bearbandit

Also, check how the unprescribed drug reacts with the prescribed drugs. Ten to fifteen years ago it was discovered that ecstacy and ritonavir didn't play nicely together and the makers of ritonavir refused to put this on their patient information sheets as ecstacy was illegal. A nameless pharmacist recommended that when I came to enjoy my xmas present (£25 worth of coke - this was in the nineties), I should take much less that usual and build up from there. With luck there'd be enough left at the end for a good one. The problem is that many HIV drugs and non-prescribed drugs use the same pathway to get out of the body and ritonavir pre-empts the others. Check what friends are taking without problem and if you're going to party, too little is better than too much.

The exception that proves the rules ;-)

I was recently messaged by a guy in his early twenties (I'm 56) on a site where my profile clearly says 35+. (His profile said <40 and his photos looked like a teenager: definite turnoff for me.) I wrote back and saying "thanks but no thanks" citing the age thing as the reason. "Oh, it's alright, I don't mind..." he said in reply. "You mightn't, but I do - gimme a shout in ten years or so"... It's a long time since I've seen a hissy fit like the one he threw: "You should be grateful..." That profile might say 35+, but even 35 feels like cradle snatching: I much prefer men around my own age.

Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herpes isn't too bad on herpes (you only need read the Treatment section) - what it says certainly accords with my experience (an outbreak that lasted long enough to give me an aids diagnosis in the early nineties). I never tried the topical anaesthetics, but give them a go. You should be on one of the antivirals mentioned in the Wiki article. If you can't get a prescription today/tomorrow, over-the-counter cold-sore cream which contains acyclovir should give some relief. There's not much I can add: you're already developing techniques to take the pressure off (literally and figuratively). You have all my sympathy. Just focus on the fact that it will stop and the next week or so is a time you just have to get through. Before long it'll be just a horrible memory - and, yes, your libido will come back ;-) just take it easy to start with...

True, the blue line goes backwards, but if you correct what seems to be an artistic flourish, it's accurate. THT have a problem with many of their websites as they outsource them and even a simple graphic correction like this can take several months "because it's the web company's job" - be assured corrections and graphics are a long standing argument between me and them.

It all depends on him and what he's into - I've already made my choices and am just hoping I've made the right ones in this instance. Some guys say "Boss" to me, while with others it's "say Boss", if that makes sense (and if it doesn't, tough!). Topper should definitely consider a trip to Wales...

Make friends with your mouse: the curve is lower down the page... Pre-treatment, it's the viral load that has to be watched. It's the fall in CD4 that comes into play after treatment has started

Personally I'm quite fond of grapeseed oil (good for stir frying too). And it doesn't cost a lot.

Why would an 21st century doctor, who you'd expect to be up with the latest terminology be using a phrase like "full blown aids"? It's either aids or it isn't. And even "aids" is falling out of favour with advanced HIV disease being the preferred and more accurate term.

No, I plan an evening, take the V at about seven o'clock. You get the fucking of a lifetime (I can't cum for the first eight hours or so of V). Three, four o'clock in the morning, there is nothing more important than to get up your arse, feel your dick cumming and once you've come, cum deep inside you... Not many guys can cope with the time difference - make the most of those who can..

When we put in a sling, years ago, we used 4"x4" wood as a frame, the advantage being that you can try different positions for the hooks.

Thank you! I was beginnning to think that my memory was really fucked because I don't remember doing any special cleaning out before a night out. Maybe it was a wholefood diet that removed the necessity for cleaning out, coupled with not bothering to eat during the day. I have distinct memories of cleaning off dicks, or making him clean me up if it got shitty. As the prison movie/novel(?) has it " shit in my dick or shit on my blade". As well as "how cleaned out do you like" (remembering some guys like a bit of shit there), there's the question of how recently showered? Fresh from the shower? showered that morning? didn't shower at all? Some guys like it differently from others - live with it

