SonovPriapos

Part 3 Snowball Seduction So they left me alone to shower in the massive bathroom which was actually more like a clubhouse shower room. It had five different shower spots with all kinds of douching cables hanging and at the end of it was a huge tub. I’m sure 4 men could fit inside it. I was so horny as I soaped up my dick, sensitive nipples, and asshole. I thought about my handsome Grampa, his thick cock as beautiful as I remembered it. His body was so lean and veiny now and more irresistible to me than ever. I felt so happy to be welcomed by him and so intrigued and curious about what life could be like here with him and Donovan. One thing I thought was strange was how much they emphasized their HIV status all the time and how that seemed to be point of pride and a turn on for them. Maybe it was liberating for them to talk about their cocks and cum as being poz like they were? They said this was an honest household, so I made a plan to ask them questions about being poz. As far as I knew, swallowing poz cum was okay. But I wouldn’t want Donovan to fuck me unprotected, since he seemed to imply he might do that. Hell, I had never been fucked even though I called myself Buttboy4older when they met me online. But, I did wonder what it would be like to have him take my anal virginity with my Grampa watching lovingly from the sidelines. Feeling bold and horny for some sensation inside my butt, I decided to use the douche cable attached to the shower I was using. The shower room had filled up nicely with steam so I took comfort in the privacy I had and allowed myself time to clean out. Everything drained away easily since the floor angled slightly toward discreet gutters on the opposite wall. They left a super fluffy and comfortable bathrobe for me just outside the shower, but it was way too big for my height. I had to hoist it up a bit as I walked so it wouldn’t drag on the floor while I walked to the other side of the ranch style house. I heard a doorbell ring on my way to the living room area and saw Donovan going to the front door. He was wearing a cropped t-shirt that revealed his slight belly and a bright yellow jockstrap. Was he really going to answer the door dressed like that? He opened the door. “Hey Miguel!” I heard him say. He handed over a wad of cash and said. “As always, keep the tip!” “You’re the best, Mr. Donovan!” I heard a delivery boy say. “Love the t-shirt!” Donovan laughed. “Thanks sweetie. You know it’s true!” The door closed behind Donovan as he turned around. “Hope you like gazpacho and guacamole!” he said as he held up two bags. Now I could read what it said in big letters on his t-shirt - HORNY POZ TOP. Holy shit! He answered the door for the delivery man in a jockstrap and a raunchy t-shirt that was like the headline for a profile on the bareback site? “Is it okay that he saw you wear that t-shirt?” I blurted out. “I am what I am. Better get used to it, Buttboy4older!” Donovan chuckled as he walked toward the large marble island by the kitchen. “Damn, that bathrobe is huge on you. How tall are you anyway?” “I’m 5’4”, I think." “That’s so cute. 5 foot 4! You really are our own Little Mikey. Our very own tiny twink…haha. Listen, we’re having a light lunch right now but we will have a better meal later after the event.” I heard Grampa say as he approached from behind. My eyes popped out of my head as I turned and I saw my Grampa approach. He was in a leather jockstrap, a leather cap that said “Poz Pig” in large silver letters, and a leather vest with a badge that showed the word “condoms” crossed out with a large red X. His cane also seemed to be made of black leather. Apart from the cane, he looked like one of the porn stars I had seen in some vintage pre-condom leather movies. My heart started to beat fast as I saw my leather-clad Grampa approach and my cock thickened with lust for him. I wrapped the big robe around me to hide my erection. “What event?” I asked as I followed him to the kitchen island. “Well,” said Donovan as he arranged our snack. “A couple of times a month we host our Toxic Trolls poz sex party here. And since you surprised us with your visit, we didn’t have time to cancel. We have a couple of men who fly in for this party, so it wouldn’t be fair to cancel on them at the last minute. You’ll like them. Mostly oversexed Dads and Grampas, though sometimes some younger guys show up too. You’ll be the belle of the ball.” Grampa patted the bar stool next to him at the kitchen island and beckoned me to sit next to him. Uh, not sure I wanted to be the star of the show at sex event called “Toxic Trolls” for HIV poz mature men. I was hoping to have time with Grampa and Donovan by myself to adjust to my new reality. “Maybe I should just hang out in the guest room during the party?” I asked as I took off the huge bathrobe and put it on the back of the stool. “Nonsense. Your Grampa is eager to introduce you to his friends. Don’t worry, we’ll have you under our watch the whole time. Nobody will mess with you, unless you want that,” Donovan said and winked at me. “Introduce me? Won’t that be weird?” I felt myself panicking. “So they will know we are biologically related and I am at a sex party full of poz men that you have organized? And why are they Toxic Trolls?” “Oh, Mikey boy. No need to worry! The Toxic Trolls clan are all very open-minded and discreet. They are the pillars of society, salt of the earth kind of guys, ” Grampa Zeke said nodding. “We’re a secretive, honor-bound group. You’ll see.” “Hey, do you guys have my clothes?” I said looking around trying to change the subject. “Baby Boy, we’re going to get you new clothes for your new life here in Palm Springs. For now, please just relax and stay naked. We love looking at your cute face and