Toon

1990 After college, I had no clear plan except to move to a large city, live on my own and figure my life out. The apartment building I could afford to live in was obviously not luxurious. It was an old hotel built in the 1920's and it had its charms, but it was also kind of a dump. I didn't mind because I knew I wouldn't be living there permanently. I was going to be a great journalist or novelist or something that would make me rich and famous. That was the attitude of so many kids in their early 20's back then. And then you learn that the world is a harsh place and everybody's daily horoscope should always read "You will be disappointed today". But, back then I was happy and embracing life. I liked living in this sad, beautiful building. Rent was cheap and I had some interesting neighbors. Poor people are usually more interesting than 'comfortable' people. For example: There was a girl named Rissa down the hall who was a local stripper. She was a mixture of all kinds of races, and also chubby. And even though she wore 'librarian glasses' and carried some extra poundage, she radiated sensuality and I loved just looking at her while she talked. For a while, she mistook my interest as a desire to fuck her, but I told her right away that I was gay even though I had no gay experience at the time. We still hung out when she wasn't stripping or "working". We got really stoned one night and she told me about the guys she dated just for money to pay bills. We talked free and loose and I mentioned how much I liked the tenants in this building. "Well, don't get too fond of everybody, baby. There are bad people here. There's even a rapist living on our side of the building". "Who?" "Some big, weird-ass-looking dude who tried to come on to me in the laundry room. I told him I had a gun in my hamper and he left. I actually went and bought a gun the next day. Want to see it?" "No. Keep it safe somewhere. How do you know he's actually a rapist?" "I heard it from some girls at the club...as well as a few women here. Right here. In this building!" "Yeah, but wouldn't he have been caught with that many accusers?" "Cute. You still think the police give a shit about this neighborhood. They don't....especially if you're 'working'. I'm not the only one here, ya know?" "Oh. Well, I'm glad you're armed." She gave me a kiss on the cheek before she had to get ready for the club, and sent me back to my place with a piece of apple pie and a joint. Is it weird that I was a little excited about all this new information? I was. I almost wanted to wander the halls and see if I could see the famous rapist, but it was late and I just went to bed. It wasn't an easy sleep, though -- the guy next door was moving out. I wouldn't miss him. He was a delicate ballet blonde that walked on his tiptoes and never said a word to anybody. Plus he played Pet Shop Boys way too loud. His place didn't stay empty too long. Maintenance moved in and started fumigating, painting and vacuuming right away. And it was quiet for a few days until I heard the noises of a new tenant moving in. He must have plugged his TV in first because I heard those ESPN jerks blabbing through my wall almost immediately. It was 8 in the morning, for chrissakes. I tried covering my head with a pillow, but then there was an urgent knock on my door. Rissa. She was still in what I'm assuming she slept in and quickly closed the door behind her. "He's here!" "Who? David Cassidy?" (I was still half asleep). "No. That creepy rapist is right on our floor now. I need to move". "You've got a gun. He's not going to mess with you. And he isn't going to try anything with a guy. Please don't move". "Well, I'm going to get a big dog then". "I'll walk him for you". A few days passed with no incident. And I found my myself getting more interested in my new neighbor. I'd sit silently against the wall and listen to his TV and stereo. I wanted information...or something. A clue. I could hear him when he ran the shower and I could hear his phone conversations. I was becoming obsessed with the heterosexual rapist. Maybe it was all the straight porn I'd seen in the past -- the kind when the guys would basically attack women and force them into sex. Their dicks seemed to just want a hole to fill with seed. Was my neighbor like that? Rissa left for a weekend with her latest "male friend". And I took the opportunity to go introduce myself to my new neighbor. I took a six-pack of Busch Light (which was the only brand I could afford back then). Why was I doing this? I knocked on his door and listened to the TV being turned down and some heavy footsteps come to the door. Shit shit shit. The door swung open and there he was. He was so tall...6'4"? And had a lot of almost-beard going on all over the lower part of his face. And that face! He was definitely ugly. Half of his chin looked caved in my an invisible fist and his eyes were tiny and close together. "Yes?" "Hi. I'm your neighbor. I just wanted to welcome you to our floor". He flashed a smile of pretty gross teeth and then let me in. I handed him the six-pack. "Thanks! I don't drink beer, but I can offer you something stronger." His place was neat and tidy except for an enormous dirty sock in the middle of the floor. I was on auto-pilot as I plopped down on his nice couch. He was mixing drinks in the kitchen and I stared at the big TV that was showing dome sort of motorbike race in the mud. He returned, handed me a glass and sat down next to me. "Here. I'll mute it so we can talk." His body next to mine gave me little electrical impulses. "You like your new place?" "Oh yeah. It's bigger and I've always liked change. That chick across from me hates my ass though." I took a deep gulp of the drink he handed me. Vodka and Sprite? "She thinks you're a rapist". I can't believe I just blurted that out. "Oh", He paused. "Well, stories get spread I suppose." "Any of those stories true?" "Why? You a cop or something?" "No. Not at all. I just think it's kind of fascinating". "Remember about five years ago -- when they were investigating the 'West Forest Rapist'? And they had police sketches in the newspaper?" "No. I wasn't living here then." "Well that artist was a retard because his sketch didn't look anything like me. I must have knocked up about nine single ladies back then. That was goal. I wanted to impregnate them with my bare dick and then lo around the city for kids that looked like me. But then the police moved in and I moved on to the strip clubs. I bare-fucked so many of those whores. I know most of 'em are fixed or on birth control, but my sperm are pretty powerful. I got at least three kids by strippers by now. Then when I wasn't welcome in the clubs anymore, I started fucking prostitutes on Caleo Street. That was way cheaper, but I got so many diseases there....including AIDS. Now I'm just figuring out what do next." I nodded and finished my drink. "Ever raped a man?", I asked. "Just once. It was in prison, but he looked almost exactly like a woman. Why do you ask?" What the hell was I thinking? "Because I wouldn't mind being raped by you now". "Not now". "OK" "Go home and shave all around your ass and crotch, Hell -- shave your whole body if you can. When you're done, go to bed with your door unlocked. Just be patient. I had almost no body hair, but I shaved what little I could find. I dried off with a fresh towel and fell into bed. Did he say "AIDS"?? I didn't have time to think about it because my front door creaked open. And then a huge hand was around my mouth and a big, bare dick was being pressed in between my butt cheeks. I'd asked for this in a way. What I didn't ask for was the incredible sting of his cock head pushing into my hole. I tried yelling 'no', but my lips were covered. I tried to squirm away, but he was just too large. This is the reality of rape, I thought. It's not sexy. It's violent and it hurts. I was so miserable as he shoved that dirty weapon in deeper...and then deeper. Good Lord -- how much more of that dick could there be??? But it kept driving in and I was aware of what he was saying: "You gonna have my baby, Bitch". and "You Fucking Slut!" I was helplessly surviving this. I had a brief fantasy of Rissa barging in with her gun and shooting him. In the head. And then he sped up his pace. He took his giant hand from my mouth and started using it to pull my hair as he climaxed. He drug it out dramatically, huffing and groaning and saying "shit". The he rushed out -- which is what I guess rapists are used to doing. I'd bled all over my clean bed and wondered if I'd have to get a new mattress. A few days later, The Rapist and I watched a movie together at his place. We ended up having sex again. And again. For the next two months. And then he was gone. Evicted I guess because they hauled all his stuff out to the curb. But he left me with one of his possessions...his HIV. Like I said --- the world is a harsh place.

Some others have posted about finding a giver and then been not sure if they really want the gift. I always say the same thing: I would do it, but I'm not you and I don't know your guy. If you're worried and hesitant, you won't fully enjoy the experience. Your name is "Sex Addict" and you are a member of this website --- so maybe your true desires are there and you're not acknowledging them. ? You won't die from this encounter, but you should still think it over carefully. Keep us posted and good luck!

I'd do it, but I'm not you and also don't know the guy. The fact that you're a member here should be a clue to what you really desire. Make the best decision for YOU and keep us posted. Good Luck!

I was never actually an official bug-chaser. It just turned out that way....which was a surprise to me since I used to be so shy and inexperienced. But my old lady doctor (who is crabby, but treats me like a son) noticed some inflamed lymph nodes on my neck, some weight loss and recommended I take the test. I did, and found out I was poz. Wow. When did it happen? With who? I could remember three times when it might have happened. 1. The After Party I live in an old neighborhood with some beautiful old buildings and lots of trees. There's a crappy little tavern in the midst of it that I went to all the time. The guys there were older and overall less "pretty" than at the dance clubs. I met these two brothers there who were older and a little sleazy. They always had weed and always hosted us stragglers at their big, beautiful house after closing time. It was within walking distance and we'd all drunkenly stumble down the block to their mansion. Mostly, we all sat around in the grand living room and passed a bong in a circle. It was always good stuff on its own, but some new skinny, tall stranger decided to add coke to the bowl. I'd never even tried cocaine, but I figured fire would kill the powder's effects. So I took in and blew out the clouds with everybody else, and after about ten minutes, I noticed I was really, REALLY fucked-up. The crowd started to thin out and go home and I thought about doing the same, but my legs didn't seem to be willing. And then there were three. The older brother, the skinny stranger and me. And they had both taken off their clothes. They sat on each side of me on the antique couch and demanded I strip too. I stood up and wobbled a bit. "I need to head home". But they insisted. And they aggressively stripped me. They got me from the front and back in a squeeze. I felt their cocks move into me from both ends. I had a thought about how this is how rape happens, but that was my last clear thought. Then we were all rolling around on an old oriental carpet. At one point, I found my face right in the crotch of the older brother. He had a huge boner and instructed me to "talk to it". I was so out of it, that I just wanted to lie down on the beautiful old carpet. The skinny guy kept prodding me with his boner and I wanted to fight him off, but was so, so tired. I can't even remember what he looked like. Then I slept. One of then could have slipped some seed in my neg ass, but I have no way of knowing. 2. The Bathtub Guy What his name? Mike? Anyway -- I'd seen him out at all the same dive bars I frequented. He was always making out and leaving with somebody new. He was tall, but not all that cute. It turns out, he had a reputation for sporting a really big dick. I guess it was my turn that one Saturday night. He took me back to his really tiny apartment and we had a serious make-out session. He wanted me to suck him, but I didn't do a very good job. His cock was genuinely huge. I kept getting to almost halfway down, when I just couldn't stand it any longer. "The day you take all of it, we're going to celebrate!" We'd talked and he knew I had a kinky side. So he put a blindfold on me and led me to his mini bathroom. I lied back in the cold tub and waited. It took about thirty seconds before I felt hot, burning drops land on me. Oh. He must have lit a candle and was dripping hot wax on me. It was kind of a turn-on, actually. If some guy wants to do this to you, just go along with it.... it doesn't hurt much and is kind of thrilling. And then came the piss. He was peeing on me and I got the biggest erection. Here was a kink I'd never even thought of! I stood under the shower nozzle for a bit to wash it all off and then we were in his bedroom/living room. He had lube samples from the bar, but they weren't enough to get his big organ into me. I ended up sucking him off and letting him shoot a load in my throat. We were lying back in his bed when he admitted that he had a boyfriend -- a poz boyfriend. Who lived IN THE SAME BUILDING! What the fuck? I had to find my clothes and get out of there. I thought of all his fluids that I'd experienced,and calculated the risks I faced. 3. The Listener I went against my better judgement and went to one of the trendy clubs where all the cuties went. I lasted all of twenty minutes before going back to a sleazier place. That's where a met a big, tall leather man. He went all out for his cause... boots, leather pants, leather cap. Everything. I sat two stools away from him and ordered a draw. The he stretched out, and his giant boots were in my lap. I guess I looked the part of a sub as much as he looked the part of a leather daddy. So be it. We had a conversation and I told him about the club I'd been to. "You had enough of twinks and want a real man now?" "Absolutely, " I replied. We left in his car and went to a pretty modest apartment building. On the drive over, he kept asking about what I'd done and how many guys I'd been with. I was honest. I told him about my grandma doctor and how carefully she monitored me every six months. I thought about asking him for a background too, but didn't. Once we were inside of his little apartment, he wanted to chain me to the ceiling of his living room, but the hook was meant for a houseplant - not a 150 pound male. So that didn't work. He was tired and didn't feel like pursuing any more kink stuff. So we went to the bedroom and he had me strip him down. I don't know how you fold leather clothes so I just stacked them as neatly as I could. He was flat on his back in bed and I stood at the end and started kissing his feet -- because they were so massive and beautiful and perfect. He loved it for awhile, but made me quit. "Tell me a hot story". "Tell me a fantasy." I was quiet for a minute....and then told him about my desire to get fucked in the changing room of a swimming pool, I also told him how I wanted to be raped by a UFC fighter. He was fully hard and beating off furiously. I bent over and waited for the load to shoot into my mouth. "Are you sure you're neg?" "I'm sure." "OK. Wait". Then his big dick erupted in the most massive flow of semen I could ever imagine. I lapped up some of it, but he held my head back and scooped the rest of it up in his left hand. He weirdly poked me in the eye with that hand and it stung like crazy. Then he turned me around and painfully shoved the rest into my butt hole. So now I wonder who put the poison in me. One of them? Two of them? A combination of all three? I guess it doesn't matter now.

