here and put up with all the crap. I stopped and listened. I could hear the sibilant sing-song of his wizened nasal passages. Otherwise, it was deathly silent in the Maze. We were alone. What could it hurt? Why not? Despite the harangue, we were still two human beings in need. Before I knew it I was beside him on the bench. I ran my hand over his thin body, down his scrawny back, over his bony Ass, and onto his emaciated thighs and twiggy legs. His skin felt more infantile than masculine. In the darkened room. He squinted, "Hi." "I'm John." "I know. I'm James. I was getting vibes from you before." "Good or bad?" "The best." He drew up to kiss me. I pinned him down and frenched his teeth and gums—a warm, deep-throated, passionate exchange presaging things to cum. Our souls bared, our raw pent-up emotions boiled over. I went on auto pilot, as my years as a Top ensured. No, I was not ashamed I craved his disease-ridden, effeminate Gay Ass. We kissed. I tweaked his Nips. I sucked his spongy Dick till it grew tall and proud. I licked his hairy Balls, savoring even the random, cloying strays I extracted off my tongue. My hormones raged. I nudged him over so I could rim his Ass. I smelled the remnants of a recent bout of diarrhea and plunged on in. The Queer began to whimper which only served to whet my appetite. I rimmed him deeper, straining to please and compensate for all the undeserved ill-will. "I'd love to fuck you." "I'm full blown POZ." "I think I know what POZ is all about." It was then or never. "Might be better in my room. More privacy" I squeezed his knobby hand and pulled him to his feet. Fleetingly we kissed again before I led him up the stairs and down the hall, past the TV Room where the guys were prone to congregate. But, like I say, it was a quiet Monday night, and the TV set was off. No witness saw us traverse the halls, which was just as well—for I wasn't yet prepared to deal with the ostracism about to come my way. The vicious catcalls already reverberated in my ears. You that hard up? You have to fuck that Sicko Queen? I never once released his hand. It was like I was emboldened by his unassuming feminine mystique. I felt the certitude of one who's finally met his match, the paramour who was destined to become my live-in mate for the few years we had left.

I got POZZED at the ripe old age of 21. I’d just graduated from college and started my first real job. I spent my first couple of paychecks replenishing my tattered rags. On weekends, my friends and I went to the clubs. One rainy Saturday, the crowd was kind of sparse. That was unusual for a weekend night, but it was dead everywhere so we just hung out. We suffered through the usual favorites and a few requests and mostly just stood around looking cool. I actually saw Derek's Dick before I saw Derek. Both he and it were beautiful. I had gone to the john to drain the last couple of beers and was standing at the urinal when a tall guy came in. I couldn’t help notice the thick stream that flew past my eye. I sneaked a peak and couldn’t believe my eyes. That Dick had to be at least 7” by 1-1/2. It looked like your typical erection—but wasn't even hard. I watched him shake it as he pissed, as though he were aiming at the holes. When I realized I was getting hard, I tried nonchalantly to zip up. I sneaked one last peak as I stepped away. He stared at me with a narcissistic grin while continuing to jiggle that big Dick of his. Finally he stepped back and, with a cynical grin, shrugged, and walked out. I wanted that man. I followed him out the door but lost him crossing the dance floor. I found him again posing god-like at the back of the club. He was talking to a couple of guys, but noticed me approach. I decided I shouldn’t be so obvious, reigned in my hormones, and rejoined my friends. But the image of that beautiful Dick had burnt in my brain, and I could think of little else while my Pals prattled on ‘bout this and that. An hour later I literally ran into him again. I muttered apologies as I blushed. He found our near collision humorous, and instead of walking off, introduced himself. He seemed intelligent, thoughtful, and considerate. He spoke in short crisp sentences, pausing carefully before each word. He’d talk, then stop, and wait for my reaction. He had a strange sense of humor, on the sarcastic side. He studied me so intensely I felt his eyes burn through my clothes. The guy turned me on. I checked out his crotch to see if I was affecting him the way he’d impacted me; but any tenting was obscured by his thick cords. He asked if I’d like to smoke a joint. Impulsively I invited him to my place, but he wanted it right then. So I followed him outside, across the street, and down an alley. Standing in a small, filthy alcove, he pressed against me. Our lips touched. We passed the roach back and forth till Derek ground it into the grunge. He turned to the wall, unzipped his fly and let loose a stream. When the jet subsided he didn't tuck it in, but turned towards me. “Suck it!” I bent over, but he told me to get on my knees. I protested that I was wearing my new duds and the ground was wet. He gave me that same evil smirk and zipped up. I pleaded, but he insisted that I’d have to kneel for it. I threw in the sponge, knelt, and sucked his Cock. After that humiliation, I wanted desperately to get him in my sway. He was pretty hard; but thick as he was, that only made things worse. I found myself suppressing a gag, and my fleeting chance at domination slipped away. After 10 minutes, he pulled off. At first I thought he was going to cum, but he zipped up and headed back toward the street. Perplexed, I got off my knees, glanced at my soiled pants, and hightailed it after him. “Did I do something wrong?” “It’s time to fuck your Ass.” I was living at the time in a two-bedroom with an old Fag named Marty (Martha) who worked nights as a Security Guard. Martha had a huge assemblage of women’s clothes and cross-dressed on her days off. Derek followed me into the lobby. He cornered me in the elevator practically tearing off my shirt. He drove me wild. I fumbled with my key trying to unlock the door with Derek on my Ass. Once inside, he didn't waste any time. I had just hung up my jacket when he demanded I disrobe. I debated whether I should or not. He started to rub his crotch. I could see his hard-on, and that settled that. I stripped down to my underwear and followed him to the living room where he’d planted himself on the couch. I offered him a beer, and he pulled me beside him as I passed him the can. In minutes we were tangled in a passionate embrace. Desperately I tried to undress the dude. He let me get his pants undone and I had to settle for his Shaft. While I slobbered away, he worked his hand inside my briefs and began to finger-fuck my Cunt. Derek stood up, his engorged Rod pointing toward the bedroom door. He was still fully clothed; and, as we walked past the bath, he mumbled about taking a leak. I didn’t have long to wait. He came out nude. He had a tremendous bod—smooth, bronze tan, washboard stomach, great legs, an overall lean, mean physique. And, of course, there was that piece of Prime Meat. I felt so vulnerable, a mere 5’8” 135, in my meager speedo—and with good cause. Once on the bed he straddled me. We rolled around. He pulled off my speedo, flinging it across the room. He licked my ears. That drove me wild. He worked his tongue down past my Dick and sucked my Balls into his mouth. “Like to get rimmed?” Before I could answer (“Why, yes, of course!”) he flipped me over and had me spread my legs. When I felt his tongue, I lost it all. Derek was an animal. It felt like he was trying to stick his whole tongue up my Ass. The stubble of his beard against the my Ass Crack drove me insane. When he finally relented, it was to ask for Lube. Meekly I pointed to the bed stand. He found what he needed and took his good old time lubing up my Ass. “Got a Condom?” he asked perfunctorily. I didn’t want to spoil our fun. “All out,” I lied—a whole box of them right there on the headboard in plain sight. “Sit on my Dick!” I wanted him so bad. Derek was the thickest thing that had ever been up my Butt, and he was incredible. He kissed me wildly, probing my mouth and ears and neck. I tried to ride his Dick, but it was awkward—bent over as we kissed. He flipped me over on my back, pulling my legs over his shoulders. Again he asked if I wanted to bareback. I figured he needed to hear me to say it over and over again. So there I was, this skinny 21 year old neophyte, erect, stark naked, on my bed, my knees pressed to my chest, getting barebacked by this strange hot Hunk with an attitude and one slick Dick. Needless to say, Derek fucked the shit out of me. Any semblance of gentleness went out the window as he power-fucked my Ass. Problem was, the lube dried up; and it began to hurt. Don’t get me wrong. With his muscular arms pinning my knees and his hands locked behind my head, he was the best fuck of my life. I swear I came three times before he shot. We lay there tethered by my NEG Cum with his sweet thick Shaft slowly softening up my Ass. He pulled out to take a piss. I was exhausted and pulled the bed sheet over me. I may have dozed, cause the next thing I heard was the front door latch. “Shit! Martha’s home.” I slipped on my robe, prepared for awkwardness. Only it wasn’t Martha. I stopped and listened. “Derek?” Apprehensively I traipsed to the john to see if anything was gone. Scribbled jaggedly across the mirror in Marty’s lipstick were three little letters and one big word: POZ! For the umpteenth time that night Derek came out on top.

Damn AIDS was giving me night sweats, so I got up, took a shower, and went for a stroll in the park. I figured it might be deserted since it was a weeknight. To my surprise a hot Latino Twink I'd seen tricking downtown was there in his short jogging shorts. I'd often wondered what male prostitutes did for recreation, and the answer is what they do best. I had no doubt the Kid was looking for action, along with whatever scratch he could finesse, though he got nothing from me other than a couple of POZ Loads and possibly a new STD. It was about 1 A.M. and there were just the two of us there. He pursued me into a copse. I stopped just out of sight of the drive so I could keep an eye out for the cops. After the usual touchy-feely and a few minutes of sucking, he turned and bent over. With his little brown Pussy almost touching my Dick Head, it was as blatant an invitation as I've ever received. He took a hit of his Poppers, and I slid my Cock up his Cunt—one teensy push and I was in up to the Balls. Remember how this Kid earned a living, so to begin with he was pretty stretched out. Bottom line was I ended up breeding his slack little Shitter while he zonked-out on Poppers. Before I left I let him spooge down my throat. He had been so sweet and accommodating and the price had been right—so I invited him over to my place to spend the night. He declined, saying he had to get home or his Pimp might accuse him of cheating. As he walked off into the shadows, I had second thoughts about withholding my Status, but concluded that, in his professional life, he'd taken as many POZ Loads as I had in my amateur one. Besides, I figured he might prefer not to know. Be bad for business if word got out he'd been bred.

Don, a truck driver Fuck Bud, cums to town 3 or 4 times a year. He's in his mid-50s, about 6'1" maybe 160, with a wasted AIDS look that makes my Ass quiver. Although I'm a Top, I always take his Loads cause he's such a nasty Fucker. He's not on Meds and has a Viral Load over a hundred thousand. His Strain recharges my Death Seed and my psyche. When I went to his motel last Sunday, he had a hot Muscle Jock stark naked asleep on the bed. I recognized the Kid as a Gym Bunny in his early 20's who worked out daily at the Spa. Don had hooked up with him through Gay.Com. The Bunny's profile said he was NEG and ONLY played safe. "NOT ANYMORE," Don said with an nasty grin. Gym Boy had overdone the booze and pot, got sleepy, and passed out. My Bud had already dumped one Load of Toxic Cum up his Pussy, and I could see Bug Juice glistening in his Ass Crack. I felched out some of that Baby Batter, used the rest to lube up my Death Stick, and rammed it up the Young Man's Cunt. The Twink stirred briefly, feebly tried to pull away, but I easily pinned him to the bed and worked the AIDS BUG up his Rectum. Don gave the Kid an enormous hit of Poppers, and the Fucker just moaned and gripped the mattress for dear life. It was so fucking sweet breeding that Pretty Boy, knowing he'd pass it on to many of his Twink Cohorts. I flooded his guts with rope after rope of POZ Spooge. I wanted to eat it, freshly-spewed, out of his Pussy; but his Mancunt was so lush and inviting, I couldn't help but shoot another Load. Exhausted I collapsed on top of him, and Don straddled the two of us and rammed his POZ Shaft up my Shitter. I wanted to cum in the insensate Youth at the same time Don spewed up my Pussy; and, like clockwork, I spasmed just as my Bud shot. The Punk drifted in an out of consciousness. Don and I swapped POZ Loads with each other, and gave Muscle Jock another tumble. Don said he had Pals cuming over to give the Youth other Strains. I don't know how many Loads the Fucker took that afternoon, and worried that the little Shit might accuse ME of participating in the assault. But no sweat. The Fuck Session must have been too much for the Muscle Jock. He hasn’t been around since.

