bearbandit

Practically the first words I said to my landlord were "and where's your gay twin brother?" He's getting married to my best woman friend and the look she gave me...

Yep I really and truly understand where you're coming from on this, and probably agree with you much more than you think. But the problems we've had with adherence amongst PwHIV, where, yes, that adherence is probably more of an issue, is the difficulty in maintaining adherence. I think you guys taking PrEP are doing yourselves a disservice by thinking you can skip the odd dose. As JizzDump points out, it's easy enough for one missed dose to become two - hell, I've done it and I know my life depends on these drugs. Blips, whether they're unexpected infection or unexpected rises in viral load, do get back to the drug companies concerned. I want you guys to have the freedom to fuck as and when it suits you (being totally selfish!) - what I don't want is to find you sitting next to me in the queue at the HIV clinic.

And to add to Jizz's pedantry (love you really!), you're not contagious, you're infectious. Contagion implies touch, whereas infection requires a more intimate contact...

I know it's an obsession with me, but do get renal work done if nothing else. I'm meeting more and more people in the UK who've reacted badly to the tenofovir component of Truvada. If my (then) consultant had read my bloodwork properly, I'd still be able to do things like walk for more than half a mile.

While I'm aware that the half life of many ARVs is longer than the manufacturers state, I'd strongly recommend that you stick to the adherence patterns that are recommended for PwHIV, which basically means a two to four hour window. If your normal time is 10pm, you can take it after eight and before midnight. I recognise that it might be harder to keep to a routine when it's "in case", rather than essential. Try tieing your medication time to a daily life event: I rarely miss taking my ARVs (raltegravir is still a twice a day med) because I take them at the same time as my diabetes medication, and if I don't take that I feel like shit. Try setting up an alarm on your mobile phone, anything, just don't miss a dose. Please.

Just don't tell me there isn't a big furry guy with a white beard and red leathers!

Basically what Jizz said: the thing to note is that they keep changing the goalposts as the meds and tests improve. I remember when below 500 was considered undetectable. These days it's forty or fifty. I hit the ultimate target a couple of months ago when they could find no detectable virus in my blood. They don't want a clinic full of wankers so they don't ask for semen sample, which tend to lag behind blood samples. However, I don't consider myself a gifter, but I'd feel comfortable leaving my cum up anyone's ass. As for chillanarchy's question, I usually wear a 4mm gauge PA: I'm going to know well before you do if there's any damage and it's going to be too damn painful to carry on. Some guys have a problem with calcium absorption (which ultimately leads to osteopenia or even osteoporosis) and will find that they piss out any excess calcium in their system, which leads to limescale forming on the ring itself. (It can also happen if you live in an area with particularly hard water.) The answer is to have two rings, and swap them over as necessary: a night in white vinegar, followed by a fucking good rinse the next day will take care of any limescale. My only lasting experience is of captive ball rings: these need to be slightly looser than usual so you can open them with fingers instead of pliers (there you are: I'm squeamish about something!). The PA piercing is one that never actually closes. I haven't worn mine since the beginning of the year, but will need to have it stretched professionally to get my usual ring back in: I'll probably got for a horseshoe rather than a captive ball ring. just seems that bit safer...