1989 I'm dumb. I'm so, so dumb. It was a few days away from Christmas and the weather was terrible -- and yet I decided to drive out into the country for a coworker's holiday gathering. The TV had warned there'd be blizzard conditions and black ice on the highways. What the hell is "black ice" anyway? I'd never seen it or slid in it. I seemed like a fake weather thing they used to fill air time. I'd never seen "updrafts" or "heat lightning" either. The little party was nice even though over half those invited didn't attend due to the dire weather forecast. I ate well and had many rum and Cokes. Probably one or two too many. The hostess tried to convince me to just spend the night on her couch, but I really wanted to be at home. So I ventured out. The dirt road leading away from her place had started to drift closed a little, but it was nothing my car couldn't handle. The little two-lane highway heading back wasn't drifting at all, and I could almost go normal speed. I was still in a very rural area and it would be another fifteen minutes before I'd glimpse the lights of the city. No problem. I saw the sign for a narrow bridge up ahead and tapped the brakes a bit. Mistake. I was suddenly sliding and almost went into a full 360 degree spin. I ended up going backwards into a ditch with my headlights shining up into the snowy night sky. I felt pain. Did I not buckle my seat belt? No. I had not. My neck and tailbone ached right away and I could feel slight pain spreading across my forehead. At least the car was still running, with the heater going. I wouldn't freeze to death or anything. Maybe I could just close my eyes for a few minutes and see if I felt better pretty soon. I dreamed for a few seconds. A stranger was handing me a huge wrapped gift and wanted to watch me open it in front of him. I ripped into the paper and --- "HEY!" I was awake and a guy was standing over me. I was outside and lying on the snow. How? After coming to completely, the pain in my back and head came vividly back to life as well. "I'm hurt", I said to the large shadow over me. "No shit!", he said. "You're fucking lucky to be alive". "Help me", I pleaded. I didn't think I could move or walk without jabs of pain shooting through me. I guess maybe this man knew that because he picked me and gently slung me over his shoulder. I was pretty high off the ground which meant he was pretty tall. The jolts of stabbing pain were pretty bad, and I my let ice-cold tears drip onto his down coat. And then I was propped up on the front seat of his truck. I'd never realized how painful it could be to just sit upright. And then I was sleeping again. I woke up, flat on my back in a nice comfortable bed. "I think you've got a concussion so I probably need to keep you awake for a while". "Can you call an ambulance?' "I tried. The phones are out. The weather's even worse now. Open your eyes and look at me". I did. His face came into focus after a few seconds. He was a big beast of a man with jet black hair and a full, bushy beard. Mountain Man. He studied my eyes and concluded I was probably OK. "But just to be safe, keep those eyes open and talk to me". "My name is Ross. What's yours'?" "I'm Ed. You live around here?" "No. I live in downtown in a little apartment". We went back and forth until he was fairly satisfied I wouldn't slip into a coma or anything. He told me about growing up in Boston before his stepdad kicked him out and he moved to L.as Vegas and then to L.A. where he was in some movies. He was doing pretty well until he got sick and moved here to the middle of Kansas to live on the farm his grandfather left him when he'd died. He raised a few cattle, but it was hard because all the meds were kicking his ass. Meds? For what? He kept talking and I kept listening until sleep finally grabbed me. I maybe woke up two times that night and was aware that he was lying next to me....nude. My clothes were gone too. The next morning, I was made instantly aware of he soreness in my body. Ed was gone, but he came soon enough with a glass of ice water -- which I desperately wanted. With some painful effort, I sat up and took a few greedy gulps. I knew I'd have to pee soon, and God only knew how I'd manage that. I had so much pain. "Do you have any Tylenol or anything like that?" "Oh I got something way better. Hold on." He returned a minute later with a white tablet in his sausage-like fingers. "Swallow this." I did. "You don't have any broken bones, by the way. I checked you all over last night. You might have some fractures, though." "Oh shit...my car." "I'm fixing to go tow it out while you sleep. The phones ought to be up by the time I get back". Once I realized I wasn't in pain anymore, I celebrated by giving in to the sleep that was creeping up on me again. I woke up twice. Once to find myself in his bathroom, leaning against him, aiming pee into his toilet. I didn't really register that he kept holding my dick after I was finished or how he was massaging my balls. The second time I felt the soft, spongy head of his penis sliding across my lips. He was very casual about it. "Your car isn't banged up too bad, but the battery is dead. I'll charge it for you. Go back to sleep". I closed my eyes again and yet he was still rubbing the hardening dick across my face and neck. I even felt a little stickiness ooze out. I slept yet again, but not as deeply. I was almost completely aware of Ed sliding a second pill between my lips. And he talked some more. I half-listened in my partial slumber. He talked about how lonely he'd been and how he hadn't had any sex since getting AIDS three years ago. And then he gently hugged me. "Did that hurt?" "No. I don't have pain now, man." "Good. I need to do this". I didn't know what he meant, but then he knelt down between my naked legs and let his hard cock poke me in the balls. And then he prodded it against my unguarded asshole. I knew this was some gay sex about to happen, and I knew it hurt the bottom guy a lot. But then he moved his big dick in and it pinched, but didn't really hurt that bad. I guess everything down there was numb thanks to the pain pill. He was gentle, but fast. He thrust in and out until he stopped suddenly and released his load inside me. Later in the day, I was able to get dressed with just some stiffness here and there. The weather had cleared and I could finally go home in my somewhat dented car. Ed and I said our goodbyes with a promise that we'd meet up again. Which we did. Several more times. My physical injuries were minor, but my blood was now injured irreparably.

I can't remember a worse night than than the night when Hillary lost to that asshole who's in office now. I was already depressed about a number of things, and this just added to the deepness of it, Both of my parents were dead and in the ground. I was an only kid and had nobody in the world to love me. Yeah -- I had a few friends, but they had their own lives. They had kids even. I don't know why they bothered -- the world would be ending soon. Trump was bullying every country in the world. He wanted a big war. and even though, at 37, I was past drafting age I was afraid of the bombs that would be dropping on our country. I didn't want to die of radiation burns. I sunk deeper into a funk. Maybe radiation would not be so bad. You had to give it a chance.. I guess. I sat and waited. That's when the phone rang. Could it be work, asking where I was? No -- I'm pretty sure I was fired automatically for not showing up at my desk for the last week. The call was from a friend I'll call "Calvin". He hadn't seen me around or heard from me in so long. "I thought you'd moved or something". "No. But We're all about to move, ya know? Like off the planet? Do you know what it'll be like? To go outside one morning and have fire rain down on you from the sky??!" "Oh God. You're depressed again. What did I tell you? Get some meds. I'm on Lexepro and happy as a little clam. Do you still have the name of my doctor?" I liked Calvin. He was almost short enough to be called a 'little person' and gay as could be. We knew each other in college somehow. He was HIV+ and still took rigorous care of his health despite that particular obstacle. "Trump's going to get us in a war with Russia and North Korea and Iran and China...and we're going to be wiped out. I know it." "Oh shut the fuck up, Idiot. I just need to get you laid". "And maybe you need to get me poz." silence "That's your depression talking and I don't feel like hearing it right now", he then let out a heavy sigh. "I'd never do it to you anyway". "But you must know somebody who would". "Oh no. You're serious, aren't you?" "As a heart attack". "OK. I'll tell you a few names and then I'm washing my hands of it. Check your email in about an hour. Asshole." "OK. Bye." click. I clicked on CNN and checked out my window, searching the skies for missiles and explosions. I thought about my parents and how they had once lived peacefully on a little farm less that an hour from an air force base. I was almost glad they were dead because the incoming nukes would destroy the peaceful world they'd always known. There were two emails when I checked my laptop. The first was from Calvin: Hi Nut Case: I know two tops who are poz and willing to infect idiot neg guys like you. No matter what, call me afterward! 1. Edward G. lives North of the River and is very fond of young men, but he's almost 70 and not the least bit hot. Plus he's got a dungeon in his basement and likes to film everything. But his dick is GIGANTIC. 2. Terry R. is about our age and lives in your area. He fosters dogs that are up for adoption -- so I'm sure his place is a mess and smells. He isn't that cute, but I sent him your email and phone number already. He's poz, but thinking about going on meds soon. The second email was from # 2. Terry. Hello I'm Terry and ol' Calvin said you'd be interested in getting together. Want to meet at Silver's at around 7 pm for a drink? If that's too soon, I can make it later or on another day. Looking forward to talking to you soon. My phone number is ---------- Please call.' He sounded maybe a tad too upbeat, but you can't read tone in emails, I'd call him. In a minute or two. I waited all of twenty seconds before I dialed the number. He loved dogs after all. "Hello?" "Terry?" "Yes! Is this Tim? -- Calvin's friend? I'm so happy you called!" "And I'm so happy to talk to you. Do you still want to me a Silver's at 7? That's only a few blocks from me". "Yes. Absolutely. Don't dress up too much. I'm in my white overalls and grey t-shirt. I've been transporting some abandoned puppies to a shelter two counties away. They're adorable, but so scared of the world. Breaks my damn heart. I'll clean up as much as I can. But I'll be the white overalls guy. I have brown hair that's a little thin and a full beard and mustache. What do you like to drink? I'll have one ready." "Just beer...and maybe a shot of something. I'll be in jeans and a red t-shirt. I'm clean cut and have no facial hair". "Calvin already sent me a pic of you. You're cute as fuck! See you at 7!!" "OK." click It was almost 6 now. I showered and shaved and dressed in no time. I watched CNN for half an hour and convinced myself that I was doing the right thing. Death inside of me or death outside of me...what was the difference, really? I got to Silver's and found Terry right away. he was not bad looking at all...maybe a little chubby, but manly and he radiated friendliness. He had a mug of beer ready for me and a shot of something brown. I downed the shot immediately. Whiskey. And started in on the cold beer. "Next round's on me", I said. "No. No. I seldom drink. I'll have one tonight and then I have to get back to my foster dogs. They always need to walk or be cleaned up after. You can come help me if you want?" "Sure. Let's go." I drained my beer and stood up. Usually I jingled the keys in my pocket at this point, but I'd walked here and so I just fiddled with the coins, Tums and Chapstick tube I'd brought with me. Terry was parked right near the door. He had a big blue SUV with tons of cages in the back. "Let's go to your place...I'm currently overrun with dogs where I live. That okay?" "Sure. We're about fifteen seconds from my building." And then we were there. And inside my door. I wasted no time in unbuttoning the straps on his overalls and pulling them down to his feet. He kicked off his work boots, and just stood there in a t-shirt, boxers and white socks. I knew that under those boxers was a poz cock. I made a gesture with my head that he should strip all the way. I did. I was nude almost immediately. I wanted him so badly. Actually I wanted the death he could give me. But I had to be cool. We went to my bedroom where Terry finished stripping. He did smell a little like dog, but that's not the worst smell in the world. He lied spread-eagle on my bed and let out a relaxed groan. I knew he was tired. So I started massaging his feet, and then moved up to his legs. His unselfish personality took over and he pulled me up to him. We kissed a good long time. Let the bombs come. He broke away from my lips and got serious. "You really want to get fucked raw...by a poz guy?" "Yes. Now." He shifted himself on top of me. His dick was average size, but extremely hard. "I'll take care of you forever", he said in a lusty voice. My God - he was so gentle. He pushed the head of his dick into me slightly and let me get used to it by fractions of inches at a time. Once he was halfway inside, I reached around and grabbed his ample ass. He understood that meant he could go deeper - and he did. That poz dick was all the way inside of me and I briefly thought about a jet pilot flying over some country and dropping bombs without a thought in his head. He understood he was dropping death, but the target had it coming. Terry started furiously pumping and I felt it down to my tailbone somehow. And then he stopped suddenly and breathed in heavy gasps. The poz bomb had been dropped. World War 3 was now internal. There would be invasions and casualties and one side would eventually win. Terry and I live together now. He's on meds and so am I. I don't worry about the end of the world anymore because there about twenty dogs i have to worry about first. .

