bearbandit

Not so long a journey to the Valleys: getcha ass down here and I'lll show you what "bad" really is...

DDF? You're in the wrong place mate. Many of us are drug users (mine are all prescribed - they enable me to see tomorrow) or are already pozzed, with other potential diseases waiting in the wings. We know who we are: you clearly don't or you wouldn't have used such an insulting term as DDF. However the overalll ethos of the site is to enjoy sex, in whatever form it appeals to us. Just try not to insult people...

Thank the gods for the Daddy syndrome...

He's cut off the emotional ties and you haven't. My rule with ex-boyfriends/lovers/guys I don't intend seeing again is to be be polite in company (however painful it might be) and ti ignore in private. I get the impression that you're trying to continue the relationship on a friends-who-fuck basis. Don't. (voice of experience here) There'll be tears before bedtime and they won't be his. The relationship is over (sorry to be so brutal about it, but some guys think it's one of my good points). Look around you: try new bars/baths/cruising areas. He is history. If life demands that you have to see him through work, be oolite. Freezingly so. Otherwise he doesn't exist, and I'm afraid whatever was good about your relationship is gone too, consigned to memory. Someday it might be possible to meet up again on a friends basis (one of my best friends is my first ever boyfriend, but it's over forty years since we had the mutual "fuck off" thing). Leave him behind while you get on with the rest of your life...

I've been online since before the first graphical browser (Netscape?) so I've had about 20 years experience in spottting scams. Besides I didn't think you were making light of what's a regular experience. Nearest airports are Cardiff, Bristol or one of the London ones

