chunkychains

Sorry for the delay. Have really struggled for time, and also inspiration. This is a second and final chapter, taking the story in a certain direction. I think there is a hotter, darker continuation out there, but I have struggled to write it, so this will do for now pending me maybe finding a different way to take things for an alternative ending. ————— Dean slid his hands under my suit jacket and pressed them onto my chest as he leaned forward and planted his lips on mine. The kiss was brief, before he pulled back and then began to push the jacket off my shoulders. I threw my arms down straight and helped shake them out of it, and he immediately then went to work on my shirt buttons as the jacket fell carelessly to the floor. Once the shirt had joined it down there, Dean quickly stripped off his own before pulling me back in for a longer and deeper kiss. “We’ll have time for that later” he breathily whispered as he pulled back but held his face close to mine. “I need to get at your arse.” I couldn’t help but smile at him as we both began to get fully naked, the familiarity of his hunger for me still there despite it being two decades since the last time we had done this. He wanted me, I wanted him, and all nerves and doubts about what I was doing had evaporated. “On the bed” he growled at me, causing me to almost leap onto the plush bedding and get on all fours. I had barely landed when his face was pressed into my crack, and I could not help but moan loudly as his tongue touched my hole. I then had to bite my lip as he forced it in, opening me up and driving me wild. He was a man on a mission though, so his tongue was soon replaced by one, then two, then three fingers. The pain and discomfort did not bother me though, as I wanted him in there as eagerly as he did. Soon enough, the fingers were gone and his cock had begun its journey back inside me for the first time in far too long. That first reunion fuck was hard, animalistic, painful, but also incredible. I saw stars throughout, my body having a heightened reaction to something that had once been a regular part of my life. I’m not sure any of my blabbering to Dean was coherent, but he got the message and fucked with intensity throughout. Then, with a demonic roar, he gripped my waist even harder and pulled me back against him as he unloaded, and I just panted in satisfaction knowing he was breeding me again after so long. We lounged in hotel robes plucked from the wardrobe for a bit, enjoying the champagne and occasionally going out on the balcony for a smoke. I told him all about my utterly boring married life, and he shared a little about his world as a gay man, making me realise just how much more true to himself he had been than I had ever had the courage to be. There had not been anyone special in his life since he had bailed from his engagement though, and while his tales of sexual adventures turned me on, I did feel a bit regretful for him that he had not found something more. Our second round on the bed made me realise that perhaps he had actually once found someone special, but that fool had gone off and got himself married. Face down, with him lying on my back and buried deep inside me, the tenderness with which he nuzzled and kissed my neck as he slowly pushed in and out gave me a clear sign that I was his “one that got away”. My mind went into overdrive as I thought about that, my own feelings, and what all this meant. It was all a bit overwhelming, and we were both very quiet after he blew in me again. He rested in position on my back while his breathing calmed, and then slowly pulled himself up off me. “Are you OK?” I eventually asked him, as I lay on my side on the mattress with him sitting on the edge of it with his back to me. “Yeah” he sighed. “Just…” “I know” I said, reaching out and putting my hand on his back after he had trailed off and gone silent for a while. “I’m sorry.” He sat still for a while, before nodding, standing up and heading into the bathroom. I lay there a little longer, before sliding off the bed and following him. He was leaning on the sink looking down, so I once again put my hand on his back. He looked up and made eye contact with me in the mirror, slightly startling me with his pained expression. I rubbed my hand down his back, at which point he stood up straight and turned to face me. I instinctively took him in my arms and allowed him to bury his face in my neck, and then we stood like that for a while as we just held each other. “I’m sorry” he whispered, after he pulled back a little to face me. “I know you’re married.” With my mind full of conflicting thoughts, I could not help but lean into him, plant my lips on his, and begin a long and passionate kiss. None of it was about the sex, but rather the reignition of something long since buried for me and long since lost for him. There, in that moment, all I could feel was a burning need to take care of him, now that the pretence and the bravado was gone. He loved me, and always had done, that much I knew even if I suspected it would be very hard for him to say it out loud. I had no idea what I was going to do about it, but with this rekindling of what once had been, I began to realise that I was not going to be able to let it all just disappear a second time. Back in our uni days, we had only ever done it missionary a handful of times, and all of those had been when we were away together for a night or two and Dean had begun to let down his guard. That night in his suite we revisited it, and our third reconnection was a gentle and passionate affair with me on my back, my legs splayed out, and Dean looking deeply into my soul as he moved himself in and out. Our fourth reconnection was the following morning in a position we had only been in one before, both lying on our sides with him gripping me tightly from behind as he again gently coaxed both of us to orgasm. The shower that followed was one of the longest of my life, such was the time spent under the hot spray with our lips locked together. Work that day was a struggle, but I used my tiredness as an excuse in the evening to get out of the Christmas do early and head back to my hotel to change. Dean had extended his suite booking by another night, so once I had got a cab to his hotel we picked up where we left off. I spent most of that night with him buried inside me, and I knew by morning that this was not, could not be, just a quick fling for old time’s sake. I felt alive, energised, passionate, and all the many other things that a married man in his 40s often finds he has slowly, unwittingly lost. Returning to Hertfordshire was a crash down to earth, and I really struggled with re-entry. I felt like I was a different person now, and after expending all my emotional energy with maintaining the illusion of still just being “Dad” to my kids, I had nothing left for my wife. She was in a foul mood with me by Monday morning when I left early for the normal commute into London. Dean and I had been communicating over Telegram so that I could keep the app hidden and notifications off, only engaging when I was able, and through that we arranged to meet for lunch on the Tuesday. The kicker for me is what an utter relief it was to see him again when I arrived at the pub he had chosen, really hammering home that everything was now upended. The hour flew past, and we both agreed we needed to not only now do this as often as we could, but some way would have to be found to satisfy our need to do more than just talk to each other. He, of course, came up with the solution for that, when he took out a very quick lease on a serviced apartment in a block in Limehouse. One minute from a station halfway between his office in Canary Wharf and my own in The City, the location made for quick journeys to maximise our time together. Lunchtimes moved to there, and the only thing that got eaten was my arse… before Dean ploughed into it of course. After just one week of this new routine, he let me know he was planning to sell his house in Brighton and buy a flat in that neck of the woods, as not only had he been missing being based in London but he now had another reason to make the move. Four weeks into our new Limehouse lunchtime routine, my work introduced another curveball to the situation. A colleague I did not know particularly well suddenly quit with immediate effect (or perhaps was actually fired for something serious), and I was temporarily handed a key project from his portfolio to run that involved a lot of engagement with the offices in both New York and Singapore. Time zones were going to be a major issue, particularly as the nature of this project really necessitated being present in the London office with the small team working on it. Therefore, after a rather passive-aggressive conversation with my wife, we ‘agreed’ I needed to be staying in London most of the time for the three remaining weeks that the project would be in this intensive working phase. I had previously told her about having reunited with an old uni friend, and that I’d since met him for lunch a few times to catch up, so she did not seem too surprised when I said that he had offered me his spare room so I could be somewhere nicer than a hotel for the patches of sleep I was going to be getting during short nights and hopefully some lunchtime power naps. Thus, without any more sniping and drama from her, I packed a couple of bags and set off for Dean’s rented flat for a longer stay. Truth be told, the hours were indeed brutal, and Dean and I actually ended up having less sex than normal. However, I could tell that did not matter to him, as me being there for a prolonged period seemed to bring him a kind of relaxed comfort that I had only rarely seen back in the day. He had always had a certain energy, and it was only once he knew he had me there for several days on the trot - even if a bit fleetingly - that he seemed to become calm and just happy to be himself without being “on”. He made a lot of effort to work around my hours, coming home to make me lunch for whichever side of my scheduled powernap was going to be best, waiting up for me in the evening, and getting up with me in the morning so we could chat over coffee before he went back to bed for a bit. As exhausted and strung out as I was, I also couldn’t help but realise how much happier I was in this set-up than anything I could have had at home, even if that home had been fitted with a transporter pad to beam me directly to the office. However, Dean became quite withdrawn on the second Friday, and had disappeared into himself when I came back that night. He wouldn’t talk about it, but I assumed it was because I was once again going to be getting up early on Saturday to go back home for the weekend, and wouldn’t be back until late Sunday night. Not exactly a long time away, but I guessed he was dealing with the reality of being the secret weekday partner, and the weekend’s role in slapping him with the reality of what my life actually was and where my loyalties had to lie. Still, he didn’t voice any of that, so I just had to go on my guess as to that being his issue. What did surprise me more was his lack of interest in having sex that night, despite us having a bit more time than normal, so I just had to settle for a rare reversal of the norm by being the big spoon in bed that night as I tried to wordlessly comfort and reassure him that I really did care for him. After a long journey back home through engineering works on the train line, I endured another tiring weekend doing everything the kids had been promised I would do with them, plus the house jobs that it felt like my wife had invented just to punish me for leaving her alone all week. I’m not sure whether it was the fact that Dean was now in my life the way he was, his unusual sadness at my weekend absence, or whether I had woken up to the true state of my marriage, but as I toiled on door repairs, garage tidying and everything else she’d conjured up, I found myself trying to figure out if I did in any way still want to actually be with her. Yes, I wanted to be a father to my kids, but did being with my wife actually bring me any joy these days? When had it last brought me any joy? Was I bringing her any joy either? It was a little disconcerting to realise that there were no positive answers to those questions. Talking to Dean about this seemed to brighten him from his funk a little when I got back there on the Sunday night, but sex remained off the table that week. I was so exhausted that I was quite OK with just sleeping all wrapped in him at night, and was happy to see him be more upbeat as we periodically engaged in tentative conversations about how a life with me no longer being married could work. Still, something more was definitely bothering him, but I figured he would tell me in his own time, perhaps when I wasn’t on such crazy hours. The project finally finished the following Friday some hours earlier than expected, for which I was very grateful as I was not feeling great that day. The work was expected to have gone on all night and thus I was not due back in Hertfordshire until the Saturday, but I felt increasingly sick as I made my way on the train to Dean’s flat so did not message him to come home early as I wasn’t sure I was up for much. I showered and had some herbal tea to see if it helped, but eventually threw in the towel and went to bed in the hope that I was just exhausted and would feel better for when Dean got back. I didn’t. —————- I think it was Tuesday before I was really with it again at all, and I was still at Dean’s. It really is the most discombobulating thing when you have missed whole days, and still being under the weather, I struggled to take in what he was telling me. I had basically passed out in his bed and was a feverish, barely-conscious mess when he had got back. He had sorted me out with various pills - I had no memory of ever waking to take anything - and had set about keeping a close eye on me. At some point he had pointed my phone at my face to unlock it and thus be able to call my wife, and she had agreed I should stay put so that I did not bring home whatever it was. He noted that this seemed to be her primary concern, rather than the fact that I was in no state to be moved, that Dean was going to have to care for me, or even that I was unwell. Anyway, he had indeed cared for me through the weekend, and now here I was out the other side wondering what the hell had happened. I continued to rest on that Tuesday, with Dean going to the office for part of the day having worked from home on the Monday. That evening I let him know I would get a taxi home the next day, and recharge it to work for the fact that they had avoided an expensive hotel bill during the project because I had stayed with him. He agreed, but said there was something we needed to do first in the morning before I left. I assumed he meant sex, but I woke up late in the morning to the sight of him getting dressed into leisure gear. “I’ve taken the day off” he said. “Come on, get up and we’ll go out for coffee. You can call the cab later.” Before my sleep-addled brain could respond he was out of the bedroom, so I wearily hauled myself up and started dressing in my own jogging bottoms, T-shirt and hoodie. I definitely felt better but still not quite right, so was glad I had decided to go home by cab later as I could chill a bit rather than worrying about trains. Dean hurried us out and was very quiet as he strode off in a different direction than his favourite coffee spot, but I fell in behind and just went with it, not sure what was going on. Then, he came to a stop beside a set of steps up into a building, and when I turned and looked up at the door I saw it was a clinic. ————— “I didn’t know” he said, unable to look me in the eye. We had been sat in silence in the room for quite some time after the doctor had left us alone, and he was the first to make any kind of sound. “I found out the week before last” he continued. “Terrence Higgins were in doing a roadshow in the lobby at work, and we all got marched down to get tested to encourage all the juniors to do the same. One of the ladies doing the testing asked me to help them fix something on a pull-up banner they couldn’t reach so that everyone else would head off to lunch, and then she sat me down and told me my result.” We returned to silence while I absorbed what he had just told me. The timing, his mood, the lack of sex. It all made sense. “So that’s why we haven’t…” I eventually said, before trailing off. “I didn’t know what to do, but I couldn’t risk it if there was a chance you weren’t already” he said, before putting his head in his hands. “Too little, too late I guess”. We remained in silence, as my mind went over and over the words the doctor had said, and what Dean was now telling me. Obviously part of my brain knew it must have been him, but I was so overwhelmed with the news at first that only now he had spoken was that aspect coming into focus. “So, all this sex you were having before me” I said, which caused him to sit up suddenly and dart his head in my direction. “I promise, I was being safe!” he said, and I could tell from the horrified look on his face that he was speaking the truth. “I was on prep, which should have been enough.” “I guess it wasn’t” I said, somehow managing to smile at him. “I’m so sorry” he said, before his face crumpled and the tears started falling. Despite the news I had just been given, I could not help but reach over and pull him into me. As we buried our faces in each other’s necks, I too began to sob. We were both dealing with this, and I knew that I was the first person he had talked to since his own test result came up positive so there was a lot of pent up emotion, coupled of course with the guilt of having infected me too. I, meanwhile, was basically exhausted and this was more than I could take. We did eventually get that coffee, taking them back to his flat. There we sat in silence for a while, only occasionally broken by him voicing out loud the things he was trying to think of that could have played a role. That stomach bug he got that maybe messed up his prep regime. The visit to that bathhouse in San Francisco while he was there for work shortly after getting better. That flu he had just before we were reunited, which must have actually been his own seroconversion. I only spoke up when I got the impression he was on the verge of a spiral. “It’s not your fault” I said. “Of course it is” he replied. “I was the one…” “No” I said, cutting him off, “it’s not. We never used condoms back in the day when we should have, and I did not even think to ever ask you to use one this time round. I never could or should have assumed you used them the rest of the time with other guys. You were taking prep, so you thought you were protected. You got tested regularly, right?” “Yes” he said, “every month. Normally.” “So, then, you just didn’t have time to catch it before we met again” I said, before smiling at him. “And what happened from then on was never going to have been stopped, and all normal routines we both had have fallen apart.” “I suppose” he said, sounding unsure as he looked back down at the floor. “It is what it is” I said. “It’s not a death sentence any more, and maybe it will just seal the deal on my marriage.” Dean’s head whipped back round so he was facing me, his eyes wide and a little puppy-like. “Are you serious?” he asked. “Yes” I said. “I don’t think I love her anymore, I’ve been committing adultery, and now I’ve got HIV. I think that’s the Universe sending me a pretty big sign that it’s over, don’t you?” “But… but what about your kids?” he asked. “I don’t know” I replied. “But the marriage can’t go on, so we’ll just have to deal with it.” He sat and stared at me for a moment, before he looked down at the floor and shuffled a bit. “So what will you do now then?” he asked, a nervous edge creeping into his voice. “I guess that depends on you” I said, leaning over and putting my hand on his thigh. “You said something about buying a flat here?” A big smile broke across his face as he turned his head back to face me. “I did say that” he replied. “Well” I continued, now smiling back at him.. “That sounds like it would be very convenient for my office too, so I might just have to see if you need a roommate.” His smile turned into a big grin, and then he leaned towards me and our lips met. We melted into one another, for that moment choosing not to think about the magnitude of all that had happened and all that would be coming. What we had once had was rekindled, it was stronger than ever, and I could not wait to see where it took us next.

