bearbandit

About fifteen minutes ago... Last month I was going to go to a party, but because of works on the railway it would have taken six hours to get there, so, with great regret, I cancelled. I counted up what it would have cost me in monetary terms to go to the party and realised that the money saved would pay for an escort. He's just left after spending most of the previous ninety minutes up my ass. He's an enormous bloke, ten to twelve inches taller than me and built proportionately. Chose him because he specialises in getting past the second sphincter, he's a friend of a friend, and I'm sick of being expected to top all the time. I can only just get his dick in my mouth when it's soft, and he's a grower. I spent most of the time on my back - great because I like to have eye contact, but when he finally dumped his load I was head down ass up. I'd gone past the point where I was capable of cumming - I'll save that for tonight. Fuck - I'm still shaking!

I'm half tempted to pass over this question because it's feeding in to your "worried well" problem: I think you're trying to use her experience to avoid the HIV test you know will settle your mind once and for all. I'll answer this question because it's not going to help you hide the problem one little bit. Thousands of women with HIV have babies who don't inherit their mother's HIV. And it's perfectly possible to have sex with someone with HIV, of either sex and not get it. Please, do yourself a favour and get that HIV test out of the way. To repeat myself: when it turns up negative (as I'm 99.99999% certain it will), if you still have these feelings of fear, arrange to see a counsellor/therapist. Continually questioning things like this is doing you no good, in fact it's probably making things worse...

What hollywoodslut said: I'm probably one of the longest lived poz guys here, and although we've made enormous progress in understanding HIV, it isn't enough. True the drugs are more tightly focused than they were, better at controlling HIV while wreaking less havoc on the body, HIV still manages to age your internal organs faster while the drugs can still bite you on the ass. I used to argue against PrEP because it's based on truvada, one of whose components can have some very nasty, though rare, side effects. Took me from being a biker to walking with a stick. However, providing you keep an eye on your blood results and are prepared to stop PrEP as soon as there's danger of side effects, it's remarkably effective. If I didn't have HIV, I'd take it.

I'm with les_evil... Twenty or thirty years ago it was the ultimate act of submission, now it's part of the experience of getting fucked. It's simply a matter of how you look at it. For myself, 69 rimming is amazing: a number of times it's been the main event that's got us both off.

Again, not meaning to be rude, I'd say you fit into the category of "worried well". We saw an awful lot of this is the eighties when people transferred their guilt at what they'd done to HIV. It was like they were secretly hoping to have caught it as a "punishment" for what they saw as things they'd done wrong in their life. It didn't even have to be sexual: some of the scenarios people invented to punish themselves with were really quite inventive, like being a few drops of vomit from a drunk on a bus landing on their coat. Go have an HIV test: it's easy enough to do. If necessary lie and say it's for a friend. When it turns up negative (as I'm 99.99999% certain it will), if you still have these feelings of fear, arrange to see a counsellor/therapist.

Hope it opens the way for one in South Wales...

Bareback is an option, not compulsory. For a lot of guys here, safer sex is the only option for any number of reasons, even though they fantasise about bareback.

Pozdaddy 11 We spend a quiet couple of weeks at home while Pozboy’s tattoo heals. It seems to be a rule that if you have a new tattoo people bump into you hitting that exact spot. In addition to his domestic jobs, I spend a fair amount of time showing Pozboy around the business files, and he proves eminently trainable as a PA. Over the two weeks I reckon we’ve actually got more done than I would have done alone, despite Pozboy’s habit of letting his hands wander when I’m leaning over to the monitor to explain something. I glance at the clock – we’ve worked later than I thought. “Right, we send out for a meal then we’re going out. Give you a chance to show off. Jock, chaps, and harness” So at ten or so (I don’t want it to be that late a night) we get to the bar. Pozboy checks his jacket in and I attach his leash to his collar to lead him into the bar itself where we go round to my favourite spot at the bar. A new barman: he’s obviously been told about regulars because he asks Pozboy the simple question “the usual?” and at Pozboy’s “please” gets a couple of bottles of Newcastle Brown, and waits for payment from Pozboy. Instead of leaving the bar for a dark corner I keep him at the bar. I’ve deliberately let him stand closer to the door so that as long as he’s facing me anyone coming in can see the new tattoo. And as in any leather bar, a new tattoo gets noticed. The occasional caress, with the hand quickly withdrawn as Pozboy’s leash is seen. I decide to go for the easy option and take his leash off. “Go on upstairs and enjoy yourself. You can suck cock and get fucked, but no way can you cum. I’ll be up later.” Truth is, I’m glad to be rid of him for a while: Maybe I should put a cage in the cellar. I take a swig of beer and survey the bar. Not a lot to look at: I decide to go upstairs and see what the little slut’s up to. Fuck, he’s spoiling other guys for me. I’m about to leave the bar when a hand nervously touches my arm. I turn around and vaguely recognise the guy. It isn’t until he starts to speak that I recognise him: Dave, the one Pozboy sneaked into the house a few weeks ago. “Sir, may I talk to you a bit?” “Sure, what’s up? Pills not giving you trouble are they?” “That’s just it Sir. I’ve been taking them – only half a dozen left now. I went to a different clinic and had a test today and it was negative.” “That’s good: take the rest of the pills and you’ll be sure of not having got pozzed. Between you and me, he had a hellish forty eight hours after I found the two of you...” “You don’t understand Sir. Yes, the pills are a pain in the ass, but I’ve been thinking about the two of you and the way you don’t have to worry any more, the freedom you have that I don’t...” “What are you saying Dave?” He stands there, trying to speak, looking like he’s searching for the words. “Shit, Sir, I had this all worked out the other day for when I saw you here next now it’s gone...” “It’s okay – take your time.” “Sir, will you breed me? It’s all I’ve thought about since you found me and Mabon...” Mabon? So that’s his real name. Even before I pozzed him I only knew him as Pozboy and he’s always avoided the question of his birth certificate name. A bit old fashioned, but a good strong name... “You’re going to have to make a stronger case than that.” “Sir, I can’t be the man, the boy, I need to be without being pozzed. I need to serve other men and I know I’ll end up poz. I’d really like it to be someone I respect who gives me the gift rather than turn up for a test and wonder who of however many guys it was.” “So you were chasing when I found you in the cellar?” “Maybe unconsciously, Sir, otherwise I wouldn’t have gone out and got the PEP” he looks down as though ashamed “I hope you weren’t too rough on Mabon: I thought you were angry because he was playing around without you knowing...” I drain my beer and signal to the barman for another. “You, Dave?” “Please Sir...” I go to sit down at a table and beckon Dave over. “If you’re serious about this, you’ll sign a document that basically says you wanted it – keeps me out of trouble if you ever change your mind afterwards. Secondly, you owe Pozboy one hell of an apology for the act you put on, pretending not to know he was poz” Dave cuts across “Sir, sorry, Sir, but I honestly didn’t know, but I knew he was with you so I figured he must be. I was a bit surprised to find out the truth.” “He still took a belting because of that. You need his permission for this to happen. And you should know that he gave me a recharge not so long ago.” “I’d still like it to be you, Sir” “Okay: go upstairs and wait till whoever he’s doing has cum, then bring him downstairs” Dave goes upstairs and I drink nearly half my beer. Shit! What a fucking mess! I should have kept my dick in my pants months ago... I glance towards the door and see the pair of them coming towards me, Pozboy still wiping the cum from his face. “Opposite sides of the table, lads...” I repeat the gist of my conversation with Dave to Pozboy. “You have the veto on this: if you’re not happy about it, say so and it’s ‘sorry, Dave: find someone else’ and if you’re okay about it you have full sexual access to him except you will not, under any circumstances, fuck him before he tests positive.” “Like I can afford to be jealous Dad...” Just a little territorial there, calling me ‘Dad’ when it’s usually ‘Sir’... “I quite like the idea of a brother I can fuck” he grins. He looks across the table at Dave “Let’s forget that day happened.” Now whispering as far as you can in a loud bar “Don’t tell the old guy, but that beating opened my eyes to a few things.” “So that’s sorted. Pozboy, get your jacket and order a taxi. I need a fuck in the comfort of my own home. Dave, you’re too full of truvada for it to make a difference, but I want your ass tonight. You coming?” So it’s three of us in a taxi home. Once there, Dave scrawls his signature on what I think of as the consent form – I just don’t trust the law in this country. “Downstairs. Pozboy: lose the jacket and the jock. Dave: naked.” I follow them downstairs and have them stand face to face, bodies touching, with their hands behinds their backs while I strip to boots and chaps. I take a moment to look at the pair of them: Pozboy has the height advantage, but only because he’s wearing boots. They both have dribbling hardons and are obviously resisting the urge to kiss and grind against each other. “Okay, get him in the sling.” They move quickly and within a minute or two Dave is helpless with his ass exposed. I go to the fridge and toss a small bottle over to Pozboy. “Get him well poppered up, then have some yourself – he’s going to want something in his mouth.” I immediately crouch down to taste Dave’s asshole, feeling it open up as the poppers hit. I probe around with my tongue and use my fingers to stretch his hole open so i can spit into it. It looks relaxed enough for spit to do the job, so I spit into my hand, rub it over my cock and press my cock against Dave’s asshole. Sure enough it opens eagerly and I slowly enter him. No such restraint at the other end: He’s got Pozboy’s dick in his mouth and is working hard on it while Pozboy is trying to hold his head still to facefuck him. I gesture to Pozboy to hand me the poppers and have a few belts of it. As the universe contracts to my dick in Dave’s ass I speed up, sometimes going in deep, other strokes playing around as shallow as possible, occasionally pulling out almost completely, just leaving my PA inside. I pass the bottle back “Give him some more.” I know Pozboy well enough to know that he’ll start coming on command now. Dave is squirming in the sling trying fill himself with cock. I start going for it, fucking hard and deep, feeling the orgasm build until I’m suddenly spurting deep in his guts. A nod to Pozboy and he lets go too, cumming so much that there’s a faint dribble of cum from one nostril. I’m slowly fucking my cum in deeper when Dave starts cumming spontaneously. Pozboy is there immediately to take it in his mouth. I withdraw and walk round to kiss Dave: he’s holding onto Pozboy’s cum. When Dave has stopped spurting Pozboy joins us in a three way kiss. “Go suck some of my cum out” I tell him. I unclip Dave’s wrists and he clutches at me holding my face to his as I feel him do his best to open up for Pozboy. When Dave relaxes as Pozboy moves away from his ass I indicate that he should unclip Dave’s ankles before we resume the threeway kiss, three loads mingling together not to mention Dave’s ass-juices. I break the kiss, swallowing my share of the cum and take off my boots and chaps. “I’m going to bed now. You two tidy up in here. I’m in the middle: you decide between yourselves who’s sleeping on which side. And you” pointing at Pozboy “keep your dick away from his hole...”