Pozdaddy 18 “Pup, the food’s in the kitchen: help the boys bring it all through and sort the drinks out.” “So, how did it look Ken?” “Went well, I thought. Got some good shots of each of you up each others’ asses. Bill’s tats are going to make it look amazing.” “And I’m not?” I laugh “Get some more tats and we’ll see,” Ken responds. “I know I get turned on by getting tats, but I don’t think I could go that far... Bastard won’t let me use poppers when he’s working!” The boys start bringing the food through and sorting out drinks. “I presume that Pozboy can switch within a scene: not saying it’s going to happen,” says Ken at Pozboy’s sudden interest in the conversation, “but this scene needs to be you and Dave on the one hand cutting to Bill, Pup and Pozboy on the other.” “So I drift between senior bottom and junior top?” asks Pozboy. “That’s about it...” confirms Ken. “I’m hoping this turns out to be the pivotal scene of it all, which is I why I wanted to do Poz’ and Bill’s scene first. I want you to take your time over this one Poz...” Aside to me “He’s definitely a keeper... Gonna run rings round you though!” “Don’t I fuckin’ know it!” and aloud “A couple of samosas over here and a bottle of Brown. Do we get to see what we just did or not?” Ken fiddles with his camera, gets the chip out and into the USB converter to fit into the TV. The plates of finger food circulate while we watch the scene Ken just shot. Pup has just replaced my bottle of Newcastle Brown and I’m watching Bill giving it to me up the ass “call me vain, but I’d do me...” Bill responds with “you’re about the only one who hasn’t...” “It takes work to get pozzed, doesn’t it, Pozboy?” I tweak his tit... “Call it work – where’s the fun?” I smack his head as I grin “Cleaning up in the morning, cunt”... I lean over and kiss his head. Reviewing the scene we just shot has the effect I wanted: nothing like watching yourself fucking and getting fucked to get you in the mood for more. Ken notices I’m getting hard again and demands we get dressed/undressed for the next scene. Although he’s the director, he’s using my boys, so I feel justified in telling Pozboy twenty hole DMs and it’s up to Ken whether he starts with a jock or not. Ken opts for not. Both Bill and I go for the standard boots, chaps and cap approach. The Pup is naked and Dave is wearing boots and a chest harness. I get a bowlful of the special icecubes from the freezer... There’s been little discussion of what we’re doing: spontaneity is the key to our DVDs. The script, such as it is, calls for Bill, Pup and Pozboy to be getting each other off as they see fit. Dave and I are the main focus. Once filming starts I’m directing too, with Ken filming for the most part as he sees fit. We start with Pozboy sucking Bill while the Pup is rimming him. Each time Bill relaxes back to take more of the Pup’s tongue Pozboy is getting further down his dick. I’m getting hard watching them and Dave take advantage of the fact: just the head of my dick in his mouth so far. I hold the poppers down to his nose and he breathes in greedily. I have a couple of belts myself and notice vaguely that Ken is filming us. No need for performance: I want this man and I’m coming inside him. As the poppers wear off and it becomes less urgent that I flood this guy’s throat with my cum, I pull him up by his harness and push him over so that he’s standing looking at the floor. I get the “icecubes” and start shoving them up his ass. There’s enough of them that I give him the poppers bottle. “You know what you’re getting, cunt?” “Not sure, Sir” “My cum. Been saving it up since you said you wanted me to poz you.” I push into his cold but welcoming ass. “Feel that cum melting cunt? Don’t think I’ve ever fucked a cummy ass when it’s been all my own cum. It’s getting fucking slippery in there – you’re going to be dribbling soon. Every chance I’ve had since you turned up I’ve been having a wank and saving it. I’ve even faked coming in one or other you to be able to get enough cum for tonight.” I get my arm round his throat, “too late to be fighting it, kiddo. Doesn’t matter if I cum or not, but fuck knows I want to, when they take your blood next week it’s coming back positive.” He’s pushing back harder on my cock, desperate for my cum. I pull out briefly, aware of the camera focused on my dick. I reach to the small stack of shelves that divide the cellar into two. Normally they only contain toys and lube but tonight I hid a knife there. I give Dave the poppers and tell him to take as much as he needs. After five lungfuls he hands the bottle back to me. I take two belts and draw the knife across my dick which obligingly spurts blood for the camera. Then straight up Dave’s ass. A couple more belts of the poppers and I resume fucking him. Shit it hurts and feels so good at the same time. “You know what I just did, cunt? You know I’m bleeding inside you right now? Yeah, your Boss cut his dick to make sure ... You gonna show how grateful you are, cunt?” “Please Sir, please, just keep on fucking me. Thank you Sir. Never dreamed you’d do something like that, please Sir may I have your cum as well as your blood Sir? Please Sir, it feels so good in my ass, all your cum there and more to come.” I hand him the poppers again – four belts. “Shit , please Sir, please poz me. You’ve given me your cum, your blood, please Sir, cum in me. I’m your pig slave, Sir, I need your cum in me Sir.” I reach around and take hold of his dick. Absolutely rock solid. With careful precision, and of course my dick still in him – I haven’t finished yet – I jerk him off to probably the most intense orgasm of his life. Then I continue to fuck him, aware of the camera so I’m pulling out further than I normally would so the camera can see the cum and blood mixture. It gets too much for me and I cum deep inside him. For a few moments he’s actually supporting me as I lay across his back. I withdraw and move out of camera range. Ken is still focussed on Dave so I indicate he should lie down as the others come and kneel around him. Whether using Dave’s mouth or sucking each other off there’s a mutual understanding going on that Dave’s asshole is out bounds. They’re each careful that when they cum it’s over Dave, who’s simply lying motionless on the floor. When all three have cum, they lick up the cum from Dave’s body. I guess it’s a fuck he’ll never forget... No way can he not have got pozzed after that: I feel a pang of jealousy – I wish it had been like that for me...

Good stuff - and Jizz, if I knew you wouldn't take it as compliment I'd call you an asslicker...

Scrabble on Facebook was the reason I joined in the first place. I changed my name at the end of the eighties so it gave me a chance to catch up with the people I wanted to re-connect with, but (thanks to the name change) on my terms.

Diolch yn fawr! The story arc is more or less planned out, subject to any obsession I may develop in the writing

I've got the gag reflex from hell, gradually being reduced by my increasing pill burden, but poppers... good stuff, mind you, I can tell the difference between amyl and its lesser cousins with a single sniff from a foot away. A couple of belts of good poppers and as Jaymarcs suggests, lying over the end of the bed so that mouth and oesophagus form a more or less straight line. Just remember to breathe when he pulls back!

