joethomas

Sounds like the virus has definitely taken over the twink. That's a proud moment for a poz top. I'm envious.

PART 11: SURPRISES FROM JOE The text from Joe definitely got my interest – especially the line about “we have some things in common” -- so less than a week after seeding straight jock Bryce on my downstairs weight bench, I met Joe for a beer. Most of our local bars and restaurants were still shut down because of coronavirus concerns, so I met him at his house – a nice two-level place not far from me that he shared with two dogs. I never knew Joe outside of wrestling, but I knew he was always friendly, although a man of few words. Mostly he came to the events, did his job, got his money, and left. I had always thought Joe was married, but he’s not. I’d assumed a lot about Joe, and some of those assumptions changed quickly. Joe greeted me at the door with a strong handshake. “Hey boss,” he said with a big smile. Wearing a tank top, gym shorts and Nikes, his massive body made me feel small, almost vulnerable. Joe was a bear of a man – at 6-foot-4 and all muscle, his thick beard and thick, dark body hair against his tan skin made him very intimidating, even though I was several years his senior. I learned quickly that Joe wasn’t much for small talk, and I respected that. He grabbed us both two local craft beers from the fridge and guided me out back to his patio. We sat in chairs across from each other. He quickly took the lead and spoke his mind. “It’s been a pleasure to work with you for more than 2 years now,” he said. “I consider you more than a boss. I consider you a friend, and as a friend, I want to be honest with you.” He stood up and slid the waistband of his shorts down to the top of his heavy cock. There, under the stubble of freshly shaved pubic hair, was a black biohazard tattoo. He took two steps toward me and grinned, still holding the waistband of his shorts down to expose his secret. “Just wanted to make sure you saw it up close,” he said, looking down at me. Joe winked, then slid his shorts down further to reveal a solid metal bar embedded in the tip of his thick, mushroom head. This dude’s pierced cock was destined to rip apart tight holes. He laughed as my eyes grew wide. “It’s a beauty, ain’t it?” he said. He turned back and sat down across from me, pulling his shorts up. I was still trying to process what I just saw and heard. “I’ve been poz about 2 years, never got on any meds and don’t plan to now,” Joe said. “I know I’ve put some of my wrestling opponents at risk, but I’m coming clean to you now. I just want you to know.” “And fuck, as long as I’m being honest, I know you’re gay,” he said, “and it’s cool with me. I am too.” I was definitely startled, not so much by his confession of being gay, but by the fact that he knew I was. And the poz issue? That made my head spin. “Wow, I um … I …” I began, but Joe cut me off. “Wait, boss,” he said. “As long as I’m on a roll, I have one more thing.” There was about a five-second pause while he looked down at the deck. “I saw what you did to Cody in that room,” Joe said. “I was walking down the back hallway and saw you through a window. I watched almost all of it go down. I saw you bend him over, saw you take pics, saw you bite his neck and draw blood and rub your cum into his cut. I saw all of it. I knew right then what you were doing. You were trying to poz him.” Shit, I thought. What window? I had tried to be so careful and cover my bases. I felt all the blood rush from my face. I was busted. This guy’s going to ruin me. He’s going to tell everybody. What if he had video? “But,” Joe said, “I liked what I saw. In fact, I have an idea for you.” My mind was still racing to process all this new information, but I was starting to listen more and panic less. “Your next event has to be an online event, with no live audience,” Joe said. “And I’m going to wrestle Cody again. At the end of it, I’m going to strip him in the middle of the ring, cuff his hands behind his back, and fuck his jock ass and recharge him.” He was right. I do like this idea.

PART 10: A HOME RUN WITH THE JOCK I stood up and pointed to the weight bench, where my 22-year-old stud neighbor boy Bryce went and laid on his back, waiting for my next move. I slid his shorts down past his size 8 feet, leaving him naked except for the Adidas running shoes and socks. Those will stay. I knelt beside him and gently began running my tongue up and down his smooth balls and long, skinny shaft, which quickly began to grow despite his obvious nervousness. Bryce laid there silently as I worked him to a full erection in less than a minute. Sure, I could’ve finished him there, but why ruin the moment? “Turn over,” I commanded. Bryce rolled onto his stomach without question, revealing a beautiful bubble ass, mostly smooth except for a fine layer of blond hair around his hole. “Lay still, you’re going to love this, I promise,” I said. With little warning, I spread his cheeks and dove my tongue into his virgin ass. He twitched slightly. “Oh my god, is that your tongue?” he asked. “That feels weird. Holy shit.” I quickly had my tongue deep into the boy’s hole, pushing and prodding as far as I could into his sweaty, musky, beautiful young, virgin butt. After a couple more minutes, and after a few slight moans from my straight jock tenant, it was time to finish the deed. Part of my earlier preparation included stashing a small bottle of lube behind the weights, which I retrieved quickly to lube up my pulsing dick. “If you liked that, you’re going to like this even better,” I said as I knelt over his ass and lined up my raw, dripping poz cock against his little negative hole. I began to push and felt the head slip inside his body. “Aaaaaaaahhh fuck, what are you doing, man?” he said, squirming. He didn’t quite try hard enough to get away, telling me that maybe he wasn’t entirely opposed to his deflowering. But he certainly wasn’t expecting this. “I can’t do this man, I’m not gay, no way,” he said, turning his head and trying to see how much of my cock had invaded him. Even as he protested, I continued my slow push inside him until I was about halfway in. The tightness and resistance of his hole against my thick poz tool assured me that I was ripping this kid’s negative ass to shreds. He’s going to feel this tomorrow. “You can handle this, son, I know you can,” I assured him. “Especially if you want your rent forgiven this month. All of it.” “Fuck,” he said quietly. “Fuck.” Bryce just laid there on the weight bench with his muscled arms flexing behind his head, his eyes facing downward to the concrete floor as I escalated my assault into the kid’s bubble ass. Once I was all the way in and stopped, I heard another “Fuuuck” come from the boy, probably as the tip of my mushroom head began to knock at his prostate. But he said nothing else. In and out, in and out, I pulled and pushed my cock into the jock’s hole. It wasn’t long before I saw the red streaks mixed with lube coating my cock. This kid’s hole was in bad shape now – and pretty much guaranteed to accept my poison. Sure enough, within a minute, I was erupting into the kid, filling this hot baseball hunk’s little ass with enough unmedicated poison to knock up him and his whole team. It seemed to take forever for my cock to finish milking seed into this kid. Once it finally did, I slid out and lifted myself off the bench and off my downstairs tenant. “Feel good?” I asked. Bryce took a few seconds to reply, still laying on his stomach. “It hurt like fuck,” he said. “I mean ... guess it wasn’t so bad once I got used to it. I saw two of my teammates in college fuck one time in the lockerroom. The way they were moaning and going at it, it sounded like they were liking it. I guess I kinda wondered what the big deal was.” Bryce lifted himself up into a seated position on the bench. I was hoping my cum wasn’t leaking out onto the bench – I wanted every drop of it to stay inside the kid. “It’ll feel better next time,” I said. I laughed, and I saw him break a crooked grin at that comment. I had a feeling that “next time” was practically guaranteed, especially with the prospect of free rent danging in front of him. Bryce stood and pulled his shorts back on over his semi-hard cock. Neither of us said much after that as we re-racked the weights and pushed the bench against the wall. I thanked him for the workout. “You’re welcome, any time,” he said, walked toward his door. I went back upstairs to my place and saw that I had a text message waiting for me on my phone. It was from Joe, that 40-something muscle bear wrestler who had beaten both Cody and Ashton into a pulp at my recent events. “Hey boss,” Joe’s message read. “You free for a beer? We should talk. Looks like we have some things in common.”