I was only making a joke about their nutritional content!

That's revolting! Get proper butcher's sausages: they're much better

I thought he needed a bit of a break having spent the night before being raped... I've set aside Thursday for the research

Pozdaddy 10 “Thought you might give me a wake up BJ today” “Dream on, brat – don’t you know the difference between life and acting? Though I have to admit that there were a couple of times you were slipping back to real life and trying to get revenge... I can’t believe you didn’t figure out what we were setting up: looked like the only way to get you on camera. And if it doesn’t work, you don’t get a chance for a re-take.” “Well, you can’t say I didn’t try...” and Pozboy moves down to my dick. “No time for that, much as I’d like to. We’ve got to get moving. Boots, the looser denims, no jock, t-shirt. I’ll just have a cup of tea. You can put sugar in your muesli today.” A questioning look from Pozboy as I start to get dressed... “C’mon – move it.” Breakfast over in record time, I grab a carton of juice from the fridge and we head out to the car. “Sir, what’s all the rush? Where are we going?” In answer to his question I pull up near the best tattooist’s shop in town. “Ah, no Sir... I’m not ready for that Sir” “I told you after you brought that lad home you were going to get inked since you didn’t have the manners or guts to tell him, and that is precisely what’s going to happen. Out.” And into the shop. “Hi Bill – how’s trade?” “The trade is sleeping it off and business is doing okay... So this is what’s been keeping you busy?” He eyed Pozboy up and down, pausing at his package. “So what are we doing?” I hand Bill the artwork – the same file as my own biohazard. “I’m tempted to say centre it on his asshole, but his right ass cheek will be fine.” Bill beckons us through to the studio itself. “Call me a dirty old man, but there are times I love my job. Okay, lad, drop those jeans.” He takes five minutes to prepare the artwork for transfer; I rather like the way he’s keeping Pozboy in his place. “Okay now. Stand relaxed, feet about a foot apart.” And to me “I presume you want maximum visibility...” I nod. “I think here – you?” “You’re the artist, mate...” “Hold still there and I’ll get you prepped.” The whole process only takes a minute or two. The positioning is perfect. “Okay, on the table with you and hold still. I’m going to outline it first, which feels like this” he pulls a thumbnail across Pozboy’s backside, pressing into the flesh, “only hot. Then the colour gun is no trouble at all. I could name some people who get turned on by it, but I always keep secrets...” Pozboy is resting his head on his forearms and there’s a slight jerk as Bill starts with the outline gun. I go to the head of the table and squat down looking him in the eye. “See? Not a lot to it...” “To what Sir? Oh, you mean he’s started?” Cocky little bastard. However, I’m pleased to see him get tired towards the end of the outline. The first tat is always the worst as you don’t know what to expect. Now the colour gun... I decide on a bit of positive reinforcement and move as close as I can to the top of the table. Pozboy’s mouth is just close enough that when I get my cock out he can lick at the pre-cum – Bill pauses a moment and slaps Pozboy’s other ass cheek “Keep still you little fucker”. Pozboy takes advantage of the pause to move up the table a bit so he’s got the head of my cock in his mouth while Bill finishes off with the colour gun. As Bill is dressing the tattoo, Pozboy goes to town on my dick. “For fuck’s sake, move up the table a bit or you’ll knacker it.” While Bill cleans up Pozboy is sucking me with long luxurious strokes. My balls tighten and I unload in his mouth. “Aren’t you going to say thank you to Bill for marking you?” Bill is straight round to the table end and produces a dick covered in tattoos. Pozboy pauses for a moment, looking in wonder, before diving onto it, spreading my cum over Bill’s dick. Bill’s trade from last night obviously wasn’t very good: I’ve just put my cock away and leaned over to kiss the new tattoo through the clingfilm dressing when Bill starts cumming in Pozboy’s eager mouth. I wait while Bill catches his breath. “So, fifty quid then?” “Knock a tenner off for the blow job.” “Consider it a tip.” I grin “We’re doing a new DVD: the usual, a bit of breeding, a bit of violence, a lot of piss – interested?” “Could be; especially in a few weeks when he’s healed up... Shit! I got a punter due. I don’t need to go through the aftercare routine with you do I?” “Course not... we’ll leave you to it. See you soon.” Back in the car Pozboy is having difficulty getting comfortable. “Pretend you’re having one of your sulks and turn slightly away from me. That should reduce the pressure on your cheek.” “I never believed you’d do it. Thank you Pozdaddy.” We get home and I send Pozboy off to find a tight fitting pair of shorts that will hold the dressing in place for the next hour or so, and a looser pair to wear for the rest of the day. When the hour is up we go to the bathroom where I remove the dressing and look over the tattoo: Bill’s usual excellent job. “In the shower and bend over.” I use the shower head to gently spray the tattoo and realise I haven’t got a towel to hand. “Stay there and don’t move.” I come back with an old towel and pat the tattoo dry before giving it a thin coating of nappy rash cream. “You do that four times a day for the next ten days. I’m only doing this the once. Spread ‘em...” Careful of where my hand is on his right, I pull his cheeks further apart and gaze at his asshole. Yes, there’s room to get my face in without disturbing his tattoo, as long as I remember to lean leftwards. I start by blowing gently at his hole and watch it twitch, then the gentlest of licks at it, circling the hole. I hear his breathing quicken and make a quick jab into his hole with my tongue. I can feel the increased tension in his body and I’m tempted to leave it there. What I really want to do is fuck him, but I’m not risking any damage to his ink. Instead I increase the pressure with my tongue, tasting the inside of his hole. He’s leaning against the wall, using both hands for support. I pull the right arm down as a gesture that he’s allowed to wank himself. Spitting into his ass now, and forcing the spit in with my tongue. As I feel his speed increase I pull away and push two fingers in. As his breathing changes again I add in a third finger, and soon after my little finger as well. I’m far enough into his ass that if I were going to fist him I’d be adding my thumb. Instead I hold and twist my hand back and forwards feeling the inside – one day soon I’ll get my hand in there. He starts fucking himself on my hand and with what amounts to a cry of triumph he cums, leaving streaks of semen on the wall. I withdraw my hand, and use the other to mop up some of the cum and smear it over his face, his tongue gratefully licking at my hand. “I hope you realise that that was a one off: getting rimmed is not part of tattoo care. Clean up in here and we’ll have some lunch.” I leave him to it, my dick aching to get in his hole, but knowing it’s pretty much off-limits for the next week or more. Good job the boy’s got a mouth...