There he was. It was actually him. I couldn’t believe it. Twenty years on, and we were at the same event. Maybe at some level it was not surprising given I had heard he had also gone into finance, but our paths had not crossed since we graduated and nor had we contacted each other at all. Furthermore, he looked good. Yes, he had aged a bit, but he was otherwise so much like he had been back then. Fucking handsome, and his body looked muscular and lean under his amazingly well-fitted suit. I wondered what his life had been like since then. Was he married? Was he even straight? It seemed quite likely that he would have followed the same path I had, meeting a woman, marrying, starting a family, and all that. It was almost expected of guys like us, and certainly those going from being top athletes at university on into the macho world of corporate finance. But maybe not? Did I actually want to find out? We were both studs back then. Sounds like I’m gloating, but I knew that I was popular, people thought I was good looking, I worked out so much that I had a rocking body, and I left quite the trail of girlfriends behind me when I went off to uni. He seemed to have trod a similar path, and we were both quite alpha male types (without being misogynist dicks about it) when we met. But our playful jostling for dominance had led to something else, and for most of the three years at uni we were secretly fucking. It was usually a quick affair, sometimes with one of us staying in the other's room and then sneaking out before dawn, and even sometimes a tryst in the woods or the uni gym toilets. However, weekends away together under the concoted story of family visits had happened occasionally, and on the two uninterrupted nights we would get together on those trips, we were more than just guys who fucked. But I knew, as I’m sure he did too, that it wouldn’t go on any longer than graduation. Maybe we weren’t quite expecting the complete and sudden halt that seemed to become our reality, but there we go. Truth be told, during our time together I was mostly the bottom. Sometimes he wanted to be penetrated, but more often than not it was me who ended up gaping and full of cum. There was just something about him that triggered a kind of submissiveness in me, a need to be dominated, but without it being too extreme. We seemed to naturally find this sort of understanding where we were both expressing something within us, but things never got pushed. He didn’t tie me up, order me around or anything like that, it was more that him mounting and sliding inside me seemed to satisfy some need of mine that had been bubbling under. Not necessarily homosexual desire, though I have always known that was there, but rather a need to not be so “alpha” all the time. Having to build up my name and reputation from scratch in the corporate world had maybe done that job for much of the intervening years. The alpha stud rank I had enjoyed throughout school and university meant nothing once I entered the real world, and I had to learn a bit of humility and work bloody hard to get anywhere for the first time in my life. But in my early 40s, with my career where it was, I was The Man again. Perhaps it was therefore no surprise that I was feeling restless and unsatisfied, needing something else than my life was offering. Maybe it was also reaching the beginnings of middle age, and having gone so long without that kind of contact, my suppressed desires for men were starting to become more obvious to me. I had not acted on it, but on business trips I was finding myself watching bi or gay porn in hotel rooms at night, and remembering with a growing hunger what it was like to be taken. But in that ballroom, seeing the only man I had ever actually been with, something stirred within me. Well, to be honest, my hole twitched. But my brain went into overdrive. Memories. Feelings. Desires. Fears. Hopes. Everything. If I had run into him ten years earlier I might have panicked, scared that this secret part of my life and personality was going to be outed, but timing is everything. I wanted him, or indeed any man. Without there being any pushback from my conscience, perhaps influenced by several glasses of expensive champagne, I seemed to decide that my two decades of monogamy was going to end that night. I stealthily watched him for some time while I half engaged in conversations with other people, until the moment I saw him make his excuses and walk away from the group he was with towards one of the doors into the building’s foyer. I let him go, then made my own excuses and followed. As I got into the foyer and looked around, I caught a glimpse of him exiting through the revolving doors at the far end so I hurried after him. Once at the door I could see him standing outside by the pavement with his back to me, so I paused and took a deep breath before heading outside as well. I walked up beside him just as he lit a cigarette. “You look good” he said, without even glancing in my direction. “You too” I replied. “You want one?” he asked, holding the pack of Marlboros in my direction as he turned to face me. “Er, sure” I said, reaching out to take what would be my first cigarette in 15 years. I put it in my mouth, and then leaned in so he could light it for me. I took a deep inhale, and then savoured the rush as it hit me. “You’re married” he said. “Yes” I replied. “You?” “Nearly was” he said. “But saw sense and backed out.” “Oh” I replied. “Not the woman for you?” “Her being a woman was the problem” he said, smirking. “Oh” I said again. “So you’re…” “Yep” he replied. “Oh” I said, for the third time. He grinned at me, before taking a deep inhale of his cigarette. I followed suit while I processed. “Not got a boyfriend, if that’s what you’re wondering” he said. I nodded, exhaling. We then stood in silence for a moment. “So how about we ditch this and go fuck?” he asked, out of the blue. I was just inhaling from the cigarette again, and started coughing in surprise which got a laugh out of him. “Had any action since me?” he asked while I tried to recover. “No” I croaked, “not like that anyway.” “Fair enough” he said. “But from the way you’ve been leering at me for the last hour, I know you want it.” “I, er”… I stammered. He chortled, before taking a final inhale of his cigarette and stubbing it out on the bin next to him. “Come on” he said, “go and have a family emergency or something so we can go back to my hotel for a reunion.” “I’m in a hotel too” I said. “Got meetings tomorrow, and the work Christmas do tomorrow night. If I have a family emergency it’s going to be suspect if I turn up in the office tomorrow.” “Fine” he said. “Then think of something else. But my cock is going up your arse tonight, come what may.” With that, he marched back inside, and I could see through the glass that he had headed for the toilets. I took a last deep inhale from the cigarette, stubbed it out on the bin and then paused for a moment. I racked my brain, and then came up with a yarn about my daughter having had a nightmare and insisting on her daddy reading her a bedtime story over the phone, and then went back inside to make my apologies. I eventually got myself out of there, and once I had collected my bag and coat I headed back out onto the street where Dean was waiting. He smiled at me, but before I could say anything he turned towards the road and waved down a black cab. We piled in, and then sat in silence for the short ride to his hotel. Once there, he marched me up to the enormous suite he was staying in. “Drink?” he asked, opening the minibar. “Whisky” I said, with a little shake in my voice. He grabbed a couple of bottles out of the fridge, emptied them into glasses, and then handed me the one containing whisky. He then turned and headed for some balcony doors, and strode outside onto what was really just a narrow ledge with a railing. I followed him out there, and accepted one of the two cigarettes he had just lit. “Cheers” he said, clinking his glass against mine. “Cheers” I replied, before necking the glass of whisky in one go. “Getting yourself some Dutch Courage” he said, smirking. “I need it” I responded, not actually sure if I was being truthful. Twenty years, and yet I suddenly felt at ease being there with him on that balcony. He necked his own drink, took a deep inhale from his cigarette and then rested it on an ashtray on the floor, before darting back inside the using the phone to order a bottle of champagne on room service. He then emptied another couple of small bottles from the minibar into the glasses and came back outside. “So no man action at all then?” he asked me, after we had clinked glasses again. “None” I said. “Met Sarah on the grad programme at EY, and have been with her ever since.” “Well, congratulations” he said. “But the fact you’re here right now tells me things aren’t perfect.” I paused for a while, taking in the view and gathering my thoughts, before I responded. “I guess we’re happy” I said. “I mean, we have three great kids, a nice house, and lots of friends.” “But?” he asked, after I had paused again. “But, I think maybe I’m just playing a role” I said. “Doing what’s expected of me, I guess.” “Are you gay?” he asked, startling me with the directness of the question. “No, no” I said, before stopping. “But, well, I guess I’m not straight either. And…” I trailed off into silence, but this time he didn’t push and just waited for me to resume talking. “The thing is” I continued, “I’ve never stopped thinking about how it made me feel being with you, and lately it’s been on my mind a lot.” “You mean what it was like to be fucked?” he asked. “Yeah, I guess so” I said. “I think maybe it was better than anything I’ve had with Sarah.” He gave a little chuckle. “I think” he said, “that regardless of which way you swing, the reality is that you’re a bottom. A very repressed bottom, but a bottom nonetheless.” It startled me hearing him be so blunt about it, but I guess I knew it was the truth. I had used my career, my marriage, fatherhood and everything else under the sun to try to quell that need, but it was there all along. I was a bottom. I am a bottom. I want to be fucked. We stood in silence as we smoked the last of our cigarettes, and just after stubbing them out a knock at the room door indicated the next round of drinks had arrived. We went back inside, me instinctively stepping out of sight of the door as Dean went to open it. He appeared again a moment later with two glasses and the bucket of champagne, which he plonked down on the room’s small table. However, he didn’t open it, and instead turned and walked over to me. I immediately began to quiver as he stood in front of me, reached up with his hand to cup my cheek, and then leaned in and planted his lips on mine. After briefly freezing, I allowed myself to melt into the kiss as our tongues intertwined, his stubble against my face being both an odd sensation but strangely, gloriously familiar. We kissed for a while, before he pulled away and looked into my eyes. “I’m going to pop open that champagne, and then it’s time to pop you open again after far too long” he said, smiling warmly at me in a way that made me melt even more. “OK” I whispered. “You know” he said, as he walked back to the table and started stripping the foil off the top of the bottle, “it was touch and go with me even being at this thing tonight. Only just got over the worst flu of my life.” With that, he popped the cork off the bottle, poured out two glasses, then walked back over to me and handed me one. “To rekindled friendship and bottoming for England” he said, smiling as he clinked my glass with this. “To that” I said, smiling back at him. We each took a couple of sips, and then he took my glass back off me and placed both of them on the bedside table I was standing beside. “Now” he said, “let’s change your life.” If only I had known just how deeply that change would go…