body and that gorgeous bubble butt,” Grampa said as he winked at me. “Now that wasn’t incestuous, that was just me being honest, Buttboy4older.” I blushed, but I loved hearing my sexy Grampa compliment me that way. I kinda wished he wouldn’t worry about incest. Donovan gave us each a bowl of gazpacho and put the guacamole with a big mound of white and blue tortilla chips in the middle of the island. “Say, Mikey boy, I’ve been thinking. I want you to call me Grampa too. It makes sense since your Grampa Zeke and I are married…so we’re family…and in fact, it really turns me on the more I hear you say it. So why don’t you start calling me Grampa D or something like that? Like on the bareback site, we are Poz Daddies, here you can call us your Poz Grampas. Make sense?” “My “Poz Grampas?” I repeated aloud trying to absorb this new variation of ‘family values’. “Mmm…see that already got me hard hearing you say it, Buttboy,” said Donovan as he stood up and released his thick uncut python from his yellow jockstrap. Grampa Zeke laughed. “Don’t tell me that didn’t make you horny too, husband, hearing your Grandson Buttboy4older call us his Poz Grampas,” Donovan said as he wagged his jumbo sausage at him. “Guilty!,” Grampa Zeke said and he spun his bar stool toward me and pulled off the snaps off his leather jock to free the meat I had longed to suckle on for years. “This isn’t incest, little Mikey, right?” He said as his rugged thick meat bounced up and down. Initially “Little Mikey” felt infantilizing and wrong, but anything my Grampa Zeke said to me was welcome and made me feel loved and sexy. Especially when he said such things while he was naked and flaunting his beautiful genitals to me. “Huh...So, I’m Little Mikey, also known as Buttboy4older, I guess, and you are my sexy poz grampas.” “Exactly! And like the song says, We Are Family!” Donovan chuckled. “Can I ask something? It seems you guys really insist on the word “poz”. How come?” “Well, baby boy, for us being poz is empowering, it’s liberating. So we embrace it. We embrace the way it feels, the way it looks on us, the way it has removed any inhibitions, and for how it let’s us live a shame-free cock-centered bareback, raw sexual lifestyle. None of us know how much time we have left in this world, so we live like this today, we celebrate being poz through ecstatic worship of the penis and cum and we call it out by its name, loud and clear. That’s why it’s our favorite word. Poz talk is very exciting for us. I hope that doesn’t bother you?” “See, Mikey. That’s why your Grampa is known as Father Zeke, he speaks like an inspired preacher. He is so wise and he has converted many with his way with words. I have a more lurid and vulgar vocabulary. Like my t-shirt says, sweet twink, I am a horny poz top. I’m also a nasty fucker, a breeding and seeding dirty old poz man with a boundless imagination for filth,” he said staring me down and licking his lips. “Hmm, I guess that makes sense. It’s like gay pride, but poz pride instead. Ok, that’s cool,” I said trying to sound reassuring while feeling weird about it all and how I would fit in since I wasn’t poz. I looked back and forth at my poz grampas who were stroking their cocks and making these very lewd confessions to me. “Are you sure I will fit into your lives here? I’m not poz and, in fact, I should probably use condoms when I’m ready to have anal sex and I should get on Prep. Don’t you think?” I looked down and saw my cock was hard and leaking. “No way, bubble butt Grandson, no way in hell: condoms are never ever to come into this poz-positive house unless the condoms are frozen and full of semen already so that we can shove it up buttholes and use it as lube. Do you understand me? Condoms are anti-life and are a symbol of shame and repression for us,” Donovan said as he eyed me seriously. Frozen cum as lube? Fuck, that is nasty. Donovan was right, his imagination was off the charts filthy. And what will happen if one day Donovan really does try to ‘deflower my pretty pink shithole’ without a condom? How would he open up my tight pale pucker with his oversized poz penis? Will Prep be enough to protect me from it, from him?? “But sure, son, you can go on Prep,” Grampa Zeke said as he rubbed my thigh. I heard Donovan sort of cough and mutter something in the background. “However,,” Donovan added, “Little Mikey, you gotta help me work on your Grampa Zeke here. He has to get over this incest barrier. Know what I’m saying, boy? The man is a pig, a proud poz pig, like his sexy leather cap says, so he doesn’t lack desire or imagination, usually.” Seeing my two poz grampas stroking their meat while we had this ‘family’ coversation set something off in me. Being poz was their essence so it was normalized into their lives, and their sex lives seemed to dominate. I started to feel a [banned word] desire to have Donovan inside me bare, his poz girthy uncut cock slowly opening me up, while my Grampa watched on the side. I imagined my Grampa Zeke’s excitement and him jacking off as he watched his sleazy pox-proud husband pound my virgin butt. My heart raced and my cock thickened as I imagined such an intimate initiation into this family. “Well, there are things we can do that aren’t incest, Grampa Zeke,” I slipped off the high bar stool and put both hands on my Grampa’s knees. At 5 foot 4, it was like looking up at a god on a throne. As I gazed up at him, I could feel my face was red, like it got when I was horny or embarrassed, and I felt like a little boy begging his grandfather for some candy. “Like, we can hug, right? And we can kiss?” I rubbed his hairy veiny legs all the way up his groin. “And maybe we can take showers together? And we can cuddle and snuggle together, right?” Grampa Zeke’s cock