Need2submit

Syphilis here. Caught it last year around this time. Unfortunately I also use cosentyx, which suppresses the immune system, to treat my psoriasis so by the beginning of September it had rapidly advanced all the way to neuro-syphilis before I even knew I was infected. Folks, you do NOT want to experience neuro-syphilis. I had regular night sweats, fevers that spiked to 102° at least twice a week, body aches that felt like I’d been hit by a car, hearing loss of 40% in one ear and 60% in the other, and facial paralysis that made me look like I had had a stroke. Luckily I was diagnosed and had to do 14 days of daily heavy-duty antibiotic infusions which thankfully cleared the infection and the paralysis and hearing loss were completely reversed. This recovery was not guaranteed though and for a few months I seriously considered suicide. If you’ve never experienced a sudden and profound hearing loss you can’t understand how it removes you from the world. Music has been a lifelong comfort to me and another feature of this hearing loss was a pitch shift which made everything sound like one of those Chipmunk albums. It wasn’t cute, it wasn’t funny, it was vicious and terrifying. Due to the circumstances of my use of an immuno-suppressing drug, I caught the express train to hell so it was atypical, but if you go long enough without treatment this too could be where you end up and I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Well, probably Trump, but I’m fairly sure he’s already got an even more advanced case so… I’m not trying to moralize here, but these things can happen and it is horrific. I know a big part of this site involves the bug-chasing lifestyle and I am not judging anyone with what I’ve said. You do you. But just know the impact that can result and reality can be terrifying when it actually comes down to it. Do with this what you will…

Wow. This is some of the best writing I’ve seen in this genre. Scene, mood, dialogue, dialect, structure—fuck it’s so good it actually pisses me off. I’d read anything else you write or have written even if it isn’t purpose built to get dicks hard. Good fucking work.

I had a raging case of syphilis last year. It progressed in three months to neuro syphilis (probably due to an immune suppressing drug I take for a skin condition) and that shit was HORRIBLE. For two months I had extreme abdominal pain and nightly fevers that were so bone rattling I thought I was dying. The left side of my face became paralyzed and my hearing was significantly damaged. I lost 40% in one ear, 60% in the other, I had the worst tinnitus you could imagine, and what I could hear was pitch shifted so everyone sounded like Alvin and the Chipmunks. As funny as that might sound, it sucked. I couldn’t listen to music because it sounded so fucked up. After it was diagnosed I had to undergo two weeks of daily infusions of the gnarliest antibiotic they had. Luckily the treatment reversed the neurological effects. My facial paralysis and the hearing damage were resolved but it took a lot of time. My case was extreme, but get tested regularly and take care of any syphilis infection as early as possible.

Go with stainless. Zinc is highly allergenic and can be brutal on regular skin. I’d hate to know what havoc it could wreak internally! By the way, galvanized steel is the same thing as zinc coated….

I began my journey toward being a total bottom when I was around 13 and discovered that I enjoyed nothing more than shoving any and every phallic shaped object I could find into my hole. Candles, screwdriver handles, plunger handles, carrots, and I became adept at carving large candles into dildos. I would stay up until the wee hours feverishly fucking my boy pussy until I collapsed in exhaustion. If I had access to the real thing back then I would have been the biggest cock slut imaginable.

freshly fucked and ready for more.

Man, this guy sounds a lot like the guy who was the first one to bareback me. A WHOLE lot. You and I are both in the same city, so it might just be…

This whore cunt needs as many loads as it can get.