I want to live in that building too!

1992 The early 90's were so liberating for me -- in some ways. I'd accepted that I was a gay man, but had no idea what to do with that information. I went to the adult bookstore and bought porn mags and porn videos...and that was pretty much the extent of my sex life. I was barely in my 20's and could beat off four to five times an evening back then. Like most of us, straight and gay, I developed a special devotion to one or two porn stars in particular. There was one spectacular guy who I guess was one of the most famous gay idols of that period. I won't even use his initials here because some of you would know exactly who I'm talking about. He made some great videos and was mostly a top, but occasionally bottomed. Some of his movies were strictly 'safe sex' and some were as raw as could be. He did a lot of magazine spreads at the time. I'm sure the "profiles" were pure fiction, but I bought into the fantasy. My favorite photo was in a magazine called "Inches" and it just showed him sitting bare-ass on a couch with his huge, fat boner pointing straight up. The accompanying quote said something like "I love to feel a guy's throat muscles work on the shaft of my dick." I looked at that pic all the time and tried to imagine how in the world that would even fit in my mouth - let alone down my throat. I found out through one of the alternative newspapers they stacked in the lobby of my apartment building, that the guy I'll just call "Star" was in town for the weekend. He was going to be "dancing" at two different places. One was a porn movie theater on a street where two or three murders happened each week -- the other was at a gay bar I drove past all the time. I immediately called my friend Benjamin and told him the news. He knew already. Benjamin was a little short queen with a huge personality. He knew everybody and had been everywhere -- including the scary porn theater. I admitted how much I loved "Star" and really wanted to see him in person. "And what do you think will happen?" He was going to lecture me. He had that tone. "Do you think your eyes will meet and he'll quickly whisk you off to his hotel and fuck your brains out?" No, but yeah. I didn't know what I expected...maybe at least an autograph? "Let me tell you about these guys. Most of them are fucked in the head and on every single drug you can name. They are smaller in person than they look on film. They all take steroids and that causes acne which they cover with heavy makeup. Some of them are straight , but your guy isn't. They are all out to hustle for a buck. Oh, and they have major STD's in every hole." Is it crazy that none of this phased me in the least? I kept him on the phone a little longer and begged him to go to that bar with me Saturday night. "Can't. But I CAN share a little tidbit with you even though I probably shouldn't...." I waited. He sighed and then reported that Star was staying in town a few extra days to do escort work. Benjamin had no idea how much he charged or any other details except a phone number which I wrote down as he said each digit over the phone. "I have to go now. Do what you think you have to do, and call me afterward", he said as a goodbye. Click. So Saturday came and I went out to tan, get a haircut and buy a few new shirts. I still imagined I'd be going to the bar that night. I even bought a few bottles off wine to chill. Around 8 pm, I got dressed and combed my hair several times. I still wasn't ready to do this so I poured a glass of wine and turned on some music. Nope. I couldn't make myself leave. I poured another glass, sat down with phone and called the number. Oh God, what if HE answered? No. He was probably out already. I got a messenger service and the very pleasant lady took my name and number. "Are you calling about having a meeting?". she inquired. "No. Yes. Yes, I am." "I'll make a note of that", she said sweetly. We hung up and that was that. I'd never sleep now. I finished the bottle of wine and watched MTV until bleariness forced me to bed. I woke up with a slight headache the next morning, but some coffee and a few aspirin cleared that up fast. I looked at my phone like it was a bomb ready to explode. What had I done? I just wouldn't answer it if it rang...I'd take a shower, do some work and get myself collected for a new week. That's pretty much what I was doing when the bomb went off.... RING, RING, RING "Hello?" "Uh...is this Rodney?" "Yes it is." "If you don't know the voice - this is Star. You want to meet up pretty soon?" My brain was connected directly to my crotch when my mouth said "Absolutely!" "You sound young, Are you of legal age?" He sounded tired. "I'm almost 23". "OK. Here's the deal. You can come to where I am and stay for an hour-long date that'll cost you 150 dollars....or I can come to you for the same amount of time and it'll be 200 dollars. No checks. Cash only". I was unprepared for any of this. "I'll come to you!" He gave me the address and I was sort of surprised that it was very close to where I lived. Walking distance. "I got poppers,grass and liquor and other assorted things. If you want rubbers, bring them yourself. 7 pm work for you?" "Sure. I'll see you soon". "Don't forget...cash only." I knew just where he was. It wasn't a hotel -- it was a building full of furnished apartments. I also knew there was an ATM on that corner. Swell. Now I just had to make myself do it. Wine! I had a full bottle that I could finish off in the next 90 minutes. A lot of my friends took Xanax and bragged about how wonderful it was, but my doctor was a mean old lady who would never prescribe something like that. I turned my insides purple with wine that I quickly gulped while watching CNN. People were starting to talk about this Bill Clinton guy quite a bit. After emptying that bottle, I was cruising down the sidewalk. Condoms! I'd forgotten I was supposed to bring some. Oh whatever. Here was the ATM. I withdrew 300 bucks (that was my bank's limit) and just shoved the bills in my pocket. And then I was there at the building. Usually you have to be buzzed in to these places, but the door was open. Apartment # 14.... knock knock And there HE was. The eyes and hair color was the only things I recognized. He looked somewhat obliterated. His face was sunken in like he was starving and his body was not nearly as Greek God-like as I imagined. He was just as tall as he looked on film. He looked like he'd just got out of bed. He was wearing a ratty Styx t-shirt, striped pajama bottoms and flip-flops. He hadn't showered in a day or two. But I looked at him brightly as if he were the idol I'd always imagined him to be. My face betrayed nothing. He broke into a smile of jacked-up yellowish teeth. "Rodney??" "Yep. That's me. I'm probably early. Sorry." "No, no". he shook his head, "I was expecting anything except a normal guy". He led me inside and closed the door. "Let me make you a drink." I sat down on the brownest couch in the world and watched him futz around with drinking glasses and bottles in the kitchen. He was downright jovial at this point. He asked me a few questions about myself and listened like he was interested. And then I couldn't help but ask about his career in porn. Why did he never kiss any of his porn partners? Why did he always demand guys lick his ass but he never licked any ass? Was it really different fucking with a condom? Who was his favorite costar? He made a hand motion for me to back off a little. I guess I was being a little too intrusive. "The truth is that none of that matters because I can't get a contract with any studio now. I'm done". "Why?" He looked at me like I was slow, and simply said "I'm retired." "Oh". I took a sip from the powerful drink he'd concocted. I stared at the floating ice cubes and asked him about that particular photo spread in "Inches" that I loved so much. He was confused and so I tried to describe it a little...including the quote about being deep-throated "I probably had over a thousand photos taken of me during the good old days and they paid me shit for them. And I never said those words. First of all - you can't fit a really big dick down some dude's throat. You can maybe get past the gag reflex a little, but not all the way down his fucking throat". Oh. I took a deep swig from whatever kind of drink he'd given me. I didn't want all of my fantasies to crumble in the first ten minutes. Maybe he sensed my disappointment. "Why? Would you like to try?", he said teasingly. He pulled his pajama bottoms down a little to reveal that magnificent penis in all its hard glory. He kicked off his flip-flops and stretched his long legs out, waiting. I could do it. I wanted this legendary cock all the way down my throat and thrusting toward my lungs. So i bent over his lap and started kissing the head, lapping up as much of the taste of him as I could. I moved lower down on his shaft when I felt my gag reflex protest and the wine in my stomach start to boil up. I fought onward, determined to feel his weapon in my actual throat. But then my air was cut off and I thought I'd pass out. I pulled away and started gasping. "That was an excellent try, little man!" he was sniffing a little brown bottle of what I knew where poppers. "I know what would make it easier for you", he said as he led me to the bedroom. The bed was unmade and he pulled off all the sheets and told me to lay down the opposite way with my head hanging off the end of the bed. I took off my shoes and complied. He then stood behind me and hunched over a little> He drilled my mouth from that position, but the breathing problem kicked in again. I decided to just endure it as he moved deeper down. His pubes were on my chin when he announced,"You did it!" I half-wondered if he'd cum when he was down there, but I doubted it because he still had a swinging hard-on. And still sniffing from his little brown bottle. He removed what little clothes he still had on and told me to do the same. Of course I did and, soon, we rolling around on the bed naked. My instinct was to kiss him on the mouth, but he kept dodging my attempts. OK. It was nice enough just to feel that giant dick slide up and down my chest and stomach. I felt I had already got my money's worth, but it wasn't over. He got up and stood at the foot of the bed again and then pulled me all the way down to the end. My bare ass was at the edge and he lifted my legs up and started tonguing my asshole. What?! He'd never done that on film before. It felt great but alien somehow. I was unsure how to process the sensations. It didn't last long, and then he was rubbing oil into me. Baby oil? Hand lotion? I had no idea because I was looking up at the stained ceiling and never saw the bottle or tube or whatever it was he had. "Bareback OK with you?", he asked. I'd never heard that phrase except when it came to horse-riding, but I said "Yeah". Then he pushed that famous head into me. It hurt like hell and I sat up to protest, but he held the poppers under my nose and told me to breathe deep. I did. My face got warm and my whole body seemed to relax except for my boner which got even stiffer. "One more". He help it out for me to take another huff. I inhaled and got very dizzy and wondered if this stuff was addictive or if it would give me a stroke or something. While I was wondering that, he was working that dick even further into me. It started to feel good...really good. And then he was thrusting in and out and my whole body reacted -- including my brain. "You want my dirty cum, Little Man?". His breathing was heavy and I didn't have time to answer because he started jerking and deep thrusting and groaning. He was spent. His seed was now a part of me and that was worth way more than his escort fee. We lied in bed for awhile, just talking. He said, "You bled a lot". "On the bed??" I was so embarrassed. "Shhh. It's fine. I'm flying back to LA tomorrow. Let someone else worry about cleaning it'. He seemed on the verge of passing out on the bloody bed, so I got up and got dressed. I wanted to go go home so badly. I thought he was passed-out as I left the whole three hundred dollars on his coffee table. I'd skip my cable bill that month. As I made sure my keys were in my pocket, Star got up and crossed the room to see me out. Before he opened the door, we kissed. A long kiss that was like something out of the movies. "Good night, Rodney". "Good night, Star". That's when he told me his actual first name. I left, saying his name in my head over and over again. Of course I got sick about three weeks after that. I knew what was happening to me. I was being consumed with my idol from the inside out.