Last Saturday night I was chatting with this pretty 18 year old. He was sitting wide-eyed on a bench outside the showers, ogling the guys strutting their stuff. I sat down beside him and said, "Hi." It was his first time at the Baths, and he was nervous. He found the atmosphere intimidating and was scared to death of "catching something." He wanted sex (at least he said he did); but all the guys were too old or fat or withered or diseased. And he was shocked by all the "unsafe sex." Several guys walked by clutching little vials, and he asked me what Poppers did for them. He'd never tried them. "They're no big deal, really. They just relax you and make you feel more sociable." "Got any?" "In my locker. Be right back." But they weren't in my locker. I had 'em stuffed in the waist folds of my towel all along. I just needed an excuse to find my bud. Adam was sitting in the TV Room. He'd already noticed the cute thing I was with, as had everybody in the Club by then. "Gonna fuck him?" "He's pretty green. It's his first trip here, and he's scared to death. I need your help. You get first dibs." I told him we'd meet him in the Maze, then hurried back to the Kid. He was relieved to see me round the corner as some "Sleazy Old Trolls" had put the make on him. I handed him the bottle and told him to take a little sniff to see how they affected him. He did so, maybe for a moment longer than I would have recommended, then moaned that he felt "nice and hot." "Now there's the understatement of the year!" I asked him if he’d like to take a tour; and he said, "Yes." Upon spotting the "Sleazy Old Troll" who'd groped his Ass, he kept close on my tail. Once again he asked to borrow my Poppers. I told him to hang onto them. I had a feeling the Kid would need them a helluva lot more than I before the night was through. "Geez, thanks." He took a deep whiff and turned red. "They sure work wonders. Lemme know when you want 'em back." We entered the Maze and stood just inside the door, back lit only by a dim red light. The moaning emanating from the dark passages beyond was supplanted by the slap of flesh on flesh. Unnerved, the Youth uncapped the bottle and took another whiff. That's when Adam slipped behind him, and I stepped back into the shadows. The Kid sniffed from the bottle while Adam worked his Ass. I don't know what sweet-nothings my bud whispered in his ear, but they took off for Adam's room. As I waited for the outcome of their little tryst, I entered the bowels of the Maze in search of LOVE. An unlubed finger snaked up my Butt. Annoyed, I turned to confront my uncouth suitor, and discovered it was Alan. He led me to his room. The Kid was lying on his stomach. "Why's he sleeping?" "Well, he wanted to try something a little stronger than Poppers; and all I had was GHB." "Great! We can't leave him here like this!" But Adam is one of those imperturbable buggers whom nothing fazes. Between the two of us, we dragged the Kid back to the Maze and strapped him in the leather Sling. The Kid looked so angelic, his legs in stirrups high above his head, his glistening Mancunt soft and beckoning. I guess Adam couldn't help himself. After depositing a 2nd POZ LOAD up the Boy's Mancunt, he took off, leaving me alone with Poisoned Beauty. I reached down, dug my finger in his Pussy, and came away with a digit drenched in Spooge. I marveled at how salty. Adam's Seed is always salty. "AH, POZ CUM!" I sighed dramatically, recollecting the day two years before when Adam confided he was POZ. I'd always suspected I'd been the one who bred his Ass, but never breathed a word of it to anyone. I glanced down at Sleeping Beauty. Such a sweet Pussy! We were alone. He'd never be more fuckable. I shuddered as the 3rd POZ LOAD of the evening spurted up the Young Man's Ass. I headed for the showers to join my Bud, then to his room for a catnap. 2 A.M! Time to check on our Progeny. There was a lot of traffic in the Maze. One of the fabled "Old Trolls" stopped me excited. "Fuck! You should see what's going on." Still secured in the Sling was our Sacrificial Lamb. As I nudged my way amongst the damp towels, I realized what I'd first perceived as a mulling muck of Cocks and Balls was actually an orderly queue of Bareback Tops intent on breeding the Young Twink. "What's with the Kid?" I asked the Dude up next to dip his wick. "A PNP Boy who's overdosed," came his educated guess. "Then how cum he's strapped in like that?" "Must be a Cum Addict as well. Look. Do me a favor. Save my place. I'll be right back. I gotta piss." "No, wait. I know that Kid. He's into Watersports. Piss down his throat, then fuck his Ass." Word spread like wildfire. And so it was that one Top after another, the old, the infirm, the obese, and the diseased, joined ranks to fill both the Youngster's Holes with Piss and Cum. I saw the Kid take five dirty Loads at least. Of course he had it cuming. Justice rendered is justice deserved. They hadda take the Kid down a notch. The Punk was simply too goody two-shoes. I watched a pair of "Old Trolls," with purple KS lesions dotting their bodies, shoot up the Young Man's Butt. He was sure gonna be sore in the morning—not to mention the AIDS VIRUS which would make his life a Living Hell. I had to smile.

I had been barebacking for years and never asked guys their status. While I was never an overt chaser, the idea of taking POZ Cum turned me on. I loved reading Conversion Stories. Today I write ‘em. I suppose I wanted to get bred all along. In the late fall I connected with a guy from Gay.Com. He was a real Bareback Pig.! We'd both stopped using Condoms, gloves, and other Safe Sex paraphernalia. When he fingered my Pussy, I asked him to fuck me. He said he'd have to pull out cause he didn't want to cum up my Ass. I asked him why not; and he said that he was POZ, and I was still NEG. I almost flipped! Never before had I known in advance that the guy about to fuck me was POZ. That was a first! In essence I got down on my knees and begged him for his Cum! He got this shit eatin' grin on his face. "Let's see if I got this straight. You WANNA get POZZED ?" "FUCK, YEAH! GIVE IT TO ME!" He started to screw me like there was no tomorrow, ranting about the Bad Seed he was about to plant up my Butt; that there could be no turning back; and that, from that day forth, all my partners would be at risk. I got rock hard. He told me he was gonna shoot. We both came—he up my Ass—and I, all over my chest—probably the most prolific Load of my life. He stayed the night. I took a couple more Loads and gave him two back. I fisted him for over an hour. After that we talked of the BUG till the morning sun shone blood red on our Dicks. He made me promise to call him if and when I got "the Flu." Nine days later I woke up sick as a dog and soaking wet. I called him and told him I didn't feel so good. He stressed how awesome it would be if I hit the Baths—while my immune system was depressed and my Viral Load was outta sight. THOUGH I FELT LIKE SHIT, I dragged my Butt down to the Tubs. I ended up taking five Loads up the Ass and two down my throat. But there was a price to pay for my contagious escapade—I almost had to crawl home to bed where I stayed put for a week. It was spring before I finally got tested. I don't know why I postponed it so long. The Baths were offering free HIV testing, and I availed myself. Two weeks later I called and gave my code-number to the little Fairy on the other end of the line. He hemmed and hawed, and ended up making me an appointment with a Counselor. She turned out to be a loquacious old spinster, who commiserated with me for half an hour before pronouncing me POZ. I could barely keep a straight face. That night I had dinner with my NEG ex-Lover. As usual, I fucked his Ass. So far I have 5 confirmed Conversions to my credit, the first being the aforementioned ex-Lover, and the latest, a neat little drama student down the hall.

One of the precepts of social protocol at the Baths is that it’s best NOT ask about Status. Yes, you may be asked to put on a Condom, but rarely will you be asked if you're POZ or NEG. It's generally assumed, erroneously so, that POZ guys will either seek out other POZ guys or do without. Case in point: I invited two hot Latino Boys to my room. They were Lovers, and had never done a three-way before. We started off sixty-nining, and the older one whispered that he'd love to see me fuck his BF. The BF in question was maybe five years younger, early twenties, slender, and really cute. I was all about tagging his Ass, so I mounted the Cunt. Just as I was about to slide in, he said, "Wait! Put on a Condom!" I tried to hide my vexation, and thought I could start with a Condom and slip it off later. But once I had the Rubber in place, the Kid changed his mind, and wouldn't let me fuck him at all. Frustrated, I made myself clear. "OK. I'm gonna to lie back and close my eyes. Either one of you climbs on my Dick, or there’s the door." The Older One eased his Cunt down on my rubber-coated Shaft. Though the Latex cut the sensation, he made a valiant effort, rocking back and forth on my Rod, as his nervous Lover looked on. While the Kid was distracted unscrewing his Poppers, the Boyfriend slipped off the Condom and pressed it into my palm. NOW THAT WAS MORE LIKE IT! I could feel his slimey Pussy milkin' my Death Stick. He whispered in my ear, "Bareback is Better!" and he didn’t know how right he was. We switched positions so that I was on Top fucking him Doggy style, and he leaned forward and whispered to his young Paramour that it was cool cause we were doing safe sex. The Youngster was getting fucked up on his Poppers, so he was slow to react when I pulled out of his Lover and plunged into him. Between his high from the Poppers and the exhortations of his Lover, he was more amenable to getting fucked than before. He made a few futile attempts to see if I was still sheathed; but his quick-witted Lover arrested his hand, assuring him I was okay. It didn't take long for the older Dude to shoot all over us, and my own Balls were tingling. I didn't let on as I began to spasm and spurt, so the Youth didn't have a clue I was breeding his Ass. To top it all off, I made a great show of toying with the discarded Rubber, like I was rolling it off. As they left, the Senior blew me a kiss. In response I ran my hand over his departing Butt. My lone regret was that I had only one LOAD to share between the two of them, and I hadn't bred the Elder, too.