started to thicken again as he looked in my eyes. “Yes, we can cuddle, son. I’d love that.” “I hope we can all sleep together, Grampa. I mean at night just all spooning in the same bed. That’s not incest. Right? That’s just being loving. Little Mikey and his poz grampas all snuggle buggle together naked in bed. There’s no shame in that, is there? Two poz grampas and their non-poz grandson sharing hugs in bed?” Donovan had approached us and standing over us his massive dong was now leaking over my Grampa Zeke’s erect penis, providing extra lube for the wet knob and foreskin already slick with toxic precum. He squeezed his pierce nipple through his Horny Poz Top t-shirt. I moaned and felt such lust that my asshole twitched. Looking back up at Grampa Zeke I wanted to tease him even more. “And we can admire each other’s bodies, you can look at my bum and butthole anytime you want. I love showing it off for you and [banned word] Grampa D. You can tell me anytime “Mikey, spread your cheeks and show us your virgin pink boy cunt”. And I’ll do it, Grampa and that won’t be incest since you are just admiring it. Right? And you don’t have to penetrate me? You can watch and play with your poz penises, both of you. Right? I want to make you happy.” “Do it now, Mikey!” Grampa Zeke growled. Shocked by the force of his voice, I slipped to the floor fast, got on all fours, stuck out my butt real high and reached back with one hand to pull a cheek apart. I craned my neck to look back at my poz grampas. “Do you like my virgin boy hole, Grampas?” I dropped my face to the marble floor and used both hands now to fully spread out my glutes and exhibit my pretty virgin shitter to them. I wanted my Grampas to explode with desire in a super safe way. “Fuck! Look at him! My grandson is a fucking pig slut exposing his tight cunt to his horny poz grandfather,” Grampa Zeke cried out as he jacked off frantically. Grampa Donovan knew that Grampa Zeke was about to blow his load thanks to my disgusting and seductive narration. “He really is your flesh and blood, you old dirty poz whore. He’s a filthy little cock tease,” Donovan said to Grampa. Quickly, Donovan knelt down, took his husband’s penis into his mouth, and let Grampa Zeke fire off ropes of his old poz semen into his open gullet. The cries from Grampa Zeke were so loud I thought he might be in pain, but that soon turned into laughter as he pushed Grampa Donovan off his cock. Donovan then walked over to me, lifted me up like I was a lightweight doll and placed me on the cold marble counter top. Grabbing a hold of my hard boy cock with one hand, he grabbed the back of my head with his other hand and forced his face to mine, pressing his lips against mine. I gasped and with my mouth open, he spat my Grampa Zeke’s ripe poz seed into my mouth. The grandfatherly cum slipped past my tongue and slid down my throat against my will. Still stroking my cock, it didn’t take Donovan long to make me ejaculate my young sperm with the knowledge that my Grampa’s seed was now part of me, something I had dreamt of for years. Except, I never thought of swallowing his poz load. “You see, Mikey,” Donovan panted and growled as he bent to lick up his husband’s grandson’s semen from my belly, ”that wasn’t incest either. I’m the one that sucked your biological Grampa’s amazing cock and then fed his seed and your shared DNA to you. You two did not have sex together. The familial bond was left pure and unbroken but made stronger. Haha. I predict that, before the event is over today, you’ll be snowballing many many more loads of delicious poz seed from our lips, including ours.” I lay back on the cool marble counter, feeling a kind of disgust and shame creep over me as the orgasm subsided. Wasn’t this partially incest? And was swallowing delicious poz seed really okay for a non-poz boy like me? Grampa Zeke got off his chair and came over to me and stroked my face tenderly. He bent down and kissed me. His kissing was soft and sensuous, nothing like the brutal French kiss Donovan gave me. “I made you cum, didn’t I, Grampa? Swallowing poz cum is ok, right Grampa?” I whispered to him between kisses. He didn’t reply but just groaned in my mouth as our tongues touched and his mustache ground against my smooth face. Just then, I felt my legs being lifted and with my Grandfather’s lips on mine moving back and forth like a tickle and making me hard again. At the other end of my body, Donovan noisily spat the remnants of my Grampa’s poz seed onto my butt cheeks and I felt him massage the cum-saliva goo into my crack and on my my sweaty asslips with his calloused fingers. “Don’t worry Mikey, this is safe and totally incest free,” Donovan chuckled with a sinister Vincent Price voice while he pushed his thumbs inside me and stretched out my virgin hole so much that it hurt. “Gentlemen, what the holy fuck is going on here?” a brusque voice like a drill sergeant echoed in the room and instantly shattered the dreamlike state we were in. “The men arrive in two hours and we need to set up the sex garage. Let’s get to work!” The sound of a whip slapping flesh was followed by my Grampa Zeke yelping and withdrawing from me. I lifted my head to see both my poz Grampas stand up immediately and stuff their meat back into their jockstraps. The leather clad chauffeur from earlier walked over to me as I lay draped naked like a sacrificial lamb on the marble counter. “Well, well, well….Buttboy4older, you work fast” he chortled as he shook his head with disgust and traced his leather whip across my face and down to my cock and balls. I was scared. “I guess you are a slutty little pig just like your dirty old poz grampas. What incredible filth this ‘family’ is. Now get up and help us get ready! The Toxic Trolls are coming!”