Pozdaddy 4 “Okay, pup,” I love the way you bristle at that insult “Friday night and I feel like a beer. jock, chaps, boots, chest harness and bring me that new collar.” He’s back within five minutes and kneels in front of me holding the dollar out like it’s some sort of offering. Well, of course it fucking is: It’s his surrender of his safety, maybe his life to me... When I had it made for him, I didn’t bother with the ready made “dog “ or “pup” letterings: This one has his full name “Pozboy”. As I put it on him, I see his dick push out of his jock nicely and run my hand over his face: the stubble is coming along well. I get changed myself: it’s Pozboy’s first night out with me so I go for understated: boots, leather jeans, vest and kepi (never got on with Muir caps). I know it’s Pozboy they’re going to be looking at, not me, even if they have to look at me to ask permission to use him. We’re just about to leave for The Anvil when I surprise him. Just before we leave the house I attach his leash to his collar. The cheeky little bastard rubs his jock against my leg as I fasten it to his collar. Don’t worry Pozboy – I won’t forget who your Daddy is... The taxi is on time and as we get in I hand him a roll of notes, “I don’t carry money: tip the driver as you see fit and keep the notes safe. Inside your boot is a good choice. I drink Newcastle Brown; you may choose whatever beer you like. But if I smell spirits on your breath...” I leave the sentence hanging as we get out of the car and Pozboy pays the driver, tipping him the remainder of the note. Damn! I meant that to get uncomfortable for him... I pick up his leash and we enter the bar; at least the door charge fills an entire note. The doorman smirks at me and I wink back: I know how he’s going to be spending his break time. We walk through to the bar, where I tighten my grip on Pozboy’s leash as a reminder. He’s unphased by this and politely pushes his way to the bar itself. He catches the eye of other customers more because he doesn’t stink of aftershave than for his looks: I have good taste. He requests two bottles of Newcastle Brown and very correctly refuses glasses, handing one to me before his own gets anywhere near his mouth. “How do we say ‘thank you’ pup?” Within seconds, he’s on his knees, arsehole exposed as he kisses my dick through my jeans. I give him the nod and as he stands up say in quiet voice, quiet, but meant to be over heard, “I hope that arsehole of yours is ready for tonight: Pup you’re going to earn those drinks.” Again that slight wince at the word “pup”. Once more, boy, once more.... The bar itself forms an oval island in the middle of the room. Years of drinking here, and before that, years of working up from collecting glasses to be head barman, mean that I know exactly where to stand for tonight’s piece of theatre. The entrance to the bar is up one corner, so everyone glances up the one side of the bar before moving round to the other. I’m leaning against a post at the corner before the second long side of the bar with my legs spread so Pozboy can kneel between them. With each mouthful of beer he takes he licks at my crotch. I know what the dirty little fucker is up to: it’s a different place on my leathers each time and he’s showing off his muscle, which I have to admit has improved. It’s not long before an old friend comes up to me. “A new pet, Poz?” I was the first of my group of friends to test and adopted the nickname as a sign of defiance, much the way we wear our biohazard tattoos today. “Yeah, cute little puppy, isn’t he?” “Hmm... Pozboy, huh? You do the job yourself?” “Yeah, took first time as well.” Pozboy is obviously eavesdropping on the conversation despite the background blare of the music. It’s pretty early so the bar isn’t as full as it’ll get later. “You! Twenty press-ups now!” “Still doesn’t know his place yet, though, so I’m erm... loaning him out to guys with other specialities than mine.” At that last remark I gently fondle the whip Ken always has hanging at his left hip. “I think the cross upstairs is still free....You interested? Mind if I watch?” Pozboy is getting faster: the twenty finished, he’s lying on the floor as if ready to start again. Casually I place a boot on his back and continue talking to Ken: “I don’t think he’s been whipped before so go easy on him to start with: remember what a little sod I was?” We both grin at the memory: I didn’t know whether I hated Ken more at the time or my body’s response to his whip. “And do feel free to fuck him... I want a nice slippery ride when I get him home tonight” I hand Pozboy’s leash to Ken and kick Pozboy in the ribs “a new learning experience for you...” I follow Ken and Pozboy upstairs and the St Andrews cross is indeed free. I stand in front of Pozboy and reassure him that nothing will happen that I haven’t been through as I remove his chest harness to expose that beautiful back. Meanwhile Ken has secured Pozboy’s wrists high and wide to show his back to its best advantage. “This guy’s good. Look me in the eyes and know I wouldn’t let incompetents touch you.” I grasp his nipples as the first blow lands. He jerks forwards with the pain, I grin at Ken over Pozboy’s shoulder while I squeeze Pozboy’s tits. He relaxes slightly and I simply nod to Ken. He knows how I like to do these things: he starts up a moderately irregular painful whipping, while I kneel in front of my boy (my boy!). I pull his jock to one side and take his full dick in my mouth, forever associating the whip and sexual pleasure. Again, Ken proves his mastery with the whip by leaving Pozboy wanting just that little bit more as he roughly fingers Pozboy’s hole. “First today, huh?” He spits in his hand and lubes his dick, knowing that Pozboy can take it. Poor bastard: Ken is a perfect example of “short and thick does the trick.” I step away to enjoy the pain on Pozboy’s face turn to total pleasure as his arse gets used to Ken’s unusual thickness. He’s almost screaming when I see Ken go into “gotta cum now” mode. I move in close and grab his tits (mental note to self: get him to a piercer) while I try to silence his screams by kissing him. I’ve got one thigh forward to feel his hardon, while I release one tit to hold the back of his head and pull him closer: the closer Ken is to coming the rougher he gets. As Ken comes, he bites at the back of Pozboy’s neck; with Pozboy humping my thigh and the incessant force of Pozboy’s mouth on mine, I’m in danger of coming myself. But not yet. Instead, we release him from the cross and put him in the stocks. “Going to be good for Daddy?” A muted nod. “I’m going for a drink with Ken; you’re staying here to offer your ass to whoever wants it. Any trouble, yell for me. Otherwise, I’ll see you in... oh, how long does a beer take? I expect to see the cum running out of you...”