PART 9: PASSING TIME WITH THE JOCK DOWNSTAIRS My wrestling company hadn’t held an event since back around Thanksgiving, and then once the coronavirus began to flare up, I realized we’d have to wait a bit longer. But I needed to breed, and soon. Naïve, neg jock boys like Cody and Ashton made me realize that pumping my dirty virus into random boys from those online sites wasn’t what I craved anymore. No, I needed something with more … depravity, and a sense of ownership. I own a nice two-story house, which is divided into two residences. I occupy the entire top floor, and since November I’ve rented out the bottom level to a cute 22-year-old. Of course I checked him out on social media when he applied to rent the place a few months ago. I knew when I saw his social media that he was my top choice: He’s a former Division I college baseball player (and most recently a star on a local city league team), a total gym rat, and he loves to post gym selfies along with pics with random people in bars and clubs. Since moving in, through our few interactions so far, he seems to be a somewhat quiet beta male. So yes, he’s a great tenant. He let me know in late February that he was out of a job because of the coronavirus. So March 1 came along, and he wasn’t able to pay rent. My mind began to churn as I thought of ways I could take advantage of this. I asked him if he provided personal training, and he said he does from time to time. A while back I had set up a rarely-used home gym in our shared garage downstairs, so I scheduled a time to meet for our first session. I was getting things in place when he arrived, sweaty from a run on a 70-degree afternoon on a warm day in March. I sat on a weight bench as he stood in front of me, catching his breath from the jog. I asked about his situation, feigning sympathy for this sweaty, straight jock boy standing in front of me. Bryce is about 5-8, maybe 160 pounds, short blond hair, a cute hoop piercing in his eyebrow, and beautiful green eyes. His gym shorts and wet t-shirt clearly showed the tight, worked-out body he was packing. Occasionally he would lift his shirt to wipe his sweaty face, unveiling a hot set of abs and a smooth, hairless stomach. “My girlfriend lost her job, too, so we’re both in a bad situation. I don’t know what we’re gonna do,” he said, staring at the ground as I stared at his crotch. “I’ve been stressed, she’s been stressed. All we do is sit around and worry. Man, it’s so frustrating.” He shook his head, still staring at the ground, and quickly scratched his sweaty cock the way a straight boy does when he thinks nobody’s paying attention. “If we make this a regular thing, I promise you’ll have a lot less to worry about financially,” I said. Thankfully my well-paying job was secure, so I was more than able to give him free rent if I chose, and If he deserved it. But I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. We went through a few stretches to warm up, then Bryce guided me through a few simple moves using the set of free weights along the wall of the garage. After about 30 minutes of close contact and sweating, and about 10 minutes after Bryce slipped his shirt off as the heat of the day rose, I was rock-hard and already dripping poz seed. I’d been on the fence about even fucking this kid during our very first workout session, but my mind was settled now. With me on my back, and Bryce spotting me, I picked up a pair of dumbbells and lifted them a few times over my chest. Staring upward, I got a great view of Bryce from the thighs up – cute, blond hair slightly dusted his legs, his crotch jutted out slightly from his black gym shorts, and his tight abs glistened with sweat. I’d seen enough. Setting the weights down, I reached upward into his loose shorts and felt his cock. He was stunned for about 2 seconds, then jumped backward. “What the hell?” Bryce said, then kinda laughed. “Back to work. We gotta be serious, man.” “How’d you like to stop worrying so much about rent?” I asked, sitting upright to stare at him crotch-level. He stood there quietly, obviously realizing what I had in mind. He hadn’t said no so far. His look got serious quickly. “So … like … you wanna suck me off, right?” he said. I nodded yes. He paused and looked pensive. “A hundred?” he said. That’s a deal, son. But of course it would be more than a blowjob. I wasn’t interested in his dick.