Very arousing premise. I love stories about male sluts and sperm addicts who marry each other.

I think his name is Leo? Been around for a while. I would love to go deep into his foreskin and eat/swallow everything in there.

Guy in the black tank top…so handsome!

Thank you for the shout out @atlfukbud my CumBrother 🙏 Here is my station.

Thanks so much...and, oh, they will be enjoying themselves 😉 Grampa Donovan will be making sure of that.

Enjoyed this. Loved the hesitation and needing validation from random sleazy guys on the bottom's part.

Wow, thanks for the pozitive feedback! Here is part 2. --- Buttboy4older Desperately Seeking Grampa Part 2: Finding Grampa in Palm Springs In all my planning about escaping from my Dad, I had made a really dumb mistake. Fuck, I’m an idiot. I was at the airport waiting for my flight to Palm Springs when I realized that I had no fucking address for my Grampa. Nothing. All I had was an idea that he lived in Palm Springs. My anxiety exploded and I realized that I would be homeless in like a week if I couldn’t find him. I didn’t have enough money to last that long. In my desperation, I reached out to the senior poz daddies I had been chatting with. I wrote: “Guys, I know this sounds stupid. My dad found out I am gay and I am headed to California to meet my Grampa, who is also gay. But my family never shared his address with me. He lives in Palm Springs. I don’t know, this is so dumb…but maybe you know him? His name is Zeus O’Donnell. He’s about 6 feet tall, redhead, had a mustache, really handsome man. He was a professional landscaper and arborist and well known around our area before he left. I have to find him. I only have enough money left to live on my own for another week. But I can’t go back home.” I sent the message then had to board my flight. But just as I was in line there was a message from them. It said: “Oh, we know him well. He lives here in Palm Springs. Everyone loves him. Send us your name and date of birth and we will confirm with him. Tell us your parents’ names and your mother’s maiden name. We have to be sure you are really his grandson. Also, tell us your flight number, airline and arrival time.” I fired off the details and boarded my flight. Then, nothing for the next five hours. I couldn’t connect to the site again. I hadn't ravelled much and I didn’t realize you could only get free text messaging and limited internet on board and the bareback site was blocked that I used to communicate with them. I couldn’t sleep a minute. I was so wired up and nervous. After I landed, I was able to connect to WiFi in the terminal and got back on the site. There was a message. “We sent a car for you. Your Grampa confirmed your name and date of birth. You’ll see there is a man waiting for you in the baggage claim area. He will bring you to your Grampa’s address.” I took me 20 minutes to find my way through the busy terminal to get to the baggage area. I was carrying my heavy army green backpack and was covered in sweat. Funny how everyone else in this airport was wearing shorts and tank tops. I was over dressed in jeans and a hoodie. I felt such emotion when I saw my name “MIKEY O’DONNELL” on the card held up by the driver, a tanned bearded man with a leather shirt, leather cap and super tight leather shorts. He looked so intimidating I saw others around me smirk and whisper to each other as they saw us together. “It’s me!” I said to the man with my name on his board. “I am Mikey O’Donnell. My Grampa sent you to take me to him.” The leather clad chauffeur smiled and said. “Yes, you look like him, a bit. You’re a lot shorter. But still cute like him.” He was happy with my answers and simply said. “Come.” When we exited the airport, my eyes couldn’t believe the intensity of the sun and felt the hot air suck all the sweat from my body. We walked for a fair bit and then he opened the door to a swanky air conditioned BMW SUV. “There are some drinks and snacks back there” he said, and then he was quiet the whole time apart from some mumbling as he spoke through his air pods. But the ride was only 15 minutes. Don’t know why, I had half expected to be driven to some warehouse or shady side street. Instead, we pulled up into a pristine neighborhood with cactus gardens and carefully organized stones and rocks. “You can get out now,” the gruff chauffeur said. I saw a smirk on his face in the mirror. “I’ll get your bag. Your grandfathers are waiting for you.” “Grandfathers? What?” Anxiety and adrenaline were pumping through me. The chauffeur opened the door for me, took off his sunglasses, and stared me down. I knew instinctively not to question him. I slid out of the car and waited for instructions. “Go, they are waiting," he barked at me. The chauffeur had retrieved my bag and I followed him along the stone path to the bright pink front door where we were greeted by a tall black man in a bathrobe. “Mikey, I’m Donovan. Welcome to gay paradise! Welcome to Palm Springs!” He gave me a big bear hug although I could only halfheartedly hug him back. He took my hand and then led me inside. Behind me, I heard the thud of my backpack as the chauffeur dropped it off and then the closing of the front door. “How was your trip, Mikey?” Donovan asked me. I had to look up to respond. He was bald with bright eyes above smooth high cheeks. I recognized the big smile on his face and the thick mustache that I had seen in their videos to me. I wondered why he was in a bathrobe and acting so casual. I hesitated to move forward. “Well, this is really incredible, isn’t it?” He smiled shaking his head with his hands on his hips. “All the way from Long Island in search of your beloved Grandfather. And to think that you had already connected with him, and me. To think that we all had connected. It’s really a divine intervention.” He raised his hands to the sky in mock prayer and then slapped his hands together with joy. “Sorry, what? Is