The proctologist said I was her first patient to ask for poppers...

The doorbell rings. I look down at Pozboy who’s as naked as the day he was born (perhaps a few more bruises, though). “Put a cockring on before you answer it”. His dick swells nicely as he struggles to get his balls through the ring. He returns with Jim, shyly holding his hands over his cock and balls. Jim and I kiss deeply and as ever I savour his heavy beard, the smell of him, a man who needs to rut and soon. “Oi! What’s this shrinking virgin act? Didn’t you learn anything?” Immediately Pozboy grasps his hands behind his back, with his feet 12 inches apart. “Sorry, Jim, his first time... poor lad’s still a bit shy. Hasn’t figured out he’s his Daddy’s whore yet. Been trying to fuck some sense into him, but you know how it goes... Come have a look, see what you think” Jim walks round Pozboy, who’s not risking anything, staring straight ahead. I see his dick stiffen when Jim pulls on his balls – he’s always liked a bit of CBT, has Jim. Now behind him, a single finger up Pozboy’s arse. Jim sucks on the finger “same brand as ever, mate” he smiles. His finger now clean of the oil, Jim takes Pozboy’s tits in hand. I’m proud to see how he’s learned, his dick rising higher the tighter Jim works them. “Fuck you, Jim, I’m getting horny just watching...” “Nothing in the rulebook that says the whoremaster can’t join in.” I treasure the memories of the few times Jim and I have fucked as equals. H e trained me: part of me is his. I look at the contrast between the smoothly muscled Pozboy and Jim, older than either of us, dark, hairy, solid. “Fuck it,” I think, “let’s have a night of firsts...” Jim and I have never shared a boy before never really gone further than a mutual wank over some porn. “Oi! Pozboy! Stop your dribbling there. Head between my knees so Jim can look at your arsehole.” Maybe I know Jim too well: within ten seconds Jim’s tongue is feeling around the outside of Pozboy’s arsehole. Pozboy himself lurches forward and is nuzzling at my hardon. “You little cunt... tonight you belong to Daddy Jim. Ask his permission first – he might have other uses for your gob. Tonight I’m just his guest” I feel more than hear Pozboy’s request to get into my jeans and recognise with a smile Jim’s old mindfuck of a slap across Pozboy’s arse: does Jim mean yes or no? I watch Pozboy and see the same confusion that must have run across my face when I first knew Jim, well, he was Daddy Jim in those days... Pozboy plays it safe and doesn’t do anything, unsure of how the balance of power has shifted. He looks to me for an answer which he doesn’t get. Jim has backed off and is getting rid of his clothes. All these years and still he does it for me: one word from him and I’d be arse up in the air begging for his dick. But it’s Pozboy’s night, as he discovers when Jim’s belt lands across his arse. “Get your mouth round his dick now; the longer it takes the more difficult I’m going to make it...” I hear the tell-tale sound of Jim’s handcuffs: Pozboy is not going to have an easy time... I relax back (even Daddies need Daddies) and let Jim run things his way. Pozboy isn’t fast enough and is duly cuffed. I get harder at the sound of Jim’s belt across Pozboy’s arse. I have a rare burst of obvious sympathy and get my jeans off. Jim’s reverted to being Daddy Jim and hauls my vest off. Suddenly it’s the old days again as I see his dick standing out from all that hair. Pozboy is on my dick, just like I trained him. I hold him with my legs while I lean forward to suck my Daddy’s cock. He holds my head in his hands, leans over and whispers so that Pozboy can’t hear “you never forget, do you?” I can only answer by moaning and taking Jim