“You alright in there hun?” my wife called out from the corridor. “Yeah” I managed to holler back, between the groans and the panting. “Big one” I eventually added. I heard her laugh out loud, before she presumably made her way down the stairs to get ready for the weekend away with her sister. I, meanwhile, did everything I could to not collapse onto my front as the man she’d picked out for me on Grindr tore my arse in two with his raw horse cock. For the many men who have drunkenly sobbed while admitting their sexuality to their wives, there would be something you might call an ‘aftermath’. Separation, divorce, having to build a new life from scratch, and so on. They would have some internal peace and freedom, but also the challenge of setting out to find a place for themselves in a world of which they probably knew and understood little. For those in their late 40s, this world may have seemed to have already passed them by, with its focus on youth and beauty. In my case things were a little different. It was bisexuality that I revealed to my wife, a few days after our youngest son had been dropped off at university for the start of his first year, leaving us for the first time with an empty nest. She held me tight as years of pent-up emotions flowed out of me, and she proved to be astute enough to recognise that I was really telling her I was gay. She had sort of guessed I might be at some point in the marriage, but so good a father and husband was I that she let it be until the day it would need dealing with. A week with no offspring to focus on had caused that day to come, and with a bottle of Rioja serving as the catalyst, the fragile walls finally fell. This night of revelation did not, however, come with the dissolution of our marriage. At that point I somehow still believed I wanted to be with her, and that I just needed to get out of me the truth about the unrequited urges I had experienced all of my life. She seemed to know better than me, and immediately began to hatch a plan to help me realise who I actually was. We truly loved each other, and the heroine that she is, she knew that the most loving thing she could now do for me was to help me find a path to being fulfilled and happy. It took a while, but as she sensed me becoming more comfortable with myself now that some version of the truth was out, she eventually suggested that we could bring another man into the bedroom for a night so that I could try things out without it being cheating. I was initially horrified, but could not get the idea out of my mind and soon let her know I was up for it. She organised everything, and throughout the evening we spent with the handsome man she’d contacted, she really knew how to get me to quell my nerves and enjoy it. That first evening I only really explored his body, the experience of touching his naked flesh and grasping his erect cock being enough to take me over the edge. However, as these threeways became more regular, I got bolder and more confident, until eventually I was to be found gripping my wife’s hand tightly as I was fucked for the first time. Within just three weeks of that, the sessions were no longer threeways (if they ever really were), with my wife getting whoever she had brought over settled in with me before making herself scarce. I found my true calling as an eager and hungry bottom, and in a short space of time added ‘cumdump’ to that description after a guy asked if he could do away with the condom. This development in my sex life was something I did not tell my wife about though. Had I done so I imagine I would soon have found myself on PrEP, which would have been sensible. There we go. This brings me back to the horse cock. It was huge, stretching me like nothing before, causing some pain, and yet I could have happily stayed on that thing all day. The guy was actually good for a second go after a bit of a rest, so by the time he left in the late afternoon I had two of his loads lodged deep inside me. By this point my wife was also gone, and would not be back until Monday lunchtime, and I had not actually made any other plans. There was half a bottle of wine left over from the night before that I decided to enjoy outside in the evening sunshine while I basked in the afterglow of the best sex of my life, inadvertently setting in motion the events that would finally land me right at the far end of the Kinseyian scale. My wife already knew I was there, and the next few hours would help me to understand it too. The wine lubricated my inhibitions, and the dull ache in my arse along with the knowledge there were loads in there just got me increasingly horny. However, with my wife away my mind started to turn to the sorts of videos I had been secretly watching on my phone of guys getting bred anonymously in woods, public toilets and other such places. Visions of these types of encounters occupied my mind as I found myself wandering to the corner shop to buy another bottle of wine, and it was while I was approaching the till that I just felt something snap in me. I put the wine back, picked up a couple of cans of premixed cocktails instead from the fridge, then grabbed a tub of Vaseline off the shelf. With the evening light fading, I headed out of the shop with my purchases and turned towards the country park near our house, making my way to the wooded area at the far side. I had always heard things about that place, and tonight I was going to find out for myself what it was all about. I stopped on the way at a bench, sitting down to open up one of the cocktails and ensure I maintained the buzz that was so emboldening me. I was probably on that bench for half an hour before I finally got back on with my quest, dropping the two empty cocktail cans into a litter bin I passed by en route. I really had no idea where specifically I was looking for, so ended up wandering aimlessly around in the trees for quite a while. Fortunately there was a nearly full moon and clear skies, so I was just about able to see where I was going. Eventually the flare of a cigarette being lit off to the side caught my attention, and I headed in that direction to see what I might find. There was a little clearing around a recently fallen tree, and there I found a couple of guys standing at the side smoking. They were watching me intently, but I decided to stop across from them for a moment. I gently leaned against a tree and looked over at them while they smoked, hoping I was sending the right signals. One of them eventually approached me slowly, looking me up and down in the dim light as he got closer. “Nice evening” he said. “Yeah” I replied, “it is.” “Good to be outside” he continued. “Yeah” I said again. “More free outside.” He smirked at me. “Is that so?” he asked. “So you looking for freedom?” “I’m looking for fun” I said, feeling a little bolder. “Great” he said, before gesturing towards the remaining stump of the tree at the edge of the clearing. “That’s where we tend to find freedom in these parts.” I took a deep breath, and then walked over to the stump. With my back still turned to the men, I took another deep breath and then pulled down my shorts to reveal my lack of underwear below. I then bent forward and waited. I never looked behind me at what followed, so I don’t know which of them it was who poked at my hole with his fingers, nor whether it was the same one who pressed his cock against my open hole and slid in as the first one of the night. I never saw who took me second, nor whether anyone else joined in who may have added the third or fourth loads to my hole. I just stayed there, bent over as I was fucked, my head a little light and my whole body on fire as I gave in to my true nature. I could happily have stayed there all night. But after four fucks it seemed to be over, so I stood up straight and pulled up my shorts before turning round. The same two men as before were there lighting up cigarettes, making me think it probably had just been them. “Want one?” offered the man who had spoken to me earlier, shaking the pack in my direction. I walked over to take one, despite not being a smoker, and it just so happened that the other one tapped on his phone at that point which caused both of their bare torsos to be lit up. The huge biohazard tattoos on their chests were unmissable, and I felt my stomach drop as I put the cigarette between my lips. I was not a smoker, but through the initial coughs, that cigarette was a godsend. Yet, I did none of the things someone should do in that situation. I did not leave. I did not go to A&E and seek PEP. I did not learn. No, I stuck around, smoked more of their cigarettes, and then bent back over the stump for another pair of loads from them. I came back the next night and took several more, including from another man who had joined in that evening whose status seemed pretty clear from the scorpions inked on his neck. In the week that followed my wife never asked any questions or batted an eyelid as I set out in running gear after dark on each and every night. She must have suspected that something had changed, and I was now going it alone. Maybe she knew the risks I was taking, maybe she didn’t, but it was never brought up. Then she was gone again for another weekend away that seemed to come out of nowhere, and I was free to do away with the exercise charade. I was free to spend longer out in the park without worrying about getting enough sleep for work. I was free to invite the two men back when it was clear that the heavens were about to open. I was free to spend all night face down or on my back on my marital bed as the pair of them used me nearly continuously. When the inevitable happened and I came down with the flu, my wife dutifully nursed me through the conversion. Apparently while out of it I had blurted out a slightly incoherent account of all that I had been up to, as she took me off to get tested once I was mostly recovered. Then we set about sorting out an amicable divorce so that she could have her freedom, as she had helped me to find mine. She’s now remarried to a great guy, and they’ve moved to a house on the coast to which I get invited for Christmas and other landmark family occasions. The kids sometimes come and stay with me at my apartment, but mostly I’m alone and able to pursue my own passions. Well, my one passion. I am an out-and-proud poz gay cumdump, living his best middle aged life. My hole rarely goes a day without being filled, and I am nearly always carrying around some remnant of a load. Whether it’s hookups at home via apps, visits to the local cruising bar that I deliberately moved close to, or many an al fresco adventure, I see plenty of action. I have even done some topping during med breaks, given how easy it is to find a handsome young man who wants what I can give while I give my body a break from the cocktail. This will all do for a while, before I maybe look for something more from someone. There’s many years of self-repression still to exorcise from the system, but I’m in excellent shape and still getting what I need wherever I can find it. Long may it last!