he here? Did you bring him here to meet me?” I looked around at the spacious living room that looked like it was a photo from some luxury real estate magazine. “Oh my son, Buttboy4older,” Donovan winked at me and started laughing, a big raucous and uncontrollable laugh. And then, my Grampa appeared. I recognized him immediately. He was so much thinner than I remembered but still had his trademark mustache. He was also in a loose cloth bathrobe and using a cane. He shook his head. “Mikey, my boy. I’ve missed you so much.” I could hear his voice crack a little as he saw me. “Good god, you are a beautiful young man.” I walked to him and hugged him and squeezed him and held back tears. “Oh Grampa, I can’t believe this worked. I have wanted to see you for so long.” He patted my head for a few moments. “This is unreal. Isn’t it?”, he said as he looked in my eyes. Holding his hand I replied, “I don’t understand. I reached out to your friend Donovan and he made this happen?” “Well,,” Grampa said, “you reached out to both of us. But Donovan is always more quick to respond than I am on these sites.” I tried to put the puzzle together but was afraid of the answer. “The messages on the dating site were…”I Donovan again burst into laughter. “Ha, oh my son, that is a good one! A dating site! Yes, the “dating site” where lovelorn romantics go to find their soulmates. Ha!” I could now hear the wonderful lyrical Jamaican voice that I had heard in the videos they had shared. I looked at Grampa and then at Donovan. Grampa was smiling but shaking his head as he looked at the terrazzo floor. Donovan said, “Mikey, let’s clear this up right now. We only accept honesty in this house. You and we have been chatting for a while on the bareback site. We are “Poz Daddies Palm Springs” and you are “ButtBoy4Older” and this is your own flesh and blood, your Grampa, Zeus…or Father Zeke as we all call him around here. He and I are the Poz Daddies. We had no idea who you really were, but when you texted your parents’ names and your birthdate, he knew, we knew, you are our grandson.” My face went red and my anxiety exploded. “So, all the filthy things I said, all the dirty photos I sent..it was to you, Grampa, and Donovan?” They both nodded eagerly. “ I feel so, I don’t know…ashamed and confused. All those slutty photos and thoughts. But you guys encouraged it and I felt you had, have, so much to teach me.” Grampa was stroking my head and simply nodded. “Listen, Mikey. This is a shame free household.” And to prove it, Donovan dropped his robe on the floor and revealed his mature naked body to me. He raised his arms to the side. “This is who we are. We are the same men you chatted with on the bareback site. And we want you to be the same Buttboy4older that you were. Don’t hide your true nature. Now, your Grampa has some reservations, but we need to address all of this upfront before we continue.” Donovan walked over to my Grampa and removed his robe. My Grampa was so thin but his muscles popped as did his veins on his girthy penis. Now they were both naked before me. Lust swelled up inside me but was tempered by the shame and confusion I felt. Donovan came and stood between us. He took his free hand and directed it to his body. He guided my limp hand and slid it over his wonderful once muscular chest so that I could feel the heat and texture of his muscle and fat, he rubbed my hand against the heavy nipple piercing and the thick nip knob, and then brought my hand slowly down across his abdomen to his curly pubes. Instinctively, my hand started to descend and caress and stroke his veiny, long, and sweaty cock. I looked down in wonder as my hand found the tip of his uncut penis and rubbed around the foreskin, something I had wanted to do so often when I looked at the photos they sent to me. Donovan let me play with his hefty Jamaican meat for a moment .“Now your, as I said, Grampa Zeke here has some reservations.” I saw my Grampa biting his lip. Donovan continued, “He and I were, and are, so aroused by you and all the things we talked about, but he says he cannot be incestuous with you, his own grandson. Mikey, do me a favor and put one of your fingers inside my foreskin while we talk and gently rub it inside and around my pisshole….oh that’s it my son.” He put one hand on my shoulder and massaged me as I lewdly fondled his hood meat and fingered his wide pisshole. My Grampa was stroking his own thickening veiny cock with one hand and with the other holding onto his cane as we watched me look up at the hung Jamaican giant in awe. “You can see for yourself, Mikey. Look how aroused your Grampa is. But he does not want to be incestuous. He lusts after your bubble butt with its peach fuzz and pink virgin boy cunt. He talks about how it would taste, how it would look as he stares up at it under our rim chair, how your unfucked asslips would look after hours of rimming in our sling, how puffy and horny they would be for our old poz cocks once your unpenetrated hole knows the pleasure of a long deep tonguing and butthole chewing.” I looked at Grampa, and feeling like I was telling a half truth, I said. “I understand, Grampa. I love you. We won’t have incest together.” My index finger was halfway inside Donovan’s long, hot foreskin and was slick with whatever juices and stuff were inside it. I licked my lips as I imagined tonguing inside his hood and really cleaning it out as I French kissed it. Donovan said, “But I am not your Grampa, Mikey. So, none of this between you and me would be incest. And I would love to explore all the sensual and kinky things we talked about in our bareback site messaging. Would you like that, son?” Donovan then did only what I had been imagining about. He pulled my finger out of his moist hooded meat and raised it to my nose, rubbing the funk on it, and then stuck it in my lips as though he were sticking a soother into a baby’s mouth. “Fuck yes, “ I heard my Grampa