It was the late 90's. I was 35; married; 3 kids; a good boy, always trying to please; more (or less) faithful to my wife, to whom I'd been married for 15 years; providing my family with a steady income from my run-of-the-mill accounting job. And I hated it. Still I was reluctant to give in to my homosexuality, regarding it as a blemish on my character. But my hormones often got the best of me, and I ended up at the bars and baths—rarely—but with increasing frequency. I developed an affinity for blowjobs, which progressed to getting laid. I was always the passive one, the Bottom. Back in those days, to my detriment, I played it safe and hardly ever fucked without a Condom. After each tryst, I felt guilty and ashamed, but on each occasion less and less. And I kept fucking my wife bare. Just when I didn't want to go on with such duplicity, becoming more and more conflicted everyday—just when I was seriously considering leaving wife and kids—salvation came in the form of a new job, offering 200 travel days a year. With a generous expense account and a salary I'd heretofore only dreamt about, I jumped at the opportunity. Ironically, I kept our family together by keeping us apart. I became very creative at seeking out the most popular Gay haunts—the leather bars, bath houses, tearooms, rest stops, parks, adult theaters, and bookstores. I left no stone unturned. I grew comfortable in my new role as a kinky, if somewhat masochistic Bottom, a sometime Slave, but always the Slut. During my trips home, I played the role of loving husband fucking his wife, while cuming to reveries of Male Cunt. Sucking, felching, rimming, along with the ubiquitous Poppers became my daily regimen. I got fucked more and more. I developed tastes for spit, watersports, armpits, feet, and B&D and S&M. I loved Gay Sex and invited guys to my hotel rooms all hours of the day and night. Still I couldn't get enough. I started fucking bare on the proviso that they pull out. Of course there were the inevitable accidents. I knew I took a risk since I always bled when I got fucked. I wasn't yet amenable to taking Cum up the Ass, but more and more that turned me on. It also turned me on fucking my wife, sharing the risk, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, as I pumped my NEG Gay Sperm up her straight Pussy. I'd hinted at an occasional Gay rendezvous, but never breathed a word about bareback sex. Gradually my guilt and reluctance dissipated as I sacrificed quality for quantity. I no longer had to strive to be a Cum Pig; I HAD BECOME ONE. I felt powerful and bad. I manipulated the Tops who thought they were manipulating me—into barebacking—in hopes that one or both of us would be inseminated with the Blessed Seed. And I continued to fuck my wife—with my Fist and up her Ass. How she raved about our new "open" relationship—the little Fool—my meal ticket to the family values so treasured by the outside world. I never told her how I'd cum to worship unsafe sex. The turning point came when I got invited to a party in L.A. I emailed the host and asked if barebacking were permissible. He wrote back that he and several buds actually preferred it that way. Sometimes they had special little get-togethers for barebackers, and there was one such Friday night. He never actually said the words “Conversion Party.” I told him I was a relative newbie to group sex. "On the contrary, I think you'll fit right in. Be here at eight, and we'll talk it over." Marky seemed an all right kind of guy—not pushy, just hospitable. He assured me I'd enjoy myself. And no one would force me do to anything I didn’t want. That sounded great. "But Marky, are your buddies NEG?" "Who really knows his status, Sport? Just get here early, and we'll talk." On my drive down to L.A, I thought a lot about getting POZZED. There seemed to be distinct advantages—no longer having to worry about the Bug was the biggie that came to mind. And the disadvantages were too morbid to contemplate. Maybe POZ was not nearly as NEG as it was made out to be. It was a little after eight when I rang the bell. I was stressed from the long drive, and Marky noticed it. "Have a cola, and let's share a joint. Help you unwind. I got some other stuff. Ecstasy, GHB, Coke. Just ask.” I took a few tokes, and he suggested I clean up. I told him I didn't do drugs, but I’d love to douche. He flashed me a quick smile. "Trust me. Chems have their place. They just make it a little easier to accept ourselves." Afterwards we shared another joint. We were looking at the profiles of his bareback friends as he chatted online. Marky whispered in my ear about how beautiful I was, how I deserved the Gift, and other bullshit, and gave me another cola. Foggy as I was, I didn’t think a thing of it. He told me he hosted a party every month or so. He usually invited 15 or 20 guys. Five or six regulars always showed up; the rest, depending. "I start inviting guys around 6 PM, by phone and on the Net. The party starts at 10. The guys who can make it pop in anytime between then and 6 AM. I'll try to get hold of my friend, Nigel. He lives right down the block," Marky smirked, massaging the PreCum pooling on my piss slit all over my dick head. I felt so warm and comfy. I lay on the mattress besides the computer, jacking off, watching two studs go at it on TV. The music was growing deafening; the room lights seemed to dim; and, overall, I felt quite pleasant and relaxed. On hands and knees I crawled over to Marky and sucked his dick. He none too kindly rammed it down my throat. "Horny Pig! Must be the GHB. You're feeling it." "But I didn't want to do drugs!" I protested, thinking of the next drug test. Actually, I felt downright evil, hot, and sexy. I often have a problem with the gag reflex. But that night, no problemo at all. I wanted him down my throat, but he pushed me away. "Not yet, Cunt! I know you want it, but not nearly bad enough. Time for a pill, an XTC. The GHB got you horny, but you're way too laid-back. Take this, and you'll be fuck meat for the guys when they arrive." As I popped it down my throat I exploded. "I WANT TO BE RAPED, DAMN IT!" Marky gave me a devilish grin. "Give it to me, please!" The doorbell rang. There was a commotion in the hall, followed by silence. Marky told me Nigel had gone to take a shower, and it was time for us to play. He knelt down to rim me and kissed me as he entered me. "My God, Your bare cock feels so good in me!" He gave me a joint and then his poppers. The drugs, combined with my predilection, had rendered me a total Slut. I wanted him to cum in me. But once again Marky spurned my advances and pulled out. He told me to turn around. I hadn't heard Nigel enter the room. I was astonished. He must have been 6’, had the deepest, darkest eyes I’d ever seen, the widest mouth, beautiful muscles, with an incredible 8 inches topped by a massive PA. He was perfection personified! I crawled over to him. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up. He was like a faucet forcing spittle down my throat. He commanded me to suck his Dick. I took a lengthy hit of poppers as he ground that huge tool down my throat. Was I imagining things or did intense Gregorian music fill the room as Marky massaged something up my butt? "Just a little aid to relax your pussy." But it didn't feel good at all. My butt was on fire! "What the hell..." I started to protest, but was silenced in astonishment as Nigel ordered Marky to work a butt plug up my ass—in tandem with his uncut Cock. Nigel was pissing down my throat, while Marky twisted the latex dildo in beside his dick. "YEAH, BOY! WE'RE GONNA IMPREGNATE YOU!" Show him the Dildo, Marky." It was slimey and BLOOD RED. "He's ready now, Marky. Cream away." Marky gave me another sniff, but it wasn't poppers. "Coke!" Marky grinned. "Like the stuff up your ass. You'll be a better fuck for it." Marky plowed my bleeding butt while I sucked Nigel's mammoth cock. He pissed again. "Yeah, fuckin' pig! Swallow my sick piss, you filthy slut!" Needless to say, I was preoccupied when Marky shot his cum in me. With the pervasive music, the twirling lights, Marky's tongue in my ear, his POZ Spooge dripping off my hairy Balls, and Nigel's massive rock hard rod fucking my face—I imploded from sensual overload. I started to cry. Marky spoke in singsongy, condescending voice. "Your first big test, boy; and you passed it well. Let's take a break." "NO BREAK!" I screamed. "I WANT IT NOW! I WANT NIGEL TO RAPE MY ASS!" Nigel took my face between his hands, looking deep into my teary eyes. "BEG FOR IT, SLUT! BEG FOR MY AIDS CUM!" I didn't even hesitate. I searched his deep black eyes. "IF THE DEVIL EXISTS, NIGEL, YOU'RE IT. Just give me what you got. No ifs, ands or butts." "You sure, slut? Once we start, there's no turning back. I always finish what I start. So be sure. Be very, very sure." "I'm sure," but suddenly I was scared. The drugs were wearing off. It was still early—9 PM. I could make a break for it. As I watched Marky and Nigel prepare the sling, I plotted my escape. I pulled on my trousers, grabbed my tee, and made a mad dash for the door. The doorbell rang. Shit! Nigel turned and saw me. He tackled me, inadvertently bloodying my nose, and dragged me to the sling. My fate was sealed. I'd met my match. There’d be no escaping now. To add insult to injury, I had rug burns on my knees, and puked all over my bare chest. Dressed in black leather, an Asian twink named Tuan came, in, took in the scene, and helped bind my feet and hands and clean me up. Marky prepared another cola, adding a vial of GHB. He also forced me to swallow another XTC tablet down my throat. It was either swallow it or choke. Tuan took a sniff of coke, then sprinkled some on my soiled, bloodied handkerchief and held it tightly to my lips while Marky pinched my nose. As you might expect, Nigel plunged his enormous pierced black cock up my ass, Marky's cum the only lube. I felt his P.A. searing me. While Marky kissed me, Tuan sucked my cock. I came as Nigel exploded up my Ass. Marky felched me and we kissed—our lips a crimson kaleidoscope of cum, piss and blood. After that Tuan took his turn and dumped yet another POZ LOAD up my ass. The rest was almost anticlimactic. It was 10 PM. The party had barely begun, and already I'd been bred. More guys came in. I was only half awake. I don't know how many loads I took, but one thing was for sure: I got POZZED that night. Four weeks later I was laid up with the fuck flu. Feverish though I was, my joints protesting every move, I screwed my "shield of respectability," while fantasizing about shit holes and mancunt.

I took part in a Conversion Party at my Ex's, one of the many I've attended over the years (the first was my own) where Steve arranges for 3 or 4 POZ Tops to breed a Bottom. Last night a Vietnamese Boy named Pham made his debut; and like all the guys Steve's converted, Pham was a Cum Whore from the git-go. Steve starts by making love to them and gets them enamored of his flowing locks, his slim, hairless bod, and boyish good looks which belie his 35 years. After about 20 fucks, they trust him completely and let down their guard. Steve believes Asians make the world's best Bottoms and likes them petite and slightly fem. Within a fortnight all his Boys are taking it raw. Gradually he proceeds from pulling out to pumping them full of Poison Spooge. They get to where they can't live without their daily fix of Toxic Seed. When the moon waxes full a second time, and the Youth shows no sign of the Fuck Flu—that's when Steve throws in the towel and calls us in. Since the Victim is always Prime NEG Meat, my Ex has no trouble recruiting GIFTERS to breed the POZ resistant Ass. Pham was a cute 19, about 5'3" and hairless, with a tiny Cock and nervous smile. Steve and his comrade, Oren, who loathed anyone more generously endowed than he, were readying the Sling when I walked in. An unsuspecting Pham was upstairs showering. Pham had no suspicion that: 1) Steve was POZ and; 2) got his jollies POZZING Boys. Consequently the Youth couldn't have conceived that he was one of the few with whom Steve had failed. And since Stevie was a sore Loser, old Phamy was to be thrown to the wolves. I'd met Pham on two previous occasions, and we'd hit it off. I genuinely liked the Kid. So he showed no consternation when he saw me sitting there. No sooner had Stevie told Pham to get me a beer, than the doorbell rang and two more of Steve's cohorts waltzed in. It was like old home week. All of us already knew each other from the waist down—and all of us were POZ. The two newcomers gave Pham a coarse once over, and Phamy shuddered beneath the glare. He couldn't help but notice the bulge mushrooming in Davie's crotch and the PreCum permeating Shawn's blue jeans. Pham was whisked upstairs for the preliminaries. Stevie hates for his Bottoms to have a good time getting screwed by ANYOTHER—so he makes them spooge before the fun begins. They had not been upstairs more than a minute when Stevie called me in. I ascended to the Playroom and encountered one very rattled Pham. He loved Stevie so much, yet was aggrieved by his suspicion something untoward was going down. He was disrobed and naked, and Steve was working his small Dick with his greased palm. "Tell him how it is," he groused. "We're gonna have an Orgy, Kid," I beat around the bush. I knew the Boy was disillusioned, as I'd once been—having fantasized about exclusive dibs on Stevie's Jizz. But my Ex knew his Pigs' true nature—and led them down the primrose path to what comes naturally from barebacking. We're a narcissistic bunch, bent on a self-destructive course, with a one-way ticket to misery and hell—but, hey, as they say, half the fun is getting there! Steve asked that I anoint the Youth with Baby Oil as he likes to call his debutantes "Greased Pigs." I massaged it by the palmful onto Pham's silky skin, the Boy moaning as I couldn't resist slipping a slimey finger up his Ass. Unable to hold back, the Kid gyrated in Steve's direction and spooged into his open palm. The Master massaged the Youth's Ejaculate up and down his heretofore infertile Penis, lathering it to the extreme. Old Phamy was about to get a taste of his own Seed. It was obvious when the Boy'd been violated—grimacing, eyes widening and glazing over. Oren, my favorite Sadist, applauded from the doorway; and no sooner had Steve started fucking, than Shawn and Davie walked in holding hands. I'd partnered with Shawn on numerous occasions, and knew first-hand how hung he was; and Davie, with his Beer Can Death Stick, posed a threat to any NEG. The Boy was sweating. I wiped the perspiration from his brow and whispered in his ear, that, after tonight, “Enough would never be enough again.” The Boy's eyes rolled back as I pressed Poppers to his nose. Oren moistened the Youth's parched lips with wispy filaments of HIV, while Steve deposited AIDS Load Number One up the young Mancunt. Simultaneously Pham moaned in ecstasy and desolation, despairing at betrayal by his Betrothed. In the end he probably took 10 Loads that night, each one laden with The Bug. I won't even try to guess which one of us knocked up the Kid—but he came down with a doozy Strain which knocked him out for almost a month. When Shawn and Davie finished up, I took my pleasure with the Youth whose plundered, shell-shocked Manhole had been well pulverized. Steve and I each grabbed an armpit and dragged the ailing Phamy to the boudoir, where, traumatized or not, the Maestro planned to breed him one last time. Meanwhile, Oren demanded “I get my Sloppy Cunt into the Sling.” Oren can be a very nasty Fuck, who'd just as soon spit in your face as look at you. And that was my reward for helping out. Afterwards, the house was quiet except for the Pham's persistent whimpering as the gangbang and betrayal had reeked havoc on his psyche and self-worth. I certainly sympathized with the Boy, but was convinced, once he recovered, we'd make a fantastic pair—at the Baths and Glory Holes everywhere.