Sitting in the lounge at the airport I finally started thinking through all that had happened, and what would be coming next. There was no way I had not been infected, so that was definitely ahead of me. There was also no way I was going back to being a top, so infection aside, things were probably heading for a kaboom with my boyfriend. I felt excited by the first one, and strangely unemotional about the second. I didn’t much fancy thinking about the conversation to come though, so I took out my phone and started to have a look around for some options. Sure enough, Etsy and eBay between them offered me what I needed, so before I boarded I had taken the first steps in changing up my look a little with orders for some seriously huge silver chains. I also took the plunge and bought a carton of cigarettes at the duty free, deciding that I was going to be free in all senses. Deciding not to delay things, I just blurted it all out to my boyfriend when I got home, and I suppose it made things easier that he chose to grab some of his stuff and leave rather than ordering me out. I was paying the lion’s share of the mortgage, but still might have expected to be the one out on the street given what I had done. I also chose to confide in a friend to give my side of the story before things got out, and then set about preparing for what was to come by buying in various medicines. Sure enough, two days later I woke up feeling like death, and endured a week of flu as I converted. A quick visit to a clinic once I was better confirmed the result. Things did of course fall apart on several fronts. The work done in Athens garnered me a promotion and pay rise so I could afford the mortgage on my own, but my ex-boyfriend saw to the end of a lot of our mutual friendships from my side at least. My own friends were mostly either absent or annoyingly ‘concerned’ about me, but in time it settled down so that I was left with a smaller social group of those who either could not care less or were perhaps themselves a bit more drawn to the kinkier side of life. I decided to stay off meds for a while, enjoying my freedom and offering my gift to others who sought it. Then, about a year later, as I was about to go to bed one night I was startled by a rapping on the door. When I opened it my ex was standing there, with a strange expression on his face. Without speaking I motioned him inside, and he made a beeline for the drinks cabinet and poured himself a whisky. I just stood and watched him as he downed the glass and then poured another. “I need you to poz me” he eventually said. “You do?” I asked. “Yes” he replied. “I need you to poz me, and make me yours again.” I stared at him for a moment, a little unsure what to do, but also feeling something inside that surprised me. I missed him and wanted him back, I realised, but I knew things had changed. “I’m versatile, I need more than one cock to satisfy me, and that’s not going to change” I said. “I know” he replied. “I can be verse, and we can be open.” “We can?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “Yes” he said. “I think I need to be fucked by other guys too, but I want us to be a thing again.” “A thing?” I asked. “I love you” he said. “I fucking hated you for cheating on me and getting yourself infected, but I think I understand now because I need it too.” “Are you sure?” I asked. “Yes” he said. “I want to be free, like you.” And so it was that, not too long after, I pushed my unmedicated poz cock between my boyfriend’s perky ebony buttcheeks and slid inside him. A couple of hours later I made him prove his versatility by fucking me, before I added a second load to his hole. The next night I made him prove his willingness to share and be shared, as we headed to Hampstead Heath and took everything that came our way. Over the course of the weeks it took to finally gift him, he never wavered and we instead fell right back in love with the true versions of one another. He cried happy tears when his test result came back, and I could not help but join in too. This was never the happy ending I had expected, but it’s funny how these things work out. The waiter had freed not only me but eventually the man it turned out I loved too, and we are now happier than we ever were before. Indeed, I am planning to propose and make it official, and have booked us tickets to Athens so that I can do it there. It just so happens I have managed to rent the same apartment I had before, and the waiter is looking forward to seeing me again and meeting my man. It’s going to be a fab and life-changing holiday, and I cannot wait…

The next two nights were the same, but then the prospect of my imminent departure suddenly became a thing. “We go out tonight” said the waiter, as he got dressed on my penultimate morning there. “I finish early, you be ready.” Well, I was as ready as I could be when he did indeed show up that night, and I duly followed him back downstairs to a motorbike parked in the alley. I put on the spare helmet and then sat behind him holding on to his impressive torso as we took off into the Athens night. We ended up a remote part of the perimeter of the abandoned old airport, and after he parked and secured the bike we walked to an opening in the fence and climbed through. He seemed to know where he was going so I just followed him through the darkness until we reached one of the disused Olympic venues. We wandered into the structure below the stands until he was happy with a chosen spot, and then he told me to strip. I took off everything except my jockstrap, then slid my trainers back on to protect my feet. It was hard to see what I was doing, so I took his direction as he used the light from his phone to indicate a steel beam I should bend over. Within a moment of getting into position he started to push his cock into me, and I settled in for yet another poz breeding. He took his time, and I realised he was probably just stalling until some others arrived. I was right, as eventually a couple of guys turned up, followed by a few more. I guess the waiter decided there was enough of an audience, and accelerated his thrusts until he slammed in one final time and unloaded in me. Once he had come down from his high, he pulled out and someone else replaced him. I couldn’t really see who was there, as what light there was from phones was pointed at me so they were all in he gloom beyond. The second guy fucked me quite roughly, bred me, and then was replaced by a third. At this point, however, the waiter bent over next to me on the beam, and he was soon rocking back and forth as someone fucked him. He groaned slightly for a bit as he got used to it, but then as he adjusted he turned to me. “All poz” he panted. I had assumed as such, but my dick still got harder at the confirmation that I was being fucked anonymously by a crowd of poz men outdoors while trespassing. This really was a sordid way to see out my time in Athens! The waiter took a load or two, and then stood up and disappeared out of view. I stayed where I was, being taken in turn by various men and enjoying the variety of shapes and sizes of cocks that were being thrust into me. In due course another man bent over where the waiter had been and took a load, and a while after another guy did the same. Then the waiter was back, and this time stayed put as men used us side by side. Despite my initial impression of him, he did seem to actually be quite an eager bottom. It still turned me on like crazy to have him next to me getting fucked just as hard as I was, given what an expert top he was in our normal sessions. Eventually the numbers thinned out, and after two men blasted into us almost simultaneously, the festivities were over. My back and legs ached as I stood up straight for the first time in what must have been hours, and I was very glad of the water bottle and lit cigarette the waiter passed to me. Once we had both recovered a bit we used some tissues to clean up the excess cum from our arses and legs, and then started the walk back to the bike in silence. It was a bit uncomfortable sitting on the motorbike for the journey home, so I was glad when we got back. Without a word said the waiter accompanied me upstairs to the apartment, and we took a shower together before climbing into bed naked. He got into the big spoon position behind me, pushed his cock into my gaping hole, and then we drifted off to sleep. The next day was my last in Athens, and it started with a gentle fuck before the waiter disappeared off. After another shower I headed to the office for the final handover of the project to the client, and then came back to pack and start cleaning the place up a bit. The waiter showed up at the end of the night again, and we didn’t do much sleeping as he was focused on giving me as many loads as he could muster. Unlike normal I spent most of the time on my back with our eyes locked together, no words really needing to be said as this ‘project’ was also taken to its conclusion. Then, in the morning as we sipped on some coffee, the waiter wrote down his mobile number on a slip of paper and handed it to me. “You tell me when poz” he said, and I just nodded. Then he was gone.