PART 8: ASHTON’S WRESTLING MISADVENTURE If Ashton remembered anything from his breeding Friday night, he didn’t mention it Saturday, although Jimmy and I exchanged a few knowing glances and winks at times. We all slept until about 10 a.m. and woke up refreshed as if we never had a drink the night before. Ashton was his same outgoing, fun, young self. I truly think he didn’t remember being sucked off or having a potent load of HIV pumped into his jock hole just a few hours earlier. I treated Jimmy and Ashton to lunch at one of my favorite bistros in town, and from there we headed to the arena to begin a busy day and evening of entertaining about 600 fans. Ashton was a hit with the crowd, and later he told me he sold about $250 worth of t-shirts and 8-by-10 photos. His match would be first on the card that night, and I was so busy that I didn’t even have a chance to talk with him to plan. I finally saw him about 10 minutes before bell time, and he approached me and asked if I had any requests. For the first time, I saw his attire for his match: White wrestling boots, no shirt (thankfully), and a pair of skintight, faded jeans with holes carefully ripped to reveal just the right amount of skin while barely keeping a PG image. Tonight, he was playing the “good guy” in his match. Damn, the girls and gays will eat this up, I thought. I wished him good luck and went to chat with his opponent for the night -- Joe, that 6-4, mature, burly, hairy, muscle god I’d booked to abuse my previous toy Cody weeks earlier. I gave Joe clear instructions: “Don’t go easy on this kid. Find a way to grab the holes in those jeans and rip ‘em to shreds. Give him a few minutes to look good and come back late but destroy him in the end. Whatever’s left of his jeans, bring them back to me. I’ve got an extra $100 for you.” Joe winked and laughed heartily as his thick hairy chest heaved. He said, “That’s twisted, but I’m not even gonna ask why. But you got it, boss.” His eyes lingered a little more than usual with mine as he answered, and something in my mind told me that he and I just might think more alike than I realized. In his eyes I saw a twinkle, yet there was a hint of evil understanding. And he wasn’t kidding about carrying out my wishes. Sexy Ashton got in a few good moves early, but Joe turned up the heat quickly and began a vicious beatdown of the jock kid. I counted at least 6 times when Joe grabbed Ashton by the holes in his jeans to either lift him up or toss him across the ring. Each time, Ashton’s jeans ripped further, and large chunks of denim eventually came loose and littered the ring. Joe allowed Ashton a brief comeback near the end of the 15-minute encounter, as planned, before once again grabbing a piece of loose denim and lifting the stud over his head. As Ashton came crashing down, his entire left denim pant leg stayed in Joe’s hand. Ashton crashed to the mat on his back, his left leg thoroughly exposed so much that the bottom of his white jock strap was on full display. A rip had developed all the way to his crotch enough to show his cock bulging through the white jock strap to anybody who chose to look. Joe sneered as the ref counted 1-2-3 and declared the big man as the winner. He grimaced to the crowd as they booed the brute’s vicious attack. As Joe stood, he took one final souvenir off the jock’s body – with one swoop, he grabbed the rip at the boy’s denim crotch and pulled, tearing another huge chunk of jeans off the kid and leaving him wearing just a few shreds of demin covering a well-filled white jock strap. Joe stomped back to the locker room, gathering up all the pieces of Ashton’s ripped jeans as he went. Ashton slowly lifted his sweaty body off the mat, revealing his scantily clad young, sweaty physique as catcalls echoed off the walls and flashes from camera phones lit up the ring. But Ashton clearly enjoyed the attention, and even in his legitimate pain, I could see his cock swell slightly in his jock, exposed from the lack of denim. The boy slowly walked to the back, where Joe and I were waiting and enjoying a laugh. “Damn, you didn’t hold back,” Ashton said as he walked toward Joe. He looked down and saw that I was holding all the remnants of the tight jeans that just moments ago had hugged Ashton’s sweaty body. They would be great reminders of the weekend – but for me, not Ashton. “Yeah, Joe plays kinda rough,” I said. Joe and I chuckled as Ashton rubbed the back of his neck and headed for the shower. Ashton and Jimmy went out for drinks that night, but I went home and straight to bed. The next morning, Ashton was limping, obviously in pain. Turns out that when Joe had gone in to rip the last shreds of denim (and dignity) off the kid, he discretely grabbed a handful of Ashton’s dick and balls (either intentionally or by mistake) briefly before tearing away the denim. I guess Joe has a sadistic side, too. Maybe he and I really do think alike more than I’d realized. Ashton and Jimmy were back on the road by noon. I tossed in another $200 to Ashton’s payout to buy new jeans, and he was more than appreciative. We all vowed to work together again when our schedules would allow. Two weeks later, I saw a post on Ashton’s social media that caught my attention: “Hi folks, I’m really sorry to share this but I’ve been fighting what feels like the flu, so I have to cancel my two events this weekend. Thank you for everybody’s support and I will see you soon!” Looks like we both had a souvenir from that weekend. I got the remnants of his sweaty wrestling gear, and he got my virus.

