verbalBTTM

You'll be eligible for Medicaid, which should cover your expenses. Look into local LGBT support centers for better local information like additional resources from your state. Here in NYC they take very good care of you after you have a POZ diagnosis.

In the bustling heart of New York City, where dreams and desperation collide, I work in the shelter system, a world teeming with characters as diverse as the city itself. Each has their own tale of struggle and survival, and on one particularly fateful day, I encountered a young man whose story was just beginning to unfold. He sat alone at a table, his expression a mix of somber introspection and distant longing. Engrossed in the allure of fantasy websites, the glow of his laptop cast an eerie light on his face, hinting at the pornographic content that held his attention. Seeing an opportunity to connect, I decided to intervene, drawn to the silent plea in his eyes. With a casual "hey," I broke the ice, and he responded with a guarded "hi." Years of experience in this system had honed my instincts, and I could sense the depths of his story, the unspoken struggles that weighed heavily on his young shoulders. This boy had clearly been through a lot, and his demeanor suggested that life hadn't been kind to him lately. Being the asshole I am, I couldn't ignore the obvious need for a helping hand. So, I asked him to keep an eye on a few things while I stepped out for a cigarette, figuring he wouldn't be going anywhere soon. This is where our journey began. I started whisper-reading some of my stories and replies from this site to him, and I noticed his interest piqued. He would suddenly stop what he was doing, and I even caught him in a dreamlike state, lost in the words I was sharing. Before long, I decided to break the ice further and asked him to read a chapter of my work. His reaction was priceless; a mix of acceptance, relief, and excitement played across his face. Then, I asked him what he was reading on his laptop. To my surprise, he was reading trashy gay sex stories about fantasy characters. This was the moment he came out as a gay man, something he had never shared with anyone before. A sense of relief washed over him as he realized he wasn't alone and that it was okay to be who he was. In this environment, people often get their asses kicked for being a "fag," so many guys play it very cool and "down-low." But I could see right through him; I am, after all, a true predator. A friendship started to form, and soon, I was having him read all of my work. His reactions were utterly priceless; he had never been exposed to the ideas and explanations I had been putting down. I started telling him about my wild adventures from my youth, which inspired him to explore his own desires. He mustered up the courage to ask me, "How do you meet guys for sex?" I looked at him, realizing his need to experiment, and simply said, "Go type 'Sniffies' into your browser." He was puzzled, so I reiterated my suggestion as a command, which only excited him. This told me he was indeed a sub boy, and I didn't realize how hungry he actually was. Before long, this kid was on Sniffies around the clock, feverishly clicking away at his phone. Wanting to be a proper mentor, I went on my stealth account and looked at his profile, where I then had to stop him. "No, boy," I said, "you need a haircut. You should have a better picture to properly represent yourself to the world." So that weekend, I took him to a friend's place in Chelsea to get him properly styled. He was beside himself, not only for my kindness and generosity but also for that of my friend. In the hallway, I took a few pictures of him, and his youthful smile finally revealed itself thanks to a few smart-ass words coaxing it out. I showed it to him, and he couldn't believe it; he was smiling and proud of the way he looked. Now armed with a proper G-rated shot, he updated his profile and awaited his next adventure. On the way back, I showed him around Chelsea and the West Village, pointing out places of interest like porn shops with buddy booths and various bars. We eventually made it to the Leatherman, where I had him try on various leather harnesses and showed him other items I thought might be of interest. He really liked the floggers (hint hint). Afterwards, I explained the Stonewall riots as best as I could, but I think that little history lesson was lost on him as he was in full cruise mode. There was no denying that this boy was on the hunt, recording every word of mine that spoke of places to get some dick. The next day, I saw him at his usual table, fidgeting with his phone, and I heard that familiar chime from Sniffies. This kept up for a while as I observed him from afar during my patrols. Later that night, I got a text from him stating that he’s no longer a virgin. The next day, I saw him at his usual table, and the smile on his face told me all I needed to know as he shared the joys of feeling a man ejaculate inside him. His romanticization of having a load inside him made it clear that my stories had had an impact on him, for he followed my characters' love of cum to the