It takes at least a week for fuck flu to become apparent, so rule out feeling ill the next day. As Tattpig remarks the chances of testing positive after so many negatives are as close to zero as you can get. When a blood sample does show up as positive for HIV antibodies (which, if you had it, you've more than enough time to form) it's then subjected to further testing to confirm the initial result. Admittedly the UK tends to lag behind the USA in HIV technology, but I can't remember a single instance of a wrong result being given to the client, and I've been involved in the HIV world since 1980...

I've got diabetic neuropathy, a consequence of which is that my hardons are unpredictable, which is why I tend to bottom more these days, or else go for D/s scenes with little genital involvement (this is when the viagra doesn't work). I'm upfront about it and work on the principle that if I wasn't good enough for him when I was having a bit of difficulty, he's not good enough for me when I'm on top of things.

And I woke to find another message from the Mannhattan guy this morning... evidently the words "fuck" and "off" aren't in his vocabulary...

That's one of the identities I basically told to fuck off, after telling him he couldn't possibly afford me Also one of the identities I told rawTOP about

You kidding? Major turn on here!

Bloody amazing! From initial premise to the action to the inevitability of the conclusion. Wish I could write in such an organised manner

I've sent three ID's privately to rawTOP...

Pozdaddy 17 For once, I’m awake first and manage to climb over Pozboy without waking him to go and have a piss and a cup of tea in peace. I stumble into the office and have a look at the business stuff – shit, but I’m behind with everything. At least a couple of days to catch up. There’s even an email from Ken asking if it’s just imagination or have DVD orders dropped off. Nope, they just haven’t been processed. I can leave the simpler stuff to Pozboy while Dave gets the chores done, then it occurs to me: I can get the both of them out of the way for a couple of hours by sending them to Bill’s gym. It’s an excellent sideline to the tattoo studio and his experience as a trainer helps enormously with his positioning of tattoos and how they’ll look after a bit of work. A quick phone call gets them both an appointment for three o’clock I shout upstairs “Oi! What does a guy have to do to get some breakfast around here?” and find myself laughing at their confusion of me not being between them – normally I sleep later than either of them. Within thirty seconds they’re in front of me, hands behind backs, feet approximately twelve inches apart (mental note: sloppy – must improve on that). “Sorry, Sir, after last night we didn’t expect you to be up so early” “I’m full of little surprises, lads. Dave, that plug still in?” “Yes, Sir...” “Take it out and clean it up while Pozboy does breakfast. Gonna be a busy day, boys...” With the best will in the world Pozboy’s skills in the kitchen aren’t a patch on Dave’s, but it’s the most sensible division of time. Besides, what he lacks in the kitchen he compensates for in the sling. He attempts bacon and eggs, which, to my taste, doesn’t turn out too badly: I actually like undercooked bacon, though I’m not so keen on the burned underside of the eggs. Still, there was a time when I couldn’t cook either... “Day plan: Pozboy – you’re in the office with me for as long as I need you there, Dave – you’re on domestics. This afternoon you’re both over at Bill’s gym” looking to Dave “he’s the guy who did Pozboy’s biohazard: he also owns a gym. You both need a regular routine. And while you’re there, you’re vestal virgins: you keep your mouths, your dicks and your assholes to yourselves. Not even each other... Lunch, something light, some sort of salad... Good bacon Pozboy, but get Dave to show you fried eggs.” Breakfast over, we set about the day’s work. Pozboy makes good progress with the backed up orders, and manages a very convincing email of apology for lateness of response. He writes good bullshit. It’s a relief when Dave finishes with the vacuum cleaner and retires to the kitchen to get lunch together. When I go for a piss I note that he’s been into all the dust-traps. Since our computers are back to back, Pozboy can’t see that I’m also messaging as I go through the accounts. Ken reckons he’s got almost enough recorded for the next DVD: he’s centring it around Max, which isn’t a surprise, but he’s not doing anything tonight and neither is Bill. I’m careful to clear the chat buffer before I leave the PC to see progress on lunch. “Sorry, Boss, not enough fresh stuff in, so I took the liberty of doing a light chicken based thing. I mean, if me and Pozboy are starting at a gym, we’re going to need the extra protein aren’t we?” I don’t answer for a moment: I’m too stunned by the chicken in white wine, couscous and hot green salad. “Looks pretty good. I’ll have you a shopping list for after lunch before you head off to the gym.” Fuckin’ hell, the kid is good. I’d be hard pressed to produce a lunch like that even without all the cleaning he’s got through... “How much time have we got then” I ask. “About another fifteen minutes or so – I think chicken is best slightly overcooked, just in case, Sir. Can make it ten if you prefer.” “Fifteen’s fine...” I return to the study to make up Dave’s shopping list and print it out. Ken, Bill (and Bill’s inevitable plus one, whoever he is) and the three of us. Basically snack finger food for afterwards when we review the evening’s work. I find myself looking forward to playing around in my own kitchen for a change, but I neglect to mention to the boys that they’re working tonight. Lunch over, I hand Dave the list, saying I want him back here by three. While he’s out Pozboy and I are back in the study. “Sir, I know you too well now: you’ve got something planned for