as far in as I can. I remember the hell the man put me through when training me: pain, mindfucks, celibacy... Jim pulls away from me and nods down at Pozboy. I know what he’s after: he’s going to wreck that boy’s hole and doesn’t want me hurt in the process. I stand up, holding Pozboy’s body between my legs as he starts working on the eager butt before him. I lean forward and kiss Jim, gently at first then with increasing passion and urgency as I feel his body tense, preparing to cum. Then the shudder, the almost incessant pumping as he releases his cum into Pozboy’s arse. I suddenly realise that it’s the first time I’ve seen him cum from this point of view: the panting, the tremors, the sweat sticking his fur to his flesh. “A big one?” He nods. As I move down to Pozboy’s hole he steps back and I start working on his arse, sucking out Jim’s cum, tasting Pozboy’s arse juices, even noting a hint of olive oil. I stand up and kiss Jim who takes almost the entire load from my mouth. Together we pull up Pozboy and join in a threeway kiss, Jim’s cum and Pozboy’s arse juices, going from mouth to mouth. Jim starts getting dressed and I look down at Pozboy. Like Jim I’ve got cum and arse juice in my beard, but who gives a fuck? “Good advertising, lad: the word’ll soon spread that I’ve got a good little whore here. Except I haven’t cum myself yet. Gonna do something about that?”

Jizz, I'm just going with the flow: If it seems like a good idea, I go along with it. I've given up on what's "right" and ""proper". Back to being an old hippy: if it feels right do it. Hence I'm sitting here at 6.30 in the morning, confusing Welsh and English prepositions (!) to answer you. As you say, HIV is more survivable than ever, and I'm probably the longest survivor in Wales. We're not the biggest of nations, but it's an achievement, nevertheless. Life in the old pig yet! And if you want to see a video of a blood wank, gimme a couple of weeks to recover from this one and get your butt (might even get mine in return) and film it yourself, you fucking pervert

I’ve been lying awake for the past couple of hours trying to answer the question “Why? Why have I moved from a previously let’s limit the the damage to a what the fuck stance?” It’s a major turn around for me, as pointed out by my nameless correspondent – should he choose to reveal him himself, I have no objection – just feel it’s his choice.. Pozdaddy (excuse the expression) came into my head a few days ago, maybe the result of the stories of you guys who know where you got it from. I think Pozdaddy is loosely based on me, while Pozboy is me thirty years ago, but living in today’s world. A new element to “go fuck yourself”. But then Stuart and I looked so much aloke that despite the eleven year age difference, we were often asked by smartarses if we were merely fraternal twins than identical twins. Stuart died in 1992 and John in 2007 (both with advanced HIV disease) – I know neither of them would approve of what I’m doing today. Hell, I wouldn’t have approved of me a couple of years ago. With Pozdaddy I wanted to explore the idea of giftgiving. I’ve written a third episode which I’ll post maybe tomorrow. Ask me nicely and I’ll expand the series . Pozdaddy grew out of the idea that although thirty plus years positive, I achieved a viral load of zero recently, underlining for me that this is a survivable illness. I’m far more like to have a heart attack than an obscure pneumonia. I know you want to read about what sort of sex we’ve all been having so I’m keeping this brief, but I’ve got one hell of bruise on my dick where my onlne Daddy ordered to wank using my own blood as as lube. I’ll never look at diabetes lancets in the same way again