say. Donovan grunted. “See, you little pig. Grampa likes to watch his own Grandson taste my thick Jamaican sausage juice. Can you imagine how he will react when he watches me deflower your pink virgin shithole?” The utter filth of this conversation made me weak and I groaned as I suckled Donovan’s finger hungry for every taste of his foreskin from my finger. I had heard that older men can sometimes be more lewd and adventurous. I guessed Donovan was one of those men. And my Grampa too. Donovan let me lick it for a few more seconds. “Now, go hug your Grampa and tell him how my poz foreskin tasted.” Donovan pushed me into my Grampa who received me with open arms and hugged me again. I kissed his flat skinny belly and chest and veins. “How did you like it, Grandson?” He said with a loving tone as though he were asking about how some cotton candy tasted that he had bought for me at a carnival. I looked up at my Grampa as I hugged his tanned thin body. I melted as I looked at his bright green eyes, thin face and big bushy mustache. I felt so safe and so horny in his embrace. He nodded at me looking for an answer. “It’s ok, Mikey,” He said nodding to me. “This isn’t incest. It’s just you telling me, your Grampa, how my husband’s big uncut poz meat tasted. I want to hear it.” I reached up and touched his mustache and wanted to kiss him so badly. I imagined his hairy mouth on my butt cheeks and asshole. But that would be incestuous, I thought. That would be really bad and shameful. “Well, it tasted like honey, kind of, mixed with urine and sweat. I, uh, I really liked it. I can still smell and taste it.” I still felt some shame expressing this sleazy detail to him. “It’s good stuff, Son. I can’t get enough of it myself,” Grampa said as he patted me on the head and then bent down to kiss me. His cock was fully hard now and pressed against me. He was so excited by our reunion. I felt Donovan’s hand slip into my jeans and underwear from behind and he fingered my sweaty bum crack. Then he took his hand out and we could hear him sniffing and licking his finger. “Damn, Mikey boy needs a shower. Hey husband, let’s break for a bit and give your gorgeous grandson a chance to shower and freshen up. He’s going to be living with us for a while, right? We have time to catch up. Plus, I have some sleazy ideas to work around how ButtBoy4Older is going to fit in comfortably to our family arrangement so that you don’t feel “incestuous” together. Yes man, I have some fun ideas for us. Welcome home, Mikey!” Donovan again let out a big raucous laugh as we finished in a group hug and then he and my Grampa French kissed noisily just above me and their dicks pressed against me as I was squeezed like a panini between them. Man, I wonder what this “family arrangement” would look like. For now, I was happy.

This is so well thought out and unique. Excellent story line.

Hey guys...this is the first part of a short series I have written --------- Boybutt4older Desperately Seeking Grampa Part 1: “We won’t block you” The root of my obsession with older men, and my very own Grampa, started young. I was part of a typical small town boys club when I was younger. Like the scouts we would have weekly meetings and we had uniforms that we had to maintain and wear freshly laundered and ironed. We learned different skills to earn badges, learned basic life skills and hygiene like how to shower properly, how to start a campfire, set up a campsite with fire pit, latrine, tents, and orienteering. It was a club that gave young boys who had little male influence in their lives to be mentored in a healthy and productive way. For the first few years, my Grampa was the leader of our group. During that time, I had seen him naked when we all showered after a swim outing or during weekend trips to a rustic camp in the woods. Inexplicably my heart would race when I saw him lathered up with soap during our group showers. He wasn’t showing off. But I was entranced as his naked hairy body as it glistened with soap and he would bend over showing his meaty butt cheeks and hairy ass crack with the soap water cascading over his exquisite bum with his low hanging balls shifting back and forth. Other than those moments, he was just Grandpa in my mind and he never showed any favoritism toward me except for a couple of tender touches here or there when others were around. But sometimes on those camping weekends, me and the other boys would talk about how wide and girthy my Grampa’s cock was…we would whisper to each other in our dark tents at night sharing a flashlight as we rubbed our dicks inside our sleeping bags. Some boys said they had never seen a naked man and that they hoped their cocks would be as big one day so they could really tit fuck a big breasted woman or walk around with a big swinging dick. Those times formed me sexually and personally, and I always imagined my Grandpa as a mentor and father figure. I wanted to be a confident macho man just like him. Then one day, it was over and he was no longer the leader of our group and he moved far far away and my parents never brought him up. Folks said he had moved to California. Palm Springs. Being in a small town on Long Island, it seemed like a million miles away. I cried a lot because of this abrupt disconnection. I felt sad and abandoned. I had one photo of him and me. Me as tall as his waist stranding beside as we both saluted together in our uniforms. Fast forward some years, I only had dreams, sexual dreams, about the big dicked grandpa I lost contact with. At some point I learned about sites where I could create profiles looking for older men who kind of looked like him. Tall, gray haired, mustached, maybe not muscular but hung and kind and loving- that’s what I was looking for. So I started to create profiles on different sites in hope of finding my Grampa or men who looked like him. As I did, I learned about what men were into sexually. I learned