tonight, haven’t you?” “Whether I have or not is no concern of yours – you’re not entitled to an explanation but I simply intend enjoying one of my hobbies while Bill starts the process of knocking the pair of you into shape. Just remember to keep your hands off each other. Now, open last month’s expenditure spreadsheet and tell me what’s wrong with it...” A little later I send the pair of them off to Bill’s gym “it’s only two miles – you can walk, can’t you?” and get on with sorting out food for tonight. A few hours later I hear the front door open and they all walk in at once: Pozboy, Dave, Ken, Bill and Bill’s new puppy. “Hi guys,“ I say “a drink before we get to work?” Pozboy and Dave look at each other, confused. Despite showering at the gym they still smell strongly of sweat. Nice. “Pup – you’re waiter for the evening. The spirits and mixers are over there, and beers are in the kitchen. I’ll have a Newcastle Brown.” Pozboy and Dave both look a bit put out so I explain: “all Bill’s boys start out as ‘Pup’. He likes them a lot more subservient than I do. Roll with it...” Ken interrupts, “I reckon we’re about two thirds of the way there. I want to do the flip fuck scene first up here – new background: would you believe some guys watch porn and compare which films have been shot where according to decor? Boys, I want you to stay in the room but out of the way – seeing your Dads going for it should get you all the hornier for the cellar scene later.” He raises a glass “iechyd da”... Bill and I finish our drinks – faster than I would normally, just hope I don’t belch on camera – and we’re off. Bill is bigger than me and all but tears my t-shirt off to get to my tits. As he chews on them I slowly work at getting his t-shirt off to allow the camera to take in his tats – he’s not far from having a full body suit, most of it homoerotic art. Rumour has it that Tom of Finland sent him a drawing to incorporate somewhere. I can’t swear to the accuracy but it’s certainly his style. He stands upright while I get rid of his t-shirt and as we kiss we’re each working on the other’s jeans to get rid of them. As his jeans fall I follow with my tongue till I’m at the base of his dick. By the time my tongue reaches his piss slit he’s fully erect and I work slowly down his dick allowing the camera to take in the tats. And I decide that’s the last time in this scene I’m playing to the camera. I’m going to have fun. Just as I’m tasting precum, he hauls me off his dick and goes down on me. A brief glance behind me shows I’m in falling distance of the sofa so I pull him over and lay back on the sofa. The last of our clothes come off as he’s rubbing his nose in my pubic hair. I lift my legs slightly and he gets the hint, leaving my dick alone he first sucks on my balls and then works his way round to my ass. At the same time he moves round to give me access to his ass. When there’s no power play involved mutual rimming is one of my favourites... I’m alternating between holding his ass open and spitting into it and getting my tongue in there. I’m vaguely aware of the camera at this point: Bill has an amazing biohazard tattoo centred on his asshole. My hands on his ass to keep his cheeks spread I move out from under him to start teasing his asshole with my cock. Someone, I don’t know who, hands him a bottle of poppers, and he takes several belts on them. As each sniff hits I feel his ass loosen up a bit more and I can feel the hunger in his ass: one push and I’m in and he’s gripping me hard. I fuck him slowly taking in the sight in front of me, the muscles, the tattoos so perfectly aligned with them. We’ve played often enough together that he knows when we need to switch it round: he lurches forward so my cock is free of his ass, turns and throws me on my back. I reach up and grab his tits while he slides effortlessly into me. He knows how visual I am, and as he holds my ankles well apart puts on a muscle show as he fucks me. I resist the temptation to wank as he fucks me knowing I’d cum too soon if I did, so I take out my frustration on his nipples which I know can take some serious use. He pulls out and moves up so I can take his dick in my mouth. At first hesitantly, but quickly confident he’s pissing in my mouth. Once I know he’s got the stream established I open my mouth and he moves back from me: a perfect arc of piss joining us, which trails off down my chin and belly as his bladder empties. He moves back to sit on my dick and once I’m in I’m forcing him to roll back so he’s on his back. Fuck the camera, I’m going for it. Legs well spread, my one concession to the camera – at least the punters get another look at his biohazard with a dick in its centre. I cum, stay in his hole till the last shudder and then pull out. Immediately he’s got me on my back again and I know there’s no way I’m getting upright again without an assful of cum. I’ve got my arms around his neck, my mouth clinging to his, feeling his tongue probing around almost as if his tongue here trying to fuck my mouth. All too soon his dick is pulsing deep in my guts as he cums. “Okay guys – hold it: photo mode...” Back to earth... Ken gives the okay to relax and I burst out laughing “Fuck, but you’re good...” I look over to Pozboy and Dave. “Boys, if you can trip this guy up he’ll give nearly as good a time as I do...” I pause a moment as Bill and I untangle ourselves. “Lads, there’s finger food in the kitchen: we’ll have it in here. I don’t know about Bill but I need a rest before we do the other scene. And a drink...” The Pup is looking at Bill as though he’d never seen him before. “Pup, when you’ve known someone as long as Poz and I have known each other a fuck like that that is just another way of saying ‘I’m glad we’re friends’. I couldn’t be lovers with this guy but I love him to bits, and I know he feels the same about me: we’re family. Except we get to fuck as well,” he grins.