*****GETTING ACQUAINTED***** We met on the Net, and I meet lots of guys online; but this Kid was different. I am a Gifter, and he was a Chaser if there ever was one. I've POZZED a few guys in my time, but he was 25. I kept asking, "Are you sure? Are you ready for the BUG?" "Yes," Simon said. He'd barebacked long enough to know that he never wanted latex up his Ass again, although his odds of getting POZZED were excellent. After a month of chatter back-and-forth, I figured Simon genuinely wanted to convert. It was just a matter of who, when, and where. I suggested he cum to one of our bareback parties. It was Saturday night, and I hoped to do the weekend with him: a one-on-one on Thursday followed by an invitation-only POZZING party Friday. **********THURSDAY********** I was delighted to find the Boy exactly as advertised—a Twink at 25, if a very determined one. We couldn't wait to get to the motel and let our hair down. As soon as the door closed behind us, we passionately embraced, kissing and feeling each other up. He wanted to clean up; and by the time he got out of the shower, I lay naked on the bed. He took every opportunity to tease my Manhood, knowing full well how desperately I wanted to blow my Load up his NEG Mancunt. I'd left Lube in the bathroom; but despite all the grease, he was very tight. I just let the weight of my body push my Shaft into that Bubble Butt, till my Balls rested firmly against his Ass Crack. I wanted him to get used to me before I bred his Ass. I pulled him to his knees, doggie-style, and was able to get in a little deeper, enough to make him gasp. Then I began slow, rhythmic strokes, my hands on his hips, hugging him, holding on tight. My Balls started tingling so I lit into him—long deep strokes—all the way in—then out again. "Fuck me! Knock me up! POZ my Hole! Give me your Babies!" All of which made me want to fuck the shit out of the little Cunt. I told him I was gonna cum—the moment he'd been waiting for—Conversion! And when I shot: "Remember this, and cherish it!" Poison Jizz spurted up his Bubble Butt. He began to jack, and would have shot; but I told him to cut the shit and take his POZZING like a Man. I kept working my Toxic Seed up his sore NEG Butt, trying every trick in the book to make him one of us. Finally I let him roll over so we could kiss. He was incredibly passionate and appreciative of my Dirty Seed. It didn't take much to get me stiff again, and soon we were fucking missionary style. He wrapped his long, smooth legs around my hips and dug his callused heels into my Butt, forcing me in deeper. After that second Fuck, we lay there cuddling. He ran his fingers through my hair and thanked me profusely, calling me Daddy—not so much a reference to the difference in our ages—as to the very real possibility that I was now the Father of his Babies. I felt his stiff Cock against my tummy, and knew he had to get off lest he burst. "OK, Boy, I want that last NEG Load of yours." I slipped down and engulfed his Cockhead between my lips, his Piss Slit oozing profusely. I licked it off, willowy cobwebs of Boy Spooge connecting him and me. Then down on him again till his overstimulated Rod began to pulse. That night, while we were cuddling, I rolled him on his side and slid back in, We fell asleep like that, my Cock marinating in my own Dirty Seed, while traces of his youthful Jizz still steeped deep within in the periodontal cavities of my teeth and gums. **********F R I D A Y********** I’d asked ten POZ Tops to join us, knowing full well not all would attend. I'd also invited a Bottom, so there'd be a ready source of Fuck Meat at all times. The Kid was the only NEG attending. At the appointed hour they began to show, and each was introduced to Simon. I explained that the party was on his behalf, and admission was contingent upon depositing at least one POZ Load up the Twink's Ass. No one objected. They were a varied lot. The two Blacks were real hunks. The whites included a bear like myself, a swishy Fag whom you'd never suspect of being a Top, and one old Troll. With me that made six Tops, plus my Bottom friend, and my Boy. The two Blacks started with the Kid while I fucked my Bottom Bud. The others followed my lead and took on the Bottom. I'd already put a Load up his Ass, so each of them slid home on my virility. Everything was copacetic until the Blacks decided to double dick the Kid. I knew the Boy had never taken two Cocks at once. He'd had a Dick and a Dildo in him once, or so he said; but that's as far as he had gone. One of the Dudes got him to sit on his Dick, then very astutely pulled him down, chest-to-chest, to kiss him, thus exposing his Mancunt. The second Black got in between their legs and maneuvered his big Dick in next to his Pal's. The Black underneath held the Kid tight, smothering his laments with kisses. The two black Dicks were mashed together in Whitey's tiny Cunt, two sets of POZ Cocks in one NEG Pussy, united by stringy ropes of slimey Ass Juice and POZ Seed. After that, the party became a fucking free-for-all. I went out for a smoke; and when I returned, I was pleased to see the Youth was screwing one of the Blacks (payback time) who, in turn, was fucking my Bottom Bud. We lost track of how many Loads he took that night, but I doubted any Dude could take that much POZ Cum and still remain NEG. **********SATURDAY********** We slept late and opted to order breakfast in, as Simon said there was no way he was going out in public with Cum still dripping from his Ass. That afternoon we went swimming in the motel pool. The cool water and the sun's warm rays seemed to reinvigorate us both, or so I thought; but afterwards we napped till party time. We arrived early to give our Host some quality time with Target One. We strapped him in the Sling; he rimmed his Ass, spit on his Dick, and screwed the shit out of the Kid. A few more guests arrived, and when our Host pulled out, a blob of POZ Cum plopped on the floor, to the onlookers' delight. A former Marine with a beer-can Cock approached the Kid, and soon the chains were rattling again. I had one of my Buds bent over the fuck table when I glanced over at the Sling and saw the pained expression on Simon's face. One of our associates is a Daddy hung like a horse. After the Marine, the Daddy quickly rammed it home. Thing is—Daddy's Tool is immense, curving upwards at the head. Though the guy is wont to plow in hard and sock it to his mates, it takes him forever to get it off. I felt sorry for the Kid. We've all heard the fucking sound of two sweaty bodies, flesh-on-flesh; but there it grew so loud everyone stopped in their tracks to stare. I nudged my way past the voyeurs to take a closer look. Inspired by the exuberance with which Daddy had used the Youth, the partygoers’ mood turned ominous, with catcalls to "Breed the Kid!" The Maestro finished and pulled out, leaving the Youngster twisting in the wind. Simon was wiped; his head was limp. I had to get him out of there before the other vultures got to him. I helped him over to the couch and gave him a roll of toilet paper with which to wipe himself. To my chagrin, when I turned around, he was back in the Sling again—another compatriot up his Ass. I had to hand it to the Kid—he had more Balls than Common Sense. A line had formed, and he took us all on. Never one to cast aspersions upon the joys of bareback sex, I joined the foray. The Queen ahead of me wasn't nearly big enough to fill the Boy's slack Cunt. But he pulled his Dick out, awash in Spooge, and jacked—and as he shot—he plunged back in and bathed the gutsy Youth in yet another Load of Poison Jizz. I inserted my Rod very gently in the Boy, his pulverized Pussy now leaking Crimson Spooge. I shifted to-and-fro to slosh around in the oceans of the Manseed, and knew I, too, could never cum in that cavernous morass. So I borrowed the trick the Queen had used—and jacked—till I added my Manseed to the potent Sperm Bank incubating in the Youth. Last of all, Big Daddy's Partner still hadn't had a chance. Though not nearly as endowed as his older Mate, he had a reputation for fucking Ass and fucking well. Meanwhile a toothless Old Troll bent over the Sling to suck the Youth. Overcome by the irresistible two-pronged assault, the Boy's Ass tightened up. Big Daddy's Lover suddenly found himself engulfed in a much tauter Hole. The Kid blew his Load in the toothless old Troll's mouth at the same time Daddy's Lover shot up his Ass. The Top pulled out, his PA dripping the prettiest pink Spunk. The afterbirth excited one Sick Pup, who used his syphilised lips to soothe the Youngster's pummeled Ass. That drove Simon insane! By then the party was winding down. Again I helped the Twink over to the couch. Disheveled hair, awash with sweat, swollen Ass Lips oozing speckled Cum, gobs of Spooge peppering his legs—he was a mess. I got the Boy a Coke to drink and he gulped it down, though I cautioned him to take it slow. He had to piss, and prolonged his stay—shitting God knows what—annoying those who wanted in the tiny downstairs john. Twice I had to check on him to make sure he was okay. The rest of the guys were showering and cleaning up, putting on their clothes and saying good-byes, with the usual exchange of hastily jotted names and numbers that would likely never see the light of day. We'd been among the first to arrive, and were the last to leave. Finally I got the Kid cleaned up enough to put on his clothes. By the time we got back to the motel, a mere 10 minutes away, his shorts were soaked again. I told him unless he douched (and we hadn't cum equipped for that) the Spooge would likely drip all night. As we climbed into bed my Dick sprang to life; but I knew the Kid couldn't take anymore, so I let him cuddle up against me—and like so, we fell asleep.