This story takes place in two different time periods. 1988 I had somehow managed to make it to my senior year in high school without ever making a single close friend or going to a single dance. I had this severe shyness that kept me silent, studious and completely alone. Maybe college would change everything for me. I'd been accepted to a fairly good school three hours away and hoped I'd be a completely new person there. I just had to bide my time for another six months. My isolation didn't go unnoticed by my parents, and they were always trying to coax me out of my shell. One Friday evening my mom cornered me and told me I was absolutely going to go to the football game that night. I refused and she broke into tears. "You HAVE to! There's nothing wrong with you! You just haven't tried and I'm sick of it! You're going -- be ready to leave in half an hour." "How long do I have to stay?" "An hour at least. I'll drive you and park right by the front to make sure you don't sneak out. Your father and I have already decided that if you don't at least do this, we're not giving you any money for college". I was trapped. Sullenly, I walked upstairs and changed into my most casual, 'blending in" kind of clothes. Maybe I could just hide among all the generic teens and not even be noticed. On the drive there, Mom softened her tone. "Just talk to somebody. You're not the only shy person in the world. Start a conversation about the game or school or anything. Please try." I stayed quiet. I'd never forgive her for this. As she parked and turned off the ignition, she handed me a 20 dollar bill. "Buy somebody a Coke or popcorn or something". I walked to the entrance of the crummy little stadium with my head down and my heart rate way up. The park was nearby -- I could always just go there and sit at a picnic table for an hour. I recognized the girl who was taking admission. Her name was Rhonda and she was a total airhead slut. She was flirting with some older guy so aggressively that she didn't even notice me walk right in without paying. Oh God! The scene was way too much. Everybody in the world was there and already rowdy. They were revved up by the cheerleaders who were trying to get them even rowdier. No way could I handle this. I circled around the back and ended up under the bleachers. It was pretty dark, but seemed like a safe haven from the madness. I sit in the dry dirt and made a mental note to brush my pants off before I got back to Mom. I listened to the muted cheers, boos, laughter and whistles for a good twenty minutes before my solitude was interrupted. About twenty feet away from where I was sitting was a small group of guys with glowing cigarettes. I suppose I should have guessed that beneath the bleachers was where all the 'bad kids" gathered. Mom made me promise to talk to somebody -- maybe I'd go talk to a delinquent. I walked closer and reached into my pocket. "Hey. I found a 20 over there, is it yours?" Not surprisingly, one of them spoke up right way and said "Oh yeah! Thanks!" He took it from my hand and offered me a cig. I had no idea how to smoke, but figured I could fake it. As he lit it for me, I could see his face in the flame's light. He was not a teenager. 30 at least. As my eyes adjusted a bit, I recognized the other two dudes. They were both in my class even though I seldom saw them. "Your name's 'Carl', right?", one of the guys my age asked. "Yeah", I answered (even though it was actually 'Charles'). "I'm Meatball", the older guy said as he pulled a bottle out of his coat. He took a swig and passed it to me. I'd never had a drink before, but took a sip and did my best not to choke. We stood around, smoking and taking sips for a good half hour. At some point, I noticed that the smoke smelled different than before. Holy shit -- it was pot! Drugs! I imitated what they did with the 'joint'. Mom and Dad would be so proud. Meatball announced that he needed to piss and started stumbling toward the park. I offered to help him by offering my shoulder. He was a large man and I was afraid he'd knock me over, but we made it to a dark area under a tree. He fumbled with his zipper and started cursing out loud. He was so far gone that he couldn't figure it out. "Help me a little, please." I knelt down and got the fat dick out of his pants. I was about to stand up again, but he begged me to help him aim. "I don't wanna piss on my shoes, man." So I held it for him and felt the stream come through the shaft in a fast stream. I was liking this cock in my hand and wondering what that meant as he groaned as the last drips came out. Maybe I was a little gone myself because I forgot to let go of his organ. It wasn't until he chuckled a bit that I realized I was still holding it. I also realized it was getting harder and heavier in my hand. "Suck me off a little", he commanded. I did for about thirty seconds before there was a noise behind us. His two buddies had arrived to watch the show. I had the idea to just run away, but was way too eager to keep sucking this huge dick. As I moved up and down on the shaft, Meatball said "Good news, guys! I found us a cocksucker!". I ended up sucking them all off. No popcorn that night, but plenty of hot sperm. 1991 I did indeed change once I got to college. I was more open and friendly and had plenty of friends. I also found that cigarettes, alcohol and weed were my soulmates. I didn't suck any more cocks back then because there was this deadly virus going around. The desire was still there and I acknowledged it, but just pushed it down. Mom and Dad were pleased with my new attitude even though they hated the smell of tobacco on me when i visited. I came home for Homecoming Weekend and drove myself to the game. A couple of people knew me and said hi, but most were still strangers as far as I was concerned. My real goal here tonight was to go under the bleachers and reunite with the group of men I'd serviced all those years ago. Of course I knew they wouldn't be there. Probably in prison or something. I had the whole semi-dark area to myself...or so I thought. "Hey!", a deep voice yelled from the shadows, "You got business here?" I didn't move as a giant shadow came my way. It was a bearded guy in an army coat and he looked menacing. I kept still, waiting to be knifed or beat up. He stopped an inch or two from me and huffed out his alcohol breath all over my face. Sorry", I blurted out, "I was supposed to meet somebody here". "Yeah. ME!" I was confused. This wasn't Meatball for sure and not one of the other two either. "Got anything to drink?", I asked. He had an almost full fifth of vodka with him. We stood and took swigs. I paid him back by giving him two 20's from my wallet. That sure brought out his friendly side. "You from around here?", he asked. "Yeah. You?" "Not originally. I wound up here and stayed in public housing for a year before they kicked me out for having AIDS". "They evicted you for being sick???" "Well, that and drugs. Now I just find shelter where I can." We continued taking pulls from the bottle and I felt the need to pee. I didn't feel stable enough to go out to the park so I just turned around and let a stream loose into the dry dust. I felt his big hand grab my ass as I finished. Okay! "I gotta go now," he announced. "I'll just do it right where you did". I didn't even ask this time. I reached out and undid his zipper for him. I felt around for his dick. It wasn't long but had a big mushroom head. I held it for him, but he wasn't peeing. I turned him around , knelt down and took the whole shaft in my mouth. He needed a bath, but it wasn't too foul. I sucked him into hardness when he all the sudden said "uh oh". That's when his piss started shooting down my throat. I wanted him to know I was OK with it, so I held on to his thick legs as he finished up. Somehow, his mention of AIDS had left my brain completely. We both collected ourselves a little. "It's warm tonight", he said out of nowhere as he took of his army green coat and laid it on the ground. "It sure is", I replied as I started stripping out of my clothes. I settled my butt down onto his coat and waited. Hadn't I already been daring enough? The next move was up to him. I didn't have to wait long because his bulk was on top of me almost immediately. "Oh God! I'm going to fuck the shit out of you,kid." It took some time for that huge head to work its way into my hole, but I didn't once cry out. This felt like a moment that was always supposed to happen. He didn't rush. It was slow and steady and gave me the kind of pleasure I'd never known before. The idea of that raw mushroom head deep inside me made me so hard I thought I'd come before he did. But no. He was heaving like a madman and then let his infected load loose inside of me to do its damage. Why wasn't I more worried? Why? Can't fight destiny, I suppose.

Thanks for the comment and for reading my attempts at fiction. I always worry that they're too LONG. The stories I like are the ones that get right to the sex, and I strive to make readers beat off without having to read too much backstory. But I appreciate your thoughts.

Half of this story is true. Half of it isn't. Everything's so different now when it comes to chat rooms. It used to be simple. There used to be just this one big chat site where you could go directly to your city or region and start a conversation with guys nearby. I'm in a medium-sized city and always found guys to talk to. It was 1998, and I was just a stupid kid messing around online. I was "out", but not really happy with the clubs I'd been to or the personal ads I'd tried. Somewhere around that time I discovered I was a "bug chaser". It was a surprise to me even though a therapist once told me that the thing you fear most is the thing you will eventually go after. So be it. I don't pretend to understand the human mind -- least of all, my own. So I'm chatting in my city's room and I started a conversation with this guy who called himself "a tall, tasty top". Just my kind. But he also had HIV that was advancing ever so close to full-blown AIDS. We chatted for a bit and exchanged some personal information. He worked at a big museum and did misc. artwork for the place. He was a musician and seemed altogether interesting. But then he moved things along to sex talk. I'd already told him I was HIV NEG, but he seemed to want to know how far I'd go with him. I admitted that I wanted to suck him off. "You'd suck a poz dick?", he asked. "Just yours," was my reply. "My doc is really concerned about my viral load. I'm getting my tonsils taken out in a few days because he thinks that will help,". Oh. OK. "Well, maybe we could meet for lunch later on?" "My operation is Thursday morning. Want to meet for a late lunch on Friday?" "Absolutely". I thought that seemed kind of soon after a surgery, but I suggested a little bar and grill that was near both our workplaces. He agreed and it was all set. After I signed-out, I realized that even though we'd set a date, place and time --- we had no idea what the other looked like or would be wearing. All I had to go on was 'tall, tasty top'. That'd have to do, I guess. Friday came around and I told my boss I was taking the afternoon off. At 1 o'clock, I slipped out and was at the place plenty early to see if I could spot him coming in. It didn't take long before I spotted him coming through the parking lot. He was super tall, very skinny and looking like Hollywood (in my opinion). Dark black hair and full beard and mustache, glasses, and dark eyes directed toward me. He knew me too. Amazing. he was dressed way more casual than I was, but he was an artist after all. Lunch. Well, I could have picked a better place for a date with somebody who'd just had throat surgery. They didn't even serve soup here, just hot chili which I doubt he could tolerate. I ordered a burger and he ordered a turkey sandwich. While waiting, we finally got around to basics like our names and ages and where we lived. He was so fascinating to look at, and his voice was low and friendly. His name was Kent. I took two or three bites from my burger and I couldn't eat any more. My stomach was doing flips like I was teen girl in love. He finished his food and half of mine before suggesting we go to a gay bar around the corner. "Just for a bit" We got there and I immediately ordered a large pitcher of beer. He was a little concerned that my stomach was too empty for so much booze, but I lied and said I'd had a big breakfast. We were sitting at the bar on two stools. He was wearing old jeans with holes everywhere - including the ones that let me see his white, white bony kneecaps. I wanted to touch one of them, but needed some beer first. I hated myself for being shy. We drank and talked, and at some point he took my hand in his. Life was perfect. I guess I should've eaten more and I guess I shouldn't have downed the beers so quickly because we were deep-kissing right there in front of everyone. I'd touched both knees and possibly even kissed one. I might have even have rubbed his crotch. It's all blurry ---even the part where he drug me out of the bar and drove me to his house. I was fairly awake and lucid when we went in his front door. He escorted me to a very long couch where I just knew I'd fall asleep. It was so plush and luxurious that I was prepared to close my eyes and let dreams come on. I'd forgotten all about Kent. He'd disappeared somewhere. And then he walked in and cleared his throat. "Wake up!" I sat up as my head spun a bit. "I want to play a concerto for you". he announced. He was completely nude and I noticed the scars on his neck, his fat dick and his long, long feet. He walked casually over to a fancy piano and started pounding out the most beautiful music I'd ever heard. Should I remain on the couch? Should I go stand closer? I opted to get closer and watch him. It was all so wonderful and my head was filled with colors and images from each perfect note. And then it was over. He sat up from the bench, took my hand and led me upstairs to his bedroom. Either I undressed myself or he did it for me, but I was naked under his covers. He crawled in beside me. "Still want to suck a poz cock?" "Oh yeah. I do." He was stretched out on his back and I immediately put his thick knob in my mouth. Did I realize what I was doing? No. I just did it. I moved as far down the shaft as I could. He started bucking his hips and I knew he wanted me to complete the task. I pulled off, took a deep breath and continued. I kept sucking and my jaw got tired when he suddenly thrust his groin up and shot a huge load against the roof of my mouth. I didn't spill a drop and swallowed it all. Bug cum. I took his sudden snoring as a sign I could sleep too. And, oh I did. I dreamed of birds and piano music. I woke up to two things: a desire for water and a prodding between my ass cheeks. Kent had woken earlier and had worked himself into full-blown hardness. He was pushing it into my hole. There was no way I could pretend to be asleep for this, but I needed to try. He got the fat head in and I yelled out. Very awake now. "Sshhhh". "It hurts too much. Maybe we shouldn't do this now". "Get on all fours. Pretend you're The Sphinx". I did as told...thinking of that odd monument in Egypt. And then he was covering me with his lean, furry body. He worked his way back inside with some lube this time. It nearly killed me, but it as it kept going I felt a little better. And as he slid in and back, I felt pleasure in my crotch area, I told him how much I was enjoying this and that made him thrust harder. And then he came. His poz cum was inside of me and I hadn't even mentally prepared for that. Too much to think about. I'd have so much to deal with when I woke up, but right now I just wanted to sleep. And dream.