Self-confidence. "I want you; I deserve you". "I don't give a fuck what people think." Physically: cropped/shaved head, facial hair, a vaguely psychotic look in the eyes, tattoos (but only symbolic/pictorial - words I start looking for the speeling mistakes). Unshaven body hair, especially his back (though I recently rimmed a guy with tenth of an inch stubble round his ass and thought that was interesting), "Getting there" muscles - perfection is intimidating! Foreskin for preference, largely because I'm uncut and therefore have a better idea of what most uncut guys like. Hairy asshole. Big thighs. Ability to piss when hard. I could go on all night

bloody amazing! Please, part 2!

Pozdaddy 9 I take it easy for the next few days, keeping an eye on Pozboy’s ass to check when it’ll be ready for the needle. I hadn’t planned taking time out from work, but it seems the best thing to do: this way I can keep the boy on a short metaphorical leash while catching up on some reading. There’s only so much make-work that can be invented to keep him busy so I set up an account on the laptop for him and import copies of the business records (except for the dodgy bits) and leave him to figure out what’s happening. He’s got a good brain when it rises above his waist and I figure he could make a good PA. I know damn fine he’s taking the odd excursion online, but he hasn’t figured out how to cover his tracks yet. So far he hasn’t gone anywhere I wouldn’t want him going, like a dating site. Nearly a week since the incident with Dave and my guess is that it’s the longest he’s stayed with one guy since his first fuck. Yeah, he’s been here for weeks, but we’ve regularly played with others as well. There’s a sudden “oh shit!” from the table where he’s sitting. “What’s the problem? Apart from the fact that you’ve figured out my password for that site? Which, by the way, is not something I approve of...” It’s Ken’s site with a full set of photos from the night Pozboy had the piss literally fucked out of him. “These photos... I didn’t give permission... he’s got no right... What the fuck are people going to think of me doing that?” I absent-mindedly cuff him across the ear for his language. “I gave permission... What happened to ‘Of course I’ll do anything you tell me Daddy’? And who gives a fuck what people think? If you look carefully I happen to be in the photos too...” “Yeah, but people know you and what you’re into...” “You, from the looks of these photos. So you wouldn’t be into the idea of doing something similar as video?” “What? You mean do porn?” “You’ve been reading the business details. Porn is in our catalogue. You don’t seem to mind living off the proceeds of porn.” I watch as his mind switches tracks from “nice people don’t do porn” to “that’d be pretty horny”. There are times when the little slut is so transparent... “Well, yeah, I suppose I could... But it would be you topping me like in the photos?” “Depends on how many scenes you end up doing. Guys don’t want the same pairings all the way through a DVD. I’ve got my favourites, but I don’t want always to see them together: the action changes with the different personalities. Look at it this way, I’m doing the DVD and I’ll probably do several scenes. Might even bottom in one and show you how it’s done...” “Sir, can I think about it a while? It’s a big step to take.” Pozboy’s way of saying ‘Yes, I’ll do it but you’re going to have to make me think you’ve pressured me into it...’ I’m back sprawled in the armchair. “And let’s go back to the beginning of the conversation: what the fuck do you think you were doing guessing my log-ins and passwords? Apart from anything else, it’s extremely poor manners. Getcha butt over here...” He comes over, unsure as to how much trouble he’s in, not knowing that I’d deliberately left my password in the browser so he’d find the site. “You can apologise by taking a bellyful...” I push my dick out of the leg of my shorts and he immediately takes it in his mouth patiently waiting for the flow to start. That’s the problem with piss-sex – sometimes it takes a moment to shift gears from “go for it” to “I just need a piss”. Soon the flow comes and he’s eagerly drinking it down like the expert he’s rapidly becoming. When I stop pissing, his tongue starts probing my piss slit as he moves into sex mode. “Later... I just needed a piss and you were closer than the toilet. Maybe I’ll see an improvement in manners?” He turns the laptop around so that I can see he’s back looking through the business records and focuses his attention on it in an Olympic-level sulk. I grin and shake my head thinking how he doesn’t know how easy it is, so to speak, to get a rise out of him. Time to turn the pressure up a bit, I think. I pick up the phone. “Ken? Hi, mate, how’s things? Oh, great... Listen, you doing anything tonight? Apart from that you dirty git! How d’you fancy picking up a Chinese meal and eating with us? You got Max with you? Brilliant! Be good to see him again. Say about seven o’clock? Use the company credit card – I’ll shove money into the account later... Erm... four of us, make it five main courses, three rice and Singapore noodles. Whatever else you think it needs. No, plenty beer here. I’ll even put some wine in to cool. Just make sure there’s a satay there! See you later then...” As I hang up the phone I can tell that every word I’ve said has been heard and is being inwardly digested. He’s bursting to give me the third degree, but won’t allow himself to ask. “Well, that’s a job saved: tell me your Daddy doesn’t have good ideas.” Silence. “Well, if you want to go to bed early... speaking of which I’m going for a lie down. Gimme a shout at six thirty. Oh, and put three bottles of chardonnay in the fridge...” I actually make it up to the bedroom before I start laughing to myself. It’s just so easy to wind the boy up. If only he’d stop and think, he’d figure out what was going on. He’s been all over the legit business stuff, seen the catalogues, and you can’t tell me he didn’t turn the sound down to watch the movie samples, if only to see what Poz(t) and Poz( meant in the filenames. I’m not even aware of having been asleep when he’s suddenly there beside me with a glass of wine in his hand, holding it out to me. “I thought you’d like a drink before company arrives, Sir.” “Good boy,” the first outright praise he’s had in days – the temperature in the room rises by a good five degrees. “You feeling okay about Ken and Max coming over?” “They’re your guests, Sir, so they’re welcome...” down a couple of degrees. “What’s worrying you now?” “Sir, still thinking about the porn idea. You’re right: I shouldn’t worry about it, but I’m not sure I want the world seeing me taking half a bucket of cum up my ass, however much I enjoy it.” “You’re flattering yourself. I don’t reckon you could hold more than a pint.” At least that raises a smile. “Get your 20 hole DMs on, and yes, I think a chest harness too.” A querying look: “I like showing you off. Besides, you’ve got competition tonight.” “You mean Ken and Max...” “An occasional long distance relationship. Once in a while Max comes over here and the pair of them fuck like there’s no tomorrow.” I pick out a pair of denim jeans that are barely holding together and a singlet in similar condition. Pozboy raises an eyebrow – I grab his collar, give it a twist and say “do I have to explain myself to you, cunt?” “No, Sir... Sorry, Sir. Just surprised me because you usually wear leathers for company” “I wear what I feel like wearing. Pass me my engineer boots.” Standing up I begin to wonder if the jeans are going to last the first half of the evening. I expect them to be destroyed later on. The doorbell rings. “Well go on...” Downstairs I’m pleased to see the table set in the dining room. Four places with chopsticks and bowls and one with plate, knife and fork. After exchanging greetings and getting drinks, we unpack the meal and I whisper quietly “bowl and chopsticks, boy: you’ve got to learn sometime.” It takes the three of us to show Pozboy how to hold the chopsticks and actually get food to his mouth, the final straw being Ken’s offer to find a dogbowl so he can eat off the floor. He suddenly catches on... After a very pleasant meal and the rest of the wine, we’re opening the beer when Ken asks “So you want to do Pozboy’s scene tonight?” Pozboy looks horrified. “Yeah... I think him and Max make a good contrast: similar builds, but Max darker and hairier. I think it’ll work.” “Sir, please, I didn’t say I was ready to be filmed taking it.” “I didn’t say you were. Remember you wondered why I was wearing these jeans? Are you ready to play rapist?” Max sits back smugly: of course Ken had outlined what he wanted to him. Pozboy looks Max over “No... me, you fucking idiot. You’re both doing me.” So outside the cellar door I get rid of my boots, while Ken adjusts the lights he’d already set up – the DVD side of the business is all single camera, one take and that’s it stuff. Live and visceral. I tie a bandana over my eyes. When Ken shouts you grab me, drag me into the cellar – don’t forget to shut the door – keep spoken communication between you to a minimum. The clothes don’t matter. Oh, and you’ll find I’m already greased up. Ready to go?” Max simply nods while Pozboy still sounds vaguely stunned.”I suppose so...” I bang once on the door and Ken shouts “okay”. I’m lifted half off my feet as they pull me into the cellar. I’m pushed to my knees and a dick is forced into my mouth. I pull away only to be hit across the head and the dick is forced into my mouth again. One of them handcuffs me and stands immediately behind me so I can’t back off from sucking cock. A belt looped around my neck so they can pass control to each other. One pushes me to the ground so I fall on the other’s boot. I recognise the sound of Pozboy’s shorts coming off and before long I’m getting fucking soaked as two streams of piss hit me. I’m hauled around so my forehead is on the ground, my ass in the air. A boot at my face “Lick it” – I do. The other is tearing at my jeans and exposes my ass. One finger, two, three in rapid succession. Max’s voice “Slut’s already greased up”. I’m pulled up by the neck and singlet which must now be in shreds. Hands reach around me and unfasten my jeans and pull them down. “One, two three...” A very familiar cock in my mouth and another in my ass at the same moment. I concentrate on sucking Pozboy’s cock since I have very slightly more control over my mouth than my ass. Fuck, I’d forgotten the size of Max’s dick... I feel control of the belt change hands and suddenly my mouth and ass are empty. They’re changing places. And they’ve got the simultaneous penetration down to a signal: I know nothing until I’m getting stuffed again. I can smell amyl and hear them both taking long pulls at it. The bottle’s at my nostril now and I inhale greedily “old whore really wants it”. While I’m doing the best I can with Max’s dick, I start milking Pozboy. Getting him close, his breathing changes and “fuck I’m gonna cum”. I feel him spraying my guts with it. Pozboy pulls out leaving a trail of cum dripping down my leg. One of them pulls me more upright and more poppers, first me then Max. Max is going wild in my ass sliding around over Pozboy’s cum while Pozboy starts working my dick by hand. The poppers are thumping in my head. I forget we’re doing a movie: all I’m aware of is the cock in my ass and the hand on my dick and the need to cum. I’m thrusting back against Max as he works himself in deeper. He slows down to cum as though he wants to make sure there isn’t a bit of my guts he doesn’t coat. Too much: I start cumming and I’m aware of a change in Pozboy’s grip on my cock. As I’m pumping it out I realise dimly that he’s collecting it in his hand. When my balls are empty I feel his wet hand dragged across my face. “Hold still. I’m going into photo mode.” Like I can move anywhere. He takes twenty, maybe thirty shots before saying “okay guys, that’s it.” The cuffs come off and I pull off the blindfold. I reach for Pozboy and kiss him, making sure to get my cum over his grinning face. “Now was that so difficult?” I reach behind me grab Max and kiss him too. “Ken, you need shots of my ass or did you get everything?” “We’ll use one of the facial shots as the cover, so I reckon that’s all.” I grab Pozboy again, still a little unsteady “you’re sucking that out later. Meanwhile, guys, I think we all left drinks upstairs...”