letter. So the next day, I sent him to Callen Lorde to get on PrEP. A couple of days later, I was back at the site, and every moment he had to spare was dedicated to getting fucked. Fast forward to Thursday, 11/6, and again, he was absent from the cafeteria during dinner time. A few hours later, he came strolling in with that "I just got fucked" smile, holding a big bag of Popeye's. Naturally, I interrogated him, demanding to know where he had been, only to happily boast of yet another glorious cum-filled adventure. Where he tells me he whored himself out for... You guessed it, some Popeye’s. A 3 piece, two sides, a biscuit, and a coke. To be honest, their mac and cheese is pretty good. So as he was devouring his feast, he went on to say, he offered his twink hole to a guy for $20 saying that his Master ordered him to do that. So his story goes like this. He went over to this guy's place and offered himself up while reciting the submission speech from my story while putting my loaner collar on and then handed the guy his leash. The guy, obviously excited by having a boy like this, ordered him to strip and begin cleaning the bathroom. While he was cleaning the bathtub, the guy pissed all over his backside. The boy responded like my main characters with gratitude. The guy then said, "Clean yourself up, faggot." The boy then showered himself in front of the man, paying special attention to his backside. Once clean, he took the boy's leash and led him to the bedroom where the boy naturally assumed position three, face down ass up. The man began to slap his cock on the boy's hole while dripping lube on the target. The boy turned his head back and said, "My hole is yours, sir, please use me." The man then spit in his face and said, "Shut the fuck up, faggot," and poked his head in. The boy said he gasped, hoping for poppers, but none were offered. The man’s cock kept descending into him with lube drizzling, then out again. He said this went on for a few minutes, each entrance a blessing of pleasure and pain, until he threw a bottle of poppers and said, "Take a hit, boy." He said he took a double hit, then put the cap back on. The man took full advantage of his chemically induced openness and rammed his cock all the way in and out. He then slapped his ass and said, "What do you want, faggot?" The boy responded, "Your cum, sir, please use me, sir." The boy put his hands back, grabbing his cheeks and held his ass apart. The man buried his cock all the way in the boy's fuck-hole, with his face turned to the side, his youthful and innocent-looking face red from the pressure, slightly tearing up from the strain, said, "Thank you, sir." The boy said the man then slow-fucked him for a good five or six minutes until either the boy's whimpers or his wants made him pile drive the boy's hole. He said once the pile driving began, he lost control and begged in the most pathetic way he could think of for the man’s load. He repeated every phrase he read from my stories, "Oh yeah, fuck me, cum in my ass, my hole is yours, make me your faggot, sir." Over and over, the boy's submission to his cock deepened until that glorious moment where the man said in that excited way a top does, "What do you want, boy?" "I want your load, sir, please breed me, sir." The man then took both of the boy's hands, lifting him back then releasing his glory. The boy said, "I could feel his cock pump into me; he said he could feel his hole slightly expand with each pump as he felt a slight warmth enter inside of him. When the man released his arms, he looked back and said, "Thank you, sir." The man withdrew himself, then collapsed beside him, out of breath. The boy, under my expert tutelage, went over and cleaned the man’s cock off to ensure that every last drop of his essence was savored instead of being wasted. After a few minutes, the man got up and grabbed his wallet from his pants on the floor and threw a twenty-dollar bill at him and said, "See you next Thursday, faggot." The boy understood his place, redressed, and exited like the cheap whore he knows he is now. With his hole properly used and filled with cum, he went to Popeye’s and ordered himself a proper feast. Upon his return is where I saw him, triumphantly walking towards me with a shit-eating grin and feast in hand. Something about these small-town Midwestern boys, they are complete cum sluts once they hit the big city. Even as I type this out, I glance up and I see him on his phone, cruising for more cock. In the past two weeks after getting him his haircut, he has been fucked at least once a day. Amazing what a little support from a friend can do. For him, there is no turning back, for he has found himself and is accepted for who and what he is. No longer must he hide his true self. With me, he confides everything, and without judgment, I offer my advice to him so he can proceed safely in this new world of adventure. Once he figures himself out and gets past his initial slut phase, I’ll be taking him around the city, especially the Eagle. For the record, I let Daniel read this story before publishing it. So any words of encouragement will be passed onto him.