This story is mostly fictional. 1993 Ben was late to the technology revolution. He was one of the last of his friends to get a computer or to connect to the internet. Once online, he looked a few dozen dick pics and thought there was really not much more to see. Yawn. But then he discovered "blogs" and it was a revelation. Ben remembered once finding a discarded diary in the alley behind his parents' house. It was some teen girl's daily record of all the guys she was hopelessly in love with and all the girls she thought were bitches or sluts. It was mostly boring, but Ben got a secret thrill from reading someone else's inner dialogue in print. And now, on the internet, there were people from all over the world sharing their private thoughts right where anyone could see them. Amazing. It didn't take long for Ben to hone in on the many gay blogs. Here were men like him who had desperate crushes on certain male celebrities and felt alienated from the rest of the world. That was okay for a little while, but he found himself following links to gay blogs that had a bit more of an edge. He found blogs by gay men who went to bathhouses, had anonymous sex in parks and got "fisted" on a regular basis. Wow. He also found the journals of men living with AIDS -- a disease that terrified Ben and kept him deeply in the closet. Yet for whatever reason, he followed these blogs and read them faithfully. One that particularly caught his attention was "The Random Musings of Mr. Freeze". It was the journal of an HIV positive man who not only wasn't afraid of the virus, but seemed to think of it as a source of pride. He was still sexually active and never used a condom if it could be helped. He went back and forth between being a "top" and a "bottom" with no preference suggested. Ben thought the guy must be very attractive to be having that much sex, but then Mr. Freeze posted a photo of himself and he wasn't all that cute. He was maybe early 30'a and had a mostly average face with a fairly big nose. He also has silver hair. Not the kind of natural silver you see on dads, but a really fake silver like something out of a crayon box. That must be why he called himself 'Mr. Freeze'. But no. Ben went back through his archives and found the key entry: 'L' thinks it's so weird that I save and freeze my cum after I jack off. I use an empty pill bottle and it's got a wide top so I never lose much when I aim. Cum freezes fast and thaws fast. I never thaw it unless I've got a bottom over and then I let it thaw enough to use some of it as lube for his hole. It smells terrific and works as good as KY. Used on a young guy from down the street just last week. I used to do it with any blood I lost from cuts and stuff, but it loses its color in the freezer. It turns brown and looks like frozen shit. But the beautiful virus is still in there and I can't throw it out. Ben read this and then went straight to the kitchen and got a bottle of beer. He was afraid of himself and what he was feeling. He was afraid of the hardness creeping into his dick and afraid he'd send this guy a message. Two more beers were consumed before the confused boy found his way to sleep that night. Mr. Freeze must have gotten some new tech equipment recently because his blog got spiffier and he was also posting more photos. The latest one was to showcase the rose bush blooming in his front yard. The bees have busy and it seems the birds have too. Unfortunately, I haven't gotten much action and my cum bottle is almost full. They tried a new med on me and it made me so sick that I threw it in the trash. I thought briefly about freezing my vomit, but that seems disgusting -- even to me. LOL The picture caught Ben's eye for several reasons. He was certain he'd seen that house before. Peeling blue paint, broken drain pipe, elaborate birdbath. Hadn't he driven by that place before? Wasn't it in his neighborhood? Maybe not. America had become so generic, that Mr. Freeze could be several states away. It wasn't until the blog featured a photo of his dog posing cutely that Ben was certain it was his neighborhood for sure. If you zoomed in on the street sign in the background -- it said "Juniper" which was one street over from Ben's apartment. He'd taken that street on his way to work a few times when he went to vote or to sometimes visit his friend Nick. Dear Lord! Summer is almost here and my balls are getting fuller by the day. I wore practically nothing to walk Baby this afternoon and saw no takers. Maybe it's time to concentrate on gardening for a bit. Just started cumming in my second bottle. God help the bottom who comes my way next. Found my second lesion today. It's on top of my left hand and so I can cover it with a band-aid for now. Ben made plans to go for a stroll on Mr. Freeze's block the very next day. He had a professional-looking camera with a nice neckband. You can walk anywhere with that and not seem suspicious. You just stroll and sometimes play with the lens and nobody thinks you're up to something. Here was Juniper street. It was quiet except for the hum of lawnmowers here and there. He walked right by Mr. Freeze's modest house and stood. It was time to adjust the focus and rummage through his camera bag for lens wipe. No sign of him yet. Ben made his way down the street and thought he might capture some shots of the ancient church at the end of the block. "OW! FUCKING SHIT!" a voice carried out over the quiet. "GODDAMN!" Ben hadn't even taken two steps when he saw Mr Freeze come limping from behind his house. That silver hair! It looked even goofier on a guy who was obviously weakened by injury. Even in his pain, he looked to see me on the sidewalk. "Come help me, please!" I sprinted over to him and thought maybe he needed help to the door. No. He'd apparently been digging with no shoes on and sunk a shovel into the first two toes on his left foot. "Did I sever a toe?" "No. They're all there." "Do I need stitches?" "No. Just ice. And gauze. It'll bleed for a bit, but you can help it slow by putting your foot up above your heart." (Ben knew stuff) "Help me to the door, please". They slowly made their way to the unlocked door and his dog was right there with silent confusion on his face. He trailed blood all through his small living room and plopped on the couch. His kitchen was right off to the side and Ben went there to fetch some paper towels. He moved a tall chair over in front of Mr. Freeze and lifted his foot on top of it and cleaned his injury as much as I could, but the blood was still leaking. "Do you have peroxide or any kind of antiseptic?" He shook his head 'no' like a little boy. Ben found him cuter than he had earlier. "I guess no gauze either". "Nope. But I think the bleeding is slowing a little." "Want me to save it for the freezer?" His eyes brightened and he offered Ben a quick smile. Mr. Freeze knew he was being attended to by a fan. "Yeah." Ben dug an empty film canister from his camera bag and went over to the couch, sat down next to the man and placed it up near the bleeding toes. "I'll hold it". They stayed there on the couch for a few minutes, watching the slow stream of red blood drip, until Mr. Freeze decided to move things along. Well today was certainly eventful! I almost chopped my foot off with a garden shovel and met a fan of this blog. He helped me immensely and I paid him in cum. It took no effort to get him naked and in my bed, Sweet! I didn't have any frozen cum thawed but I had some fresh blood that was still warm. It's not as good of a lube as you'd think, but he was excited and ready to be bred. I mounted him fast and hard. You have to get in quick with those virgin boys or they back out. I was all the way in before he started crying out. I held a hand over his pretty mouth and soon pumped some beautiful cream inside of him. He was dazed, and left right away. Hey, Ben. If you're reading this (and I know you are), come back soon for your camera and stuff. I'll have a thawing bottle of come for you. xxoo