PART 7: ASHTON GIVES IN Ashton lay there silently on his back -- drunk from a night out on the town -- as I slid his tight boxer briefs down his tanned thighs and pulled them off his feet. Sure enough, the kid had gotten a hard-on, probably still thinking about the random girl he saw hours earlier. Facing no resistance, I leaned down and began licking his young dick from the tip to his balls and back again, finally engulfing the entire 7 inches in my mouth. Ashton moaned and lifted one hand over his face but said nothing. Within a few seconds, Ashton was bucking his hips against my mouth. Clearly he wanted this, but I wanted more. I lifted myself off the bed and slid Ashton closer to the foot of the bed. I motioned Jimmy to take my place on the kid's dick, which he did immediately and began expertly sucking Ashton’s 21-year-old rod. I lifted Ashton’s toned legs over my shoulders and licked my finger – the same one with the pointed nail that just a few weeks ago had ripped up Cody’s hole and prepared him for my deadly virus. Ashton made no sound at all when I slid my wet finger into his hole and went deep. Jimmy continued sucking him, being careful to not bring him to completion just yet. “Oh duuuude, that’s intense. Shit,” Ashton slurred, still showing no objection but not entirely understanding what was happening to him. “Pfffff. What kind of toy is that?” “It’s the best kind, Ashton,” I said quietly. “Just enjoy it. I want you to feel good. You’re the star here, so this is all about making you feel good.” “Mmmmm,” he responded, still with his hand covering his eyes – maybe to block out the light, or maybe so he could imagine two hot, busty co-eds enjoying his body rather than two average-looking gay men using him. After a minute, I pulled my finger out and, even in the dim light, could see Ashton’s negative blood caked under the long, jagged fingernail I’d prepared for this night. Without a pause, I lubed my cock and pulled his body closer until my bare mushroom head rubbed against his vulnerable, exposed hole. Jimmy never pulled his mouth off Ashton’s cock, but I could see his eyes widen as he twisted his head to watch me lean further into Ashton, popping my raw cock slowly into his damaged neg chute. That got Ashton’s attention, even in his drunken state. “Ahhh. That toy’s too thick dude, I don’t think I can,” he said, never looking down to see that it was, in fact, a dripping poz cock that was entering his gorgeous 21-year-old body. “Shhh, give it a sec, you’re gonna love it, son,” I said. I nodded to Jimmy to pick up the pace, because Ashton wasn’t going to give us much time. As Jimmy began sucking faster to bring Ashton to climax, the boy moaned – maybe in response to the expert blowjob he was getting, or maybe because I was gradually building up speed myself as I felt my load began to make its move. Within 30 seconds of entering his gorgeous, tight ass, Ashton began bucking his hips into Jimmy’s mouth, shooting his own young seed into my friend. At the same time, my cock began to jerk inside the boy as a 6-day load of dirty, toxic HVL seed unloaded into his healthy young jock body. “Ahhhhh, damn,” Ashton mumbled, barely coherent. Within seconds, he started to snore quietly, still with my cock in him. I considered leaving my cock in him to go for another round, but I decided it was late, and I was exhausted. With Jimmy sitting back in the chair again and providing an audience, he watched as I pumped my stiff dick in the kid a few more times to (and this is the part he didn’t know) try and drive my virus deeper into his wounded ass, then slid out. “Oh damn, you didn’t even use a condom?” Jimmy whispered to me as he saw my bare, cum-covered cock slide out of his young stud friend. “How do you know Ashton doesn’t have gono? I’m pretty sure he cheats on his girlfriend.” “Oh well, that’s the chance we take” I replied. We both chuckled a little as we pulled Ashton up the bed and got him settled in under the covers. Jimmy got a shower and took his place on the other side of the huge bed with Ashton. I could swear I heard Jimmy grunting later. My hunch was that he also got his cock inside Ashton and pounded my dirty load in a little deeper, but I never knew for sure. I went to my room and slept like a baby.

PART 6: ASHTON COMES TO TOWN I had found Ashton on social media through a mutual friend, Jimmy, because the two of them often worked the same events. Jimmy -- whose role usually was either behind the scenes or sometimes as the event emcee -- knew I was gay, but he knew nothing of my virus and my eager­ness to share it. I asked Jimmy if the two of them would be up for a 300-mile trip to one of my events and, after agreeing on a price, they were in. We set a date for the following month. As part of the deal, I offered to let them stay at my house and share a king-sized bed in my guest bedroom. They eagerly embraced the idea of free lodging, complete with a full fridge and a well-stocked home bar. Jimmy, who was 28, had confided in me some time earlier that he ha­d a crush on Ashton, even though Ashton claimed to be straight and had a girlfriend. But Ashton, being 21, was also a partier, and he’d been known to pass out on road trips with Jimmy and wake up cuddled up together with fuzzy memories of the drunken night before. Ashton, whom I only knew through his social media, was a 5-10, athletically built dream boy – he worked part-time in a coffee shop, and part-time at his local Hollister, and seemed to spend the rest either at the gym or with his girlfriend. He was a beautiful combination of a boy-band superstar and a SoCal surfer and had the tanned, toned body perfect for either role. And based on the matches I saw on YouTube, the girls loved him, as evidenced by the squeals when his name was announced. Ashton and Jimmy had never been to my city before, and with this being a hot tourist destination, they decided to come in two days early to enjoy the bar scene and see the sights. They’d arrive Thursday, party that night; see the sights Friday, party Friday night; then go to our event Saturday, party Saturday night; and drive home Sunday. Ahh, the joy of being 21 again. Over the next month, I somewhat jokingly told Jimmy over text messages (more than once) that I wanted to get Ashton drunk and fuck him. I usually followed with an “LOL,” but Jimmy never completely objected to the notion. The wheels in my head were spinning. The day finally arrived, and Jimmy and Ashton arrived later in the afternoon than planned. Jimmy and I hugged at the door, our first time seeing each in person in about 2 years since first meeting at an out-of-state wrestling event. Ashton followed behind him, smelling exactly like a Hollister model and looking the same way – teasingly ripped jeans showing peeks of tanned, muscled leg; a black hoodie; red Adidas sneakers; and a pearly white smile that nearly reflected the light. I reached out my hand, but Ashton took a step forward and gave me a hearty hug while thanking me for the free place to stay and saying how excited he was to be here. Because it was late, we all retired to bed early that night. The next day consisted of site-seeing with me as their guide. Ashton mentioned his girlfriend a few times, but I noticed his eyes linger over any hot female that walked anywhere within about 50 feet of him. This boy really was straight. Occasionally he tugged at his crotch, unaware of the show he was putting on for Jimmy and me. By Friday night, we were all eager for a drink. We made our way around to several bars, and Ashton was the star of the show at each one. The girls and gays all undressed him with their eyes, envious of the two gay guys (Jimmy and me) palling around and touching and joking with Ashton as though we were all best friends. By the time we got back to my house, Ashton was hammered to the point of slurring his words and needing help to get up the walkway to the house (Jimmy and I had wisely nursed our drinks all night). As we guided Ashton to his room, he was jabbering on about one of the girls he saw earlier and how horny she had made him. “Damn she made my dick hard,” he slurred. “I think I still am.” With that, he reached down and grabbed his crotch through his jeans. “I shoulda banged her right then,” he said, obviously forgetting he had a girlfriend 300 miles away. As Ashton fell backward onto the bed, Jimmy and I gave each other a knowing wink and began to help Ashton out of his clothes. Within a minute, this 21-year-old blond Adonis was in just his Hollister boxer briefs and socks, on the verge of passing out in my guest room. Now was the time. I looked at Jimmy sitting in a chair beside the bed. He nodded in agreement. I reached into the nightstand for a bottle of lube.