You said it right there. I hate mainstream porn for exactly the reasons you stated. There's something unfulfilling about the staged, scripted performances that lack genuine emotion and connection. I prefer the kinky couple who get off on showing the world just how perverted they are. When the moans are real, we all recognize them in an instant. They can't be helped, for it is a moment of surrender to the pleasure received, a raw and unfiltered expression of ecstasy that transcends any act of performance. The look of a bottom who can't handle the fucking but keeps submitting to the dick is absolutely priceless. It's a testament to their trust, their willingness to push beyond their limits, and their utter devotion to the act of submission. There's a certain beauty in the struggle, in the way their body betrays their mind, craving more even as it reaches its breaking point. And nothing is hotter than watching a guy's eyes roll back as he is overwhelmed. It's a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a surrender to the sensations that consume him completely. The way his body tenses, the involuntary moans that escape his lips, the sheer intensity of his expression—it's a sight that leaves an indelible mark on the mind, a reminder of the power of pleasure and the depths of human desire. These are the moments that make kinky performances so captivating, so authentic. They are a window into the raw, unfiltered experiences of individuals who embrace their perversions without shame or hesitation. It's a celebration of desire, a testament to the beauty of surrender, and a reminder that the most powerful connections are forged in the heat of genuine, uninhibited passion.

Chapter 3 Friday, June 2, 1993, 11:18 PM I hear a few clanks and claps, and then master stops and says, "Are you ready for your birthday present, faggot?" With His cock suctioned in my mouth, I gag out, "Yes, sir." I'm pulled off master by the four mentors and placed in a leather-like hammock. My legs are put into these U-shaped things on either side, leaving them up, open, and rested. master, with a shit-eating grin, gives me one of those brown bottles and says, "Indulge yourself, faggot." He goes down on my hole again as He grabs at my armpits and places His thumbs on my nipples, teasing me mercilessly. I whimper in pleasure as I sniff the bottle, and then grab the chains with my hands so I can feel some restriction in my arms. master comes up for air, gives me a kiss as I feel the tip of His cock knocking on my back door, ready to plunder. My body starts to tingle from the tension of His touch and the building pressure on my special place, making me quiver with anticipation. I grab His neck and loudly say, "My faggot hole is yours, sir.” He kisses me with His tongue down to my throat, deeply with passion, and slowly enters with my birthday present, stretching me wide. I moan without restraint as I grab at His backside for dear life, urging Him deeper. I spread my legs as far apart as possible to welcome Him into His new home, my hole quivering with anticipation and desire. Masters entrance, a welcomed pain, fills my rectum with newly discovered expansion, witnessed by my curling toes and the uncontrollable shaking of my legs. My muffled cries and gasps only fuel His long entrance past my second ring. My moan deepens in tone to a depth I've never uttered before, a guttural sound of pure submission. Finally, I feel Masters balls rest on my taint. He is fully inside of me, claiming every inch of my tight, willing hole, owning me completely. I look directly into His eyes, and as I use my tongue, I utter the muffled words, "Please... Fuck me, now," in an even deeper, more primal tone of want, never offered before. He collects both of my wrists and holds them together, pressing against the chain, and with His right hand, He grabs my right ass cheek and digs in an extra quarter inch, making me jump and moan. "Uhhh," He starts to pull out, teasing me with a rush of blood to His cock, forcing me to clench His hand for dear life, desperate for more. Slowly out and in, the world is invisible to me. This man and His cock is all there is, pounding into me with relentless intensity. In and out all over again; my friends, my new found brothers in depravity, jealously witnessing my bliss, their eyes hungry with lust. He repeats His motions as harry and danny each come to my sides and suck on an armpit, their tongues leaving wet trails on my skin, heightening my pleasure. master frees His hand from my ass and places it around my throat, pushing inward, noticeably restricting my breath, making me lightheaded with pleasure. harry restrains one arm, and danny the other. master places His other hand on my chest to grab at some flesh to make a handle, using me like a toy for His pleasure. He increases His thrusts into me as I wail uncontrollably in ecstasy, my body convulsing with each powerful stroke, lost in a sea of sensation. My eyes rolled back, that little bottle placed to my nostril, and I huff like it's my last breath; the scent of His cologne and my own musk filling my nostrils. "Oh My God uhhhhh, FUCK ME." master makes good use of me, my legs flailing about like a floundering fish, completely at His mercy. My ass spasms with each withdrawal, clenching tightly around His cock, trying to keep Him inside, never wanting this to end. "Oh my God, sir, I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum," and then I hear master say, "Here's my load, faggot." "Ughh," my ass and His cock rhythmically spasming in