I just had a repeat message from the Manhattan one quoting as though he'd gone back to a previous PM. I'll change my spam/scam guess to harassment.

Yep, I was asked for skype details too (which I don't have). The first I put down to inexperienced arrogance, the second to co-incidence, but a third at the same time of day... Let's say I'm trusting, but not that trusting. Besides, I list myself as versatile - it's going to take a lot more than a message from someone I've never heard of to get me on my knees (guys I know are welcome to to try).

I guess tastes change... in the nineties I edited a private circulation magazine called Unnatural Practices (this was before the obscenity etc laws were loosened up in the UK) and found that the more popular stories were those written from the bottom's POV...

I think it's a result of a movement away from holistic heathcare, where the department caring for the main presenting illness co-ordinated care for co-morbidities to the concept of "centres of excellence" which result in my having to attend three different hospitals for different aspects of the same illness. The shift towards all but HIV drugs being issued by the GP happened as a money juggling exercise: when we in the UK were still thinking in terms of aids rather than advanced HIV disease, GP's became responsible for the prescription of all non-acute treatments. Even though I got my aids diagnosis through persistent herpes, it was suddenly my GP's responsibility to prescribe for it in order to protect the HIV clinic's funding. So I'd say definitely a cost-cutting or budget managing exercise. While private healthcare is available in the UK, few can afford it, especially when having to pay the drug companies' inflated prices for drugs. Yes, there's private insurance, but the exclusions are legion. Strictly speaking, I suppose, the UK government is the main insurer for healthcare as healthcare funding is supposed to come from "national insurance" which also pays for the benefits system.

Wishful thinking indeed: once the people of the UK were remarkably well, if sensationally - I'll never look at a tombstone or an iceberg in quite the same way again - informed with a leaflet campaign hitting every doorstep in the country and a freephone helpline to back up that campaign (I worked on that helpline and there'd be up to thirty of us on a shift at a time). Now I get 30 year olds on Grindr (the only hookup app/site where I don't list my HIV status) asking me "what's HIV?" In the UK HIV is currently being devolved from specialists to GPs who simply don't have the knowledge, training or right attitude to do the work.

It's a wonderfully perverse idea - dig yourself out and get writing again!