Jizz said: I mention this not because I think getting the message out is so difficult, but that we pretty much have to do our own public service announcements. If BZ hadn't become the chasers paradise, it would be wonderful to have banners appear occasionally reminding guys to get tested, be aware. And to NOT confuse awareness as a statement that one should not enjoy raw sex. They are not mutually exclusive (although from reactions I sometimes get, I might be lead to think that). This is something we talked about at the recent PositivelyUK conference, getting sites like Recon and Gaydar to have the occasional pop-up or banner giving the facts, the same for phone apps. Some of the online services do contact tracing in conjunction with some clinics in major cities (A system message tells you that you really ought to get in touch with your nearest clinic, I'm told. Where I live isn't densely enough populated for it to be worthwhile). Talking to younger men on the phone apps I've found some disturbing trends like 30 year olds asking "what's HIV?" - they're basically the reason why I'll be sitting on myHIV tonight as an online peer support volunteer instead of writing. The conference's basic decision was not to bother asking as the online services and phone apps feel they're going out of their altogether and to do more would detract from their revenue streams as more banners/pop-ups would put people off. It's not something I'd advocate for here simply because we have a number of guys with a wide knowledge base, both theoretical and practical, who share that knowledge willingly.

Pozdaddy 8 “Oh no, you don’t,” I say as you start to get into bed. “Back to your dog bed, pup. You’ve got a lot of work to do before you get to sleep with me again. Turn around – let me see your ass. Hmm... not too bad. Should be ready within a week. Until then you don’t leave this house alone. Understand? Remember that you made this choice. And you can end this shit by walking out now. Do that, though, and it’s final. Up to you. If you’re still here in the morning, you can wake me up usual. G‘night” I switch the light out and mull over what the little cunt has done. A sulking fit, possibly excusable by his age. Abusing my faith in him by picking up a guy. Bringing that guy into my house without my knowledge. Trying to stealth him. By rights I should put the fucker out on the street right now; instead I’m worrying about the way he’s trying to get comfortable in his dog bed after the beating he took. Thank fuck Dave stayed: I’d have really lost my temper with Pozboy if we were alone. If I’d let anger into due punishment he’d have needed hospital treatment. I could hear both Ken and Jim saying to me that I needed to watch my temper, that punishment of disobedience should be dispassionate, correcting a fault, nothing more. No: this is a lesson I’m going to have to learn alone. I spend a fitful night, waking, it seems every time Pozboy moves. I’m reasonably sure that I’m the heaviest top he’s been with, for more than one session at least. Does he realise what he’s gotten himself into, what I expect of him? Shit! I’m going to have to work out some extra chores he can do while I’m at work. How much Neatsfoot Oil is left? Yeah - oil all the restraints, cockstraps and harnesses. Something nice and fiddly he has to concentrate on. We can live comfortably enough till the end of the week on what’s in the kitchen. That’s if he decides to stay. Lock the outside doors or leave them open so he can sneak away? No: leave the doors open at standard city security... He must have the freedom to walk away. It all gets tangled into intermittent nightmares and conscious worries. Way before it ought to be morning, it seems, I feel a familiar touch on my balls as he starts what’s almost become a routine. Today I’m more aggressive with him. I’ve been awake half the night worrying about him but he doesn’t seem to have much trouble moving around. I see the odd bit of stiffness in his muscles, but nothing to make me worry. Yesterday’s wake-up call was gentle and mutual, this one is humiliation. It helps that I put my PA back in yesterday: he’s not used to sucking pierced cocks. I pull away from him and move to the side of the bed.”Round here. On the floor.” He shuffles round and kneels in front of me. I stand up, grab his head and start fucking his mouth. With each thrust I move forward a little so that he’s got no chance of playing with his dick: he needs his hands for balance. What were whimpers of pleasure yesterday are scared little grunts today. I pull away and sit on the edge of the bed, legs wide apart. A simple finger motion tells him to move closer. As he takes my cock in his mouth his hand moves to his leaking dick. “Maybe later – play with my tits.” He discovers the hardwiring between my dick and my tits as my dick hardens with every squeeze he gives them. My hands on the back of his head I’m barely giving him time to breathe. As I get closer I’m almost jumping about the bed; his hands leave my tits and grasp my hips to try and keep up with the way I’m moving. I hope to fuck he’s taken a deep breath: straining to get into his throat I start coming. “Shit yeah, swallow it, take it all, cunt, fucking hell, take it, of fuck, you little bastard” I lift his head up and look at him. He’s panting heavily and there’s a rather appealing dribble of cum in his beard that he missed swallowing. “Gently, now, clean me up...” His hands move to his dick and my voice changes “I said, maybe later.” After cleaning me up he tries to look me in the eyes, but can’t face me. “I let you down. I’m sorry Sir...” It’s not sunk in yet, but I think the message has penetrated the surface. “Go downstairs and get a small butt plug, a collar and your leather shorts.” He quickly returns. I take the butt plug, lube it, bend him over and shove it straight in. “Shorts.” Quickly around his hips and fastened. I reach into the bedside cabinet and take out a padlock which I place through the hasp of the belt. “But Sir, what if need the toilet?” “Then you’ll have to wait till I’m ready, won’t you? Collar” He hands me the plain black one. “Why this one? Some sort of subtle rejection?” “No Sir. I thought you wouldn’t want me to wear my... the Pozboy collar until I’d learned my lesson.” “So you’re beginning to think with your brain instead of your dick...” “I’m taking the day off today, and I’m starting with a cup of tea in bed.” Pozboy starts to rush for the kitchen, but the butt plug makes itself apparent and before he’s even reached the bedroom door, he’s aware that he’s going to have to take things a little slower. Five minutes later my tea arrives: he’s taken me literally and brought it in a cup and saucer. He stands beside the bed, feet apart hands behind his back. “Er... no. I’m the one having the lazy day. You’ve got your usual work to get on with. And then you’ve got a bit of extra work to be doing. Now go get your breakfast and get on with it.” “Yes, Sir”, and he walks out silently, if a little awkwardly. As I drink my tea I wonder if again if I’m pushing him too far. After all with the padlock on the shorts he can hardly cut and run. Well, only if he’s prepared to ruin the shorts. I set the tea to one