The Huffington Post has some comments on the recent HIV/AIDS conference... The upside of this is that when someone gives you a hard time about barebacking with neg guys tell them that it's safer than not being on meds and fucking with a condom. (Of course, on meds plus a condom will be safer still), but it does call into question the criminalization of poz guys who bareback. If they're on meds they're practicing safe sex even when they bareback (since the criteria for 'safe' is condom use).I've been saying for a while that poz guys will be pushed into taking meds earlier than they personally need them in an effort to protect others. News like this, while excellent, will only make that particular issue more of a problem. This is interesting in contrast to the last thing I mentioned - basically ways to stay off meds and delay needing to go on them. Or perhaps a way for poz guys to go on extended drug holidays - go off, and stay off for a while. But I wonder if this treatment won't be pushed to the side in an effort to get all poz guys on meds to protect neg guys... That's pretty amazing... So instead of vaccinating neg guys, that's a "vaccine" for poz guys that does at least part of the work of ARVs - and suppresses HIV for long periods of time...All in all very good news on the treatment front...

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this..." Of course, the cute Counselor didn't have to tell me anything. A few weeks earlier at a Circuit Party I felt the heat of that LOAD. It was special. I wasn't so much a "Bug Chaser" as a "Bug Enabler." I love getting fucked by folks—black or white, young or old, gay or straight—WHOMEVER! And the big-dicked Puerto Rican who ravaged me with his Prince Albert was definitely worth enabling! He looked into my eyes, and I knew he was giving me a Fuck to Die For. Back to the cute Counselor—he was 30ish, blonde, blue-eyed, very studious, with his glasses, suit and tie, about 5'6". He also had a Bubble Butt to die for. "I hate to tell you this, but something terrible has happened." I nodded. Not a big surprise. "If you need counseling..." I licked my lips and stared at his swollen pecs. Thank God he hadn't worn a Tee. His meaty titties clung to his cotton shirt. "Don't worry, all my friends are POZ. Isn't that the in-thing now?" "Mr. Johnson...this is serious...." "I know it is.” Contemptuously: “I don't have to worry about safe sex now. I think I'll head home and toss out all my Condoms." He shook his head in disbelief, appearing at a loss for words. My friends reacted diversely—some pleased, some melancholy. Pleased—because now they got to tag me raw. Melancholy—because they'd seduced me into barebacking, and now I had to pay the Piper. So Friday night I invited them over for a "Conversion Celebration." It started at my place and ended at the Baths, where, to my delight, I found the guy who'd POZZED me—cruising. Initially I didn't tell Armando he was the one; I thought I'd save that for another night when we could be more intimate. And never one to hold a grudge (on the contrary I was in awe of his virility) I asked him to join our merry pack. Armando turned out to be a trip. I watched as he seduced a college jock. He stroked the athlete's abs, licked his tits, and whispered sweet Puerto Rican nothings in his ear. Since all of us were sex-obsessed, the Fuck quickly turned into a Gangbang. The Bottom hadn't yet cum my way, when I spied a hunk I absolutely had to have. That flawless Ass! The Short Blonde Sweetness dropped his towel and minced into the Steam Room. I knew in my heart the Dude was mine to POZ. I used to be a Bottom Boy, but all that changed with HIV. I sat down beside him, his delicate features obscured by billowy clouds of steam. We were alone, concealed behind a thick glass door and foggy atmosphere. I teased his Cock then flipped him over on his belly and slid my oozing Member up his Crack. "I have a Condom," the nervous Sweetness chirped, the tremor in his voice betraying his anxiety. I snickered and shoved it in—no Lube but for the heavy moisture-laden air. I wanted Blondie cognizant of my Sick Seed assailing his Ass Walls. I wanted him to weep the tears that dance so seductively upon the cheeks of those just bred. He hollered at me to get off; but we were alone, ringing wet, in the super-heated atmosphere, which muffled his tirade. He made like he was gonna fight me off, while I licked his ears and bit his neck. His soft four inches mushroomed to a turgid Seven, despite his hollow protestations. He pushed back on my Viral Stick, moaning, whimpering, ashamed of his hypocrisy—of so blatantly violating the principles by which he earned his livelihood. He had it cuming. He needed guys like me to stay in business. I plowed his Ass as roughly as I could, in hope of bettering the odds; and when I shot, it was the most fulfilling sensation I'd ever known—to foredoom this truly deserving Fag to an eternity of doctors, tests, and pills. The heavy glass door scraped and groaned as Armando magically appeared. We mouthed a long, deep lingering kiss and I spread my demoralized Victim 's lily-white Ass Cheeks in gratitude. Sweetness just shivered, squirmed and purred as Armando’s Prince Albert abraded his Mancunt. The Puerto Rican pulled out long enough for me to flip him over. Our eyes locked, and the Bottom winced as if confronting his worst enemy. "Mr. Counselor! " I admonished the social worker, as Armando redoubled his detrition. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but all my friends are POZ."

I love getting fucked by strangers. A week ago I was at the Baths. After a shower, I left the door open, turned off the light, and lay face down on the mattress with my legs spread. I had only to wait a few minutes until he came in. He fingered my Hole, and, shortly thereafter, replaced them with a good-sized Cockhead. I took a deep hit of my Poppers as he pressed in and whispered, "You want my raw Dick up your Pussy?" "Yeah, Man! Fuck me! Use my Mancunt!" He pounded me hard with quick, powerful strokes, his Death Stick pounding my flaccid Mancunt. I clamped my Ass Muscles about his Toxic Shaft, bringing him to the brink of climax. "Oh yeah, Fuckin' Whore! Want me to breed your Pussy?" "Please, sir. Gimme your Seed! Fill me up!" "FUCK YEAH! HERE CUMS! TAKE MY DEATH SEED!" He spasmed incessantly, filling my Asscunt with his Semen. After he had pumped the last of his Load, he collapsed on top of me. He lay motionless, not moving a muscle. Were it not for his hard Shaft within me, I would have thought he were deceased. Another minute and he began to fuck again. Jesus, he was an impassioned Fucker! After I took a few more deep hits of my Poppers, I wished the ride would never end. Having him in me was great and natural. I couldn't get enough of his FuckMeat! "I'm gonna breed you again! I can't help myself! Tell me you want another Load!" "Yeah, Man, goddamn it! I want EVERYTHING you got to offer." "Then EVERYTHING it shall be!" he exclaimed, thrusting in deeper. "Take my DIRTY SEED!" There it was—all the cards on the table. With all the hints and innuendo, I had no doubt about his Status and didn't give a shit. All that mattered was Cock and his Semen. I figured sooner or later I'd have to pay. Nothing worthwhile cums free. After awhile he pulled out, thanked me, and made his exit. I lay there, exhausted and sated, and fell asleep. When I awoke, there was a note on the floor. I turned up the room lamp to read it and was both fascinated and entranced. "Hi, and thanks again for the meating! “I knocked, but there was no answer, so I slipped this beneath your door. "One thing I forgot to mention. You probably already guessed. Anyway, I better cum clean. "I've had HIV for a while now. Last week the Doc said I’ve got AIDS. He says I may be a day late and a dollar short, since I’ve already used all the common Meds. "So you may want to get tested; and if you test POZ, check your resistance. I'm sorry I didn't around to this earlier; but, frankly, I just needed to fuck. "If, by chance, you want to try it again, I think I can find the time. I’m always here on Wednesdays—same time, same place, same station. Below you’ll find my email address." If you think I was chilled to the bone by such audacity, you don’t know where I’m cumin’ from. Actually I got a hardon. Besides it took plenty of gumption to admit to such a grand deception, and I halfway admired the Man! Again and again I reread his missive. He’d read me right. Carefully, I tucked it in my wallet. I knew I would be there the following Wednesday. The only question was whether to e-mail him before then.

So I fucked this Asian guy today - I'd fucked him once before. Then I sat down to do some porn blogging. Finished off the scene with the top with a 10" dick on Cocksure Men, and then thought I'd do a post for Bareback Masters. I opened up the scene, looked at the pics and the bottom who was getting tagged by two tops was the bottom I just got done fucking. Mind you, he looks pretty different now. It's years later, he's got few more pounds on him and his hair is naturally dark, not bleach blond. But it's him. (BTW, I like him better the way he looks now...) Really weird coincidence, eh?

This is exactly why I think condoms should be like alcohol with no one under 21 allowed to buy/use them. We'd probably get support for a law like that from the conservatives. After all, from their perspective distributing condoms to young people encourages them to have sex. Politics makes strange bedfellows. (Hmmm... If they're our political bedfellow, do we get to fuck them?)

I went to the Baths and hooked up with this Old Sleaze. He took me to his room and wanted to fuck me raw, but I insisted on a Condom. He pulled out a little bag of Tina, and drew out 5 lines. He snorted one and urged me to try it. I was a little nervous cause I'd never done drugs. He told me it was no different from Poppers, only stronger. So I tried one line and felt kinda weird. The Old Fucker complemented me on my stamina, and urged me to do another. I ended up snortin' all four and was fuckin’ flying. The Old Sleaze opened the door, hoisted my legs to his shoulders, and fucked the shit outta me. Then the Old Fucker put Tina on the Dickhead of some emaciated Lurker who'd observed the whole thing from the hall. The Lurker Creep plowed my Ass, too. The two of them colluded for a minute. I only overheard bits and pieces of their conversation cause my attention span was kinda short; but from what I gathered, the Old Fart was anxious to get rid of me, cause he hadda be on his way. The two of them escorted me to the basement and put me in a Sling. From then on everything was hazy. I drifted in and outta consciousness; but, by morning, I'd been fucked by maybe 20 guys. I tested POZ three months later, and have been a bareback devotee ever since. OK, so I've switched allegiance and now I am a Top. But that first time with meth was overwhelming. I'd relinquished all control over my body. I knew what I was doin' was risky and still forswore saying "no."

I went to an adult book store, entered the last booth in the darkest part of the arcade, and fed in quarters while I beat my meat. An eye appeared at the Glory Hole, followed by a finger beckoning me to stick my Dick through. I was rewarded by a hot pair of lips and one helluva blowjob. Not yet ready to cum, I pulled out, bent down, and pursed my lips at the orifice. When his Dick was slimey with Precum and Spit, I backed up to the G.H. and a hot Cock slid up my Butt. He pumped for a moment then asked if he could cum over. Soon his bare Shaft was balls deep up my Ass—plowing slowly in and out. He started moaning and pumped faster and faster—his Balls slapping against my Ass Crack. He grabbed my hips, his Dick suspended deep in my Pussy, as he panted and shot. I was so hot—crystal clear PreCum oozing out of my Rod. But, alas, I was about to pull up my briefs…when Cock Number 2 slid up my Ass! "What the Hell!" I looked back to see what was going on. The door stood wide open and a dude I'd never seen before was plowing my Ass. Behind him three other guys with Dicks in hand were peering in. Number 2 only lasted a minute. He came with a grunt and a groan. I barely had time to take a whiff of my Poppers when Number 3 made his debut. Why didn't I resist? Why did I let those dudes take advantage of me like that? Well, friend, I gotta cum clean. I love gettin' laid. And until the novelty of getting gangbanged wore off, I was on Cloud Nine. Cock Number 3 was a good 7" and slid real slow in and out. It was kind of refreshing being fucked gently after getting reamed by Number 2. The two cretins waiting in the wings crowded into the booth, blindly straining to cop a feel, in the hope of getting a heads-up on the action. When Slow Poke #3 finally shot, he just kept cumming and cumming. Seed was pouring out of my Cunt, running down my Balls and my legs. He pulled out and I got fucked twice more, by Number 4, who had to weigh 300 pounds if he weighed an ounce, and a lanky Number 5 whose most notable feature was his ugly puss. It was hot in that damn little booth with no ventilation and an acrid fetor of Piss, Sweat, Cum, and B.O. My tennies stuck to the jizz-covered tiles so I felt trapped in time and space. Finally Pimples #5 pulled out. I thought I was alone and started to dress, when a Black Muscle Jock (Number 6) stumbled into the booth. Talk about a Monster Cock! He must have been 12" if anything at all, and thicker in circumference than any Dildo I'd ever seen in my life. I let out a half moan, half scream, as he plowed that Monster Dick up my slack Rosebud. He grabbed my hips and slammed in powerfully, till mercifully he shot a copious Load worthy of that humungous Shaft. The next thing I knew I was on the floor and SOMEONE was rimming my Ass. I thought it was a dream. After he lapped the Spooge outta my Cunt, he demanded I sit so he could “service my Dick.” He swallowed my shriveled Cock, which quickly ballooned, and I shot my pent-up Load down his parched throat. He was the first guy (Number 1) from the adjacent booth. He apologized profusely for having left the door open, thus allowing the gangbang to commence. On the plus side, he asserted he'd learned more about the Gay lifestyle from watching me than in all his earlier years. He'd been a fence-sitter most of his life, afraid of doing anything lest he contract HIV. Talk about making up for lost time—sucking me, getting sucked, then fucking my Ass! But the best part had been watching the quintuplets bang me and then eating their collective Cum out of my Ass. For him that had been a life-defining event. He and I exchanged numbers and email addresses and made arrangements to meat in several weeks (as I was off on one of my rare business trips). Unfortunately, it was a date I had to break. Shortly after cuming back, I came down with the Fuck Flu. No, I'm not that naive. Feverish as I was, in the middle of summer, I figured it had to be more than just the F-L-U. I called up my new Bud to postpone again. One week to the day later I gave him THE BUG.