This has been all over the UK press the past few days (I know because one paper uses a different colour sets for the for photo). It's definitely up there with the bright ideas that I wish I had a penny for but I don't see it working as well as they hope. Once the virus is liberated from its hiding places it has to be eradicated in pretty short order before it starts reproducing again. When I say eradicated I mean that the total virus is reduced to at least less than an infectious dose and then, presumably a month, or more, of PEP. For those of us who had our passenger (plucks number) twenty years or more the virus may have more hiding places than we know about. There was a saying in the nineties that your immune system was only as strong as your lowest CD4 count. If that turns out to be true, the treatment could be worse than the illness with guys going from good health to having PCP, KS, all the disease we stopped working on because there was no need. I think we're at a stage where we're learning more about HIV than ever before. I think this one gets chucked onto the knowledge pile with the rest: it may work for some recently infected individuals, but as I've been reading the story, it won't do much for those of us who'e had it for a long time. I share rawTOP's sense of unreality on this one and venture to guess I've been around the block a few more times and have seeen a few more more scams and failures. As for the second question, that's what we did in the seventies. Part of my argument for barebacking is that it's now essentially an STI, though incurable but controllable. When I worked at Gay Switchboard (London), our advice then was that if you weren't monogamous - and who was? - then visit the clinic every three months to make sure all you had to pass on was cum. So guys are going to be catching and re-catching HIV, and for a few, this is going to mean ARVs: name me a medical procedure or illness whose cure is 100%. It's been an extraordinary year of progress with HIV, but what we have to remember is that , for the most part, these treatments are first stepping stones. But at least we can see the fucking stepping stones!

Ok, I'm jealous ;-) It was basically as intense and experience as he could organise for you. It takes time to come down from that sort of intensity. Days, week, even months. A key sentence in what you say is "I felt like a whore and I was smiling inside." He gave you exactly what you wanted and you've got enough inhibition to feel that you shouldn't have done it. Perhaps it was exactly what he wanted (I should find such a man) I'm reminded of the days when John and I were a three-way and sex with all three of us carried a very different emotional balance to when it was just John and I, the original couple. Same thing when we ran sex parties before the law changed and legalised them. John or Steve acted as doormen and hosts - my job was in the playroom. We never wrote ot anywhere around the playroom door, but the ethos of our playroom was "abandon all disbelief" - A combination of what happens in here stays in here and, beyond orders, the only language used was the occasional stopword. To my mind what you so eloquently described above happened in "playroom space" not the real world. His teasing about your birthday is likely looking for signs of "did he enjoy it - can we do it again?" Try and place it there: not a part of the real world, it now only exists in your memory and the memories of some 47 guys. I'd take his enthusiasm seriously: John used to love watching me get fucked/tortured and it never bothered our 1-1 sex life. Did I say I was jealous? ;-)

It's a range of different court sentences different: I haven't seen an HIV transmission case go to court in the UK that hasn't involved a several year prison sentence. (I think that's the sort of answer your rather confused question seem to be asking). As long as the law is looking at what I'm doing sexually I'm not going to give them grounds to object beyond their usual homophobia. If they display that it'll be the subject of a complaint; and when I've needed police help and they gone that extra mile to help I've made damn sure their boss knows they've done it too. Because for some of us HIV is simply an STI that doesn't go away. We didn't look for it. Quite possibly you weren't alive when we caught it. Everything points to my getting HIV in 1980 before we knew GRIDS, as it then was, was caused by a virus. You speak as through getting HIV is a choice. There are circumstances when it isn't. A group of substance users down to their last needle debating who's going to get most needle from the exchange. Inadequate medication leads to a mother giving birth to an HIV+ child. A single guy is raped (put your fantasies away - I'm talking no way out will they kill me gut cramping bowels loosening terror rape) and gets HIV out of that encounter. It strikes me that you'd benefit from attending a few support groups about HIV (I get this impression that you've only recently seroconverted) and you could do with doing some serious reading about HIV: there's a lot of life between a sexily sloppy asshole and death, or even a 100% cure.

I would - but I thought fishing for compliments was against the rules ;-)

Just a couple of possibilities: maybe the top had a thing about drinking his own cum and was embarrassed about it. Perhaps your friend was a lousy lay, as far as that particular guy was concerned. A lot of us here do care about HIV status and do the best we can to avoid passing HIV on as though it's all our responsibility. It isn't: responsibility is a two way street. For me raw sex means saying "no" to guys who've recently tested negative. If they want to get pozzed up, someone else can do it, I'm not going to. Again, just an idea, but maybe the time you spent taking it out on us, you could have given to your friend, checking out support organisations and so on. Many of us here have walked the road your friend is walking now (one reason why I have no decision to pass this on). Please don't tell me to keep it consensual in every way: it's patronising as hell to be told I can't tell the difference between a real life and a fantasy. You want the big laugh? I'm on this planet because my mom stealthed my dad in 1956 by taking a pin to his condom supply...

Remember that the scale for logging viral load is logarithmic, hence 2x1m is 20 and 3x10 is 30. Remember too that "undetectable" means how expensive is your VL analyser? I've seen the barrier for undetectable go from 500, to 400, to 250, to 100, to 50 (note that the highest of those numbers is only double the smallest). My hospital has changed labs - it outsources certain labwork - and undetectable is now 70 as opposed to 50. When you get down to such small numbers you're essentially talking about the annual angels's pinhead ball.