side and lie back, only to fall into a doze, listening to the household noises I’ve got so used to since he moved in. I sleep for several hours and he’s there beside the bed with a tray. “Sir, lunch... and please Sir, may I be unlocked for a little while?” A very different attitude... I unlock the padlock, and he moves quickly towards the bathroom. Must be pretty urgent. “Make sure you clean out well” I call after him before turning my attention to the tray. Well, it’s a meal of sorts... I make a mental note to do some basic lessons. He returns just as I finish eating. I’m pleased to note that the padlock is back in place. A quick feel of his ass tells me the butt plug is back where it belongs. He presses back against my hand with a slight sigh. “Get your mind out of your butt – you’ve got work to do. In the bottom drawer of the chest in the cellar you’ll find an old sheet, some rags and a can of Neatsfoot oil. Spread the sheet on the floor and go round every piece of leather in there and check it for dryness. If it feels in any way dry, a little Neatsfoot on a rag and polish the oil into the leather, including the edges. Leave it out on the rag for the oil to soak in properly. Leave the jackets, jeans and chaps: I know they’re all okay. When you’ve finished come and get me so I can check your work. Got that?” “Yes, Sir. I’ll just do the washing up first. Won’t take five minutes...” He picks up the tray and is gone. I wander down to the living room, pick up the novel I started ages ago and settle down in the big armchair. After a couple of chapters the phone rings and I pick it up. “Hello Sir... erm... is that Poz?” “I’m Dave, Sir, your number was on the card you gave me and you said to let you know how things went.” Of course, Dave, the bloke Pozboy had picked up yesterday... “So how’re things, Dave?” “They did an HIV test in case I already had it and that came up negative, so they gave me pills for a month. I’ve got to go back when they’re finished for more blood tests” “And you’re feeling okay in yourself, are you?” “Fine thanks, Sir, except I feel bad about what happened yesterday...” “There’s no need to” I cut across, “he’s learning his lesson. Look, will you keep in touch and let me know what’s happening. It was my boy that caused this, so ultimately I’m responsible.” “Okay, I will do... might see you at the bar, Sir... thanks for not going off at the deep end” “It wasn’t your fault – put that thought out of your mind. Phone me as soon as you have news, or if you need to talk or anything” “Will do, Sir. Thanks... bye...” He hangs up. I try last number recall and am informed that the number is not available. Damn! I wanted to be able to check on him to make sure he was alright... Right, I’m moving the timetable up a bit. He’d better be finished or near finished. I go and get changed into boots, chaps, and jock. I consider a jacket but decide that I want my biohazard visible. In the kitchen I take a few milky looking ice-cubes from the freezer and carry them in a bowl so that the heat of my hand doesn’t melt them. I’m free of the anger I felt last night: this is just something that has to happen and it’s best I do it now. When I walk into the cellar Pozboy is checking over his work. I put the bowl in the fridge and make a cursory inspection of a few pieces. They’re acceptable. I remove the padlock from the shorts. “Get rid of the shorts and put wrist and ankle restraints on.” He hurries to obey and I force him against the St Andrew’s cross on the wall. It only takes a moment to clip the chains to the restraints. I pull the butt plug from his ass – it emerges easily, causing him no real trouble. I lube up the next size and find it goes in easily. I leave it in place while I let him see me prepare the next size up. He begins to look worried. I hold one hand under his ass “Spit!” A slight strain and it’s in my hand. I leave it on top of the fridge while I get the bowl out. I press one of the cubes against his ass and feel it melt slightly from the heat. Before long it slides in easily and he shivers against the cold. The next two follow quickly and I start working the bigger butt plug up his ass, fucking him with it, pushing in a little more each time until his ass stretches to take the plug over the edge. Next a pair of Japanese sail-clips on his nipples. Gotcha! He isn’t used to tit clamps. This is going to be a learning experience... “Do you want a blindfold?” I ask. “Do I need one Sir?” he counters. “That was a yes/no question – the decision defaults to me. Just remember I offered.” I pull out a box from the top drawer of the chest, open it and let him see the contents: wooden clothes pegs. Quickly I peg up his underarms from his pits to his elbows, then from the tit clamps to meet the other lines: he’s all but chewing his tongue to keep quiet: definitely a novice in this department. I hold a bottle of poppers under his nose, my thumb holding one nostril closed. Not such a novice: he sucks up the amyl for the five breaths I allow him. I build a fan on his scrotum and a line up his dick. Difficult to get them on his dick, it’s so hard. I hold the poppers up for him again, and with the other hand I start fucking him with the butt plug, pulling it just to the edge of where he’d spit it out. His self control gives out and he starts moaning, the cue I’ve been waiting for. The final “ice” cube goes in his mouth. I stand back to watch the expression on his face as he recognises the flavour of the cum. Fuck! I wish I’d thought to bring the camera downstairs with me. Still, it’s an intimate moment; do I really want to share it? I stand back to watch as he struggles with the pain of the pegs, remembering that it’s very probably the first time he’s had more than a gentle pair of tit clamps on. I pull on the chain of the clamps “You had enough?” He’s close to tears at this point. I allow him five more belts of amyl and say “this is going to hurt: keep the noise down”. I take the pegs of his arms so quickly that I’m halfway down his arms before the pain begins to register. By the time I’m working across to his tits he’s really working on not crying or screaming. The clamps next: as I remove each one I use the other hand to squeeze back to slow down the rush of blood that causes the pain. His dick sags as I remove the clamps and by the time I’ve cleared his scrotum he’s lost his erection completely. I unclip the restraints, ankles first then wrists, and he falls against me. I lower him to the floor and gently remove the butt plug. “Sir... I’ve never had anything done like that before...” He’s still rambling from the poppers: fuck knows he’s no virgin. His hand brushes against my jock. “Sir, please, Sir, just one more load...” I move around so that we’re both lying on our sides facing each other, his legs scissoring me. I pull my jock to one side and slide in. It’s fast and hard, his ass having been stretched all day and lubed up with so much melted cum. Even while I’m fucking him his ass is dribbling cum. His hardon is back. He starts to reach down to it but before his hand gets there he starts cumming which is all I need to see to give him his one last load. “Sir, may I ask... whose cum?” I laugh: “How the hell should I know?”