PART 5: CODY UNLEASHES THE BEAST WITHIN ME We had another event about a month later, and Cody was on the card again. This time, I kept my distance and let him enjoy his evening by mingling with other fans and wrestlers – I noticed a lot more gay men were buying his t-shirts and taking photos with him before the show, no doubt the result of his last match’s immediate popularity on YouTube. I also let Cody wear his regular spandex trunks for his match this time, which meant less of a risqué show for the crowd. But just for my own sadistic enjoyment, I secretly instructed his older, beefy “heel” opponent – Joe, a 6-foot-4, 40-something, burly, hairy, muscle god -- to pull out all the stops with real-life low blows and punches to young Cody’s dick and balls. Watching the match from a distance, I could tell that several of Joe’s low blows actually connected and hurt like hell, much to Cody’s surprise, and at times Cody really was struggling to stand upright and continue. The match finally ended after about 15 minutes with his opponent rolling young Cody up on the mat, illegally grabbing a hand full of the kid’s trunks from the back and exposing most of the boy’s tanned, athletic ass for a 1-2-3 count. I hadn’t planned on fucking the kid that night, but after seeing him completely used and abused by Joe in his match, I motioned the 19-year-old to follow me into the same side room where I’d first pumped my poison jizz into the boy. I closed and locked the door and repeated the process from just a month earlier, and Cody obliged sheepishly and very begrudgingly. Giving up his straight ass to a man old enough to be his father had mentally defeated and humiliated him. I almost felt sorry for him until I slid his gear down to reveal his sweaty, musky, bubble ass, and I knew I needed it again. Fucking tease, what did he expect me to do? I spit on my cock -- the spit, my poz precum, and his sweat made for a surprisingly good lube. Still, I could feel immense friction as my thick cock grinded into his small hole. "That jock ass is gonna look good carrying my AIDS next time I see you, son," I muttered as I quickly built up to my climax. Cody grunted quietly. If he heard me, I doubt he understood anything about my desire to give him HIV. I tried to imagine the thoughts running through this straight kid's mind as his trusted elder used his hole again. Seconds later, I was pumping another toxic load into the boy’s jock body. If the first time didn’t knock up Cody, this time would. I never did make the phone call to my scout friends as I’d promised. I got what I needed, so I didn't care as much now, frankly. Cody texted me a couple of weeks later and asked, and I lied when I told him I was waiting to hear back about his potential tryout. In the same text, he said he’d come down with a bad flu and was stuck at home with fever, chills, aches, all the same symptoms I’d felt years earlier when Daddy pozzed me. I had no doubt that Cody had finally come down with the fuck flu, his young, healthy, teen body finally giving itself to the virus that I’d injected into him twice. To this day, I don't think he's been tested, so the kid has no idea. He probably won't for years. Even though he was now part of the brotherhood, it was then I realized that I had no physical use for him anymore, and any desire to fuck him again was gone. I still booked him for my events, because his tanned body, tight ass, and big smile sold tickets and put money in my pocket. But the 19-year-old jock boy had helped unleash a new power within me in this whole process. I now realized exactly how much influence I have over these naïve kids and their big dreams. I began to explore every possibility of booking vulnerable boys who would do anything in exchange for my promise of help getting them on a national stage. These dumb kids needed something, and so did I. Ashton was next on my list.

Definitely more to come. There have been quite a few adventures the past couple of years.