Like most nights, I was bouncing between different sites trying to find someone to calm the tension winding up inside me, keeping me wide awake. It was always the same thing-bots, weirdos, but mostly tops who wouldn't top (if you could find a top at all). I was tired of half heartedly trying to enjoy someone sucking my dick while waiting for their cock to get inside and trip the switch that so desperately needed tripped. In the last few weeks I'd finally bought myself a cock cage and changed my profile pics to feature it prominently and make my position as clear as possible. But, the message still wasn't getting through. So here I sat in the blue glow of my laptop screen, the pink nub cage dwarfed and engulfed by my swollen balls and a plug firmly in my hole. All dressed up and no one to blow. I popped between windows for yet another tour of the hookup desert while a bareback gangbang squicked away in the corner of the screen. There it was, the "(1)Email" holy grail on BBRTS. There were never many guys on it from my area, but the ones who were tended to be the real deal. My nub twitched as I clicked. It was from OneMaster. I'd seen his profile every now and then, right around my age at 45, tall, hung (according to him-there were no pics unlocked), and a lot of "ask me"s right down the line. Usually I skip past the Ask Me guys, but his blurb kept me alert to his presence: "I'm not the master you will ever want, but I am the ONLY master you will ever need". And that was it. Eighteen words and I was on the hook already. Desperation is a hell of a drug I guess. "What scares you the most?" That was it. And it put me right on my back foot. I was immediately uncomfortable. It was a simple question, but so weirdly out of context on a hook-up site it threw an instant chill right down to my plug. And then that chill began to burn, ever so slightly. "I'm not sure what you mean." "You know exactly what I mean. Answer the question." Was I sweating? Yes. I was. "I'm afraid of going to a hook up and never coming back." The response was "pictures unlocked". I clicked in and saw some very elaborate bondage equipment-like the BMW of bondage equipment. Black, smooth, with stainless steel and leather and potential that made me a little sick inside. Not sure why, but it just did. He was serious about what he did and I hadn't encountered anything close to it before. My throat dried up instantly and apparently all of that moisture leaked straight out of my confined piss slit. "Get up right now and drink as much alcohol as you can stomach. Then, drink some more. I'm sure you also have some sort of benzo hiding in one of your drawers so take some of those too. You decide the dosage. While you're doing this, change into the pink panties you are wearing in your picture, get dressed and order an uber. You are going to take a trip to the bookstore.' "Yes sir" I typed and sent and then quickly followed his instructions. Two ativan, a tumbler of rum chaser, and then into my jeans and a t-shirt. Of course I was already wearing the panties-a lacy pink thong. That's just a given. I'm not a crossdresser per se, but these are my second skin. As I sent the uber request and slipped on my shoes, I felt that rum heat climb my neck. I hadn't eaten since lunch and we were already north of midnight as I poured one more glassful for the road. My nerves were firing hard, but losing the battle quickly. "Text me when you are in a booth and down to just those panties." He left his number and went offline. I took my last swallow and then waited by the door. THE BOOKSTORE I sat on the cool pleather of the bench seat in the booth, goose flesh immediately ran across my body and the push of the plug as my weight came to rest centered me. There was a decent crowd in the corridors tonight, I counted ten or eleven guys slinking around while I swayed back to my favorite spot. As I stared at the sweaty, cum foamed balls slapping a faceless bottom's taint on the screen I texted him. "Here". His response was immediate. "Unlock the door, turn to the bench and bend over at the waist." I was significantly less surefooted than I was just minutes before as I rose and clicked the lock open. The ativan was kicking in and the adrenaline was wearing off. It felt like it took ten minutes to turn away and bend, my hands almost missing the bench as I lurched forward. I'm glad I didn't have anything to focus on because that was well outside my ability from that point on. I'd settled for a moment and the door slowly opened, the spring at the top corner stretching its coppery sound. Then hands. Smooth hands, sliding with just a little less firmness than I'd expected from a man as decisive as someone named OneMaster. I rode the tingling though and waited for where this dance was going to end up. It didn't take much more than a moment for the zipper to sound out and his pants to hit the floor. The hands pulled and turned my head to the waiting, semi-hard cock. It was a good size, probably seven or so inches when it filled completely, and thick. The moments between things began to get edited out as they happened. Hands on my head and then the cock down my throat as though it had been there the entire time and I was just now noticing it. He didn't say a word and was hard and banging away at my face instantly. Then his hand sliding down the cleft of my ass, grabbing the flange of my plug on either side of my thong strap, pulling and twisting and pushing in hard. As I was processing every sensation rushing through every part of me, my phone pinged. At the same instant the cock stopped and held firm in my mouth, taking on that familiar swell. Then it popped. Hard. Cum fired down my throat causing me to hitch just enough for a choking cough to eject a good portion of the load up through my sinuses and straight out my nose. He pulled out and three more solid pumps splattered across my face. I was dazed and gagging and struggling to clear my nose and my eyes enough to get back to my senses. I braced myself and saw the glow on my phone lock screen of the text message. As he pulled up his pants from their pool on the floor I unlocked and saw the message. "Has anyone come in yet to join you?" Now I was confused. He wasn't in the booth with me? I shook my head a bit to focus on texing. "He just finished fucking my face. That wasn't you?" "Oh god no. I'd never go in a place like that. Have him take a picture of you right now, if he hasn't left already." Somehow I managed to communicate what I needed to the guy before he got out the door and he happily snapped a pic before giving me a smart slap on my plug and making his exit. I puzzled at it as I hit send. My face was plastered with cum, my eyes red and glassy, and I looked like I'd been pulled through the fuck bush backwards. As I hit send, I heard "Thanks faggot, you look good with a face full of cum. You should frame that pic for your mother!" and the door slammed shut. A moment after that, my phone pinged again.

Unplanned. I had been using condoms when I hooked up, but one night while hooking up with a top from adam4adam the top made a big show about how the rubbers were just too small for him (they weren’t of course) but I decided to say what the fuck—I wanted dick more than an argument. He proceeded to bone me into paradise and filled my ass with cum. I’ve never gone near a condom since.

Cage him up and superglue the lock...

I’m no expert but it seems like a lot of people still see interracial stuff as transgressive and desirable. There are still a lot of ingrained racial things still wedged in people’s brains.

I’ve been seeing this stupid bullshit all day. This is the question nobody seems to be able to answer: what the fuck benefit does winning high-school and college track events give you? Track and field athletes aren’t exactly neck deep in the money pile—at any level of competition. Just let it go for Christ’s sake.