For the next three nights, I had the waiter in my bed. Maybe sleeping right above his place of work was convenient, or maybe he just liked fucking me senseless and then going to sleep still buried in my cummy hole. Either way, he was now a regular visitor, and despite the fact I was knowingly taking poz loads from him, I did not resist. Truth be told, something had awoken in me, and I had basically come to terms with the fact that being a top for so long in my relationship had kind of broken me. When I got home, whether my boyfriend stuck around or not, I was going to be poz and I was going to be getting fucked regularly. I came home one afternoon to a note that had been pushed through the door. “I bring someone tonight” it read. I felt my stomach flutter, and decided I needed to focus on being both rested as well as able to enjoy whatever was going to be happening to the fullest. I got on the phone and pushed back an appointment the next day so that I could start late morning, and then showered before lying down. After sleeping for quite a while, somehow used to this semi-nocturnal life I was living, I set about getting myself cleaned out before showering again. I then lubed up, pressed in my dildo, then went and sat out on the balcony to smoke and have a drink. I was undeniably nervous, but also really excited for what would be my first ever threeway. It was around 1am when the buzzer went, and as per the new norm I used the buttons to unlock the building door and then opened my own front door so the waiter could just come in. Moments later he strode into the apartment, but it was the man behind who got my attention this time. He was shorter and older than both of us, but looked pretty muscular. Where the waiter had opted for what I thought were massive chains round his neck and wrists, this other guy was operating on a whole other level. I was surprised he could stand up straight with the size of the piece round his neck. He saw me looking at him, and gave me a wink and a grin. “Hello” he said. “I am here to fuck you.” “OK” was all I could utter in response. “Naked” the waiter barked at me, and I quickly pulled down my shorts and removed my T-shirt in response. “Your bedroom?” the other man asked. I pointed, and then followed him as he made his way in, the waiter right behind me. As I reached the bed I felt a familiar hand on my back, and taking the sign I got up onto the mattress on all fours. The dildo had somehow stayed in place, but it was whipped out of me and in no time the waiter was buried deep inside me again. He got into a firm rhythm straight away, and I just took the fuck while looking up at the other man who was, in turn, watching me. After a few minutes, the other man removed his T-shirt, and I could immediately see that the bare skin of his arms was misleading as his torso was covered in ink. It was an elaborate design involving a cobra wrapped around a huge biohazard symbol centred on his navel. The cobra’s body disappeared round one side of the torso, and perhaps sensing my interest, the man turned around to reveal the design continuing onto his back, with the serpent’s tail evolving into a scorpion’s sting. Like the waiter currently fucking me, this other man wore his tattoos as a statement of intent. After he had shown me his back, the man turned back around, got up onto the bed on his knees, and presented his huge and presumably toxic cock to me to suck. I happily swallowed it down as my body was rocked back and forth by the waiter’s thrusts, and my first spit-roast began. It felt so amazingly right, and I knew then that it was going to be something I sought out a lot more in future. I loved sucking cock and at least got to do that a lot with my boyfriend, but doing it while a massive raw cock reamed out my other end was pure heaven. The waiter eventually blew yet another of his loads in me and withdrew, and the two men swapped positions. I licked and sucked the waiter’s cock to get it clean, doing my best to distract myself as I was stretched even wider by the other man pushing into me. He gave me a moment to adjust before he began to pound me, and this time I could not help but moan around the waiter’s cock as I was fucked. It was intense and a lot to take, but I loved it at the same time and was a little disappointed when he suddenly sped up and blew inside me. After disengaging and notionally throwing on some clothes, we all went out to the small balcony to smoke. The two men spoke in Greek as though I wasn’t there, but gave me some attention again once the cigarettes were finished. I was ushered inside and this time put on my back on the bed. The waiter lifted my legs up, slid into me, and then bent toward so his face was quite close to mine. It was only when he started slightly grimacing that I realised what was happening: the other man was pushing into the waiter’s hole, starting off a chain fuck. “He poz me” panted the waiter. I knew this must have meant that the man who had fucked me earlier was the one who had converted the waiter, who before this point I had assumed was a total top. It was so fucking hot, and as much as I was loving looking up at him making faces as the thrusting began, I knew I had to get to see this happen properly at some point tonight. That opportunity came after a few minutes when the other man sped up a bit, and everything going out of sync caused the waiter’s cock to slip out of me. Before he could re-insert, I pushed myself backwards and rolled away, standing up and turning around to watch. It was so amazing to see that giant of a man bent over and taking the huge cock, his massive neck chain swaying like crazy as he was rocked back and forth. I knew I had to get to fuck him as well, so I went and stood right beside the two of them. The other man maybe sensed what I wanted, and withdrew from the waiter. In a flash I slid in between them and pushed my erect cock into the waiter’s muscular arse. I did a few rapid thrusts before I felt a hand on my back, so I leaned forward and tried to relax as the other man inched his massive cock into my hole. Wow. Being in the middle was definitely something I liked, whether I was on all fours being spit-roasted or taking the ‘versatile’ position in a fuck-chain. Topping the waiter was also a serious rush, especially as it turned out he was a very eager bottom. He was so fucking manly and dominant, but now my neg cock was inside him and he was loving it. I reached down and grabbed his colossal neck chain, gripping it in my hand and pulling it back like the reins on a horse. He seemed to love that, and began pounding himself back against me so that I only had to stand still while he fucked himself on my cock while the other man barrelled slightly vertically into me from behind. This was fucking awesome, but it also took me over the edge far too quickly and I found myself roaring out as I blew inside the waiter. I slumped forward onto his back, and then we both rocked back and forth as the other man gradually worked himself up to orgasm and exploded inside me for a second time that night. All night went on like this. The waiter and I regularly traded places, and on one occasion we were both on all fours next to each other, eyes locked in contact as the other man alternated between us. All of their loads went up my rear end, but I added a couple more of mine into the waiter’s needy hole. I could not believe the transformation in him I had witnessed just because of the other guy’s presence, but it never stopped being a massive turn-on for me. He seemed to know that, but was also quite relaxed about showing me his versatile side. I guess we were pretty similar in that way, and I was also starting to get quite into the idea of investing in some massive chains of my own when I got home given how much I liked the look on the two of them. Whether I ended up covered in poz-themed tattoos was another matter, but perhaps once I inevitably converted I would get into that. Morning came all too soon, and with a final couple of loads delivered into my gaping hole, the two men left. I was utterly fucked out and fell asleep within moments of them leaving, before I then had to get up and go back to being a professional for the rest of the day. That night the waiter was back, and we returned to normal business with him topping me all night and adding a couple more of his poz loads to the collection I was already building inside of me.

For the next two nights I basically repeated that first day, eating in the restaurant in the evening, going to the toilet after paying, and then ending up bent over in the bin pen with the hunky waiter’s raw cock up my arse. On the fourth day, however, I unexpectedly got back to the apartment in the afternoon as the client had to go away to review some work before I could do anything else, and I found myself out on the small balcony off my bedroom lighting up a cigarette. The waiter’s bad influence, along with the sudden freedom I was feeling, had got me back into smoking again while I was free of my boyfriend’s disapproving nagging. While out there the waiter and another staff member appeared below, also stepping out for a cigarette, and he eventually looked up and noticed me. He did not react until the kitchen hand went back inside, at which point he gestured for me to come down. I hurried through the apartment and down the stairs, and when I got into the alley the waiter was standing beside a different door that led down some steps into a basement. I headed in and down into the darkness, and then he must have flipped a switch as a dim bulb came on that barely illuminated a storage area full of boxes, chairs, tables and other restaurant paraphernalia. I turned to look at him as he reached the bottom of the stairs himself, and he pointed to a pile of boxes at the side. I made my way over, and without any need to be told, dropped my shorts and underwear. He gave my hole a quick poke with his fingers before I felt the familiar push of his cock, and shortly afterwards I was being fucked hard once again. He took his time a bit more than the alleyway ruttings though, so by the time he blew in me I felt truly fucked out. Once up in the alley again he lit up a couple of cigarettes and passed me one as per normal. “I come upstairs tonight” he said. “I stay.” Again, this was not a question but a statement, and as usual I just nodded at him. I showed him the address on my phone so he knew which apartment bell to ring, and then he smoked the last of his cigarette, headed for the main back door to the restaurant, and was gone. My nerves really took hold later that night, as I realised I was going to have this man in the apartment all night, and he was basically still a complete stranger. I decided to get my laptop and other valuables hidden away just in case, and then spent a bit of time with the dildo getting myself primed. He hadn’t seemed at all bothered on any of the encounters thus far, but I still decided to detach the shower head as a means of cleaning myself out a bit. It was nearly 2am when the buzzer sounded in the apartment, and I pressed what looked like the correct buttons on the keypad to unlock the front door. A moment later he tapped on the apartment door, and I let him in. He was carrying two half-empty bottles of red wine that I guessed some restaurant patrons hadn’t finished, so I grabbed a couple of glasses from the kitchen and led him through the bedroom to the balcony. We stood out there having some of the wine and smoking a cigarette, neither of us saying a word. His eyes were on me the whole time, something I still found exhilarating even after nearly a week of taking his loads downstairs. Then he gulped down the last of the glass of wine and went back into the bedroom, so I did the same. I pulled the balcony door closed and drew the curtain, before switching on a bedside lamp. “Naked” he said, and I hurriedly pulled down my shorts and removed my T-shirt. Then he unbuttoned the tight, dark blue shirt that he and the other waiters all wore as their outfit, and my world turned upside down. Only part of the epic tattoo designs on his skin had ever been visible to me, but with his body now on full display, I could see that he had inked onto himself what I can only describe as a manifesto. Scorpions on the sides of his torso, thorny rose stems winding everywhere, and on both his upper arms and above his crotch were huge biohazard symbols. “You like” he said, smiling at me. I just gulped in response. “You are neg?” he asked. I nodded, staring back at the tattoo above his balls. “You take prep?” he continued. I paused, before shaking my head. I then looked up at his face, to see his smile had taken on an evil glint. “Then I poz you tonight” he said, very matter-of-factly. “Get on bed.” Obviously I should have ended things there. I should have got him out of the apartment, and then started finding some way to get hold of a course of PEP. I should have engaged my brain. But no, that is of course not what happened. Despite the now overt risk to my health, I found myself climbing onto the bed and getting on all fours. Mere moments later I was bearing down as this toxic stud pushed his raw cock into me for the umpteenth time, willingly giving myself over to my fate. It was a firm and steady fuck, with the waiter taking his time as he had done down in the basement. He eventually pushed me forward, keeping his cock planted inside me as he got me flat on the bed with him lying on my back. It was so gloriously submissive that it almost felt right that he would be leaving part of himself in me forever. Pressed down hard on the bed, feeling him almost consume me as his cock barrelled away deep inside me, a wave of something almost euphoric wash over me. I was his to use, however he wanted, and I would be a different man by the time I went home. That night there were only occasional moments when his cock wasn’t buried in me. Loo and cigarette breaks, or the odd change in position. He took me in every way imaginable, though the hottest was in missionary when we had not broken eye contact once as he fucked me senseless and then filled me with another poz load. We were even able to have some bouts of sleep with his cock still inside me, broken each time by him waking and then starting to fuck me again. It was late morning when we finally stepped out onto the balcony in the sunshine to have a final cigarette, the waiter now dressed again and me just in briefs and a T-shirt. My hole was sore, gaping, and leaking the last of the loads he had planted in there, but I didn’t care. The bedding would all be going in the washing machine soon anyway, so I would also be able to deal with the growing wet patch in the back of my underwear. “When you leave?” he asked, blowing out smoke. “Not for another week” I replied. “That is good” he said, nodding but looking up at the sky. “I bring someone here.” “OK” I said, though not entirely sure what he meant. “Next week” he said. “But I come back tonight.” Nothing more was said, and he was soon gone. Rather later than planned I got myself showered and dressed, figured out the apartment’s washing machine to get the bedding and my dirty clothes in for a cycle, and then logged on to my laptop. Later in the day I went to the client’s office to deal with some clarification questions in person so they could hopefully get their review of the report and proposal completed, and then I was back at the apartment at leisure again. I slept in the evening, and at around 1.30am was awake and lubed for when the waiter returned. We both had less energy than the previous night, and I needed to get up at a sensible hour this time, but we still managed to fuck three times before he left the next day.