PART 4: CODY LEARNS TO ACCEPT HIS ROLE As I felt the seeding come to an end, I slowly slid out of the kid. I kept waiting for him to say more, but he never did. I wondered how long before he’d experience the flu. Then I wondered how long before he realized he was poz – probably a long, long time, I guessed. It’s not as if straight country boys are getting tested often. I’m not sure how much dirty cum I’d shot in him, but it was a lot. Some of it dripped down his his tanned leg. It looked to have the slightest red hue to it. “Cody, this was the first step toward getting you exactly where we both want you to be,” I said. “Yes sir,” Cody said. His voice sounded sheepish compared to his usual alpha-male tone. Almost defeated, actually. “Thank you.” As Cody stood and pulled up the flimsy white briefs to cover his exposed ass, he turned and reached for his gym bag. I decided then and there that he wasn’t quite done surrendering himself to me today. “Cody, what you’re wearing right now, that’s what you’re wearing for your match tonight,” I said. Cody looked more shocked now than he did throughout our pozzing session moments earlier. “You want paid tonight, and you want what we discussed, so that’s your gear for tonight,” I said. He looked toward the floor again. “Shit,” Cody said. “Yessir.” Cody slipped his gym shorts and t-shirt on to cover his near-naked body for the next couple of hours. As more wrestlers began to arrive, Cody chatted with them as if nothing had happened. Later, he watched the first couple of matches and mingled with his fans – mostly female and gay men -- while he signed autographs and sold t-shirts emblazoned with “Cody’s Crew” across the front. Considering his hole was abused a short while ago, and poison was seeping into his guts, he acted as if it was just another day. Cody’s match was the fourth of the night. Back in the locker room, he was minutes away from being introduced. I walked up beside him and reminded him of his obligation. This wasn’t about embarrassing Cody. It was about maintaining my power over him and making sure he knew our roles going forward. From this day forward, he was one of my boys, whether he knew it today or not. “Do I have to?” he said. “You know the deal,” I said. Fully geared up with his white boots and black knee pads, he slowly slid down his gym shorts and removed his t-shirt. At some point he had put on his white spandex wrestling trunks that he had worn many times before, probably thinking that would appease my dirty request. When he looked at me, I nodded my head no. That was one layer too many – even though he looked amazing. Without saying a word, Cody peeled the spandex trunks down from his waist, down his tanned thighs and over his feet, revealing the overly tight, thin white briefs that he wore earlier when I filled his young gut with my viral seed. A couple of the other wrestlers nearby gawked in disbelief – why would anybody with an ounce of pride walk under the lights wearing that? One them laughed at the sight. Cody did a couple of stretches to warm up. When his name was announced, the crowd erupted into cheers as he darted through the curtain and into the arena. Some of the cheers turned to catcalls as the fans caught sight of Cody’s minimal see-through gear. I watched some of the gay fans as their jaws dropped, and undoubtedly their cocks sprung to attention when they saw young Cody’s cock and balls nearly on full display and bulging against the tiny, tight, thin fabric. If only they knew the rest of Cody’s adventure today. My poz cock got hard again at the thought of my virus soaking into his unprotected teenage rectum. Cody wasn’t aware, but I’d told his opponent – a cute, straight, 30-year-old black jock with a wife and two kids -- to take their match to almost 30 minutes. The goal was to get the 19-year-old stud as sweaty as possible. Sure enough, within about 10 minutes, his flimsy white underwear was soaked with sweat and translucent to the point of being invisible. His chubby cut cock was on full display, and his bubble ass filled the back of his wet trunks to perfection. Even from 30 feet away, I could see that he was circumsized as his cock head jutted against the thin cotton. Cody hid his humiliation well, but I think he realized the power that I now held over him. If he wants my help, he’ll play by my rules from now on. The women and the gays were glued to the match, and most of them by now had sent their kids to the concession stand to avoid seeing this nearly obscene display and having to explain why the boy in the ring was wrestling in see-through underwear. As Cody wrestled on, I could swear I saw dried blood stuck to the back of his tight briefs. I knew my dirty cum was buried deep up his neg hole and working into his bloodstream even as he wrestled his match. In the end, Cody won by pin-fall as we’d discussed. That was his reward for enduring the humiliation I’d put him through. As the ref raised Cody’s hand in victory, the boy’s lean, sweaty body glistened under the lights. Everybody in the building got an eye full of the kid’s protruding, chunky cock. I counted at least 20 people in the crowd holding up their phone to capture either photos or video of the ripped kid in all his glory. Back in the locker room, Cody didn’t stick around very long after his match. When he found me later to ask for his pay for the night, I handed him his envelope, which included an extra $100. He said nothing to me other than “Thank you, sir” when I gave him his pay. I also made him hand over his sweaty white underwear from his match tonight as a souvenir to hang beside my desk in my office at home. He did so without question. That pair of hot wrestling briefs still hangs on my wall to this day, but it’s not the only one I’ve collected now. [More to come soon]

As Cody leaned over a metal folding chair, I imagined how many dirty, gay daddies like me would pay money to be in this position. Maybe others will get a turn at this kid another time. Right now, it’s my time to own this kid, destroy his innocence, and remind him that I hold his dreams and his career in my hands. With Cody leaned over and staring at the floor, I slid one hand inside the back of his tiny white briefs and slid them down to the bottom of his muscular ass. He said nothing, but I thought I heard a slight grunt. I couldn’t help but to snap a couple of photos of this nearly naked country-boy hunk with my phone, using an angle that was sure to show the side of his face with his bare ass on display. That could be valuable down the road. With Cody’s face still faced toward the floor, I pulled a small container of lube from my pocket and greased up my right middle finger – the one with the jagged nail filed into a sharp point for occasions like this. “This might sting a little at first, but you’re going to feel better soon, I promise,” I said. With my left arm across the boy’s muscular back to hold him in place, I wasted no time sliding my finger and its jagged nail against Cody’s virgin neg hole and gently pushed inward. “Holy shit,” Cody mumbled. “Jesus, fuck. What the fuck, man?” Despite his meager vocal protests, he mostly didn’t move, aside from the flinch when my rough fingernail began to scrape the inside of his young, unprotected hole. I reached into my other pocket and brought out a tiny bottle of poppers I had bought just for this occasion. I reached around to Cody’s face with my free hand and ordered him to take a few sniffs from the bottle – he didn’t question me as he inhaled about four whiffs. “Fuck. Fuck. Goddam. Uhhh,” Cody said, his voice trailing off. I could tell that he was flying and under the spell of the poppers. Now was the time to get what I needed. I pulled my finger out of his virgin butt and briefly admired the bright red negative blood that had gathered under my pointed fingernail. Not wasting time, I slid my jeans and underwear down and lubed up my hard poison cock and aimed it toward Cody’s scraped and bloodied hole. My poz precum was already adding a layer of extra lube as I pressed my thick mushroom head into his virgin ass. “Oh my god, fuck, oh my god,” Cody mumbled. “Man, I can’t do this. I’m not gay, no way. Fuck.” Still, he didn’t resist, and aside from another slight flinch, he took my raw cock like the young alpha jock that he is. I don’t think he fully realized what was happening. Within seconds, my toxic dick was all the way inside this 19-year-old country boy god and spurting poison precum into his young unprotected hole with each thrust. “Cody, this is just another level of your training. I know you can handle this. You knew you’d have to make sacrifices,” I said, not sure if he even knew who I was or where he was under the influence of the poppers. “Fuck. But you … you’ll … help me, right?” he said between his low grunts. “I will, Cody. I’m here for you,” I said. “I want what’s best for you. We’re about to change your life.” Under my breath, I whispered, “I’m about to destroy you and give you AIDS, jock boy, but I can’t stop now.” I don’t think he heard me. Maybe he did. As I steadily pumped my dirty cock inside him, I really didn’t care. As he continued to moan quietly with every thrust inside his tight, tanned ass, I leaned down and bit into his smooth neck, determined to leave a mark that would further remind us both of my power and influence over this naïve country bumpkin. After a few seconds of hearing Cody’s heightened moans while I bit into his taut, sweaty flesh, I leaned back and saw that I’d broken the skin and drawn blood. I’m not one to waste an opportunity, so I pulled my cock all the way out of his hole and scooped up the mix of my poison poz precum and the blood from his hole. As I eased my dick back into his muscled body, I smeared my virus into the open wound on his neck, determined that he will leave this locker room with my disease one way or another. (This was a little trick I learned when Daddy pozzed me. When he fucked me, he pulled out a needle and jabbed two of my fingers with it, opening wounds that he immediately covered with his poz precum. Whether that was what got me, we’ll never know.) I knew my time with Cody was limited, and I feared he would come to his senses soon, so I worked quickly to seed his unprotected hole. I built up speed and felt my load brewing fast as I held onto his sweaty, muscled shoulders. “Here you go Cody, this is part of your sacrifice on your way to the big-time,” I said as I felt my thick, dirty jizz begin to shoot into the jock boy’s negative hole. My fingers dug into his firm shoulders as my poison erupted into his bare ass, pumping my killer virus (and Daddy’s) into this young, hunky, healthy straight kid. I’ve seeded a lot of young asses in my poz journey, but the feeling of shooting my deadly toxin into Cody was on a whole new level. It was intense. He moaned a bit but was mostly quiet. “Holy fuck, oh shit. Oh shit. Did you use a condom?” I think Cody was finally realizing what happened. “You have nothing to worry about,” I assured him. “I told you I’ll take care of you.”