Kink is like promiscuity... Someone who's promiscuous is someone who's getting more than me. Someone who's kinky does things I wouldn't...

Pozdaddy 7 I’m slowly coming around from sleep, beginning to plan the day when I feel the slight scratches along my inner thigh and then the lips around my balls. I glance over at the alarm clock – switched off, but I’m waking bang on time. I reach down to fondle Pozboy’s beard, now beginning to look almost respectable, kept, like mine at a number two clipper setting. I raise my hips slightly and he deftly lets go of my balls and slips his tongue underneath them. Feigning sleep I roll over onto my stomach. Pozboy’s hands gently lift my hips to make my asshole that little more accessible and he goes to work on it, teasing around the hairs around it occasionally taking a dip into the forbidden territory of my ass. I’m so tempted to push against the invading tongue, but that would be tantamount to inviting his dick in and he’s not getting that. Some time in the future, maybe, but it’s way too early now. I roll over again, making as if I was just waking up, and pull his face over my dick. Being a greedy pig, with just a touch of the unsubtle about him, he lunges down taking my whole dick in one movement. I pull his head back and hold it so that he can only just reach my foreskin. As he licks the tip off my dick he whimpers and I decide to show a little mercy allowing him a little more access. This time he shows a little more finesse and starts running his tongue under my foreskin, his whimpers joined by a little judicial dribbling as though he was trying to entice the precum out of my dick. I allow him more and more access and can tell by the change in his voice that I’m leaking heavily now. He’s got the head of my dick in his mouth now his tongue wandering seemingly at random, but always quickly returning to that ultra-sensitive band just behind the head. I silently curse myself for not having replaced my PA last night – I sometimes fuck without it, just for a change. I start pushing his head further down and feel him humping mid-air: he knows he needs permission to touch himself when he’s sucking cock. I let him get about half-way down my cock before I tell him he can use one hand on his dick. There’s a mumble that might have been intended as “thank you Sir”, but I’m not taking my cock out to make him repeat it. I push his head all the way down and hold it there, just enjoying the heat of his mouth. I’m close and want to give him a chance to catch up. I feel the difference in the stroke he’s using on himself and recognise it as his holding pattern. “Okay, boy. Make me cum, but keep it in your mouth. You know what I want....” I lie back and very soon find myself thrusting up involuntarily, trying to hold back, knowing it’s useless, that Pozboy’s mouth can be a force of nature. Forcing my legs further apart while I grab his ears to hold his head still, I finish by fucking his face. “Aah shit!” and he’s quickly got a mouthful. As soon as I’m lying still he jumps up between my still-open legs and delivers his load over my balls. Immediately his mouth is over my balls, sucking up his own cum, mixing it with mine in his mouth. He moves up the bed and lies beside me. Once more holding his head I kiss him tasting our cum mingled together, tongues desperately seeking each other. I suck as much cum from his mouth as I can and pull away to spit it into his face. Only then do I allow myself to laugh, almost in triumph, as he gasps “thank you Sir”. “Go clean up and sort out breakfast.” While he does so, I have a quick shower and get dressed. It’s a warm day and I don’t plan on going out, so shorts and t-shirt will do. In the kitchen I find breakfast laid out perfectly, milk on the muesli already (I like it to go a bit soft before I eat it), And Pozboy, wearing a black jock which he knows is my favourite, is just about to pour a mug of builder’s strength tea from a pot, no less. “Now I’m suspicious: what have you done?” “Just enjoyed my first breakfast, that’s all” he grins. “Can’t a boy say thank you to his Daddy?” He finishes well before I do and busies himself washing up and clearing away. I watch keenly as he does so. When I’ve finished I call him over and tell him to stand with his back to me. I feel his right buttock and down his spine. “Nope,” I say “it’s going to have to be your arse.” “Sir?” “Your biohazard. Ideally it should be centre back but a three inch band jock is going to cover where I’d like it, so it’ll have to go on your arse.” “If you think I’m having a tattoo...” “You are. On your arse.” A warning sound to my voice, “And remember who you’re talking to!” “Yes, Sir...” He lapses into a sullen silence as he finishes clearing up the breakfast stuff and I go to the office to get the day started. As I sort orders and invoices, I can hear the housework being done, resentment in every action. I quickly tire of the racket and call him into the office. “Okay. Get dressed, plain collar, boots, black jeans black t-shirt.” I hand him the car keys, the snailmail ID card and some cash. “Go check the mail and get something in for tea. Close the study door on your way out. I don’t want to hear you till you’re in a better frame of mind.” The study door closes with a force just this side of insolence. A few minutes later I hear him leave the house. “Thank fuck for that” I think to myself as I begin to lose myself in who’s paid for what. A couple of hours later I hear the front door open and close gently and a snatch of conversation “it’s okay: it’s soundproofed...” I go upstairs and get dressed for the bars and about ten minutes later I go down to the cellar, the only soundproofed room in the house. I open the door quietly and see exactly what I expected to see: Pozboy and guy from the bar at it, so engrossed in their fucking that they don’t notice me. Fortunately it’s Pozboy doing the fucking with the other guy in the sling. I take a belt from its hook, double it over and land a good one across Pozboy’s back. He’s on his knees immediately at my boots. I look at the guy in the sling “I don’t know who the fuck you are and right now I don’t care. You have a choice right now: you can stay and watch, in which case I’ll go easy on him or you can get dressed and out of here, in which case this piece of crap will get everything that’s coming to him, plus a bit extra for picking up the sort of shit who’d walk out on him when he’s in trouble. Which?” “I... I’ll stay Sir...” “Out of the sling and kneel over there. As for you...” I break off when I realise that Pozboy isn’t wearing a collar. He doesn’t move while I fetch a plain collar, put it on him and haul him up by it. I use the sling restraint for his arms while he’s standing on the floor. “Spread your legs.” The first blow is across the backs of his thighs, just below his ass-cheeks. Each successive blow is a little higher until I reach his shoulders. I stop and look at the emergent bruises and the patches of broken skin, just beginning to bleed. Pozboy is shaking, close to tears. He’s never had a beating like that from me, and probably never from anyone else. I look over to the guy in the corner “get dressed and come here.” I don’t think I’ve seen anyone dress so quickly. “Pozboy, don’t you have something to say to your friend?” I catch the sharp intake of breath at the name “Pozboy”. “You mean he...” “Didn’t tell you. I fumble in my jacket for a pack of visiting cards and hand one to the guy: go to this clinic now, and I mean now, and ask them about PEP. They’ll give you a month’s supply of pills which may well make you feel unwell, but you know who to blame for that. I fumble in a different pocket and pull out a twenty “get a taxi: just go there. Let me know how you get on.” It seems the least I can do... He leaves fast. I untie Pozboy, and force him to look me in the eyes. “You fucking begged for it. You were after me for weeks. I couldn’t turn round without seeing your HIV-eager face pleading with me. If there’s one thing I won’t tolerate it’s stealthing. Now, upstairs. I need better light to dress those cuts. Later, over a meal I’ve made him watch me cook, I ask him “What do you want? Think carefully...” After a pause, “Sir, I want to turn the clock back to this morning. I have to find Dave and apologise to him, and hope the pills work for him. Most of all Sir, I want to earn your trust back. Be your Pozboy again...”