I went downstairs, where there was a maze of mattresses, slings, and padded benches. I'd never in my life been in a place with so many dark recesses. The lighting consisted of numerous crisscrossed strings of midget colored Christmas lights so it was none too bright. I suppose the same could have been said of the clientele, many of whom no doubt suffered from AIDS dementia—like I gave a shit. This was a party, a randy orgy; no ifs, ands, or butts about it—no great intellect required. About 20 guys had gathered there, out of the 35 who eventually showed up. Already there was a lot of raw fucking going on. The place was jumping with homophiles, ages 20 - 65, whose bodies belied the ravages of an incurable disease just biding its time. Of course, no one was carding who was NEG and who was POZ, since, theoretically, everyone there was POZ since it was billed as a poz only party. There were bare Cocks everywhere, getting serviced by hot mouths or plunging unsheathed into unprotected Cunts. A Sandy-Blonde in his early forties stole up behind me, fingered my Hole, and slid his raw Dick up my Cunt (1). Yeah, he plowed me good; but there was a certain tenderness in the way he fucked. A small crowd milled about; and when he pulled out, another Dude relieved his butt. Not mincing words, that Top flipped me over on my knees and dogged me till he shot (2). I approached a long-time Pal, bent over to suck him off, and still another raw Dick snuck up my Butt (3). Eventually that Dude deposited his Load—an action to be replicated by numerous other Sodomites (4,5,6). I gave up trying to figure out who was banging whom, while my Bud's thick, uncut Manmeat scarfed down my throat. Finally my Uncut Bud decided he, too, had to have a piece of me, and led me to a Sling. He'd gotten really horned up watching the Anonymous Horde ding my Ass. The Slam!Slam!Slam! of his fat Shaft hammering my Shitter resounded wall-to-wall. But, alas, he didn't want to cum just yet, so we took a quote-unquote “break.” When I climbed the stairs to get a beer, a guy who'd seen me gettin' bred pursued me to the john and slid it in (7). A multi-talented Dude to be sure, he alternated between eating my sloppy Pussy and screwin' the BEJESUS outta me. I gripped the urine-spattered toilet bowl and held on for dear life—while his fellow barflies peed and peered and pined for a more protein brew. When I got back downstairs, I sat astride a vacant bench to watch the guy on the mattress next to me get dicked—the perfect vantage point from which to ogle a bare Cock force open a raw Hole as gobs of Toxic Spooge spewed out. A hot, hung Black strolled up within inches of my face. In one fell swoop, he yanked his towel off his waist and flung it about his neck. And there I was, confronted by his swaying, bobbing midnight Shaft. Of course I couldn't help myself and took advantage of the not so subtle invitation to sodomize that monster Shaft. I knew he'd been around the block cause I tasted Ass Juice on his Cock. He twirled me about as if I were just another piece of meat and plowed me good (8). Afterwards a handsome Blonde, who'd watched me get creamed, led me over to a mattress to service him. His was a delicious Cock, with loose, low-hanging Balls. As I sucked, another Black approached to fuck my Ass. but the Blonde pre-empted him, demanding I mount his phallic Shaft. Not to be denied, the Black inched up behind the two of us and slid his own Rod in beside the Blonde's (9). My Ass had been generously prelubed with Cum; otherwise taking two good-sized Dicks at once would have been nigh impossible for me. The Black shot first, but Blondie kept on truckin', making sure I got all the STD's the Black Guy had to offer as well as Blondie's Private Strain. One of the Spectators shot in my mouth. I passed it on to Blondie in a Kiss, then snaked my hand down and massaged the remnant on his Dick so he could fuck the rest of that manic Manseed up my Cunt (10). I guess that emboldened another of the Voyeurs, who slid his Dick in beside the Blonde's, making for my second Double-Dicking of the night (11). My legs were cramping. Remember, I'd been riding Blondie the whole time; but he still hadn't cum. So I eased off and jerked and sucked his unaccommodating Fuck Stick as other guys pinched and nibbled at his Nips; and he, in turn, frenched some lipodystrophic little Whore until, at last...I guided the Blonde Bomber's pulsing Cumstick up my Crack (12). The cadaverous little Shit was beside himself with Lust. So I pushed him down and sat on his face so the bony little Wastrel could eat Blondie's Cum outta my Ass. He kept jackin' his puny, midget uncut Tool with his scrawny birdlike claws; and when he was about to shoot, I snookered him and sank down on his Bantam Rod (13). I could tell from the scrunched-up, convoluted expression on his face that he detested being ridden as a Top. Tough Shit! After that I licked the Cum and Ass Juice off both Blondie and the wasted little Slut. I'd been at it several hours and needed to take a break. But—and this was a big Butt, indeed—a beefy guy with by far the biggest Dick I'd seen that night overpowered me and flipped me to the mat. I feigned to struggle beneath his weight, but he pried my shapely legs apart and raped my well-deserving Butt (14). I couldn't have escaped if I'd wanted to. But who says I wanted to? After that I decided to call it quits—while I still could hobble to my car. I'd enjoyed some of the finest fucking of my life. I'd been bred by more than a dozen Cocks and had taken 14 Noxious Loads—most, if not all of which, were POZ.

Living near a state park has its benefits. You meat lots of interesting types. Well, there are days when there no one’s around; but on other days the park is full of Gay men cruisin’. Mine was the only car in the lot when I pulled in, so I parked and started down the vine-glad trail to the lake when I saw a tow truck drive in. I reached the lake and sat down at a picnic bench. I had a lot to contemplate. I‘d just returned from the Doc who told me my Viral Load had spiraled out of control and my T-Cells had fallen below AIDS. I stared at the three indecipherables he’d written me. Still I wasn’t sure I was ready to go on Meds, but I wanted to keep all my options on the table. So I stuffed ‘em in my pocket and promptly forgot about them. I heard foot steps as the driver approached. Still preoccupied and figuring it was some guy cruisin’, I said “Hi,” but didn’t look up. He took his cell phone and slammed on the table beside me. I jumped. “Bad day?” I asked apprehensively, half prepared to ward off blows. He blurted out his wife had left him for his best friend. Tsk! Tsk! Another Breeder gone awry! But he wanted get it off his chest, and I was relieved to put that AIDS crap out of my mind, so we discussed his issues, not mine. He’d said he’d suspected she was messin’ around, but not with his best friend. He wasn’t exactly model material, but not bad for an average joe—tall, slimly built, with sideburns, and big gray-brown eyes. The cap concealed much of his face, but he looked good enough to eat. I hadn’t had sex, and I was hungry. He wore a pair of old jeans, threadbare at the knees, and an oil-stained gray worker’s shirt. A real blue collar kind of guy. His name was Stevie, or so I found out later. He’d been married for ten years and had worked hard to give her everything—but for most women hard is not enough. I couldn’t help but take a gander at his crotch, and what a crotch it was! What foolhardy bitch would give that up? I watched as he talked—full, sensuous lips, nose a little too large, strong and powerful hands, fully capable of putting out. He got up and walked down to the lake. Yep, his jeans were tight enough. And there was a small hole below his wallet pocket where alluring flesh showed through. He turned and caught me staring at him. “Married?” he asked. “No,” I replied. “Good for you!” He came back to the picnic table and sat down beside me. After pregnant silence, he sniffed the air. “You smell real nice.” “I just came from the Doctor’s office.” “Nothing serious, I hope.” “Nothing I can’t live without.” We laughed and stared into each others’ eyes. “You gay?” “What do you think?” A pregnant pause. “I think yes.” “That bother you?” “To each his own.” The conversation had taken my kind of turn, and I didn’t want to let it drop. I took a chance and let my hand fall to his thigh. I figured he might expect that from a gay. He didn’t cringe nor shrink away. I pretended to brush my hair out of my eyes, and let my hand fall on his crotch. A tiny moan. So he’d come there for consolation, after all! Emboldened I massaged circles on his bulge. A groan! Full steam ahead! Glancing about to make sure we were still alone, I unzipped his jeans and licked at his cotton briefs. He’d zombied out on me. I pulled down his briefs, exposing a tumescent cock. Dead Giveaway #1. A drop of precum said it all. He didn’t have to say a word. I let my tongue caress his frenum and whisked it away. “Man, that was sweet!” Torpidity—I didn’t know what was going through his mind, but it was too late to stop! I’d started something I had to finish. Besides, it’d be a shame to let this Breeder go to waste. Checking to see we were alone, I sucked his dickhead in my mouth. No longer able to suppress his lust, he rammed it down my throat. Compliantly, he shifted as I tugged at his jeans. Stubbornly his sweaty briefs clung to his thighs, but I finally got them down around his knees. I cupped his sweaty, cum-filled balls, sucking each into my mouth. He moaned again as I ran my tongue over his dickhead. “Man, I’m gonna’ shoot!” In total abandonment he plowed in and out. His thick black pubes grazed my lips and mouth. Before my gag reflex kicked in, his sweet NEG cum spurted down my throat. I became aware my ass was wet. After all, it had been a week! He fell back on the table. I kept that dickhead in my mouth, determined to suck up every drop of NEG manseed. “Man, I needed that!” I invited him over for a beer, and the Tow Truck followed my car. So what was a POZ guy like me doing foolin’ around with a NEG married man? Well, I’ll tell let me clue you in, my friend. You gotta take what cums along. Besides, I had something special to offer him. He parked on the street, and I in the garage. We started kissing before the garage door was fully down. As I’d hoped, his hands went straight for my butt. I led him to the bedroom and undressed his ass. I dropped to my knees, licked his dick through sweaty shorts, and felt up his legs and butt. I made short shrift of those damp jockeys, and before me stood was one very nicely built straight NEG married man. His dick stuck straight out with ever so slight a curve up and out. But I sensed he still hadn’t come to terms with what we were about to do. “Your wife never sucked you off?” “Hell, no! She hated cum.” “She like gettin’ fucked?” “Said it hurt a lot.“ I told him point blank his dick was just right for those of us who love it big, thick, and NEG. Well, forget the POZ/NEG part for now. I’d let nature take its course. I pushed him back on the bed, got down between his legs, and sucked him off, mouthing his balls, one egg at a time. Meekly he lifted his leg and I got my first glimpse of his sweet mancunt. I determined then and there to have that pussy before the night was through! My tongue darted in and out of his A-Hole, rimming his butt like it was goin’ outta style. For a moment I thought he'd bust a gut, especially when, without being bidden, he held his ass cheeks apart and pushed back to meat my tongue. “GODDAMN!” rolled off his lips. He was like putty in my mouth. I pulled him up, and we kissed—Gay, Man-to-Man. I spit between his lips. He swallowed eagerly. His hands were all over me—feeling, touching, caressing, rubbing. His fingers went to my cunt. For a novice, he sure knew the right moves. I let out a moan when he touched my pussy. “I’d love to fuck you.” “I’d love for you to fuck me, too.” “Use condoms or anything?” I grabbed the Vaseline and massaged a big gob on his shaft. I inched up astride him, lined up his big dick with my ass cunt and slid down on him. As I rode his pole, he began pumping like I was the first real fuck of his life. In a sense I suppose I was. I rolled us over until I was on my back. Then I lifted my legs astride his broad shoulders, which made him the Aggressor. No denying that. He fucked like he was trying to get his whole body into mine; and, between us, we made sloppy fucking sounds. His breathing grew labored. He pulled all the way out and rammed it back in. Twice more and then he shot—so hard I thought we’d both pass out. I used my ass muscles to milk his dick, craving every drop of Sweet NEG Cum—assuming he was still NEG. He fell atop me, his dick inside me. I rubbed his ass, thinking what a ass it was—nice, tight, firm, smooth to the touch. And soon it would to be mine! His cock came out, still semi-hard, so I knelt down and sucked it clean of NEG Cum and POZ ass juice. “HOT DAMN! That was great!” He didn’t know how SPECIAL it was! Doubting his inexperience, I asked if he’d ever been with a man before. He probably lied when he replied he’d never been with a guy before. And I was more determined than ever to help him convert. But the dude had drifted off. I stared at him wondering how he’d gotten so fucked up, getting hitched with some stupid bitch, when he was obviously naturally gay. He opened his eyes and caught me staring at him. “I’d like to try getting fucked sometime. “ “I think that can be arranged.” The guy was just beggin’ to be BRED! An opportunity like that doesn’t cum along everyday. And you gotta strike while the iron is hot! Again he dozed, as I lay there plotting my next move.