To say my boyfriend was not best pleased about me suddenly having to go to Athens is putting it mildly. Two whole weeks, straddling the weekend we were already supposed to be going to his cousin’s wedding in Ireland. There was no way I could get out of it given the importance of this job for my company, and with the wedding on the Friday when I now knew I would have to be presenting the work to the Greek communications minister himself, any hopes of me being able to jet over to Cork for that part at least were dashed. My boyfriend was also not going to be able to join me in Athens at all, given the commitments in Ireland over the long weekend and his own work pressures outside of that. Still, he was decidedly pissed off with me, and I left under something of a cloud for the late night flight from Heathrow. I had been put up in an OK apartment over a restaurant, with a small balcony off the bedroom over a back alley. I got there in the early hours and just crashed out in bed, and had then struggled through the first day of client meetings on only a few hours sleep. Fortunately I had been able to get back to the apartment not too late for a sleep, after which I realised I was ravenous having had little food all day. I just went downstairs to eat, figuring I would sort myself out properly with some provisions from a supermarket at some point. The restaurant was fine, but it was the waiter who got my attention. I am pretty tall at 6’2”, but he had at least another two inches over me. He was massively muscular, with a shaved head and jet black facial hair. Tattoos covered his arms and neck, and he was adorned with huge silver chains around his wrists and neck, along with massively thick silver hoop earrings. But, on top of the striking appearance, it was the way that he looked at me that got my heart pounding. From when he was taking my order and making me feel very small and meek, to the number of times I caught him leering in my direction, I felt like I was an item of prey being singled out by a predator. It was disconcerting but massively exhilarating. My boyfriend was such a submissive bottom in the bedroom that I had let that side of myself lie dormant for the four years we had been together, but with this Athenian stud boring into me with his gaze, my pulse was racing with excitement. After I had finished and paid, I decided that I would see if there was a supermarket still open somewhere to get in stuff for breakfast, so first headed for the small single toilet at the back of the restaurant rather than bothering to go back upstairs to use the bathroom. However, when I emerged the waiter was standing by the open back door out into the alley, just lighting up a cigarette. He glanced in my direction and then offered me one, which I found myself accepting even though I had quit several years ago. He gestured for me to step out into the alley, and then the door closed behind us. I got a little light headed from the first couple of puffs of the cigarette, which must have shown as the waiter was smirking at me. I felt myself go red under his gaze, which got a laugh out of him. “Come” he said, lightly pushing me up the alley a little. He then steered me into a sort of fenced-off pen for large bins, completely out of sight of everything else. I could feel myself shaking, and took a few more deep puffs of the cigarette to try to calm down. I did not know what this was, but the danger was evident and yet I was doing nothing to get myself out of it. “I want fuck you” the waiter said in broken English. “Show me your bottom.” A sensible man would have fled, but something about this situation had got me fired up. Back when I had been more versatile I had enjoyed tops taking control, and in this moment the years of suppressing that side of me were over. With barely a second thought, I turned around, undid my jeans, and pushed them and my boxer briefs down. With a gentle push on my back from the waiter, I bent forward and rested my arms on one of the bins. With my heart pounding and my breath ragged, I felt his fingers touching my hole, and then the unmistakable wet softness of his tongue making contact. I moaned as he gave me my first rim job in years, any doubts or guilt about cheating on my boyfriend were somehow silenced. The waiter’s tongue was replaced with his fingers, this time pushing in a bit. I relaxed to let him in, my hole at least having had some workout over the years from the dildo I used when I was jerking off alone. However, when the waiter pressed his cock against me I immediately knew this was going to be something else altogether as, despite not having seen it yet, I could tell it was huge. Still, I pushed out and tried to relax as best I could, allowing him to gain entry and then slowly, thrillingly, push himself entirely into me. Only once I felt his body pressed against his buttocks did I breathe out, and then took slow gulps of air as I tried to adjust to the mammoth member buried in me. He waited for a minute or two, and then began to slowly pull out and push back in. I could not help but moan in pleasure as he began to fuck, so totally turned on by the depravity of being taken in a back alley by a man I did not know. The fact that he was in me raw only added to the exhilaration. He fucked me pretty hard, and soon accelerated to a ridiculous pace as he neared orgasm. Then, with a roar (the first utterance he had made since telling me to show him my arse), he slammed in and held in place as his dick throbbed inside me. I was being bred in a back alley, and it was fucking awesome. Then, without any ado, he withdrew and I heard him pulling up his own trousers. I reached down for my own jeans and pulled them up, before turning round to see him lighting up another two cigarettes. He handed one to me, and then took a deep puff of his own one. “You stay above?” he asked, pointing up at the apartments on top of the restaurant. “Yes” I croaked. “For two weeks.” “OK” he said. “I fuck you here every night then.” This was not a suggestion or request, that much I could tell, so I just nodded. He then took a couple more deep puffs of his cigarette, flicked the butt out into the alley, and then turned and walked out of the bin pen. I heard the back door of the restaurant slam shut a moment later. I just stood there in a daze, feeling his cum dripping out of me, and smoked the cigarette he had given me. Then I stubbed it out on the side of one of the bins, dropped the butt inside the metal container, and slowly made my way out of the pen and round to my apartment. There was no supermarket visit.

Is this the one? It’s one of my favourites:

The doors of the club opened, and the gang headed in to its palatial interior. It all seemed to be silent and abandoned, and they gathered in the centre of the giant entrance hall to look around. After a few minutes, their attention was collectively caught by the sound of one of the giant sets of double doors at the side opening, and they nervously edged towards the passageway beyond. They had still not caught sight of anyone else, but Dorian purposefully strode forward nonetheless, giant dildo in hand, with the rest of them behind him. They started descending some spiral stairs, and as they did so they heard the sound of the double doors they had come through closing again. Undeterred, they continued down until they reached another passageway where there was light ahead from an open door. They proceeded until they entered another enormous room, around the edge of which were a series of black and red curtains. Once again, they gathered in the centre of the room to await whatever came next. “Welcome!” boomed a voice out of the many speakers around the room. “You have succeeded in your quest, and now you will receive your rewards.” The gang nervously looked at one another during a long pause that followed. Then, at the side of the room, one of the sets of curtains opened. “Scotty, come forward!” boomed the voice. After hesitating for a moment, the dishevelled man eventually started edging towards the open curtain. As he did so, he noticed a large book sitting on a table in the centre of the space beyond the curtain. “You wanted brains” boomed the voice, “but you always had them. Your reward is this encyclopedia, so that you begin to gain knowledge. Go forth and learn, and cut your hair while you are at it!” Scotty approached the book, and as he did so the curtain closed behind him. Another curtain then opened on the other side of the room, catching the rest of the gang’s attention. “Leo, approach!” boomed the voice, prompting the blond stud to walk towards the space that had opened up. There he saw a large medal sitting on a plinth, glinting from the spotlight above. “You wanted courage, but you have proven yourself to be as brave as a man can be!” Leo smiled as he reached for the medal, the curtain closing behind him as well. A third curtain then opened in the room. “Steele, now it is your turn” boomed the voice. The hunk strode over to the space, his eyes drawn to the giant silver chain sitting on a cushioned stool. As he got closer, he saw a huge and heavy heart-shaped pendant was attached to it. “You wanted a heart, but you have already shown you do truly care for others.” Steele smiled as he reached for the huge chain, lifting it over his head to add to the collection round his neck. As he admired the massive pendant on his chest in a nearby mirror, the curtain closed behind him too. Finally a fourth curtain opened, revealing clearly two big frames with leather slings hanging from them. “Dorian and Toto, approach!” boomed the voice. Nervously the boyfriends took each other’s hands and walked towards the space, a little bewildered as to what their reward was going to be. “You both want your freedom, and to get home. Soon you will be back in Kansas, but first we must set you free.” The curtain closed behind them, and then a door opened in the side wall. Eight large men emerged, all wearing an array of leather harnesses, collars and cuffs. They split into two groups of four, and proceeded to surround the two lovers. Without a word, they began to undress the men from Kansas, before turning them around and lifting them into the slings. Neither Dorian or Toto said a word as their wrists and ankles were attached to cuffs suspended from the sling chains, too surprised they were by the pace at which they had been stripped and manhandled into position. Only once they were in position did a ninth man enter the space. He was small and fat, and dressed in leather trousers, a black leather vest, and a Muir cap decorated with various gems. His arms were covered with tattoos of spiders, scorpions and the hazard symbol that the Kansas boys were used to seeing on a lot of the chemicals they used in their farm work. “Good” said the man, giving himself away as the one who had been booming out through the speakers. “You are ready.” “Ready for what sir?” asked Dorian. “The final conversion” the man replied. “Since you arrived, you have both been receiving special gifts, from your friends out there, the monkey men I sent after you, or the Bitch’s army of fanatics. But now you will be treated to mine, and those of my boys here, to seal the deal.” “Wh…what do you mean?” Dorian asked, his stomach twisting in knots as realisation of what this was about dawned on him. “I am the Wizard of Poz” said the fat man. “All who live here are carriers, but I keep the most potent strains contained here at Emerald City for special occasions. This is one such occasion.” Dorian looked over at Toto, and was shocked to see his boyfriend’s cock fully erect and a huge smile on his face. “Your little twink here seems ready to accept his fate” said the Wizard. “Please sir” squeaked Toto, his eyes filled with lust. “What about you?” the Wizard said, turning back to the former star high school quarterback. “You arrived here a top, but I can see from the state of your hole that that’s no longer true. Are you ready to make your conversion a certainty?” Dorian felt tears forming in his eyes, but his own cock involuntarily growing hard helped him realise that he wanted this. He didn’t know why, but he wanted this. With every breaching of his hole since he’d arrived here, he had felt himself sliding more and more towards his true self. Now, with the revelation that he’d been getting pozzed the whole time, he almost felt liberated. No more of the act, no more of trying to be this athletic jock hunk who satisfied his secret gay desires by keeping a twink of his own. His true purpose seemed to now be clear, and this toxic man standing in front of him was planning to make it all a reality. With a deep breath, Dorian found himself nodding at the Wizard, giving his permission for what was about to happen.

Dorian Gale looked down the long yellow road ahead to the now-familiar sight of the Emerald City club rising out of the distant landscape. He gripped the object they had been sent to retrieve in his hand, and exhaled. Maybe this this would be over soon. He turned to look at his fellow travellers, all now resting against trees or rocks. Toto, his twinky boyfriend, whose escape-artist antics had started all this. Leo, the timid blond bear who never seemed to fail to find courage when he was horny. Scotty, the dishevelled hobo-looking moron who still seemed to be able to outsmart when he needed to. Steele, the cold and gruff hunk with the metal fetish that seemed to care more than he ever let on. They were a ragtag mob, but had been through a lot together. For Dorian and Toto it had, of course, started when they arrived here. Lost in the heat of the moment, they had not noticed the tornado sirens going until Dorian had finally erupted inside his boyfriend, and when they looked out of the window they realised in horror that they were seconds away from a direct hit. Dorian had barely pulled the mattress off the bed before they were violently thrown across the room, knocking both teens out in the process. When they awoke, they had found themselves somewhere truly alien. Colours, sounds and beings like they had never encountered in their little town near Wichita. Somewhere in the melee of the foam party going on outside, an auburn haired drag queen called Glinda Glitter had eventually emerged from the bubbles and shown them where to go. She had taken her time though, and both Dorian and Toto had been subjected to a near gang-rimming of their holes from the pack of little men running around who seemed to call themselves the Munchkids. Not the worst way to be welcomed to a new land, but certainly very unusual. Anyway, they had eventually extricated themselves from the orgy and set off up the road, following the path of the rather smelly watercourse they had been told was called the Golden Stream. Scotty was the first of their pack that they met, with Dorian and Toto taking pity on the man. This pity was perhaps misplaced, as a bottle of rum had knocked out Toto and left Dorian with his inhibitions lowered. Normally a strict top back in Kansas, he was left dripping cum from his stretched hole by the following morning. Steele was their next encounter, and from the get-go he made it clear he would help the boys if they in turn helped him. Toto had since taken the brunt of that duty, his little frame being tossed around like it was made of feathers by the burly chain-clad hunk whenever they stopped to rest along the way. Dorian’s athletic, muscled body had apparently been of appeal too though, and he had found himself having to give up his hole as well. Leo was their final encounter, and while he was initially afraid to accompany the men, catching site of a wet patch in the back of Dorian’s tight jean shorts had convinced him it might be worth it. The trip thereafter had gone slowly, given the amount of time that Steele wanted to be pounding the living daylights out of Toto. Scotty and Leo made the best of all the stops though, as they worked together to turn Dorian from a closeted jock top to a cumhungry spitroast-craving bottom. Of course, there had also been the Monkey Men. These crazed furries had kidnapped Dorian one night, and the jock had endured two days of being chained up in a cell while being gangbanged round the clock until his fellow travellers had found him and paid the ransom. Only then had this army of furry-fetish freaks agreed to take them to their goal, the dungeon complex of a hoodlum known as the Biggest Bitch of the West. Here, both Dorian and Toto had been forced to get into slings for gangbang breedings from all the military-fetish guys in attendance, providing enough of a distraction for the others to slip away one by one to search the place for their bounty. Somehow it took the equivalent of 20 loads in each of the Kansas boys before Steele located the giant dildo that the Biggest Bitch was apparently so famous for riding, which they had been sent to retrieve to add to the collection back at Emerald City. As they had tried to make their escape, the complex’s owner had nearly caught them but Dorian’s quick thinking had resulted in the Biggest Bitch slumping on the floor into an involuntary high, doused from head to toe in poppers. So now they were back in sight of Emerald City, but would need to wait some hours for it to open. Everyone else was resting, and Dorian eventually decided it was time to do the same. He made his way towards a vacant rock, but as he did so he saw Scotty stirring. Knowing the drill by this point, Dorian instead pulled down his jeans shorts, pulled off the tattered remains of his gingham shirt, and got down on all fours. He wasn’t sure what awaited the group, but for now he settled in for another afternoon of taking cock.