Pozdaddy 6 I slowly drift awake and wonder briefly about the arm slung over me and the dick pressing against my thigh. Then I remember: I’d been pleased enough with Pozboy’s behaviour last night that I let him sleep with me instead of the oversized dog bed I usually start boys off in. Fuck, but he’d been a pain: all gratitude and “are you sure you couldn’t manage once more? My ass is all wet just like you like it... or just lie there and let me suck you off? Please Sir?” All I wanted was to get some sleep so in the end I threatened him with the wrong end of his leash if he didn’t behave, something I’d certainly never do to a dog, and only when really pushed to a boy. After that he lay with his back to me while I held him. Every now and then he’d chance his luck, pushing back against me, but clever enough to know that it was my balls he needs to get wet to get the effect he wanted. Shit, I was never that much of a little cunt was I? I make a mental note to ask Ken and Jim. “C’mon you. Early start today: I need an early finish. Tea and muesli for two – and don’t make the mistake of putting sugar in the muesli again: it’s why the fruit’s there.” I need to get some work done today, so I decide to head off Pozboy at the pass, by picking out a cockstrap lined with little prickers: just enough to keep him careful of how he moves and aware of his dick (like he ever forgets about it). A small buttplug and a pair of leather shorts will keep his dirty little mind busy while he gets on with his domestic stuff. One of the advantages of working from home is that it doesn’t matter what I wear. A pair of shorts and a t-shirt, both of which have seen better days get the look of death from Pozboy as I eat breakfast. Every now and then he winces: “see what happens when you let your mind wander?” I smirk “Right, there’s a beer order needs collecting. Individual tins in the cellar fridge. Your black jeans should fit over those shorts and your can wear a shirt. Be careful in the car. Oh, and go to the deli to get party food for say ten to twelve. Samosas, spring rolls, pakoras, but no fish - you know the sort of stuff I like. Make sure the cellar’s clean – we don’t want anyone catching anything, do we? Then you can get on with the rest of the housework. I’ll be in the office – come and see me before you go out.” I leave him to sort out what order he’s going to do things: no point in shopping before ten or so. Meanwhile I get on with the email. Several routine orders, then one from Ken labelled “your new desktop” – it’s the photo of Pozboy with my dick deep inside him just as he starts to piss. Ken’s caught the look of surprise on his face perfectly, as well as the arc of piss. I pause long enough to make that picture the desktop and scan the email. Just a standard release for the rest of the images to be used on one of his sites. No problem there. A knock at the door. “Sir, may have the car keys and some money to pay... oh...” “Dunno why you’re so surprised: I think you look pretty good in it. I had him some notes and the car keys before taking out a new, plain, collar. “I thought having everyone know your name might make you a bit nervy... You’ll be polite and respectful to people, but if you get any anti-gay shit you can give them the finger if you think you can get away with it. Get yourself into trouble and you know what it’ll feel like.” To emphasise my words I grabbed at his crotch and enjoyed the sight of him wincing, unsure whether to lean into the pain, or try to escape it. The rest of the day passed normally and by eight or so I’d organised five pairs of handcuffs or restraints, five collars, and five blindfolds in the cellar. “I want you in shorts, boots, chest harness and your Pozboy collar. The next five who arrive are to strip, leaving their clothes here and you’ll take each down to the cellar where you’ll restrain, collar and blindfold them – you up to that? Put one of them in the sling and fasten the others’ collars to the support chains. Check the temperature down there and if necessary turn it up a bit. Don’t want them freezing before the others arrive...” I sit with a beer in the living room listening to the bottoms arriving at five minute intervals. At one point I’m surprised to hear him say in somewhat stroppy tones “You want me to get Pozdaddy out here to tell you? Well fuckin’ do it!” Not bad after just a few weeks: I like a boy with a bit of fire in his guts. Senior bottom or junior top, I muse to myself... but that decision is months away. Tonight I need him subservient upstairs and rampant in the cellar because his viral load must be about peaking by now. Having dealt with the last one he comes back upstairs “you’ve just about got time to put some food and drink out.” Sure enough, by the time he’s unpacked the food and plated up, the doorbell starts going and Jim and Ken arrive along with six others. Pozboy has slipped back into bottom mode as he wanders the room asking if he can be of service. He makes no sign of pain when his crotch is groped. “What do you think, then?” I ask Jim and Ken as Pozboy disappears into the kitchen for another drink for someone. “A little more trainable than you ever were.” “Yeah, but he’s got a better trainer than I ever had” “Still not learned to control that mouth, have you Poz?” “Ah, fuck off – you’re just pissed off that I found him first!” “There’s a certain truth in that – he’s doing well. I noticed the spiked cockring and not a flicker of recognition from him that I had. If you can just calm him down a bit...” Laughter... “Pozboy” I shout, “over here. Shorts off.” I check under the cockstrap and decide that he’s had enough. “Sort out a new cockstrap for yourself when we get downstairs. This party’s for you: your viral load must be about peaking. Time to breed a little.” He backs away from me a little, kneels down and kisses each of my boots in turn, then my crotch. Looking up at me, almost in tears, “thank you Pozdaddy. I hope I don’t let you down.” We all move down to the cellar. The boys are obviously aware of our arrival. “Guys, let the boy have first choice...” Pozboy goes round each of the five, tweaking nipples, pulling at ballsacs, fingering holes, before deciding where he’s starting. He kneels down to rim some spit up the lad’s hole, stands up to spit into his palm and he’s away. The other guys start inspecting what’s on offer, and being a gracious host (sometimes) I hang back, having decided to go for the one Pozboy chose. I hang around nearby with a beer, watching Pozboy strain to get as deep as he can while practically ripping the boy’s tits off. Then he moves and puts and arm around the boy’s neck and the other hand on his shoulder. Then the tension in Pozboy’s ass (I so want it at that moment, but this is Pozboy’s turn) as he makes the final few thrusts. He’s still all but shuddering as he leans over the boy and says “3.7 million, mate.” As he withdraws, I move down quickly to suck out some cum and return it to Pozboy. As our lips part I say “do what you want – it’s your party. Enjoy yourself.” I slide in over Pozboy’s cum and feel the boy trying to grip my dick. He’s all but shaking as I grip his shoulders and start to fuck Pozboy’s cum deeper. The cum already there, beginning to drip from his ass is too much. I get to the point of no return much quicker than usual and as I’m pumping cum into his arse, I copy Pozboy’s gesture “you missed out there: only 400k...” I lean back against the wall, confident the party’s going well, watching Pozboy all but race between asses. When there’s no ass available, he’s on his knees sucking cock, and another time with someone (I can’t see who) sitting on face. One by one the boys give their pre-arranged stop signal, at which point Pozboy breaks off whatever he’s doing to take them upstairs, see them dressed and out the door. When the last of them has gone I ask the room in general “well, guys, anyone for any more? I’m sure Pozboy will oblige...” Little slut’s in the sling before I’ve even finished speaking and the guys move in around him...