about all kinds of weird acts like bukkake, cum dumping, rimming, drinking piss, even fisting and double penetration. I didn’t know what I was doing, and I had never been fucked, but as I watched more and more porn about men having anal sex, and seeing so many men have their asses filled with cum, sperm, semen, I began to crave that for myself. I thought it must be amazing to feel full of cum inside my butt. Those men all had an ecstatic look of joy on their cum drenched faces. I wanted to know what that felt like. I created a profile, a fantasy profile, on both tame and raunchy sites. I gave myself the handle “Boybutt4older” I had never been fucked but I uploaded pictures, many photos, of me showing off my butt with my soccer shorts pulled down, or with a jockstrap. I never showed my face. And I would caption the pictures like “Young hole for older cum”, “Virgin for mature hung cock” “Cum dump for old [banned word]”. Just taking those pics and adding those nasty captions made me feel so dirty and filthy and horny I constantly jacked off to the fantasy. Then on Sundays I would go to Our Lady Immaculate for the 9 am and 12 pm masses. I was a good altar boy. I loved acting and for those 3-4 hours I loved playing the role of the good servant of Christ knowing that I was a cock hungry virgin boy while carrying the Host and serving the priests. I learned about another site and it intrigued me. It was a site for men who didn’t use condoms when fucking. That sounded really hot to me. I knew it was dangerous but that intrigued me even more. With thousands of men around the world on that site, it had to mean that this was not uncommon or a bad thing to want. Not long after I created my profile on that bareback site I had a response from a couple. They were interracial. One called himself a lapsed Irish American Catholic and the other said he was Jamaican and they were a married couple who loved younger men and men who are looking to expand their horizons. The photos they shared didn’t show faces, but the photos depicted them kissing with their tongues licking each others lips. Hot! They hid their faces mostly. The Jamaican had a thick black mustache and the Irish American guy had a thick salt and pepper mustache too. Another photo showed them pulling on each other’s large and protruding nipples. Another photo showed the mustached Jamaican rimming the pale white hairy ginger ass of his lover while he sat below him - the white mounds of hairy butt meat squeezed through the toilet seat of a rim chair and the Jamaican’s face had disappeared deep inside it. WOW! Another photo showed the Irish American partner spraying cum onto the Jamaican’s puffy and wet asshole. That made me shoot my young sperm above my head. So, I sent them a message letting them know they had made a young guy cum really hard. “Nice,” was the reply. “Felt good spraying my poz seed on my slut husband’s asshole before I pushed my cum back inside him.” That really shocked me. Then I looked at their profile again and, yep, they said they were “ Poz Daddies”. I Googled the term and it meant they were “HIV positive”. Holy fuck. I shot my fucking load to that? They sent me a one-word message. “So?” I didn’t want to be rude so I replied. “I’m sorry. I am young and I do not have HIV. You guys are hot. Thanks for the jerk off material.” Anyway, I was on the other side of the country and was safe from ever having to meet them in person. They replied: “We’re glad it helped you get off. By the way, being poz means we have the best sex ever. No inhibitions. No regrets.” I thought about it, and of course, they are partners, married, whatever, they can share that with each other. It’s their choice. I responded. “That’s great you can share that with each other. I am happy for you.” They responded. “We share it with others too, if they want to experience the best sex of their lives.” With that message they attached a video. It was the Jamaican man, speaking with a very charming and sultry voice. His mustache was sliding up and down the pale hairy ass of his partner and making appreciative moans and grunts. But what I heard him say next really shocked me. “Husband, how many loads did you get in you tonight?” His voice was like honey to my ears…so smooth and masculine and like a song, it defied the raunchy words he was saying. The other man responded. “7 loads. 7 nasty loads of poz cum. Move back, I’m going to spray that holy seed back out. I can’t hold them in.” The mustached black man moved back only slightly and then all I heard was moans and grunts as the white man’s asshole farted out the poz cum. First, one or two squirts hit the chin of the black man, whose long tongue tried to lap them up, but then, as his mouth was open, more thick and watery poz seed sprayed out, some right into his mouth. Holy fuck! A few more loud and lewd fart noises and then some more sprayed onto the thick black mustache or up his nostrils. Oh man, this was so gross, but I couldn’t look away and then I couldn’t ignore my own cock hard and leaking… and in my mind I was encouraging the black man to drink it down as it sprayed like milk into his mouth and he laughed and said, “Oh, give me that nasty nut milk, baby…give me it all.” And then, an amazing thing happened. The Jamaican man turned to the camera, his stache dripping with poz cum and his husband’s scummy butt juices and he said “BoyButt4older, you could be enjoying this too with us”. He licked his lips and I heard him slurping up the toxic slop before he dove face first into the mature white man’s whored out fuckhole. Him calling me out personally was a psychological mind fuck and ecstatic experience all at once. I shot ropes of my young sperm and semen while crying “No, no, no” knowing that I had been aroused beyond measure in watching two older slutty HIV cum pigs relishing in sharing multiple poz cum loads sprayed from a cumwhore asshole into a hungry jizz pig mouth. This