I scared myself writing Pozdaddy. It was an experiment in a genre of porn I've not written before. I've always either kept it safe or imagined HIV away, but it's central to the story (if you guys like it enough, the series). And, yes, I had a major hardon when Pozdaddy knocked Pozboy up...

No myth according to the anatomical drawings of the poster on the ward. First penetration is a bit of a fright (which scares a lot of people off colonoscopies), but done sexually with hand or anal probe (or dick if you can find one long enough!) one hell of a bloody rush!!

“I need to see my Pozdaddy soon...” Last words I heard from you – you were going through fuck flu and of course you felt like shit – most of us do. Yeah, I’m sneaky – I used dialback to get your number, so I know where you are, but the important thing is you get in touch with me. You’ve got to want your Pozdaddy: the urge has to grip your balls and pull you to me. I read, I watch porn, and always the phone is on my mind. Changing my email was deliberate. I didn’t want a day by day account of your fuck flu or to hear that you regretted taking that load up your ass. Passive aggression through email is so much easier than over the phone. I don’t tolerate it. Eventually, the phone rings: “Daddy, my Pozdaddy... can I talk to you?” I’ve been worried and only one of my boys have I given that name to, so naturally I say “yes”. The phone goes dead and the doorbell rings: there you are on my doorstep, fuck knows how far from home. From the moment I bred you I had a responsibility to my pozboy. I hide the pleasure in my face as I lead you to the living room where you became my boy. I sit down and you automatically sit between my open legs. You half roll around and bury your face in my crotch “If you knew how much I’ve wanted to be here again” “I’ve been so scared” “That’s why I kept asking you if you really wanted it” “Sir, yes... I did and I do. I’ve learned that it’s not the easiest way to live, but it’s right for me. They say I don’t need meds yet. But I can’t stop thinking that anyone I fuck could get it.” “The obvious answer to that is to keep it in your pants. Or you could wrap it, though personally I’d prefer celibacy...” “Celibacy? No fuckin’ –that one hurt Sir, sorry I forgot... Was going to say ‘no way’” “So you need to meet other poz guys... A talent for sucking it up like yours shouldn’t go to waste. I know what you’re like as a bottom – I’m a sexual opportunist: you’re going to give me the best fuck of my life. After all, if I’m going to whore you out I need to know what I’m giving my mates. And don’t worry: I’m flexible – all my mates know I give and take...” You turn round to stare at me in disbelief: “Yes, Pozdaddy likes it up the ass as well. A lot of fun, but I also need to know that you can fuck, and believe me, I’m a connoisseur...” I lie on the floor in front of you, pull vest and jeans off (all I’m wearing) “if you don’t shut that mouth, I’ll have to fuck it. Get your fucking clothes off: you’ve got me swimming inside you: I want you doing the same.” I lie back and watch the feast of a muscled guy taking his time getting his kit off. Shame there’s not much body hair, but he’s young yet. He slowly, impudently, takes my dick in his mouth: I surrender my control. He lifts me legs over my head and I can feel his cock pressing against my ass. Almost as an afterthought, he pours olive oil over his dick and my ass, then pushes in. I don’t usually like being restrained but when he grabs my wrists, it feels right. As does the naked cock in my ass. I do the best I can to wrap my legs around him as he pounds at my hole. He closes his eyes, off in his own world as I feel him spurting his DNA into me, even as he returns some of mine. The image, the muscles, the idea. All too much for me and I cum spontaneously, clamping my ass muscles around his dick as though I were trying to pull more of his cum from him. He collapses over me and I enjoy the weight of the man lying on me, the smell of our cum and our sweat. My pozboy: a relationship we’ll never lose, bound by our own DNA. We each know what the other needs... I pick up the phone “Hey Jim? Remember that cute lad I met a couple of months ago? Turns out I pozzed him: just had a refresher myself. Fucks as well as he takes it... And really into older guys: wants to be whored out...” Pozboy’s smile at our brief conversation needs to be seen to be believed. Fuck, but I’ve got a pig on my hands...