I wouldn't say that it's humiliating, more that it's just convenient, not having to get through crowds to get to the toilets. What's humiliating is to make him kneel down next to the urinals and take it then, or offer him around after you've drained your bladder. He might be able to hold one bladderful till you get him home, but he won't manage multiple bladderfuls...

Saw an ad for it in the UK and wondered if they knew what they were advertising. I thought it was just a cultural misunderstanding, but for it to have crossed the Atlantic... Years ago in Australia I couldn't bring myself to buy sticky tape (Durex) or a particular brand of margarine (Coon)...

I'm standing on your doorstep listening to you get the dog away from the door, wondering to yourself who the hell is calling at this time of night. Finally you open the door and I just stand there, half amused at your reaction at seeing me there and saying nothing. Still I say nothing, just a half smirk. Then you catch on to why as you see the spreading stain across my crotch. You hurry me indoors leaving me wondering which was the more important: getting me out of sight or making sure I didn't piss any more so there was still some left for your arse or mouth. One can finished another opened. Unless you're more of a perv than I think you are you're not going to realise that the orginal can, despite its label, only contained pop. "Oi, stop fucking about: there's a pair of jeans here need your attention. I'm not having them go cold on me." Immediately you're down on your knees suck at the fabric of my jeans, getting the piss out easily since they're an old pair which won't hold liquid for long. You swap betweeen each thigh as though to make you upward progress easier. When you reach to top of the thigh I turn around so you can deal with the piss that slipped behind. You take the opportunity as I thought you would and unzip my jeans before moving round front again: you know how much piss a jock can hold... You were obviously on the way to bed: the bathrobe's gone. Another few swigs from my can and I push you onto all fours. Your automatically spread your legs. I leave you there waiting while I get rid of my own clothes, continuing to hit the beer while I do it. I crouch over you, rubbing my dick against your arsehole. I feel myself getting harder and you push back. "Think you can do it without?" Not going to let you try to take me with no lube, so as soon as the head of my dick is in your arse, I let go with the rest of the piss, feeling you you arse open with the shock of the warm liquid. A few long strokes ensures and even distribution of piss and I pull out. Your gasp as you feel my fingers at your hole is a nice touch. I push in with my hand and note the fact that I'm not today's first. Pig! Gonna go just that bit faster for that... Can feel you all ready to go beneath me. I push in harder, feeling more than hearing your grunt at the invasion of your arse. My entire hand in now, you're not getting it all the way in, instead I'm rubbing against the second sphincter, feeling your urge to open up fully, then I quietly gently pull back, feeling the wash of my piss over my hand. As soon as I've got the use of both hands again, I get a forearm under each shoulder and my dick straight up your arse, pulling you onto me. I know the difference in feel between my piss and somebody else's come, you dirty cunt. I'm fucking harder now and your arse is leaking. I grab some of the mixture and rub it in your face as I come in you... "Didn't know what you were getting when I felt that extra cum in there did you?" At least you have the grace to blush a little behind your grin...

What Germanfucker said... plus it's important for our future medical treatment that seemingly random questions are asked of everyone, gathering data for the future. The most important question, though, is the one about allergy to hen's eggs: since they're used as the growing media for the virus that is eventualy used for the vaccine, you really need to be honest on that one. Not every question asked by a doctor has sinister intent behind it...

If you don't already have a good idea of the speed of your guts, try a few nights of having muesli for supper. For me that would emerge just before lunch and has the advantage of scraping the insides clean. First douche comes out clean. I've got a nut roast recipe that's been declared the equivalent of colonic irrigation. With both, I'd avoid anything heavier than a sugary drink for breakfast.

The maggots are weird even for me... I'd be careful with bread products as they could squash against your overfull butt (amateur baker here) and essentially glue themselves to your colon wall. Even through they'd come out eventually, they'd provide a wonderful feeding ground for fungi and bacteria in the meantime. And they probably would grow the right sort of penicillin for today's clap! A particularly memorable fuck for me was getting stuffed with grapes (make a bit of a slit where the stalk was) to the point where nothing else would fit. Then he fucks you: the grapes go everywhere - imagine being fisted where every finger was an octopus - and the sensation of the juice is quite different to that of piss as the sugar makes it slightly sticky when the cock forces it out of the grape. Sticky enough for it to be worthwhile for diabetics to do a blood sugar check beforehand.

In the eighties there was a cartoon in Capital Gay (London based tabloid) inolving a young clean shaven man tapping the Stanley (the eponymous hero of the strip) on the shoulder to ask for directions. Stanley ends up clutching his partner in terror shrieking "no moustache - must be a lesbian!!"