SlampaBay

Actually never seen it live but I felt it being done to me (being terrifically high at the time helped). Also I’ve seen photo/video evidence and not the AI kind. As in all things, commitment is key.

Brilliant.

I use Express and it's split tunneling but it only acknowledges apps, not sites, to choose. So whatever browser I'm using for BZ for example gets added to the list. I dunno if this is good or bad it is I'm just not using it right. Also, Sniffies doesn't work for me on Express along with a few others.

OMG! I was there that night too! And i only got to go because I knew the guy that was replacing him and he had a plus-1 back before they were called a plus-1. He was spectacular!

Is that the end? Or maybe just the end of Part 1? 🤞🏻

So... how's life in Texas? Hope it's turned out better than you imagined. Now I know I've come to this story late and that it's been more than a year since you've added anything to it. Heck it's been more than a year since you last signed on to the site. By now there's a good chance you won't even read this post. But I'm gonna say it anyway. This is one of the most satisfying, edifying, stupifying stories I've ever read anywhere. The fact that the sex is incredibly hot AND psychologically aware is brilliant. This only makes having no more of it feel that much worse. Please, PLEASE come back to it, to us, to Andrew and Kevin and Bravo, to your writing. The world's a better place for it.

The internalized monologues are incredible how revealing and personalized they are, unique to each individual in how they think, not just in the history they reveal. Bravo becomes more than the sum of it's parts.

"Finally Potter spoke. “Zeus…Gabriel… you can’t come. You think you want to kill these guys, but when the moment comes it’s not anything like what you think. Your first kill changes you, and there’s a piece of you that dies too. Some guys think it doesn’t matter and can keep going always looking forward, never back so they don’t have to think about what’s gone inside themselves. I don’t think you can lie to yourself like that, not in the way it would take to make it not matter. Other guys, like Battles and I, we accept the brutal nature of killing, of ending a life because as much as we don’t like it, it’s sometimes necessary. There are some who find they enjoy it too much, and they change too and who they were before never comes back. But all of us…we know we’re killers. This is not some act of justice, or vengeance or self defense, or following orders. It’s cold blooded murder. I can wake up tomorrow and run, eat breakfast, focus on the instructors and the Jumpmaster, come back and sleep just fine. You won’t. Two more deaths for me won’t matter. No matter which way it goes for you, you will dwell on it, relive it, see it again and again on repeat in your head. You wonder how many times you have to watch him die before he stays dead and goes away. Before the moment you’re certain. When the moment comes you’re either high on adrenaline or terrified. Some guys, their hands shake so bad they can’t pull the trigger. After that round leaves the barrel the doubts begin to sing. They sing loud, and they don’t stop. The image of their body going suddenly lifeless and dropping to the ground stays with you for days after, sometimes weeks. And this won’t be an enemy bent on killing you first. This will be two American soldiers, subdued and begging for their lives. You will have enough opportunities to kill if you see combat. I hope you don’t. No one knows who they’re going to be when they come out the other side. This is not for you, not this time, not this way. You aren’t ready.” This is some the most powerful, seeringly honest, direct and beautiful writing I've ever read anywhere.

It already is, to varying degrees of success. And I refer to what's available to the general public, not the highest echelons of internet know-how.

Perfect one-off story hot as they get

I guess this isn't a terrible way to end the story. But it leaves unanswered and unresolved the question posed at the start of the story: does the narrator end up strictly a cuck? Or does his role include more?

More, more, more! (please)

FUCK! This story is begging for more. Just like the junkie whore the son's been turned into.

This paragraph was repeated verbatim at least 4 times: "He didn't let up, his cock driving deeper, harder, until I was coming again, and again, my ass milking his cock, drawing him deeper. Finally, with a loud grunt, he unloaded inside me, his hot seed filling my ass. I could feel it, the warmth, the wetness, as he pumped his load, his cock pulsing with each spurt. He stayed inside me, his body shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm, until finally, he pulled out, leaving me feeling empty and satisfied." Wow. Is this the definition of Copy and Paste or is it AI?

DAMN! I do love a well-deserved, well-financed shopping spree. To bad it ended in the middle of it. On the other hand, this story could've already ended cleanly in a couple of places so I feel damned lucky to have gotten so much great story full of so much heart as it is. Thank you, Kenywi. This is beautifully done.