There's an awful lot of fun to be had "topping from the bottom"

Pozdaddy 5 “I suppose I’d better go and check on the little fucker,” I say to Ken as I finish my beer. “What did you think?” I ask as I grope Ken’s crotch. “Pretty damn good, but I’d expect that from someone I helped train...” “Yeah, I was a little shit, wasn’t I?” laughing as Ken rolls his eyes. “But face it, mate, I was worth the trouble.” That parting quip earns me a swat across the ass as I leave the bar for upstairs. The sexual attraction is still there, as well as the need to serve. I climb the stairs feeling really good about the world. A feeling that increases as I see Pozboy in the stocks taking it like I told him to. As I’d told him to, there’s cum running from his ass and even as he’s getting fucked, someone else’s boy is trying to lick up the cum. I watch for a few moments and then walk into his vision. He increases his thrusting back onto the dick inside him as he sees me. I bend over to kiss him. “Having fun, pup?” “Please Sir, it hurts... there’s so much cum in me I’m afraid of losing it. And I so need to cum myself” I don’t know the guy fucking him, but he either cums in Pozboy, or does a damn good job of faking it before pulling out and walking off. I’m behind him now and kneel down behind him. I clamp my mouth to his ass, tongue probing savouring the differing flavours of cum there. I beckon over the boy who was licking up the leaking cum and spit a load or three into his mouth “thanks for looking after my boy.” I suck out more cum from his ass and hold it in my mouth while I free him from the stocks. I replace his leash and unload a mouthful into his waiting mouth. “Don’t swallow.” For several minutes we trade the mixture of cum and ass juices between us, until I finally have what seems to be most of it in my mouth. I spit it into his face and take him downstairs to the bar. I hand him the chest harness I made him take off earlier and give him permission for another beer. He’s learning: he returns with two bottles and his face still covered in cum. I do the best I can to hide my pride in him: I don’t know how many loads he’s taken up his ass, but he’s wearing several of them on his face. He’s waited to be served, been respectful to the barman, who, of course, is used to seeing boys in that state, but Pozboy doesn’t know that. When he hands me the beer, I grab him by the back of neck and almost animalistically lick the cum from his face and then spit it into his open mouth. “Please Sir, I’m afraid I might cum...” “Well, make sure you don’t.” Holding his collar in one hand I knee him in the balls “Does that help?” “Sir, no, Sir. Makes it worse.” A pause as he takes his place between my knees. There’s obviously an inner struggle going on. I take a long swig of beer as I wait for the question he’s struggling to formulate. I’m pretty sure I know what it’s going to be. “Sir? Why do you do it to me? Humiliate me and hurt me? And why is it that I want you to do it? Even when I feel like I can’t take any more, I sneak a look at your face and you’re smiling; you’re obviously enjoying the fact that I’m in pain and that it feels good. You only have to pull a little on my tit and I’m getting hard...” Oh fuck... an explanation of the philosophy of BDSM in a loud bar. Nope. Not going there. “Just accept it.” I pull his face to my crotch so he can feel my dick. “I get off on it.” I lean down and grab his hard dick through his jock “and so do you. What’s to question?” I put my bottle to one side and unzip my fly. “Turn around and face me. Spill anything and I’ll send you back to Ken”. With his lips around my dick I have to think hard about pissing instead of fucking his face. He holds still and is soon swallowing fast: this boy is a natural... A voice whispers in my ear “you always were an evil fucker – I know what you’re up to there...” “And who taught me this little trick, Ken?” “It works, doesn’t it? Come on, finish your drinks and I’ll give you a lift home – the way his ass is leaking, any taxi is going to charge you a valeting fee.” “I know you too well, mate: What are you after?” “Just a few photos... oi! You!” accompanied by a swift kick to Pozboy’s thigh, “finish that drink: I’m giving your Dad and you a lift home.” As I place my empty bottle on the bar, Pozboy struggles to his feet – a touch of cramp, but the walk to Ken’s car will see that off. We’re halfway to the door when I realise that he’s still holding the empty bottle: “Bottle – bar... the guys are paid to run around after me, not you.” As we leave the bar I see him look longingly at the toilets. “It’s working” I think to myself as I pull him on his leash. Fifteen minutes later, Pozboy is peeling the last of the newspaper he’d sat on in the car from his ass. I feel my cock stiffen as I try to make a guess at how many loads are up there already. In the playroom I order him to strip as I change my jeans for chaps. The restraints are already hanging from the chains of the sling so it’s the work of a few moments to have him secured. Ken moves around us quietly, only the occasionally flash from his camera betraying his presence. I hold my PA against Pozboy’s ass for longer than usual to allow Ken a few more photos, then taking it very slowly I start to slide into his ass. It’s a little loose, but not so loose that he can’t clench and grip my dick. As I push further in more cum dribbles out. All the way in now and my balls are soaked in other men’s cum. Shit, I love that feeling, all the more so when I don’t know who contributed. I lean forward and quietly ask “how many?” “I don’t know Daddy: they didn’t stop. As soon as one finished another was inside me.” I try and fail to guess at the number: the most important one is about to go in. I’m riding him slowly, holding his dick loosely. The expression on his face changes to one of almost embarrassment, is a boy whose taken that much cum in one evening can feel such an emotion. I thrust in deeper and see the magic happen: first a little trickle, then as I push against his bladder the stream strengthens. He groans as I direct the stream of piss into his face. He stops fighting the urge not to piss and I point the stream into his mouth. Ken’s camera goes into overdrive. Fucking harder now, the stream slows and his dick gets harder. Each time I thrust in I’m jerking his dick harder. I hear the change of his breathing and I’m out of control, pushing in harder and deeper, feeling the slop in his ass. My balls tighten and I add to the mess in his guts. I leave his dick alone so I can grip the leg chain to keep my balance as I go for those last few thrusts. He changes from trying to grip my cock to thrashing about wildly as he cums. I rub my hand across his belly, collecting as much of his cum as I can in one movement and smear it over his face. He licks my hand, cleaning off each finger individually. I unclip the restraints: “tidy up in here and then come upstairs. You can clean me up there...”

Fuckin hell... that is hot! Your next right move, btw, is to get on a plane to Wales where I'll happily finish what Brad started

I know just what you mean: the other day I had text after text of "Please fuck me Daddy" from a poz guy in his twenties. Only lived a couple of miles away and as a gym instructor (he claimed) the mountain wouldn't prove any problem on his pushbike. As per my agreement with the village shop he had that as a location to head for (the idea being that at least one person knows he's in the village) where he'd ask directions to my house (visible from the shop) even though he had the number of my house. When he was an hour late I texted to ask where he was as the street layout in the village can be a little confusing. What I got back was "I had a better offer. Actually I'm sort of in the middle of shagging now". While his reply to my concern was incredibly rude, what sort of man answers a text in the middle of fucking anyway? I was generous, giving him overnight to text an apology. Nothing. By contrast, there's the guy I saw twice at my place, just chat both times. He's mid forties, ten years poz. During the second visit we decided that sex wasn't going to work and carried on with an air of "thank fuck that's out of the way". This was months ago and we still chat online several times a week...

Thanks guys - having such a blast writing this - all my dirty dreams together! And don't think for a moment that I'm not getting off on your reactions: do you have any idea what it does for a man to give guys a hard-on from such a distance?