1994 I'd never really been a bar guy. I was into harder, grungier music than they played at these places, and I hated spending 2.50 for a single beer. None of it was appealing to me, but a few of my friends went all the time. My buddy Mack begged me to this place called "Eon" because he was going to meet some guy he'd met through a personal ad. He wanted me there for moral support because I guess all of hos other friends were busy I guess. So we went and my whole life was changed within a matter of hours. The place wasn't all that crowded (maybe because they charged a five buck cover charge), but we found a small table near the entrance so he could see his 'blind date' right away. Apparently they had told each other what the other would be wearing. The mystery guy guy walked in and he was pretty dang cute. Mack made his way right up to him and within seconds they headed over to the bar. Alone again. I didn't expect much different and decided to go get a drink myself. Ugh. Four bucks for a vodka tonic? Oh well. It's not like I did this very often. The drink was good and strong, and I craved another to dull the thudding in my head from all the mindless disco music blaring in my ears. I must be lacking that part of the gay chromosome that appreciates that shit. The drinks helped me mellow considerably and I made way over to the dance floor to see if I could spot Mack and his new boyfriend. Pf course they were grinding on each other under the spinning lights. I'd most likely be here for a while so I ordered another drink. Before I could reach for my wallet, the bartender told me it was paid for already. "By who?", I asked, confused. He put a finger to his lips and made a zipping motion. Okay. I glanced around to see if I could spot the kind stranger. The only guy who was looking right at me was some muscle-bound jock type with a super thick neck, blonde hair and the tightest t-shirt ever. Couldn't be him. He was out of my league. No guy like that had ever noticed me before and it was probably only because of the drinks that I considered it possible. I looked around for my friend again and didn't see him or his guy. I hope he didn't leave - he had given me a ride. "These drinks are so small", I thought as I drained another. Well maybe I'd get one more and call a cab. What the hell time was it? As I turned around to head back to the bar, I bumped right into the muscle guy. He smiled broadly and took the empty glass from my hand. "Come over here", he said loudly over the music "and let's do a shot". He found us two empty stools. My mind was a bit muddy as I followed him, and also a little aroused -- he looked like some dude that would be on the cover of "Men's Health" magazine. There were two tiny glasses of brown liquid (whiskey, probably) waiting. I sat next to this Adonis and drank the shot quickly. "You didn't even wait for a toast!" He seemed slightly offended. "Sorry". He ordered two more and I made sure to wait for a toast this time. He didn't make one -- just clinked my glass with his and downed it. I was officially drunk. I knew this because I wanted another. We had another round on me, and I finally spun around on the stool to look him in the face. This had to be a practical joke of some sort. "Do I know you?" He flashed that great smile again. "We met before, but it was a long time, but you probably don't remember". I drunkenly searched my brain files, but couldn't come up with any solid memory of this god. "I'm Jerome. We met once at a New Year's Eve party downtown." It seemed easier to just say "Oh yeah", and act like I remembered than admit the truth. "We kissed at midnight", he added. Wow. I must have been really out of it then. "Of course, I wasn't as pumped-up as I am now." A few more shots were downed and I gazed openly at his body. It was beautiful, perfect, but freakish. He had muscles and veins everywhere. "Like it?". he asked. "Yeah. How often do you work out?" "Four to five times a week. I also shoot up roids...but I don't admit that to just anybody," I was silent. "I strip at a few clubs in the area and might get a few modeling gigs, but I'm too scared to do porn." "I understand", I said trying to be cool, Suddenly the DJ started playing a Blondie song and I was filled with the urge to dance. I tried to get Jerome to the dance floor, but he held me back with his giant, lumpy arms. We just stood there and grinded away to "Heart of Glass". Everybody was watching us now. I felt his muscular pecs and ribbed stomach press into my back. Let them all watch. His crotch was working against my butt. I think felt a hard-on, but wasn't sure. It's a long song and he led me out of the place before it was over. Okay. I was going home with Zeus, and I wondered if I'd remembered to make my bed that morning. Didn't matter because we were at his place within minutes. It was a very neat apartment, but a little small. I guess I expected to see barbells and exercise shit everywhere, but it was all immaculate. Once in his bedroom, he ordered me to strip. I did and he got mad. "Don't just leave your fucking clothes on the floor, Idiot!". "Fold them up neatly and put them on the dresser. Fucking slob!" He was angry all the sudden. Out of nowhere. He gave me a hard punch in the stomach and I crumpled to the floor. Mistake mistake mistake. I tried to think of a way to exit when he apologized. "Sorry. I get angry sometimes -- for no reason. I really, truly apologize". He had a sad face that was on top of the most gorgeous body I'd ever seen. His dick was sort of small compared to the rest of his bulk, but that was somewhat of a relief because I have had no experience with being fucked, and wasn't really ready for a huge porn-sized dick. He was motioning me over to his perfectly made bed, but I had a sudden meed to go pee out the liquor I'd consumed. I found the bathroom to be as clean and perfect as the rest of his place except for a small mess of syringes on top of the toilet seat. One of them had some blood in it. Gross. Before I could even get a stream of piss out, he barged in with more anger on his face. Fuck. "You could have at least asked first to use my bathroom, asshole!" I froze. He grabbed one of the needles and a tiny bottle of something from his medicine cabinet, "One of those has blood in it," I cautioned. "Oh probably. I have to pick all the discarded ones I find at the gym. You can't just go to Walgreens and buy new ones, moron." I gave up on peeing and decided to leave any way I could. He slammed the door behind me and I took the opportunity to go get dressed. Before I even got my shirt on, Jerome stormed out and pushed me to the floor. "Why are you being such a little bitch??!!!" And then the fists came at me. A fury of pounding hit my ribs and cheeks and sides of my head. He was crazy and I was about to die. And then nothing. I guess I blacked-out. I woke up on the bed with the muscle man spreading my legs open. He was actually going to fuck me and I had no idea if he had a condom on. "Are you safe?" I asked with a child's voice. "No. Nothing about this is safe. I've got so much bad shit in my dick that not even a Trojan could hold it back. You're stupid as fuck, but I'm about to make you smarter". He put his modest little hard-on inside of me and pumped away. He kept saying things like "Asshole", "Virgin Bitch", "Motherfucker". And then he was still. I'd been fucked for the first time and it really didn't even hurt that much. I guess I was lucky. He recovered And started inspecting my ass and the sheets beneath me. "Fucking whore... You didn't even bleed". I prepared for another beating, but he hopped away out of sight. I knew better than to try and getup and dressed again. He was back in a flash with a razor blade. "He's going to cut my throat". I figured. But no. He sliced his own middle finger at the tip. Deeply. It was streaming blood everywhere. I was confused again, but then he plunged that finger in my ass. Not only that, he scratched around with his fingernail -- roughly. "There!", he announced. Now you've got what I got, Shit face. He was bleeding all over himself and standing there naked as I got dressed. When he noticed blood drops on his carpet, he started huffing and grunting. I was outside at last. I had to look around a bit to figure out where in the city I was. It took 45 minutes, but I made it back to my apartment. I wanted to sleep but the new bugs inside of me kept chattering all night. I waited almost a year to get tested, and the results were no surprise.

1995 Ever find yourself needing a quiet place to go where you can just think? I do...and my favorite places are empty construction sites, abandoned buildings and deserted industrial parks. I just like to sit or stroll and work stuff out. Places like this fuel story ideas that I use in my artwork and writing. Eventually, one of these places get too familiar so I have to go seek out new ones. I found a new one recently. It was an abandoned business area that also seemed to in the process of demolition and rebuilding/remodeling. It was a huge, nonsensical mess of concrete slabs. They were each about 7' x 9'. Some were standing upright and some were horizontal. The arrangement seemed fairly random and my guess is that it was going to be a parking garage. I'd visited enough construction sites to pick up a few things. I wandered through it all like I was in a maze or something. It was nice weather, very quiet and boring enough to give my brain a chance to go through all the thoughts I'd collected that day. I was 26, living like a monk and only successful enough in my chosen career to avoid homelessness. I thought about moving. I thought about getting my car's oil changed and my credit score. After I'd sifted through all of that, I concentrated on a story idea I'd had. It was about twin girls who were in the middle of a field during a tornado. They were young and more amazed by the sight of the storm than they were scared of it. I meandered through this makeshift labyrinth for maybe 40 minutes before the only ending I could come up was both of them dying. Nah. It was time to think of a new story. That would take time and I could already feel my face getting sunburned. Time to go. I just had to find my way back. Suddenly, I didn't feel alone. And it's possible I saw movement from the corner of my eye. Maybe not. I'd cranked my imagination up too high, and it was time to switch brains and find a way back to my car. I channeled my dad who was had all the logic and common sense in the family. He'd know how to get out of here. I swear I saw another shadow move near me. These kind of places were sometimes haunted by bums and drug addicts, so I quickened my pace. Eventually, I was at a clearing and could see my car parked on the street. Thank God! I made it home and cranked the air-conditioning because I was sweating like crazy. As soon as I was home, I stripped out of my clothes and jumped in the shower right away. Afterwards, I picked up my damp clothes to put them in the hamper. That's when I saw a medium-sized post it on the back of my shirt. I wiped the moisture out of my eyes and read it: YOU DIDN'T FINISH THE MAZE!!! COME BACK TOMORROW AT THE SAME TIME AND YOU MIGHT REACH THE END AND FINALLY GET YOUR PRIZE! Oh Hell. There had been somebody there and they managed to get close enough to put a note on my back. As creepy as it was, I was also intrigued...and wondering if this could lead to a story. I had a few cold beers, thought about this possible story and eventually fell asleep in front of the TV. I got up in the late morning and wanted to sit at my computer. Maybe the twins in a tornado story could be salvaged. I pecked out a paragraph or two until I noticed the time. Time to find my maze again. I put a travel-sized plastic bottle of sunblock in the front pocket of my shorts. I found the place again and it looked less-confusing than before. I could see the end of it was on the far West side. Maybe my prize would be a big box of cash! I forgot about the tornado twins as I maneuvered my way through the concrete slabs a little less aimlessly. I could the top of the nearby building and knew I was making my way West. By now I had convinced myself that my prize was big money. Almost there. I found myself in a dead end. But it wasn't completely dead. There was a homeless dude squatting against the wall, and he appeared to be nude. No clothes and no shoes and longish black hair. I stood there silently, in somewhat of a breathless shock. Time to leave! Before I could turn all the way around, he spoke. "Congratulations! You win!" I looked as he stood up to his full height which was at least 6'6". He was skinny and covered with tattoos. And his long dick was fully hard and pointing straight out. Most of his tats looked pretty scribbled. but the one in the middle of his stomach was big, distinct and almost professional-looking. It was the biohazard symbol. I'm not stupid -- I knew what he meant by "prize" now. It was way worse than a stash of money. I didn't even try to find my way out at this point. He obviously knew the maze better than I did. I was pretty much trapped. "Aren't you happy?" "Not really", I choked on my answer. "Why? I want you to be excited. And you're excited a little. I can tell". Shit. I was. My dick was half hard. I walked up to me in two long strides and kissed me right on the mouth. He smelled like clean sweat and something else pungent that I couldn't name. "Take off your clothes to claim your prize". He was smiling ear-to ear. And I did. I was naked. Naked in here at the end of the maze with poz stranger. He wrapped my up in his tall, lean nakedness and kissed the top of my head. He fiddled around with my clothes. I thought he was going to prepare something for us to lie down on, but he was actually just going through the pockets of my shorts. He didn't find my wallet because I'd forgotten it home, but he did find that mini bottle of sunscreen. "Perfect!" He opened the cap and started rubbing the cream up and down his engorged penis. He watched me watching him jack off a little. "Oh. It's close now". he said, still smiling broadly. Then he pushed me face first to the ground. Before I could even form a thought, he pried my bare legs open a little and then poked that dick oh his inside of my hole. Goddamn, it hurt! But as he settled his whole body on top of me, I felt somewhat more peaceful. He was pumping in and out of me and I only briefly worried about the consequences. I couldn't evade them now - no matter what. That realization gave me peace as he soon came. He stayed on top of me and breathed heavily onto the back of my neck. "Time to dress and go home, winner. Take your prize and go home".

I have never made it secret that I'm a big ol' perv. Well...I actually make it a secret in my daily life; working and making polite chat with people. I look and act normal. But get a few drinks in me (or pills or a joint), and I start blabbing about my twisted side. I've had a dirty mind for as long as I can remember. Also gay. When the Jeffrey Dahmer story broke. I was horrified and sickened like everyone else, but I sort of knew the kind of desperation he must have felt. That kind of desperate sexual need that would lead someone to make horrible, horrible decisions. I made a horrible decision in 2003. I frequented a tiny, hole-the-wall tavern that was right next to my house, I went there because they didn't blast terrible dance music and there was no attitude, At all. After three or four visits, I knew most of the regulars. The one guy who ruled the bar was an older fat gentlemen who everybody called "The Doctor". He wasn't really a doctor or even a a professional of any kind as far as I could tell, but he he was a free talker and somebody I loved sitting next too. He was full of stories and jokes and just had a magnetic presence. He was also very curious about people, and asked a lot of questions. "Yo, James. Why are you always coming to this dump alone and not out getting laid?" He was five or six drinks deep at that point -- and I was a little out of it myself. My doctor had given me some anti-anxiety pills that I was instructed not to mix with alcohol. I did not listen. Maybe he was afraid his question offended me because he bought us both a few shots which I downed immediately. He acted impressed -- because most people don't know that only the amateurs showed off. I was drunk. I leaned my head on his shoulder and told him how unhappy I was. I was a walking, talking nice guy who was overburdened with perversion. I had things to say, but nobody to say them to. "Say them to The Doctor, baby boy. I'll bill you later". I skipped the sob story confessions, and just came right out and asked him if he knew any rapists. "HELL!!!" He spun me around on my stool to face me. "Rape? Like not pretend rough shit, but actual rape??" I nodded. He rapped his knuckles against my head and told me I was too messed-up for him to treat, I was too far gone -- which I already knew. He ordered one more round of shots, but I didn't down it right away. I was dizzy and was fine just looking at it. The Doctor pulled out his old wallet and fished a bunch of cards out. He found one that he wouldn't show me yet. "I know a man you are needing, but he's very bad news. He has a criminal record, a drug habit and is very poz." "Yeah?" "And I don't know if he is into any sex that doesn't involve money." "Oh. I've got money". I finished whatever shots were still on the table as Doc mumbled into his cell phone. The call didn't last long. "He's on his way, but not coming inside here." "Why?" "How many rapes happen in public places? THINK, kid!" "What do I do?" "Well, first off -- he wants fifty dollars. Leave it your left back packet. I already told him what you look like and what you were wearing. Don't go right to your car...walk around the block one time. Go North." We had more shot and I kissed him on the cheek.. Then left. The night air felt nice. Which way was North? Oh, OK. I wobbled that direction and passed under the lights of a folk art gallery and a place that sold mystical crystals or something. Then it got darker. I rounded the corner and saw a few more lights from other stores. Strange how I forgot everything I was in store for. It was like I was on a regular midnight stroll and WHAM! I was knocked to my knees out of nowhere. Maybe I broke a kneecap? Didn't that WHAM!!! I was flat on my back and seeing colors as my thin body was being drug into the shadows. My rapist was here. My head hurt so bad, but this was a commitment. I got a glimpse of him - he was looking like a felon. Drag files here to attach, or choose files... Accepted file types pdf, jpg, jpeg, gif, png Insert other media A fatally sick felon. He didn't look mean, just determined. He pulled my jeans down...along with my boxers. I was suddenly face down in the concrete as he plopped on top of me. All of my previous rape fantasies had involved a plush bed and a hot-tempered Italian man. This wasn't that. His medium-sized worm dick forced it's way between my cheeks and found my hole. This was the rape I'd wanted, asked for, paid for. He was doing his job. And then SHIT! It hurt as he worked it inside me. I was not ready for rape, for sure. The pain didn't subside much as he started pumping. It was a job to him and he probably wanted to get it over with as much as I did. Then it started to feel better. I wanted him to thrust deeper, but he was finishing up. "Here it comes!!!" He stopped moving. He fished the money out of my back pocket, got himself together and took off into the darkness. As I put myself together and limped toward my car, I remembered what Doc ha said about him being "very poz".

