piggybackrider

Chapter 1 12 men were sitting around each other in a stale grey room. The youngest looked about 18; the oldest, no more than 30, maybe 35. A judgmental man might've called them twinks. A big banner was hanging up in the corner of the room: WELCOME BACK FORMER BUGCHASERS A few men had already spoken, talking about how much easier it was to resist "the temptation". One man had made the mistake of saying the word "poz". The leader of the group interjected: "As you know, we try not to use that word. There's nothing positive about a life-threatening condition. We just say "bug". Because that's what it is—a virus that infects not just our bodies but our brains." His words seemed to have the opposite effect. The youngest man rose to give his speech. "I know I'm new here... My name is Mason. I'm 19, and I've been a bugchaser for... a month... "I don't know where it came from. I've always been a slut; I hit the bathhouses as soon as it was legal and tried to take every dick I could see. I managed to take every load in the entire house, once, on a slow weekday. I was proud of that. "I went on a weekend once. A man leered at me as soon as I got in the locker room to change. He was buck naked. God, when I think about him... he must've been 6'3", sheer muscle, hairy as Bigfoot. He had big feet, too, which..." Mason trailed off with a shiver. His speech had caused a lot of the men sitting there to switch their legs uncomfortably. The group leader said, "try not to give too much detail. We don't want to get riled up. We're here for the opposite purpose." "Sorry! Anyway, he stared at me the whole time. Once I was naked, he introduced himself and invited me to his room. Just like that! I said yes right away. We walked up to the third floor—he had some pretty wild porn on the screen and a red gel cap over the light. I felt like a prostitute! He offered me some poppers and a little beer, and of course I accepted. I probably shouldn't have trusted him, but oh well... "He started, um... touching himself. He asked if I would help him with my mouth. I said yes. When he lowered me down I saw this weird tatoo on his abs... like a radiation symbol or something. It was hot—I like dangerous guys, and this one made him look dangerous. I took the whole thing on the first go, even though he was huge—and THICK. Sorry! Sorry, forgot the thing you said about details. He lasted, like... 15 minutes and then he just said, 'I'm going to come in a few seconds. Just so you know, I have AIDS. Is that cool with you? You willing to take an AIDS load, boy?' I freaked out! Of course I wasn't. I felt lied to, like I'd been trapped. I double-tapped and he let my head up. He stroked his cock until he finished on his chest. Um... I know you'll probably judge me, but..." "It's okay," said the group leader. "You can say it. This is a judgment-free zone." "When I saw how big his load was... how it covered so much of his huge torso... I wanted to lick it up anyway. Despite the risks. Oh, I feel so dirty when I think about that..." "No, it's natural. You have a condition. We all do. But we're all HIV-negative. Some of us have been tempted for 15 years!" "Okay, good... I can really make it fifteen years?" "You can make it all your long, long life. There's safe ways to have sex!" "Yeah... safe... right." Everyone left; meeting adjourned. They grabbed cookies or bottles of water or whatever on their way out and left. Mason had repressed that memory for 4 straight weeks. He'd managed not to think about it; to avoid remembering the details that made him feel like his whole body was burning up. But now that he'd told them, saw how some of them even got hard when he mentioned the man who was going to breed him, he couldn't stop thinking. For 6 hours after he got back to his apartment he tried to cope, but by the third time he'd cum thinking about saying "yes" to that dangerous man, he felt the last ounce of willpower leave him. He was at the saunas within twenty minutes. He paid the fee, got a bottle of poppers, and began changing. He kept looking over his shoulder to see if the man would show up in the locker room, but he didn't. "That's alright," he said to himself. He was fine—no, better off sleeping with someone else. Someone safe. He decided to walk around, make small talk with the others, see if he could find a connection. The other man's figure possessed his imagination. Finally, he just went up to the room where that awful man had almost given him AIDS, just to see if he was... safe from him. The door was open a crack. The same man from last month was inside with a new, younger-looking boy bouncing his hips up against the other man's cock. "Happy birthday, baby," said the man. "Ungh, thank you..." "I'm gonna cum soon," he said. "But just so you know, I have AIDS. You cool with that? You cool with taking a raw AIDS load? "AH! No!!! Oh god, why did I come here? I just turned 18 this morning!!!!" Mason wondered if this was something he did often and felt a pang of jealousy. The other boy pulled himself off and, again, the older man finished himself onto his own chest with a sigh. The image of ropes and ropes of vile, disease-ridden cum pooling on the older man's chest that had been playing in his mind for a month straight was right in front of him, past the crack in the door. The 18-year old cried and ran out of the room, exposing the voyeur in the doorframe. "I remember you," the older man said. Mason tried to think of something to say. He didn't. He closed the door behind him, knelt down, and began licking the massive load off the older man's body. He felt sparks crackling in his brain as the smell of sex and sweat wafted up through his nose. He reached back toward the older man's dick and felt it grow to its full, monstrous size. "This time," said the older man, "you don't get to run." Mason kissed the biohazard tattoo on his waist deep. "You better not let me," he said, as the older man beckoned him onto all fours on the floor.