The second sphincter is there all right... can be a bit painful to get through, but it's possible... I had a doctor prepping me for a colonoscopy last year and he described the process as though I was straight. He got to the bit about the second sphincter (which, since I was on a GI ward, was clearly visible on the informational posters) at which point I said "well, so far you haven't told me anything I haven't done for fun"... His reply? "Too much information" and what would have been a lovely blush if he hadn't been such an ugly fucker.

Only (semi) taboo word for me is "cunt". I have a shitter, a shithole, a hole, Daddy's fuckhole, I don't have a cunt. But as a term of abuse, calling someone a cunt, being called a cunt, bring it on... I've always made a distinction between the rather nasty term for a woman's vagina and what I see as a term of affection between men, especially men in the BDSM community.

And just to brag: the tat is healing beautifully. Within five days of its being done was much admired at the PositivelyUK conference. My first time under the needle in twenty years (each and every tat while I knew I was poz) and this one is healing better than any of the others. What I didn't say in my previous post is that the way to hide the effects of lipodystrophy is to use an exercise regime that emphasises the upper body: the muscle you build distracts from the extra fat. (Women have a built in advantage as the fat tends to go to the bust.) Before I got sick last year I was following an exercise programme written for me by an expert and had bloody brilliant results from it - you know you're doing well when a straight woman asks what have you been doing and can you show my husband... Even though I lost so much weight when I was ill, some of it has remembered it was muscle and has re-built accordingly, so I don't anticipate many problems re-gaining lost ground. A change of routine, yes, because the lipo now means I walk on bone, which is where the exercise bike comes in as a warm up. Nothing's predictable: all I can do is with you luck...

Total agreement here: I read a number of studies as part of my voluntary work and they way facts are cherry-picked. Absolute adherence to the prescription is vital: no "I've got flu and won't be getting laid for the next week so why bother?" It's difficult enough for those of us on HAART to adhere to the prescription. I can't imagine how much more difficult it must be to take it "just in case".

Well I still feel the need to apologise, so tough shit! You have no idea of the relief it gives me to hear someone else refer to "HIV unknown" - you simply can't prove a negative! I wrote my first giftgiving bit of fiction yesterday (Pozdaddy) and all through it is the question "do you really want this?". I admit that as a pozman I was immensely turned on by writing the story, even though I've never tried before to eroticise HIV. And I'm with you on rape/deception being the only reason for HIV's presence in a courtroom...

Naturally - thank you - I'm all for the expression of fucking in art of whatever form!

And my apologies to you: The drugs that were available in the late nineties or so had a strong propensity for causing diabetes, and I freely admit I wish I hadn't taken the bastards and am somewhat oversensitive about the subject. When a diabetes doctor sayd "it's easy enough to cope with: just think of it as being like having HIV..." Sorry, man, I didn't mean to fly off the handle...

I was at the PositivelyUK conference this weekend, and we noted that the only UK celebrities to have come out as HIV+ did so when their careers were going down the pan, or they were about to die. Our feeling was that a poz celebrity who was willing to get involved would be wonderful. Elton John has given an awful lot of money to help us, for which I'm very grateful, but he ain't one of us... Other thing I'd like to point out as someone with diabetes is that we are very open to infections and physical problems that make amputations necessary. Your remarks, dshanebb were really quite unnecessary, especially as metabolic diseases such as diabetes are becoming more and more part of life with HIV.