harmony as I explode all over master’s face and chest, my cum mixing with His sweat, a sticky mess of our combined lust. He says, "Yum. Tastes like faggot to me," as He licks His lips, savoring the taste of my release, a trophy of His conquest. After a complete draining of His balls, the emptiness He leaves by His withdrawal is blatantly obvious; for I am in bliss, my hole gaping and aching from the intense fucking, feeling utterly used and satisfied. He kisses me and says, "Happy birthday, faggot." Unable to move, I remain where I am, euphoric with a tingling sensation throughout my body, my nerves still tingling from the overwhelming pleasure. I am truly a happily used faggot, marked and claimed by my master, forever changed by this encounter for I have been cunted. Saturday, June 26, 1993, 12:09 AM harry’s mentor orders him to one of the padded logs; from behind he offers harry a sniff of that bottle as his leash is reattached, and then proceeds to mount him for all to see. harry whimpers in pleasure as he maintains the number one position. With each thrust; we see him deepening his surrender to the cock inside him, his body quivering with each powerful stroke. His ass jutting out, back arched, and arms extended, offering his face for others to witness, a picture of pure submission and desire. arthur is placed beside harry and mounted like his boyfriend. The two holding hands, enjoying their holes being slowly fucked on display for everyone, their moans and gasps filling the air, a symphony of pleasure and pain. Then danny and I are placed in front of them, fed the bottle, and mounted as well. The four of us, best friends since childhood, now united in our shared depravity and lust. All watch unknown masked men use each other's bodies for their pleasure and an audience stroking their cocks to our lustful submission, their eyes hungry with desire as they await their turn. Looking into each other's eyes, we see something in each other that we've never noticed before. My friends are absolute degenerate faggots, and so am I. We are nothing but total sluts, allowing unknown masked men to have us without shame, our bodies mere vessels for their pleasure. We watch over each other as one man finishes inside one of us and is then quickly replaced by another who awaits their turn, our holes stretched and used, filled with their seed. We yell, "FUCK me sir, fuck my hole sir, cum in my faggot hole sir, breed me sir, I need your cum sir." We're all competing with each other to become the most depraved version of our faggot selves, our bodies aching and sore from the relentless pounding. After all of my new found brothers have successfully bred us, our holes now flooded with their cum, our asses used and stretched beyond our understanding, feeling utterly both ruined and satisfied. I feel my brothers cum slowly oozing out. Little by little, no matter how hard I try to keep it inside, I can't. I see it in my friends' faces they are clenching just as I am, our bodies betraying us, wanting to keep those precious loads inside. We don't want the cum to stay in us; we NEED THE CUM TO STAY IN US. Compelled by an unknown force, I found myself drawn to danny's rear, an insatiable urge to taste the forbidden driving me forward. I began to suck on his cum-filled hole, my tongue probing and exploring every crevice with a fervor that surprised even myself. The mix of flavors was intoxicating, a heady blend of our brothers' essence and the musk of his body, a potent cocktail that fueled my hunger. I could feel danny's ass clenching around my tongue, his body desperate to hold onto the precious nectar inside him. But I was relentless, driven by a primal need to savor every last drop. As I sucked and licked, I felt danny's hands on my body, pulling me closer, his fingers digging into my flesh. Our moans mingled, a symphony of pleasure and desperation. We were both on the edge, our bodies trembling with the effort of holding back the inevitable. I broke away briefly, my breath ragged, and looked right into danny's eyes. They were wild with desire, mirrored by my own. We fell to the ground, our bodies entwined, limbs tangled in a frenzy of need. Our hands roamed, exploring each other's asses, fingers probing and stretching, preparing for the onslaught of our tongues. On the ground, we sixty-nined with a ferocity that belied our exhaustion, our tongues diving deep, seeking out every last drop of cum. The taste was overwhelming, a heady mix of salt and musk, a reminder of the primal acts that had brought us to this point. We licked and sucked, our tongues working in tandem, determined to savor every bit of our brothers' essence. Arthur and Harry, inspired by our fervor, joined us on the ground, their bodies pressing against ours as we formed a tangled, writhing mass of flesh and desire. The lawn was filled with the wet sounds of our tongues and the occasional moan of pleasure, a symphony of our shared lust and submission. Our hands roamed freely, forcing each other's asses open, allowing our tongues to penetrate deeper, to taste the very essence of our brothers. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain, as our bodies betrayed us, craving more even as they were pushed to the brink. The world outside faded away, leaving only the here and now, the shared experience that had bonded us in a way no words could describe. Our bodies ached with the intensity of our acts, but the pleasure was worth every moment of discomfort. We were lost in a world of pure sensation, our minds and bodies forever changed by the experience. Saturday, June 26, 1993, 02:27 AM Unaware of anything but the taste and texture of danny's freshly fucked-out hole. The fire has dimmed to a flicker, the only light coming is from the moon casting an eerie glow on our entwined bodies. The tables cleared, and the area picked up, the remnants of our lustful encounter scattered about; a testament to our shared depravity. Our mentors collect us one by one, tugging at our leashes, and walk us inside the house to our assigned quarters, our bodies aching and sore, but content and satisfied with this evening. When we get inside, my mentor says, "Aren't you a filthy faggot, huh, boy?" Looking down at myself, I see I'm covered in dirt and grass adhered to my body from dried cum and slobber, my skin sticky and smeared with the evidence of our lustful encounter. My knees are stained green, as is my side, the grass and earth clinging to my sweat-slick skin. My Mentor walks me into the shower, commanding me to hold my hands up as the Omega scrubs me down thoroughly, his rough hands and abrasive cloth removing the layers of grime and cum, revealing the raw, used flesh beneath. My Mentor unleashes me and says, "Now scrub the Omega, then the Beta, the Alpha, and finally my mentor with his defining treasure trail." I've tasted and explored every inch of their bodies before, but now only with my hands, my fingers tracing the contours of their muscles and the curves of their asses, remembering the taste and feel of them. As I clean them, I can't help but give myself another taste here and there, my tongue darting out to lick at a particularly enticing spot, savoring the last remnants of our shared lust. All that goodness going down the drain, what a waste, I think to myself, a pang of regret washing over me as I watch the evidence of our pleasure disappear. I dry them off like my parents did when I was a child; with tender loving care, my hands gentle and soothing, a stark contrast to the rough handling we've endured. Afterwards, my mentor hops into the bed and commands me to join him, his eyes heavy with lust and satisfaction, a promise of more to come. He holds my boyish body with an embrace and says, "faggot bindel, you are one of my boys now, and no harm will ever come to you." We are a pack, the five of us that is; a family of faggots, bound by our shared lust and submission. I curl up on my mentor, feeling my pack brothers' flesh around me, like a dog, I am comforted by the warmth and their embrace, their bodies a haven of safety and pleasure. I pass out snuggled in their arms, feeling safe and at peace in this world, my body sated and content, ready to face whatever tomorrow may bring, together with my pack, my family, my brothers in arms and in lust.

From my own personal experiences, I would say that a regular partner offers a deeper connection and exploration. The first time with anyone is always a tad awkward, and things can be a little clumsy, especially if your sex goes beyond tab A into slob B. I'm a BDSM and ass play/FF guy, and for that type of play I get into, I need to know my partner well enough to gauge where he is at. Pushing a limit is hot, but it must be done at his pace. Rushing things can be dangerous, especially when my hand is up his ass. Breathing, moans, and muscle twitches are all signals from his body that indicate where he is at and how much more he can take. Paying attention to these subtle cues is crucial for a safe and satisfying experience. For instance, if his breathing becomes shallower or more erratic, it might signal that he's approaching his limit. Similarly, a sudden tension in his muscles or a change in the pitch of his moans can indicate discomfort or a need to slow down. Communication is key, both verbal and non-verbal. Before engaging in any play, it's essential to establish safe words and signals. This ensures that both partners feel comfortable and secure, knowing that they can stop or slow down the action at any time. Trust is built over time, and with a regular partner, you can explore each other's boundaries more freely, knowing that you have a shared understanding and respect for each other's limits. In BDSM and ass play, the art of reading your partner's body language is as important as any technique. It's about being present, attentive, and responsive to his needs and signals. For example, if he pushes his ass back against your hand or finger, it's a clear sign that he wants more. Conversely, if he pulls away or tenses up, it's a signal to ease off or stop altogether. The beauty of a regular partner in this context is the ability to build on previous experiences, to learn from each other, and to grow together. Each session becomes an opportunity to delve deeper, to push boundaries gently, and to discover new heights of pleasure and submission. It's a journey of trust, exploration, and mutual satisfaction, where the connection between partners is as important as the physical acts themselves. In conclusion, while the initial encounters might be awkward or clumsy, a regular partner provides the foundation for a deeper, more fulfilling exploration of BDSM and Assplay. It's about respect, communication, and a shared journey of discovery, where both partners can safely and confidently push their limits.

Come to NYC, and i will help you knock off the rest of the list for you

This is a sign of commitment to the glory of our seed. Best if inseminated, but the seed shall not touch the earth.

Oh I know, believe me I know. That ass and f yours would do very well in New York