was so depraved and revolting. I slammed my laptop shut and I actually became angry at these anonymous poz mature men for turning me on to their sick, toxic, dangerous and depraved sexual behavior. The next morning, I sent them a message. “You guys are sick. Why show that to me? Why did you call me out in your video?” The reply was not what I expected. I was raging and meant to shame them. I wanted to judge them for their sexual desires and acts. They wrote: “We want you with us. Imagine us three together, embracing and snowballing those thick creamy poz loads that are in my mouth and we share them in a kiss.” Huh, interesting. Instead of replying rudely or blocking me, they replied in a friendly, almost loving manner. Not only that, they sent a picture of them kissing with long, scummy strings of saliva, which I assume was poz cum, between them. Their perversion, their shameless nastiness and sleaziness combined, made me so full of lust. I had been consuming so much porn that was so fake and repetitive, this was so different and powerful to me. This felt real. I ignored the throbbing of my own cock and the excitement I was feeling. I replied: “Guys, I am a young and healthy 20 year old. I have a great body, a good future ahead of me. What makes you think I am interested in your poz cum fetish? I don’t want AIDS.” The reply was very confusing. “All seed is sacred, son. Poz cum is blessed because of the commitment to loving cock that it symbolizes. In your profile you say you “Love cock”. Do you really “love cock” if you can’t accept poz cum as part of loving cock? If not, you won’t be getting much cock. Sorry, but that’s the truth. Anyway, your butt is so beautiful. We’d love to share cum with you, when you are ready.” Then they attached another photo. This one was really over the top: the white guy had a huge string of cum linking the wide pisshole of his thick penis to the floppy fat foreskin of the hung Jamaican and they added a caption “Buttboy4older, cum and taste us. This is another way our poz cocks kiss and make love to each other.” Again, they were being pleasant and kind with me whereas I was pretending to be grossed out while all I wanted was to be the one licking up their cum, poz or not, from those fat and sleazy Grampa cocks. And also, I thought about how much they must love each other to share those photos. How great it must be to not give a fuck and to show how you really are. That alone made me horny. But still, I couldn’t pretend I was fully on board. “I’m sorry. You can block me. But I’m not ready for this. Anyway, I’m on Long Island and you are in California. You both have incredible cocks and are super sexy…and I am turned on, somehow, despite myself. I’m still a Catholic and involved with my church. I’m sure I’m not your type after all. You can block me, if you want. I understand.” The reply was simple. “We won’t block you. We won’t ghost you. You have to find your own way on the Phallic Path. Peace and Love and may Cock bless you. We are here when you want to talk, or meet.” Phallic path? Huh? Did they mean a path to being poz or becoming more open and sexual, or both? Another mindfuck. The last photo they sent to me was of their hairy senior citizen genitals grinding against each other. The skinny pale ginger Irish American, his uncut stubby and fat penis meat with it’s silver and ginger pubes and hairy dangling balls pressed against the Jamaican’s much longer and thicker hairy sausage and nuts pressed together with the caption “In Cock We Trust” and the caption “Raw is Law. Bareback Only.” I had to search online for “Raw is Law” and “Bareback Only”. I had never heard those terms. But then, I learned about them quickly with a few clicks to shady pages and porn videos. Although I liked the idea of condomless fucking, it confirmed my suspicions. My cock thickened at the idea of not ever using condoms and only have a bare and unprotected cock inside me. But these men felt it necessary to add this as a caption to their photo to me. Why and why me?? I guessed that being married like them meant you don’t need to wear condoms with your spouse or partner. That made sense. It also excited me to think that maybe one day I could go “raw” and have my special man penetrate me and leave his sperm inside me. I got me hard to think that these two older men still fucked and shot their loads into each other. Very hot. And that they were interracial triggered me even more. I admired them for crossing so many boundaries and living their lives together fully and openly. I made a point of saving their photos on my phone and downloading them to my laptop. I’m glad I did. Because the next day, my father kicked me out of the house when he confronted me for being gay. Turns out, one of my Dad’s employees whom I recognized at a gloryhole booth in Queens started insinuating to him and his staff that his son (me) was a faggot. When my Dad confronted me on the phone, I didn’t deny it. He had a bad temper and mom had left him years ago. He had been a terrible and abusive father, so I had had enough. “Yep, I’m gay. And I hate you.” I shouted when he called me and confronted me with his coworker’s suspicion. After I hung up on him, I texted him: “By the way, your coworker Barry has a small uncut dick with a big dark mole on his knob. Here’s a photo of his cock about to go into my mouth. And look closely and you will see his cheap wedding band holding his unimpressive dick to my lips. Ask him about that!” I had sort of planned this scene of me leaving before and I had a backpack ready to go. I was out of the house before he could get home and had cash enough stashed away to help me for a few months. I was going west to find my Grampa whom I hadn’t seen in years. Rumor was that he was gay and my Dad disowned him, even though tit was his own father. Knowing that we shared being gay had filled my head with “what ifs” for years. I was sure he would welcome me.