Great story and writing - looking forward to more.

Am in Chicago for a few days, and hooked up with a guy off Recon at his place this afternoon. We smoked a load of cigarettes together while he fucked me, then he bred my chubby arse. Cursory wash of the face, and then I came back to my hotel on the L still carrying his load.

The sound of the steel door being open prompted the Swede and I to stub out our cigarettes and head back to the main factory floor. By that point my fellow bottom and I had introduced ourselves a bit better, so I knew he was called Erik. I also knew he was already starting to wonder about tying himself down to one man when putting himself out there for wider use could be this much fun. I actually envied him a little, as he was young, gorgeous, ripped, and about to be free to enjoy a lifestyle I had robbed myself of the chance to experience until I was already past any traces of my youth. Erik and I watched as three of the men wheeled out a rig, with the other two following with a different one. The first had a leather sling already installed on it, whilst the second had a padded bench with a fuck machine pointed at it. Both the sling and bench were equipped with leather cuffs for strapping in, and there was a huge ribbed dildo on the fuck machine. “You!” barked one of the men, pointing at Erik. “Get in sling.” Erik rushed over to the sling, turned to sit in it and then lay back, lifting his arms and legs so the men could cuff his ankles and attach hooks to the cuffs he was already wearing on his wrists. He then shuffled down into a better position, and waited. I, meanwhile, knew that this probably meant he was going to get their full attention for a while, and I was to be kept entertained on the other rig. I walked over to it, getting a nod from one of the men for my unspoken understanding, and climbed onto the bench. They strapped me down, and then I heard the sounds of some cranks and levers as they manoeuvred the dildo into place. I was given a few huffs of poppers, and then they pressed the giant phallus against my hole and got the machine to push it in. I was loosened from all the fucking earlier, but it still hurt like hell as I was stretched really wide by the giant rubber dong. Once it was in place and I had stopped panting, they turned it on and walk away. The machine was on a variable setting, meaning it alternated between a long slow strokes, jackrabbit pounding, and all sorts of other combinations. I had my face pressed to the padded bench for quite some time as I endured its assault on my hole, but as I loosened further I felt myself relax into the incredible reaming it was giving me. At this point I looked up, pleased they had oriented the bench so I could see the other rig. By this point Erik was being fucked hard by one of the men, and while the others were obscuring his head, I assumed he also had one of their cocks buried in his throat too. I was looking forward to taking his place, even if the men may have already blown a load each by then. Three of the guys fucked Erik, all taking their time and driving him wild. Then, after the third guy withdrew, a fourth stepped up and slid in, but two of them walked over towards me. I looked up at them as they gazed down at me, my body rocking forward in time with the thrusts from the machine that must by now have left me gaping. The men then went behind me and the machine stopped, with the dildo being drawn out slowly. One of them reappeared and bent down to undo my wrists, before he walked off across the factory floor leaving me still secured on the bench by my ankles. He returned with my cigarettes and a lighter, placing them on the floor next to me along with a bottle of poppers. Just as he did so, I felt pressure on my hole but this time it was from something huge. My hole was not giving in to what I assumed must be an even larger dildo, so I grabbed the poppers and started huffing while trying to push out. Then my hole gave in, and what felt like a tube train started pushing into me. I huffed like crazy as it slowly made its way in, until the movement stopped and I was completely filled. The machine then turned back on, but this time it was solely doing short, slow thrusts, the length and girth of whatever was in side of me causing me to moan with each movement. The men watched me for a few moments, then went back to where Erik was taking his fourth fucking of this session. I watched them as I tried to adjust to the monster ravaging my hole, noticing that the machine seemed to be pushing a little deeper and faster as time went on. Guessing I was probably in for being split in two by this thing once it was at full speed, I reached for my cigarettes and lit one up while I still had a chance. I puffed the whole thing out and then lit up another as the machine gained intensity, my whole body being thrust back and forth on the bench as my hole took more abuse than it ever had. All the while I tried to focus on watching Erik taking his fourth and fifth toxic loads in the sling, feeling a little jealous that it wasn’t me up there. When they were done with him, I saw them thrust a giant plug into him and then walk away, leaving the loads to soak into him and speed along his conversion. I, however, got no break, and watched with rising horror as the men once again walked across to the steel door and disappeared out of sight, leaving me to the mercy of the machine. At this point I just started loudly groaning, both from the utter fullness I felt, the pain whenever the machine pushed in really deep, and the pleasure I was still getting from my prostate being stimulated by the beast of a dildo I was taking. The men weren’t gone too long, and this time when they emerged from the steel door they came straight over to me and finally turned off the machine. They withdrew the dildo, and then unstrapped my ankles. I shakily stood up and gratefully accepted a bottle of water one of them handed to me. They gave me a couple of minutes to get my composure, and then walked me over to the steel door. Inside was a dark corridor, leading to a room lit with a couple of lamps in which there were several ragged armchairs and one dirty mattress. One of the men lay down on his back on the mattress, and then signalled me over to mount his erect cock. I did as instructed, sliding down so I was facing him, and then guessing what was to come, I leaned forward. Sure enough, another of the men got on the mattress behind and pushed his cock into me beside the one I had just mounted, my gaping hole offering little resistance to the double-penetration. The man behind then began to thrust in and out, his movements making me also slide up and down a bit on the other cock, and generally bringing me nothing but intense pleasure. I did not hold back in letting them know how much I was enjoying it, and how much I wanted them to dump their poz loads in me again. The guy kneeling behind me lasted quite some time before erupting in me, and then was replaced by another. So it went on, with all four of them fucking and breeding me while I continued to ride the cock of the man lying on the mattress, who only let loose in me once he was in there alone. As I began to lean forward to let his cock slide out of me, a large plug was pressed in to the vacated hole, keeping the remains of the loads they’d dropped in there. I was then encouraged to my feet and directed to the corridor, heading back out to the factory floor while the men remained in the room. There I found Erik still lying in the sling all plugged up, so I grabbed a couple of bottles of water from a pack sitting by the door and then walked over to him. “You thirsty?” I asked. “Yes” he croaked. I decided I probably shouldn’t get him down from the sling completely, but I undid the attachments to his wrist cuffs and then handed him one of the bottles. He thirstily gulped down some water while I fetched my cigarettes, lighting two and then handing him one. “Thank you” he said. “No problem” I replied. “But I don’t think I should get you down.” “No” he said, “that is OK. I am comfortable now that I have drunk.” “I don’t think they’re done with us yet” I said. “I hope not” said Erik, smiling at me. “I could do this all night.” I glanced over at the bench I had been strapped to before, and saw for the first time the sheer size of the dildo that had been ramming into me. “Hold that thought” I said, before looking back at Erik. “If we swap places next, you are in for one hell of a ride.” He gave me a funny look, but then I winked at him and made him smile again. I walked back over to the pack of water and grabbed two more bottles, then came back and handed one to Erik as he finished the first one. I then reached over and firmly patted the plug in his hole, getting a moan out of him, before I headed over to the bench and lay down on my back. My legs needed a break, but sitting wasn’t really an option with the plug in me. I stared up at the cracked ceiling of the factory, noticing how much the light was fading now, and took a deep inhale of my cigarette. I was full of poz cum, my hole was wrecked, and yet I had the feeling we were just getting started…