Let me make it perfectly clear—when I wasn't attending classes, I was at the Baths. I even studied there while my fellow classmates hung out in the stacks. Then I got sick and tested POZ. I quit school to reevaluate my life and swore off sex, so that I wouldn't do to any other guy what had been done to me. At 21 I sought refuge from my personal conundrum in the hustle and bustle of 9-to-5. I clerked at uncle's law firm. Of course, he didn't know the real reason I had taken a hiatus from the collegiate world—beyond my vague explanation that I needed respite from the rigors of the academia—I was burnt out. Likewise the official line was I had hurt my hamstring playing soccer, when actually I had slipped in the whirlpool while getting gangbanged at the Baths. So my whole life seemed a string of fabrications, and I was sick and tired of the whole thing. But my injury actually was debilitating—so I sought the services of a Masseur. My favorite was this little storefront spa, and it always seemed pretty upright and legit—right up until the hot and humid lunch time I walked in and all the beds were full. My usual Masseur was tied up with other guys, so I was faced with the alternative of being treated by a flaky little Fag I’d never seen before or a Masseuse. Okay, since, I was partial to Queers to begin with (understatement of the year) I followed the mincing little Queen downstairs where they had a couple of spare rooms. We were totally alone; and I got my usual raging Hard-On, which I always get in the presence of a Fag—a phenomenon which had begun the very day of my self-imposed abstinence and continued to then and there. As usual I ignored myself; and, anyway, it hardly mattered, since I was still fully dressed. He left me in a room to change, and I stripped down quickly to my boxer shorts and lay face down in the over air-conditioned atmosphere, the effect of which, I hoped, would simulate a cold shower. But the wimpy little Fag returned too soon, and for the next 10 or 15 minutes, the mere touch of the horny little Wastrel wreaked havoc on my bod. With his paws resting on my buttocks, he inquired if any part of my anatomy was in need of special service. I bit my tongue and dutifully, and true to my vow of continence, gave him the straight version about my leg. Anyway, he started with my Ass, which wasn't that unusual, but his technique was definitely sensual—concupiscently different—and I figured he couldn't help himself. Neither, in retrospect, could I. He worked his hands beneath my boxers; and they felt warm and good. Old instincts never die, and subconsciously I began making little fucking motions on the table. I think he read, or maybe misread, my intentions because he oiled up my body, from neck to ankles, which was SOP, but then his nimble fingers began to caress the inside of my boxers, his slick digits gently probing the sensitive boundaries of my Cunt. His lips barely inches from my ear lobes, he whispered in his native New Yorkese, "I hope you're feeling better. I always aim to please." Yes, no denying he was good. But I couldn’t let it happen. I looked up and smiled lamely, resolute in my determination not to encourage him. Undeterred, he smiled back, pulled off my boxers, and ordered me to flip. At first oblivious to my Erection, he oiled my chest, and upper thighs, before caving on my Balls, massaging them with his greasy fem mitts, till, finally, he slid up to jack my Cock. I closed my eyes and prayed, “Lead us not into temptation...." He inched closer to the table and dropped his trou. He, too, was wearing boxers. He slid them down; and, unrestrained, a thick six inches popped out before my face. “But deliver us from evil.…" My supplication was rudely interrupted by that all too familiar edit I'd succumbed to all my life. "SUCK IT!" His belly jutted forward, his Cock, the first since my Conversion to brush my lips. Like on autopilot, they parted as he plunged into my mouth. It was awkward. I was lying on my side, and my jaw began to ache. ‘THIS IS STUPID! THIS IS NOT YOUR EVERYDAY MASSAGE!’ Pragmatically I jumped down off the table and knelt down in front of him. He began to fuck my face. He already had his shirt off, his pants down around his ankles, his Cock glistening with Precum. Like the poor, deprived Fucker that I was, I found myself ravishing his Cock. "At least," I thought, "this minor indiscretion, still on the safe side, would cause him no lasting harm." But then he pulled out of my mouth and bent over to the table. "eat my Ass!" Remember I’d been deprived for months. And, after all, no one gets AIDS from just doing Oral. So I compliantly rammed my tongue into his Rosebud, and soon I found myself enthusiastically savoring the nectar of the little Queen’s Ass Juices, my mug planted firmly up his Butt. "NOW FUCK ME!" "I CAN’T! NOT WITHOUT A CONDOM!" "Why not? I don’t have any STD’s." "BECAUSE I'M POZ!" He turned around and started at me agawk. I felt like a bug under a microscope. "You got HIV?" He stuttered, struggling to comprehend. Without warning he reached out and twisted my Nip with all his might! "Ouch!" I said I'm POZ, not dead, goddammit! " "I'm not so sure. Let's see." With that, he bent down to suck me, taking my shriveled Cock between his lips. Talk about an explosion—his hot soft mouth the first to caress my Death Stick since last year. They say the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. And the sensation of his tight thin faggoty lips dancing on my Dick Head decimated every ounce of my resistance, as months of stymied PreCum oozed out of my Piss Slit. "Hmmmm, Yum-Yum! Tastes fit enough. And I still want you to fuck me," he advised, plunging his tongue deep down my throat. For the first time since that fateful day at the Doctor's office I responded indulgently—returning his caresses with every ounce of Lust and Passion I'd suppressed those many months. And as I reached down to grope his Penis, he did a quick 180, bracing his arms against the table, bucking back against my Cock. I gasped loudly as my ever-ready Death Stick, slick with Precum, oils and spit, lunged forward of its own volition and plunged into his Cunt. I'd been close before I entered him, and his tight, wet warm enticing tunnel led me to shudder and convulse. I never did understand his motivation, perhaps some willful, self-destructive need, yet all I could think of while I fucked him was, “Honey, Welcome to the Club.” I can assure you my reaction was on the purely instinctive side. And you wouldn't believe how I spasmed as my Toxic Jizm assailed his Mancunt. POZ or NEG—it hardly mattered. He’d helped me see the light. Suffice it to say, from that day forward, I never again gave a fuck about Status, and never again volunteered anything about it, lying if I was asked.

I got out to take a walk and smoke and cruise the truckers in the lot. Cars and trucks were interspersed. The same could be said for many of their occupants—getting each other off in the dark recesses of the woods. I watched a sated trucker haul ass outta there just as another pulled in to take his place. The driver smirked—his bod perked up—as he set his sights between my legs. Our eyeballs locked, and he stretched to unlock the passenger side door. He pulled the curtains partly closed and peered out through the little bit of window left unveiled till our eyes entwined again. After a moment's faltering, weighing the pros and cons, I hopped into the cab. I found him lying on his bunk, flaunting his hairy bod. I bent down to suck the Fucker off, milking his oozing Pole with my hot and slimey lips. Pulling off that funky, unwashed Cock, I tongue-bathed his frenum and his balls. He moaned and raised his hairy legs, letting them cum to rest beside my ears. Fuckmeat to be sure! But first I wanted to—no!—strike that!—had to—subdue the Dude. I stripped and lay down on top him. Our lips collided violently. I spit into his mouth. He swished my spit between his lips like the connoisseur he was. I sucked the salty exudation from his pits, while my expert fingers made mincemeat of will! All the while my hungry Cock stabbed blindly at his Cunt. At the height of his enthrallment, in the throes of his ecstasy, I drew his hirsute thighs apart to administer the rimming of his life. Few guys, Gay or Straight, can withstand my hungry tongue; and his moans confirmed this Trucker Dude had fallen right in line. "Flip over so I can do you right." Compliantly, without a peep, he rolled over and offered me his Butt. On his right Cheek was this tattoo—two hearts and "Amy's Slut." "Who's Amy? Wife? Girlfriend?" "Yeah, but we're gettin' a divorce." "Let me guess. She found out you fuck around." "Hell, no! I'm the one divorcing her!" I buried my tongue up his Mancunt and spit on his Pussy several times. I worked a digit up his Crack. I wanted him all slimey, wet and hot. Nonetheless, I plowed in slowly—letting him adjust. But all for naught—his well-worn Pussy could only have gotten that stretched out from years of taking Cock. "She ever strap a Dildo on?" Insidious chat at best. "No way! I was just her 'cuckold,' so to speak." "Her what!?" "She'd bring her boyfriends home and let me watch. Every now and then she'd toss me one if she liked the way I’d dressed--in heels, short skirt, and lacey bra with neon lipstick that smeared all over my face and on their Cocks when I went down on them. I'd usually cum away with lipstick smeared from ear to ear, Cum drippin' down my chin. I got pretty good at suckin’ Cock—if I do say so myself." "Is that all you did--suck the Fuckers off?" "I'd eat their Balls and Assholes, too." "They ever fuck you?" "The Bi ones did, and some of the so-called 'Straights.'" "Bareback?" "There were no condoms in the house." I'd heard enough. After I'd nutted him, he asked me to suck him off. "Sorry. I just shot. You better try the woods for that." I dressed and left. I suppose he thought it rude of me—not to reciprocate. But, hey, you gotta do what's best for Number One!