I asked Cody about his career, his “real” job outside of wrestling, his dating life. His answers: He wanted to be a full-time wrestler since he was a kid; his real job sucked, and he did it only to pay the bills; and his girlfriend broke up with him about a month earlier, partly because of his wrestling schedule. She hated it. All these answers were just about perfect to me as he sat there leaning back in the metal folding chair, legs partly spread open, arms behind his head, likely unaware that my own cock was hard, leaking, and eager to pump highly charged seed into his tight butt. “Cody, I’ll be honest with you,” I said. “Seems like we both need something, but I think we can help each other. I can get you that tryout you want, and I can put in a good word for you and give you a strong recommendation, but I need something in return.” “Yes sir, of course,” he said. “I’ll do anything.” Cody had always shown proper respect to his elders, always with the “sir,” “ma’am,” “thank you,” and all that. I could tell it was the result of a strict Southern upbringing. I couldn’t imagine what his family would think right now. If they were smart, they’d tell him to run. “Take off your shirt,” I said. He looked confused, but he didn’t say a word as he stood up and lifted off his shirt. Jokingly, he flexed his biceps and nervously laughed. His chest and stomach were tanned, smooth, and more muscular than I’d remembered. Damn, this kid really had been hitting the gym. “Which gear did you bring tonight?” I asked, glancing toward his gym bag on the floor. Wrestlers typically bring a variety of wrestling gear, wrist tape, boots, and shower supplies. Cody walked to his gym bag, unzipped it, and sat it down on the chair in front of me. I began going through to see exactly what I wanted him wearing when I fucked him. Two pair of boots. A variety of wrist tape. Several knee pads and kick pads. Two jock straps, one white and one black. And several pair of spandex wrestling trunks in a variety of colors. And a pair of small, white, thin cotton underwear – most wrestlers wear this extra layer under their gear during a match, because it helps minimize the outline of their cock and balls and adds another layer in cast of a “wardrobe malfunction.” I took the pair of small white underwear and handed to Cody. “Put these on,” I said. He hesitated but didn’t say anything. “You do the favor for me, and I do the favor for you that could make you a star,” I reminded. Without a word, and without even looking me in the eyes, Cody took the white underwear, turned away from me, and slid off his gym shorts and the gray jockstrap he wore underneath. For the first time, I saw his bare ass – tanned from hours in the tanning bed, tight from hours in the gym, and showing the slightest dusting of fuzz. He pulled the thin white material over his ass and fidgeted to adjust his cock and balls in the tight material. A couple of seconds later, he turned around to face me. My dick shot to full attention inside my jeans. Cody was perfection and wearing just about as little as possible: The white material was skin-tight and a little more flimsy and see-through than I’d imagined, and it showed the length of his slight treasure trail that went from his naval to the top of his cock. His pubes, slightly visible through the thinness of the material, were clearly trimmed short, but not shaved. His cock leaned to the left. It looked surprisingly thick and obviously was cut, based on the clear outline of the bulging mushroom head. His balls perfectly accented the overall package for a jock his size and age. “So, you’re just going to take some pics I guess?” he finally asked after several seconds of my gawking. “Cody,” I said as he stood there, nearly nude and vulnerable. “Think about all the sacrifices you’ve made the past few years to try and get where you want to be. All those hours of training, hours in the gym, hours driving to events. This is going to be one of the easiest sacrifices you’ve ever made, and it might be the one that finally gets you on that national stage. “Now bend over for me, boy.”