I apologize if this is the wrong forum to post this in -- I read all the rules and and couldn't find a better place. Please ignore this if the topic offends you or is personally traumatic/ I just need to ask: IS there something wrong with me if I have rape fantasies? If I want to be raped? A little background: 1. I started having sexual thoughts from the time I was 3 or 4. Is that normal? 2. I started seeing a shrink in my teens who seemed convinced I'd been molested at an early age. There's no way. I'd have remembered something like that, I'm absolutely sure. Both of my parents worked and I had tons of babysitters. but they were mostly women and teenage girls -- and I've always been attracted to MEN. 3. I sometimes shared my fantasies with boyfriends and it was usually a big ol' turn-off for them. One guy (who was a giant leather top) told me I was not nearly ready for an actual rape. Other guys were too polite or kind to ever indulge me. Even the toughest, meanest motherfuckers I found at the bars were not interested. Okay. So that's my story. Any input would be helpful. Thanks.

last year You know how people love to gossip and talk shit about other people? I took a psychology class in college and have talked to a few therapists, but I still don't know why we like to repeat negative information about fellow human beings. What desire does it satisfy? Not that I'm innocent; I not only repeat nasty rumors, but also eagerly listen to them. That's how I found out about Randy. Guys at the little tavern I stopped at after work were the most chattering, gossiping bunch of hens you'd ever want to meet. I knew most of them by name after a few months of going there. I was still inexperienced with actual gay sex, but I don't think I came across that way. When I told my friend my friend Joseph that I was a virgin, he didn't believe me at first. I play it cool. After he realized I wasn't lying, he took it upon myself to point out all the men I should stay away from. "He'll rob you blind". "That one has a partner and they both cheat". "He has HIV". Huh? It was 2016 and the disease was very manageable with medication, right? Plus -- I knew how to use a condom if the occasion finally ever arose for me. One evening I got a little too drunk and found myself in a circle of young guys who were dishing about everybody they knew. That's when Randy's name was first mentioned. Apparently he was a guy that once frequented this place but had disappeared from the scene about a year ago. A few guys were sure that he was dying in some hospice and others said he was haunting the one bathhouse. For whatever reason, I wanted to know more. He was known to be HIV+ and didn't have the ability to treat it with even the newest medications. Not only that, but he was supposedly still active sexually. Just not here. I felt my boner rise. As I waited for more information about this guy, a few hot businessmen walked in and all their attention was diverted. They were pretty tasty-looking, but Randy was all I could think about. I finally managed to drag Joseph aside for a few minutes and interrogate him about this infamous man. "Do you know Randy?" "Sort of. He lives in my building and I see him every other week or so. Why?" "I want to meet him. Or see him at least. Where does he hang out?" "Oh no! You heard about the 'super strain' he's got in his balls and now you're wanting to have sex with him! Are you crazy? No. I know what you are: a 'bug chaser'." I should have protested and reassured him that I was just curious, but I just stood in silence. "Well, I'll miss you if that counts for anything. I knew a few guys like you and they're all gone now. Tell you what -- go home and sleep it off and if you're still intent on this, I'll text you his email address tomorrow". Deal. I found my way back to my apartment and slept off and on until dawn. Once the sun was up, I rolled out of bed and called in sick to work. I went back to try and sleep. but just couldn't. Ever notice how you can't force yourself to be tired? It was late in the morning and still no text from Joseph. I should have guessed this. He's not the most reliable guy in the world and has a tendency to bullshit. Then a little "ding" went off and then another. Not a text -- that was the sound I gave to incoming emails. They weren't from Joseph. They were from HIM. Hi. Joe told me a little bit about you and assured me you were cute and cool. I'm 44. Is that too old? LOL My heart was jumping all over my chest. I seldom smoke anymore, but found an old pack and fished one out. There were two more emails from him. OK. Me again. Sorry I forgot my number. It's --- -----. Hope to hear from you soon. The last email was just a photo of him. He looked very normal. He kind of looked like one of those divorced dads I's see on weekends at the grocery store. Medium weight and somewhat shaggy blonde/brown hair that was just a few weeks past 'clean cut'. He needed a shave too. I loved the pic because it wasn't a posed selfie. It was just an honest, candid shot that somebody else must have taken. I was nearly in love at that point. I made myself do some laundry and the dishes and some general tidying up before I called him just at 1:12 pm. "Hello?" "Hi. Is this Randy?" "Yes! Is this Joseph's friend, Tim?" "It is. Got your emails and pic... thanks!" "Sorry. That's the only photo of me I had saved. I had some more 'interesting' ones on my old phone but it died. Maybe we can take some new ones later." Wow. This was moving fast. "I took the day off and was wondering what you were up to". "I am supposed to go feed a friend's dogs, but not until later. Wanna go do something?" "Sure. Like a movie?" " No. Definitely not a movie. You can't talk n a movie, and there's not much out there I'd want to see anyway." "Well YOU decide then". "I'll come pick you up and we'll go find something to do. Just give me your address and I'll be there in thirty minutes." I was dizzy now and had to sit down, but I gave him my address and we said our goodbyes. I rushed to change clothes. I was going to go casual because he struck me as the ultra-relaxed sort. I should have taken longer because it had only been five minutes since I'd hung up the phone. Waiting waiting waiting. Dear Lord. I wasn't religious, but felt the need to pray for some reason. And then there was a knock on my door.I opened it and there he stood -- looking exactly like his photograph. He was a tad taller than me -- wearing a simple t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. He didn't look sick or too thin or give any sign of being "viral". He sized me up a little and then smiled brightly. "Let's go!" he said. I followed and don't even remember if I locked the door behind me. We drove away on that beautiful late-Spring day and sat in silence. "Let's go to Rose Park and take a walk," he suggested. It was called Rose park because it was full of regularly-tended rose bushes, but they wouldn't bloom until later in the Summer. "Sounds good", was all I said. I should be talking more. I should also stop glancing down at his legs. They were mostly hairless but well-formed. Nothing about him suggested bad health. For such a perfect day, there almost no other visitors at the park. It's not the weekend, I reminded myself. We strolled down a path past the pond, the fountains and the not-blooming rose garden. Once were deeper into the park's wilder area, he started talking. "Joseph is a character isn't he? He didn't tell me much about you". I guess this my cue to give him some details about my life, but he wanted to move the conversation forward again. "I'm sure you know all about me, though. Right?" I wondered how in the world I was still walking and breathing. I was dizzy and stumbled a bit over a rock or an acorn or something. He reached over and took my left hand to steady me. "Thanks. I'm fine. It's okay". But he still kept holding my hand. "I heard a little. Just bar talk". "Well -- I'll tell you everything. I'm HIV positive and have multi-resistant strains. I guess it's all mixed to become one, but I don't know enough about stuff to officially classify it. I just know I hate doctors and I hate taking pills and I absolutely hate the big pharmacies that are pushing these little chances of life when you know damn good and well the cure is within their reach. Fuck 'em". I could tell he was getting worked-up because his grip on my hand tightened and he was sweating. At that moment I realized my hands were only a few skin layers away from his mega-toxic veins and bloodstream. Plus his sweat was probably tainted as well. I should be talking more, but I didn't feel entitled to right now. We were under some overgrown willows and the shade was almost cool. I wanted to say something. Anything. "How do you feel?" was all I could come up with. "Powerful", was his simple, calm response. "Good", I said because I was really glad he felt that way. Randy led me off the path and further into the forest of willows and untended grass. He turned around to face me. "I lied", he said out of the blue. "About..?" "Joseph told me all about you. I saw your Facebook and your Instagram. I know more than you think I do. He also told me your goal was to get THIS inside you", he said, grabbing his crotch with the hand that wasn't holding mine. "Why? Wha...What did he say?" "Sshh. Sshh. We'll do this and you'll have a good story to tell at the pub. Watch me get naked and work yourself up. We're alone here". Sure enough -- he pulled down his shorts (no underwear), kicked off his flips, and yanked off his shirt. He was perfect in a way. So very normal. His dick was average-sized but super hard. I briefly looked at his scrotum because I knew that's where the super strain was cooking. Maybe he noticed my glance. Maybe not. I could barely get my shorts and undies down because my dick was so uncontrollably hard. I barely got my loafers off before he engulfed me in a bear hug. It felt nice and I would have been happy if it all ended now. "Work on this dick, little chaser boy". I knew he meant for me to blow him because that was close to a line I'd heard in porn videos. I knelt and had the head of his super weapon on my tongue. Way closer to the bug than my hand had ever been. It wasn't too bad at all. I didn't choke or gag like I'd always suspected I would if this ever happened. This was going well I thought as he started bucking his hips and mumbling non-words. "STOP!", he commanded, "I'm about to cum". Then he turned around and offered his spread ass cheeks to me. This is what I never imagined doing. But I planted my face right in there and then let my tongue take over. He sure loved that. I was starting to like it too, but he stopped me again. Randy grabbed his discarded shirt and made a little mat for me to lie down on. "Get down there now". I was on my back and looking up at him as he jerked his dick. "You don't even want me to pretend I'm putting on a condom, do you?" he asked. I shook my head and he fell on top of me. "Fuck Yeah" was all he said before pushing his crotch down onto mine and grinding. I would have been happy if it all ended now. My brain was in the clouds somewhere when I felt a knife-like pain in my ass. I almost yelled but his mouth was over mine. His tongue was a fat worm rolling around all over my teeth and gums. Our first kiss was not all that romantic. And then he was inside of me completely. The most toxic guy in the city (possibly the state) was fucking me. Raw. "Why?", I asked for whatever reason. Maybe because it felt a little bit like a rape. Of course it wasn't. I'd pursued this and participated fully in everything leading up to it. "What do you mean 'why'?", he asked as his breathing grew heavier. I said nothing. "I have all the power and you have none. You can't escape the consequences at this point....speaking of...." He was thrusting uncontrollably now, He had cum. Deep in me. He kissed me one more time and then rolled off, exhausted. We were both on our backs, looking up at the swaying willow branches and the dying afternoon sun. Dying. What now? He drove me back to my place in almost complete silence. I thought we'd say 'goodnite' at that point, but Randy escorted me up to my door and then invited himself in. We spent the night in my bed, arms wrapped around each other. He was in my life now...as was his virus I supposed. OK. It was somewhat early and we hadn't eaten dinner, but fatigue won over and we slept deeply.

To know the strain of HIV you have is drug-resistant? Do you feel powerful or helpless? In full candor, I ask because I'm a writer and don't know much about the virus except that it's been largely treatable in the past several years. I'm working on a series of stories about bug-chasing. It interests me because I have that compulsion myself (which is why I'm a member). Sorry if this question is invasive. I apologize to the moderators and anyone here who find my query offensive. Thanks, Russ

The actual museum is at KU in Lawrence, Kansas. It's exactly how I described it, but that janitor is fictional. I've been cruised there, but not by a hot caveman. If only!