Many, many married men will get up to no good while on business trips. Free of the rules and responsibilities of their home lives, they can enjoy whatever is on offer in the town or city they are visiting, without having to spend time being a good father to their children, nor tending to the whims of their not-so-adoring wives. Perhaps some will just enjoy a bit of time alone in their room with pay-per-view porn, while others hit the bars and get stinking drunk. Time will be spent at strip clubs and other seedy establishments, or maybe they will be wined and dined by their corporate hosts at the most elite of restaurants. Many travelling men are sure to commit acts of adultery, whether that involves paying for it or not. I am certain that there will be far fewer married men who do the things I get up to on my business trips, though I expect there are some. Men with these types of urges probably resort to picking a guy up in a bar, arranging a hook-up on an app, or paying for a hustler to visit their hotel room. There are probably a few who spend the night getting down and dirty in a cruising bar or club. But willingly, night after night, bending over with their arse pressed to a hole in the cubicle wall in some public toilets? No, on that front I think I’m probably in a very small minority. But that’s what I do, and I now know all the best spots to visit in the cities I travel to the most. You might even say I have developed something of a routine, from what I pack, where I stay, and managing my time well so that I can get enough sleep around my nighttime activities to not have my work suffer. But this particular trip was not to be routine, and I had planned it that way deliberately. My wife took so little interest in me these days that I knew I could get away with using a bit of annual leave between my Frankfurt and Berlin trips while spinning her a yarn about it being back-to-back deals. This would give me some time to enjoy the nocturnal opportunities in the German capital, without having to worry about being on form for work the next day. I even used some of the loyalty scheme points I’d built up to book different accommodation for that part of the trip, so that it could be truly separate from where I’d be on the working days and yet with no risk it would show up on my credit card bill. The other major difference this time was internal. Aside from the odd blip early on in these adventures, I had been secretly taking the necessary pills to allow me to receive loads without too much concern. Condoms had been a feature once, but those days were long over. However, a few weeks before this trip I had also ditched the pills. You see, I was knocking on the door of 50, and my youngest son had just started university. The need to hold the loose threads of my marriage together was gone, and I was sure my wife and I would be parting soon whatever happened. I mean, I was already pretty sure she was sleeping with her personal trainer, so she might be keen to wrap things up too now that we had done much of our duty as parents. I didn’t want to wait to get on with a new life for myself though, particularly as it was becoming an ever more challenging battle to keep my body as lean and toned as I wanted it, so I had decided to take some action to get to where I wanted to be. That involved one main goal: to be pozzed. It was something I had lusted after for years. Initially it was probably the allure of the risk, but as time passed I began to realise that I saw it as a form of freedom that I craved. Eventually I mentally connected it with being released from my marriage, and this led me to where I found myself in Berlin. Pressed up against a cubicle wall, a cigarette in my mouth, and my freshly brushed hole open and ready for whatever was coming my way. With a couple of event ads placed on the apps to encourage men to visit, alongside the normal pretty busy passing traffic, I was hopeful of several loads as well as maybe the first steps on my journey to conversion. By the time the fourth cock of the night was jackhammering in and out of me, I was completely high on the nicotine, poppers, and utter depravity of it all. I just loved being used and bred, and I was really getting off on the knowledge that there was nothing protecting me from anything the men breeding me were carrying. As yet no-one had let me know they were poz, but my imagination was filling in the blanks as I pictured the virus being pumped into me repeatedly. “You want poz?” I heard a man ask from outside the cubicle door, just as the fourth man slammed in a final time and blew his load. “Yes” I panted. “I not poz you here” the man outside the door said, with a thick German accent. “But you come to this place tomorrow at 5 o’clock and we will give you poz.” A note was shoved under the door, and then I heard his footsteps as he walked away. I was about to reach for the note when a fifth cock started pushing into me, and in the end it was three more loads before there seemed to be no more takers for a bit. I pulled myself up straight and stretched, then bent down to lift the note off the tiled floor. When I opened it up I saw an address written down, along with several bullet points all in German. Although I recognised some of the words, I could not decipher the rest so decided I would sort it out on Google Translate when I got back to my hotel. I folded the note back up and shoved it into the pocket of the jeans I had left on the toilet seat, before bending myself back over and pressing against the glory hole. I lit up another cigarette, and happily waited for the next cock. It was the early hours of the morning when I emerged from the shower at the hotel and slumped onto the bed. I reached for the note and phone sitting on the bedside table, and began to type out the text. I almost immediately sprung a hard-on when I read the translation: - Be at the address at 17:00. Do not be late. - You must be wearing a wide leather collar and wide leather cuffs. - You must be wearing rubber underpants with a hole in the back. - You must be wearing black leather boots. - We will not bring any lubrication or chemicals, so you must have your own if you want them. - You will not go home until the morning, and you will be infected. This was beyond my wildest dreams, and despite how tired I was from a long night of being anonymously gang bred, I immediately set about trying to find somewhere I could buy all the gear they wanted me to be wearing, seeing as I had nothing like any of it with me. Fortunately there seemed to be a few suitable shops close to each other, so I saved a few locations on the map app and then set an alarm so that I would have enough time to visit them, hopefully get what I needed, and then prepare for getting to the location. I also quickly booked a hire car to have for a couple of days, as I wasn’t sure about getting there by public transport or taxi given its remote location in an industrial estate on the edge of the city. Once everything was done that could be done at that time of the night, I plugged my phone into the power, turned off the light, and lay down for a happy night’s sleep in the afterglow of my most depraved night of sex yet. After a groggy start the next day, I successfully bought everything required from two of the shops, and then picked up the hire car and parked it at the hotel. I spent a bit of time showering and douching, before using a toothbrush on myself just to get prepared. I then donned the rubber boxers, admiring myself and my exposed crack in the mirror for a bit, and then pulled on the tracksuit trousers I had brought with me for exercising. The leather boots went on next, which looked a bit odd but I didn’t care. I then pulled on a tank top and a hoodie, deciding it was best to save the rest until I arrived. I put everything else I would need in my gym bag, along with some power bars, a couple of bottles of water, and some fresh clothes and a towel for the eventual journey back. Happy that I had all I would need, I headed down to the car park, had a quick cigarette, then got in and drove off to the address the map app was directing me to. When I arrived, I found I was in a deserted and largely derelict industrial area on the edges of East Berlin. There were notional fences around the various plots, but these had long since been partially torn down or holes ripped into them for access. It was the kind of place that you knew you probably shouldn’t be, which of course made it all the more appealing for me given the depths of depravity I was seeking to plumb on this trip. Many of my favourite piggy bareback pornos had been filmed in settings like this, and now I was possibly going to be getting a chance to act out the fantasy of those orgies and gangbangs for myself. I hopped out of the car, looked around a bit to make sure I was as alone as it seemed, and then finished off getting changed. I have to say, it was pretty thrilling to be stripping down to a near-naked state in late afternoon sunshine on a public street, even if it was apparently devoid of other people. Once done, I checked myself out in the reflection of the car window, loving how I looked with the massive padded leather collar I had bought and deciding there and then that this would be a regular part of my playtime outfit in future. The address I had been given noted a company name, and I could see an old sign on the plot next to where I had parked which matched that. I therefore walked to a gap in the fence of that plot, carefully climbed through, and then made my way across a large broken concrete lot until I reached the single building. There were a couple of service entrances which both had the shutters down, but I also saw a door that was open so headed for that. It led to a dark and smelly corridor, which I followed round a couple of corners until it opened onto what I guessed was once a factory floor. The roof on one side was gone so there was daylight flooding in, but it was in the shade over to the side that some movement caught my attention. A young Adonis was standing there, dressed just like I was. He had blond hair and tanned skin, and even at a distance and with him in the shade, I could tell he was absolutely ripped. I headed over to investigate, and he looked up as he saw me approaching. “Hi” he said, with a slight accent that suggested he might be Swedish. “Hi” I said. “Are you also here for…” He grinned at me, as I sort of swirled my hand in a nondescript way. “Yes, I am here for that” he replied, still smiling. “Cool” I said. “Are you married too?” he asked, surprising me a little. “Er, yeah” I replied, “though probably not for much longer.” He grinned again. “Me as well” he said. “I will get pozzed and then I can be with her brother.” I think my mouth dropped open when he said this, causing him to chuckle. “Her brother fucked me at the wedding, and all the time after” he said, smiling. “But he is poz and always has a condom.” “I see” I said. “And he won’t poz you?” “No” he replied, shaking his head. “So I have come here so I can be his.” I obviously did not know anything about the brother-in-law, but I was a little astounded that any man would deny a stunning young stud like this what he was looking for, especially if it meant you got to then be with him. Maybe it was some sort of family loyalty, though fucking your wife’s new husband on the day of their wedding did not seem to show much in the way of said loyalty. “Well” I said, starting to open one of the two packets of cigarettes I was carrying so I could have a smoke, “I hope you get what you came for today.” “You as well” he said, nodding when I offered him a cigarette from the packet. We both lit up our cigarettes and smoked in silence for a while. “Have you taken poz before?” he asked, just after we had both stubbed out our cigarettes on the floor. “Probably” I replied. “I got fucked a lot last night.” “That is hot” he said. “I hope my boyfriend will give me to other men to use once I am divorced.” “It’s a lot of fun” I said, smiling at him. Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of a steel door being opened on the other side of the factory floor, and we both turned and watched as five men emerged from some other part of the factory. All five were wearing leather boots, chaps and harnesses, and all had shaved heads with various forms of facial hair. Each of them was wearing a different combination of huge silver accessories, from neck chains to bracelets, or thick rings in their ears or noses. However, what stood out the most was the slightly wasted look each of them had, and all of them were adorned with biohazard tattoos on their chests or arms. I sprung an erection almost immediately. This is what I wanted, and some day I would seek to replicate their style, the absolutely immense neck chain and bracelet of one of the guys being a particular draw for me. The men approached us, and then stopped to look us up and down. They gestured for both of us to turn around so they could see our backs and arses, before we were each gently pushed forward to a raised concrete area in front of us where we were then encouraged to bend over. Almost immediately I felt the familiar scratch of a brush being pushed into my hole, but this may have been a new experience for the young Swedish hunk as he yelped and jolted forward. This did not dissuade the men though, and we were both soon being quite vigorously shafted by the brushes to get our holes nice and receptive. After a few minutes the brushes were removed, and immediately replaced by cocks. The fucking was hard and rough from the outset, but I was sufficiently experienced and stretched that it just felt incredible from the get-go. Again, however, my Swedish friend seemed to be struggling with it a bit, probably because his brother-in-law normally went easier on him. However, after a lot of pained panting and groaning, he eventually relaxed and took the fucking. They did a round robin on us for a while, none of them actually reaching the point of breeding, before the fucking stopped and they went back to brushing our holes again for a few moments. I could tell this was to make sure we were really raw now that they were getting close, and sure enough the brush in my hole was quickly replaced by a cock that was slammed in right as the guy roared out. I revelled in feeling him shoot his toxic load into me, and my Swedish partner in crime was even more vocal in his enjoyment of receiving the same treatment. No sooner had the two tops come down off their ejaculations and withdrawn, before the next pair of tops slammed into us and delivered their venom. “Ene mene mu und raus bist du” the last of the men said slowly while standing behind us, clearly making a decision on which of us was going to receive a third load. I was a little disappointed when he rammed into the Swede. Once he was done, the pair of us were pulled up from our bent over positions and walked over to a part of the factory floor where there was a large drain. “On knees!” one of the tops barked, and we both hurriedly got down onto the floor. I knew what was coming, and while I had never actually engaged in watersports, I had seen enough porn to know I should assume a certain position and open my mouth. “You!” barked one of the other men at the Swede, “do same!” All five of them then began to piss on us, whether that was in our mouths, on top of our heads, or elsewhere on our bodies. I heard the Swede gag choke a couple of times, but I was fine and actually realised why men got into this so much. When they were done, they walked away from us towards the door they had first emerged from. “You shower!” barked one of them before he went through the door, pointing at another door over to the side. “Then we come back.” We both hauled ourselves off the floor once they’d left the room, and made our way over to the doorway. Inside was a dark tiled bathroom, and even though the only light was what was coming through the open door from the factory floor, I could see that it was filthy. However, when the Swede went over to a visible shower head and turned the tap underneath, water did indeed start to flow out of it. “It’s cold” he said. “Then we better be quick” I replied. Each of us took a turn washing all the piss off our skin under the freezing cold stream, not removing any of our gear given that had also been soaked by the men. Once done, we headed to the part of the factory where the roof was gone so we could try to dry off and warm up in the small amount of sunshine that was still making it into that space, though I made a quick dash over to get my cigarettes first. “That was fun” said the Swede, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Sure was” I said. “How long do you think they’ll keep fucking us?” he asked. “The whole night hopefully” I said, giving him a wink. “Better chance of it taking with multiple loads.” The Swede nodded and smiled at that, but said nothing more. We therefore just smoked in silence, pondering what lay in store for us once the men were ready again. I couldn’t wait…