I grew up as a fan of pro wrestling. Maybe it was the theatrics of it all that appealed to me, or maybe the fact that it featured oiled-up muscle guys in skimpy lycra that helped me figure out at a young age I was gay. Whatever the reason, after years of watching it, I decided to get into the business side of it. For the past few years, I’ve owned and operated a pro wrestling company -- we scout and hire talent, rent the venues, sell the tickets, find sponsors, and hold events. I do this monthly, have a few friends and staff (all straight, as best I can tell) who help behind the scenes, and we make decent money from it in the process. Most of our events draw about 500 screaming, rabid, loyal fans. Yes, it’s all staged, but it’s a good time, the participants are genuine athletes, and they take it seriously. A lot of the younger ones – usually the ones in their late teens or early 20s – aspire to make wrestling a full-time job, reach the big-time (i.e. WWE), and wrestle in places like Madison Square Garden with millions of people watching them on TV. For these younger guys, they’re willing to sacrifice a lot to get a shot. They train hard, and they’re in the gym every day – and their bodies show it. Some of them really will do anything to get their shot, which is good for me and for them. Quickly, a little about me: I’m 51, white, 6-2, 190 lbs., graying hair, decent shape with decent looks and a thick, meaty cock. I came out about 15 years ago, and a poz leather daddy acquaintance of mine converted me about 5 years ago. I wasn’t chasing, and I hadn’t planned for it to happen, but once Daddy had me on my back with my legs over his shoulders, I felt powerless to stop him from breeding me. I came down with the fuck flu, and after briefly going on meds, I gave them up within a few months. I assume my viral load at this point is sky-high, which is how I intend to keep it for a while. After going off meds, I felt a transformation sexually: I went from being a vers guy with an average sex drive to being a power-hungry bareback top who stops at nothing to breed cute young guys (my weakness is the jock, college-boy type with a daddy fetish). The power of infecting a young, healthy jock is more of a rush than any drug out there. They usually either assume I’m neg and/or insist on a condom, which magically either breaks, slips off, or never even leaves the wrapper. Oops. I figure I’ve pozzed several of these naïve boys so far, and it fuels my need to find more. It turns out that the business of pro wrestling is the perfect place for it. When booking the wrestling talent for my events, I try to feature a good mix that will please the crowd and sell tickets: usually a couple of bigger, brawler types; maybe a couple of females; one or two silly, quirky types; and a few of the young, fit, boy-next-door gym bunny 20-somethings to appeal to the gays and the girls. Variety is good for ticket sales. Some of the wrestlers know I’m gay, but most probably don’t. I just don’t talk about it, and I don’t do much to make it obvious. I’ve also steered clear of being overtly flirtatious at my events, although I’m sure some of the wrestlers have caught my eyes lingering a little too long when they’re changing clothes, and I’ve been known to occasionally give away a free ticket to the particularly hot guys standing in the ticket line. But most definitely, none of them know I’m poz and carrying a potent, toxic virus ready to be shared at any moment. One of my favorites on the roster is Cody. He’s a naïve country boy who lives about an hour away, and he loves working with our company and often comes to me for advice on how to improve himself and make it to the big-time. I’ve earned his trust by working together for a while, and I’ve felt almost like a father figure to this kid since I’ve started working with him. He’s 19, single, straight, and clearly proud of his tanned, athletic body. Probably half of his pics on social media are either shirtless or gym selfies. At 5-9 and roughly 180 pounds, he looks god-like in his tight wrestling trunks, and even better post-match when he’s dripping sweat. His brown hair, amazing green eyes, and smooth, tanned, toned body make the girls and gays swoon. He’s the rare type who makes clingy spandex look good. Cody is desperate to work full-time as a wrestler and get his face in front of WWE scouts. The fact that I actually have connections to a couple of those scouts is a big, big plus for my exploits, and I made it clear to Cody that if he plays his cards right, I could put in a very good word for him and get him a tryout in front of some big-time names. I could make his dream of being on TV come true. After seeing him wrestle and lusting after him at one of my recent events, and seeing how his ass gloriously filled out his tight black trunks (with a white jock strap peeking out the sides at times), I decided to see exactly how badly he wanted that tryout and my recommendation. I asked him to come to the venue early for the next event so we could discuss his future. He accepted eagerly. As some of the crew was setting up the ring and getting things in place, Cody arrived at the venue with his gym bag in hand and found me near a set of bleachers. Wide-eyed and freshly pumped from a gym session, he was eager to hear my advice on furthering his career. We walked to the locker room (still empty for another hour or so) and stepped into an adjacent storage room, where we found two chairs. I arranged them so that we’d be facing each other, and we began to chat. His gold, mesh gym shorts and white t-shirt showed off his tan muscled legs, broad shoulders, and athletic chest, and I tried to not stare. Besides, I’d be seeing him naked within minutes.

Wow, this is a hot series! Looking forward to more.

I'd love to know what happens next with Von after that first experience.

I thought the Lyle Cranston stories might have been your hottest, but this one is off to an incredible start. Can't wait to see where this one leads.

Damn! I felt like I was standing next to Elliot while he was giving the 21-year-old all of his bugs. Plus I've always had a weakness for young hot guys in those lycra cycling shorts.

The brother issue can be tricky. When I was about 15 and my brother was about 9, we were laying next to each other in bed playing video games, and one thing led to another. He gave me oral, then backed up and rode my dick for a while until we got scared and stopped. I grew up thinking he was gay for a variety of reasons, then he matured and went the opposite direction -- he married a Southern Baptist girl and had two kids at a young age. We've never discussed that incident from our childhood, and I have no idea if he still has those feelings or has just gotten better about hiding them.

I'm really eager to see how the sons get inducted into the group.

Damn, I can't believe I never saw this thread until now. These are gold.

I love the direction this has taken with Jock Boy sharing his seed with a few unsuspecting recipients -- I can attest that some of those scenarios do happen in the real world, and they're just as hot as they sound. He's surely going to enjoy many more scenes like that, especially with his new college friends and teammates.

I'm curious to find out if Marcus really is on meds or maybe has taken a convenient "break" while he's fucking his new best friend.

Scotty, his dad, and his brother will make an amazing trio. Please keep the updates coming!

I hope this isn't the final chapter. So much potential for Lyle still ahead.