“Okay, boy, you sure you want this?” You’re on your back in my living room. This isn’t a rhetorical question: I need to know that you’re absolutely certain you want my DNA up your butt, that you’ve made the right choice in asking me to be your pozdaddy. You’re naked, not because I want particularly to look, but because your dick shrinks a little when you lie. “Why? It’s given me hell. The drugs have damn near killed me, let alone the infections” “But Sir, you’re free: you don’t ever have to worry about it again” “True, but I can call up a list of other diseases I have to be careful about...” “If I get the big one out of the way and deal with it, what the fuck – ouch...” “Told you you’d get a kicking if you cuss without permission... carry on...” “What’s left to worry about?” “Well there’s gonnorhoea, chlamydia, syphilis, the various hepatitises, herpes, you name it. HIV isn’t the only player in town” “Why me? Why d’you want me for your pozdaddy?” “SIr, you’re horny, you’ve lasted a long time in this game. I’ve heard nothing bad about you: you’re always good to your boys, even when they’ve been, may I say it Sir? shits .” “Okay, you realise that if I fuck you, you’ve got 72 hours to scream and shout in a pharmacy or A&E room to get PEP? And you’re doing that alone because you signed that little bit of paper saying that you were fully aware of the situation and you entered into it with your eyes and legs open?” I lean back in my chair and beckon you towards me. I open my legs to let you in closer: I want to feel this body before me. You so desperately want my virus, something that may well kill you. I can’t justify my actions: I can only hope that the drugs are kind to you. You’ve gone through all my questions about why you want it without fault, spotting the false logic questions. I rub your face across my crotch, feel my dick quickening at your breath through the denim. I push you back briefly while I take my vest off, but you lunge forwards as soon as a pierced nipple is exposed, your other hand groping for my other tit. Fuck, but they’re hardwired to my dick... Fastest way to get me hard is to chew on a nipple – either one. They’re equal opportunity sluts. Ah, fuckit, you’re getting it, kid... I pull my vest off and note approvingly that each of my boots is licked appropriately before being set aside. I watch approvingly as you pull down my jeans and replace my boots so I’m wearing jock and boots, my favourite way of starting sex. I pull your head over my jock so you can feel my hardon and start cleaning my boots. I don’t care how old fashioned it is: I love the submission of a boy on my boots... Boots look clean, come up and taste the precum leaking through my jock. There’s a bottle of oil next to you: I catch your vague shock at this: “Where we’re going I like oil – no condoms remember?”I lean back and watch you struggling to get my cock out of my jock with just your mouth, while at the same time getting yourself oiled up ready for Daddy’s dick. I can see what almost amounts to alarm in your face. I hold you and remind you it’s what you’ve told me you’ve wanted through all those emails. You can still get dressed and walk out the door. Naked, now, but for my boots, I lie on the floor. I can see the oil dripping from your ass, a symbol of your desire. Anything that happens now is your decision: fuck, but I want to get into your ass, but you have to make that decision, to take that chance. I feel you running oil over my cock as you straddle me. Are you really going to be my pozboy? I love the ease and slipperiness of oil (it’s a private joke with myself always to use extra virgin olive oil). Ah, shit, man, in a few seconds you’ve moved from being a boy to a man, the feeling of your ass around my dick.. The open joy on your face as you take my entire dick inside you, the way you work your muscles to milk me. You cum, prematurely I think, it’s such an emotional experience, but keep working on me until I can’t hold it back however much I want to. I give in, feeling each spasm squirting more and more of my cum into you. When I finally relax, you lean over, my dick still in you, and whisper the words “my Pozdaddy”... A few weeks later I get the phone call: “You did it Sir: right now I feel like shit, but I need to see my Pozdaddy soon...”