I'd come to town to see my favorite white trash band. I love attending their concerts, though I stand out from the crowd and often get taken for a drug dealer—or worse—a cop! I'm not tall, but stocky and well built. And, I suppose, being black with a killer smirk, materially contributes to my straight white world formidability. Gay-wise, I'm just the opposite. I'd fuck myself if that were possible. So there I was in town to see this garbage band, when I got the sorry news—concert cancelled—their tour bus broken down 200 miles north. Actually the city wasn't new to me. I'd been there before and had a few acquaintances—but nothing serious—no Fuck Buds or anything. I tried to make the best of a bad scene and called up a trick from the last time I was in town. But Rob was preoccupied—with a mutual acquaintance of ours—actually a good friend of mine from my neck of the woods. Todd was a sweet guy and a father figure to me. He had a thing for Blacks, but had never put the make on me for fear of POZZING me. Tsk! Tsk! So, after exchanging pleasantries, I hung up the phone and, likewise, hung up the concert duds I wouldn't get to wear that night. After a nap, I planned on heading out to the Baths. I felt deprived and in need of an ego boost. When I awoke, I showered and preened for an evening on the town. The phone rang, and it was Rob and Todd downstairs. Todd pulled out a joint and passed it to me, while Rob massaged my chest, and his fingertips felt like electric prods as they danced across my tits. They invited me to go bar-hopping with them; but that seemed too hit-or-miss. So Rob suggested I check out The Cellar, a bathhouse catering to a more diverse, if older, crowd. He even had a discount pass for me. After a couple beers, Todd handed me another joint and told me to save it for the next guy who really turned me on. Horny as I was, I knew Mr. Perfect would shortly cum along. I took a wrong turn and drove for what seemed like hours up and down the dark, deserted downtown streets. So it was past 10 when I arrived. Since I had Rob's coupon in my pocket, I splurged and got a room. Having gotten lost, I felt a little out of sorts; and the other joint Todd had given me looked SOOOOH ENTICING. I caved, and leaned back on the bunk. Finally, at peace with the world, gripping my ever present Poppers bottle, I headed out to cruise the world. AN OPEN DOOR! INSIDE A BEAR BEATING HIS MEAT! On the third approach, I inched into the archway and caressed my privates through my towel. He waved me in and promptly rammed his funky Uncut down my throat. Attracted by his moans and groans, a group of perverts gathered outside his door. He was a vociferous one, he was! Another hit of Poppers, and all hell broke loose. The beers, the joint, and Poppers all hit me at once. It was seconds before it dawned on me he was cuming down my throat; and, much more to my liking, someone else was fingering my Cunt. I swallowed and excused myself from the Bear's room, and the gawkers started to disperse. I stumbled down the hall; and, as I hoped, Magic Fingers caught up with me and rammed his finger up my Butt. My basic instincts tend toward passivity, so I stood there in the center of the hall, buck naked, my towel crumpled about my feet, as he slid another digit in beside the first. Like vultures circling easy prey, guys surrounded us again, and a real mean Dude with an even meaner Dick approached and tweaked my Nips. "OUCH! GODAMMIT! HURTS!" But he ignored my anguished pleas and twisted them unmercifully till I was up on tippy toes moaning like a Slut. Mainly to shut me up, I suppose, he rammed his putrid, halitosistic lingua down my throat. At last he relaxed his death-grip on my titties; and I slumped down on my heels, only to be greeted by two more digits up my Cunt--shy by a thumb of a Full Fist. My Pussy felt distended like it'd never been before—a gaping Vulva begging penetration by all the Faggot Bastards ogling me. Up till then I'd never taken more than a three fingers up my Cunt—and was half inclined to bolt—when some kleptomaniacal Punker yanked my Poppers from my palm and practically rammed the whole damn vial up my schonz. First whiff, and I wished Magic Fingers would probe deeper. Second whiff, and I leaned backwards, forcing Magic Fingers deeper up my Cunt. "YOU FUCK?" he asked, as I bent down to blow Rough Trade. Not waiting for an answer, Magic Fingers rammed his whole 8-Inches up my Butt! Bucked forward by this penile penetration, Rough Trade's entire 7-Incher slid with no resistance down my throat. Startled as I was by the turn events had taken, it was, nonetheless, Nirvana as they ground away at my Holes from both ends. From all angles and directions, guys emerged out of the woodwork, and one concupiscent protagonist crawled beneath us to suck my Cock. Cum, Sweat, and Piss puddled everywhere, and the Thief who'd swiped my Poppers kept them pressed tight against my nostrils so the Orgy could proceed ad nauseum. Finally, when Magic Fingers withdrew his Deathstick, I wilted like a wet noodle, sinking to my knees. Rivulets of creamy skank oozed forth from my Pussy like putrid exudation from an industrial canal. Guys everywhere beat their Meat, awaiting a chance to bury their Hatchets up my Ass, until, finally, one concerned observer asked if I needed help. Meekly I glanced up into the smirking countenance of Rob. He commended me for taking on all Cumers. "And I did enjoy the Piece of Ass, thank you. But there's another who craves your Mancunt even more than I did." I followed the direction of his nod, and there, behind a couple Old Trolls, stood Todd. Petty me bemoaned my stolen Poppers bottle. A tall, skinny Dude with a Biohazard Tat on his 'cep came to my rescue. He was the second to compliment me on being a "Great Fuck." "Here," he offered, handing me his nearly empty vial. "You need 'em more than I do." Suddenly it dawned on me. While I'd been bent over, halfway to LaLa Land, MR. POZ TAT and his cohorts had had their way with me. I surveyed the sticky tile floor beneath me—befouled with drying Cum—not a discarded Condom anywhere. Todd smiled. "Now, are you ready for my Load?" The question, if it was one, was largely rhetorical. We hightailed it to his room. Steady streams of spoogey, creamy rivulets trickled down my thighs; and with each step a telltale "Squish, Squish, Squish" emanated from my Cunt.

Last week I got my test results back. As of then I still tested NEG. But today? Who fuckin’ knows? Not after last night. I invited a hot Latin top home from the bar. We fooled around for a while, and I let him get me in the missionary position with his Dick just outside my Cunt. I pushed back just a little, letting the head inch on in—just a little—using no lube. I love that kind of foreplay—a dry Cock at the door, really just teasing—prior to applying the lube. At least I’d assumed he was teasing. He kissed me and rammed his tongue down my throat. As I gagged, he drove all 8" up my dry Pussy! I screamed—it hurt so bad! He held it in there steady—not moving—realizing I had reached the outer tolerance of my endurance. I held my bated breath. Status hadn't even come up. After a bit, I had to admit how good he felt within me, flesh against flesh, with only my ass juices and his precum for lube. Everyman’s dream—certainly mine. Tentatively I milked his dick with my ass muscles and started to rock back and forth. ‘Go ahead! Fuck me!’ careened through my mind. He screwed me gently. The friction between his bare cock and my unlubed ass must have been driving him wild; but for my part, I was in pain. I figured I was bleeding a lot, and my blood must have been serving as lube—for whenever he came within an inch of my prostate—I almost shot. His thrusts grew ever wilder as he disregarded me as a person—just another impersonal mancunt to fuck. I felt humiliated, but more importantly, physically shredded—as I cried out in pleasure and pain. "Please cum! Cum up my ASS!" "Yeahhhh!" he growled in agreement as he fucked me like I was the last faggot on earth. "Take my poz charge!" When I heard those words and felt his dick spasm, I shot all over my chest. He pulled out. "I think I bred you good, little man." I looked down and the sheets beneath me were bloody. I hurt really bad. Still—I had that rare sensation in the pit of my stomach—the one that you get only after you’ve experienced a life changing conversion. And I loved and I loathed him for making the inevitable cum to pass.

I am a 44 year old black male, 6’2”, 240, masculine, clean cut, on the DL, and, oh yeah, POZ since 2000. All this happened last week. Tells you what I like. I was on the prowl at the bathhouse looking for action, and locked eyes with this very exotic looking man. I figured him to be in his 50s, average build, maybe 6’ tall,. I couldn’t help notice his intense blue eyes that stood in stark contrast to his dark, coppery skin. I guessed he was from somewhere in the Middle East. He had curly salt-and-pepper hair and a very hairy chest. We played the normal bathhouse game for about 20 minutes. I followed him into the video room, where he began to jack off to the porn. I couldn’t resist and sat down beside him and immediately laid eyes on one of the most beautiful Uncut Dicks I’d ever seen. This—from a Dude who usually prefers cut Anglo guys. It didn’t take long till I was stroking that married Uncut Dick till I got it slick with my Spit and PreCum. Helpless as he was, he was easy pickings as I forced his head to my chest and made him suck my Nips. Right there in the presence of a gathering assemblage, I got down on my knees and licked his Cock while I played with his Balls. He had one of the hairiest crotches that I’ve ever seen on a man. His manly, musky odor made my head spin. He leaned back, giving me easy access to his huge, hirsute Balls. I worked my tongue way up behind those Great Hairy Balls—in pursuit of the Ultimate Prize. He had a foreign accent I didn’t recognize. He was an engineer from Turkey, on vacation with his wife and his kids. Apparently I wasn’t the only one on the DL. He’d escaped for the night on the pretence of visiting old buddies and had immediately caught a cab to this bathhouse, renown for its easy sex and a substantial Black clientele. He said he dug Blacks and found me highly attractive and would love to spend some time with me if I wished. After I bragged about how I was the most DDF guy on the planet, I steered him by the waist up to my room. We kissed and made out, and, eventually I worked my way back down to his Dick and his Balls, which had been my intent all along. I knelt down and took aim at his Mancunt. Judging from his reaction, I had a committed Bottom on my hands. He had more than the usual amount of hair around his shiny pink Pussy, and I tongued my way in. The smell of his Mancunt had just the right amount of Funk mixed with Sweat, and it made my head spin. I got him down on the bed and sniffed and licked and sucked with his knees pressed to my chest for the next 15 minutes, then lay on my back and had him squat over my face for some serious rimming. He spread his Ass Cheeks and worked his Hole back and forth over my nose and tongue, as I forced my tongue deep up his Pussy. When his Ass Lips tightened up, I could tell he was close. Quickly I flipped him over on his back and strode atop him. As I bent down to cover his mouth with my own, I lifted his legs onto my shoulders and —home sweet home! His Pussy, no doubt stretched out from years of practice, in collaboration with his desperate, immediate need, offered not the slightest resistance as I slid in on a blanket of Spit and Ass Juices. To say the least I shot wad after wad of POISON JIZZ up his Mancunt. To distract him I grabbed his Dick which I beat off like mad. He shot all over our stomachs, and I knelt down to lick up every LAST NEGATIVE DROP. We cuddled for a couple of minutes. He made the excuse he’d better shower, and he put on his towel and left. I never saw him again, but I hope I managed to cede (seed) him THE GIFT.