1997 I was in college, and loved everything about it except the studying. And the reading, tests and homework. Other than that stuff it was all super. If there'd been a "wasting time" major, I'd be a huge success because every time I was supposed to be studying, I'd find some new way to kill an hour or two. My school had several museums and I'd been to all of them except the natural history one. I'd seen enough taxidermy and dioramas on grade school field trips to last a lifetime. But it was late on a Thursday afternoon and I really didn't feel like going back to my dorm room and cracking open a Russian novel where all the characters had long names that were too hard to keep track of. So I went to that museum. The horse General Custer was riding when he was killed was supposedly in there somewhere. That'd at least be something that might be interesting. Right at the entrance there was a long wall of dioramas. "History of Man" was the theme. It went backward from modern man (a mannequin with a briefcase and suit) all the way to apes. Talk about wasting time. It was all so simple but I did find myself lingering a little at both the Cro Magnon and Neanderthal exhibits. Naked, hairy and primitive men always looked good to me no matter what period of time they came from. I had no experience with men, but I already had a type. It was a little frustrating that they put such small penises on them, but I guess you can't really expect to see porn-sized dongs in a college museum. Oh well. I did mange to find Custer's horse on the 4th floor and it was pretty unimpressive. i worked my way down each floor and grew seriously bored. Maybe something was wrong with my contacts, but I swore I kept seeing something moving in the corner of my eye. I looked around and saw nothing. I didn't clean the lenses as often as I was supposed to. Once I made it to the basement I finally found exhibits I was somewhat interested. Here were displays of venomous snakes and spiders common in this state. I had a serious fear of those brown recluse spiders and was certain that they were everywhere around me as I slept at night. As I tried to memorize what they looked like, a janitor pushing a broom came right up to where I was standing. I quickly moved out of the way and started studying the snakes. 'whisk, whisk, whisk' Here came the broom man and I was slightly annoyed. Were't there four other floors he could go sweep now. I thought of just leaving, but decided to go three rows over and look at all the colorful butterflies -- dead, beautiful and pinned to a board. I'd lived in this area my whole life and had never seen any of these species. Whatever. whisk, whisk, whisk What the fuck? Was I trailing dirt or something? The janitor was back and this time I turned to him to say something. I saw him at last. He was pretty much the guy from the Neanderthal display wearing blue coveralls. Shoulder-length dark hair, a bushy beard and a distinct uni-brow. It was almost comical, but I didn't laugh. I decided to stand still and let him just go around me. But he stopped and stared right at me with dark, dark eyes that were heavily shaded by his thick eyebrows. "You here to have fun, boy?" He could talk -- which surprised me somehow. "Huh?" "They usually come here on Thursdays for some fun", he answered. "They?" "The fags. You a fag?" "Probably", I answered, hardly believing I was having this conversation. "Good. Who told you about me? Was it that Kirk guy? He's got AIDS, ya know?" I stayed quiet. "Yeah, I noticed a lot of you dudes are sickly looking which is why I never touch their dicks. I'll fuck 'em in the ass and mouth, but that's it. I'm completely straight so I can't get nothin'. "Don't be so sure", I thought to myself. I watched as he let the broom drop behind him. He stared me down with that prehistoric stare and started kicking off his work boots. He had no socks on and each of his toes were sprouting great spurts of hair just like the fake cavemen in the display. Once he had his janitor uniform all the way off, I was witness to the most body hair I'd ever seen on one body. His dick was hard and noticeably larger than his cousins in the diorama. "Well...come suck on it", he said with a tone of impatience. I hesitated. "I locked the front door twenty minutes ago. Nobody's here but us". I would not get to the Russian novel on my desk any time soon. I knelt down and took the shiny, fat head in my mouth. It tasted like a man. I pushed forward and his ultra-hairy, ticklish crotch covered my eyes and nose. "Ow, Watch the teeth! What's wrong with you? None of them others ever let me feel their damn teeth". I tried to be more careful but I guess he'd had enough. Caveman pulled away and bent down to fold up his coveralls into a makeshift pillow. "Come lay back, fag. Damn! It's like you ain't never done this before." I hadn't, but I played along. I was supposed to be somebody else I guess. I noticed the top of his 'pillow' had an embroidered name on it. "Judd". Judd. Perfect. He wasted no time in mounting me with my legs in the air. It hurt so much and I tried to scoot away from under him. "Aw Hell -- you're new. You need oil? I don't got none now, but I'll go easy." In my effort to get away I had messed up the pillow and now my head was on the bare floor. He went for it again. His determined caveman dick eventually made it halfway in me before I stared weeping with pure agony. "Relax the butthole, boy. I'll finish soon." 'Soon' could mean anything so I just shut my eyes as tight as possible and let him go at it. He was fast and primitive and started to orgasm right as he let out a caveman growl. I maybe even moaned myself. He pulled out of me (which also hurt), straddled my chest and let a few cum drops hit my lips. "That there is clean sperm", he added. I doubted it, but savored the taste anyway. We dressed and I left. I went back a few times and we did everything all over again. He sometimes brought oil or lotion and sometimes he forgot. It was somewhere around the time finals started that I got seriously sick. I had fevers, a rash and pains in all kinds of embarrassing places. I could barely get out of bed and that's when my buddy Jenny dragged me to the student clinic to get checked out. Big surprise. I had gono, syphilis, crabs, and thrush in my throat. It was too soon to tell if I had HIV, but I'd find out in four months. I spent a lot of time recovering...sleeping, taking pills and dreaming of going back n time to meet my caveman.

Oh. OK. That was a very nice compliment! I don't know if I'll have a new one for tonight, but I've got an idea brewing.

Thanks for the comment! What should I change my profile pic to??

1992 I was in my early 20's and new to the city. I worked at a fairly okay job and lived in a nice apartment. My life wasn't all that exciting. I had a few friends, but because I was so bad at socializing, these were friends I'd accidentally accumulated only because they were drawn to me for whatever reason: The girl neighbor who was a stripper/prostitute, the crazy guy who worked at the bookstore and assorted hangers-on from here and there who were all defective in some way. No complaints on my end. I was a skinny gay man who was so far deep in the closet and so scared of AIDS that I'd probably never have sex. Ever. Whatever. The friend whose company I enjoyed the most was a 40-something guy named "Gene". I met him the very first time I ever went to the gay bar called "Bella" near my work. The place was never crowded -- especially in the 5-7 pm period when I usually stopped there to get a decent buzz. Almost immediately I found myself stuck next to a bar stool next to Gene. I got the feeling he'd been there since it opened and was always drinking mixed drinks while I just wanted mugs of beer. How to describe him? Well, he was not bad-looking and about my height. He had some gray in his hair and a gut that was a little bit bigger each time I saw him. I wasn't attracted to him at all and he knew that. When there's no sexual tension between two people, the conversation flows freely. He had lots of experience and a huge cache of interesting stories. I was never bored and we actually got to be very close friends. We'd go out to dinner regularly and that's when I started to realize why some men were attracted to him. He was warm and easygoing. Comfortable. Going to Bella after work and chatting with Gene became an everyday habit for me. After a while, he started admitting things and telling me more of his scandalous stories. In the course of one week I earned that he was a fan of amphetamines, HIV-positive and liked to fuck young bottoms with no condom and not telling them his status. He even admitted to poking holes in the condoms he'd wear so he could give them "his gift". I was a little sickened now. He knew from our many talks that I was a virgin and terrified of disease. I was just like one of the guys he had regularly bugged. As much as I tried not to react, Gene could tell I was shocked and also a little scared, but he kept talking and I kept listening. As time passed, the weather got warmer. I liked this time of year because men wore fewer clothes as the temperature climbed. I had an unspoken appreciation for guys in shorts and sandals thanks to my fetish for long, hairy legs and big feet. Gene could tell I was enjoying the scenery, and he used the opportunity to tell me which guys he'd victimized already. ""Yeah -- that one has my DNA in him", "He was so easy to fool...and he's a doctor", and so on. I tried to keep track of which ones were polluted now, but it was just too many faces, names and bodies to remember. I put it all out of my mind and wondered if I should find another bar to go get buzzed in since this place was obviously his hunting ground. He either noticed my disillusionment or ran out out of stories because he stopped talking and we just chatted like old times. I almost forgot about his dangerous side after a few weeks. Instead of bragging about his stealthing conquests, he started asking about me and my life. He became Therapist Gene and tried to get me to open up about why I didn't seem to have much of a personal life beyond Bella and him. Answers were slow coming but I eventually tell him about my lifelong shyness and fear of everything and anything. He turned out to be an excellent listener. The only advice he ever offered was "You need to get laid". He thought would fix everything...and I wondered if maybe he was right. The next time I walked into the bar I saw Gene sitting next to some younger guy and I assumed it was his latest target. I sauntered over to pinball machines and dug in my front pocket for quarters. Just as I realized I hadn't ordered a beer yet I turned around to see my friend right behind me with a sentence already forming on his lips. "Not even going to say 'hi'??" me asked. "It looked like you were busy" I answered. "Him? That's just Bradley -- a friend of mine. He's a top like me so we've never hooked up like that. And don't worry...he's super clean and a 'condom nazi'. It took about an hour of looking through my collection of phone numbers, but I finally found you the perfect date." I glanced in his direction and 'perfect' was a pretty accurate description. He was tall, had dark features and wearing a really nice suit. In other words, he was out of my league. Gene noticed my paralyzing shyness start to consume me again and just grabbed me and led me over to the bar where introductions were made. I felt awkward and could barely put words together, but a conversation began as Gene bought me shots and interjected his happy banter during pauses. Time passed and drinks were consumed and Bradley and I found quite a bit to talk about. He wasn't much older than me, had a job similar to mine and only wore nice suits because his brother was a tailor and had all kinds of connections. He was also a rabid "Walking Dead" fan and we discussed that show for a long time. Too long, probably - because my buddy had disappeared somewhere. "Where'd Gene go?". I asked him. "Oh who knows? He's probably passed out or on the hunt somewhere". I tapped my empty shot glass and said "Speaking of 'passing out', I think I've gone beyond my limit here. What time is it?" I felt a little dizzy. "11:30. I need to go home soon too. Let me walk you to your car". I followed him out the door and onto the sidewalk, but he headed in the opposite direction of where I was parked. Okay. I guess I was walking him to his car instead. As we got around the corner, he stopped and pushed me back against the big glass window of some lamp store I'd never been into. He was crushing me into it and mashing his lips onto mine. I mashed mine back as I barely remember ever feeling shy. His tongue was exploring my mouth and throat as he made some grunting sounds. I felt his insistent boner through his pants, prodding into my stomach. Within a few blurry minutes Bradley had driven me back to his tidy apartment where I was undressing (or was undressed) in under twenty seconds. We both standing naked in a tight embrace right there in his living room. I could not get enough of kissing him, but he pulled away and said "Check it out". Following his gaze, I looked down and saw his perfect erection pointing upward. Holy shit. He pulled a condom from nowhere and held it to my face. "Inspect it all you want and then put it on me". It was already unwrapped and I did try to look at it carefully, but my vision was a little blurred. The task of getting it over his engorged penis head proved too difficult for my uselessly shaky fingers though. He took over and rolled it down his magnificent dick as he led me back to his dark bedroom where I instantly found myself, face down, on his deliciously comfortable bed. He was moving around and fiddling around with what I assumed was lube after an oily blob landed between my ass cheeks. I couldn't see anything, but the feelings were more than enough. He was massaging the lube over and into my butthole. I relaxed even further into the bed's softness. "OK". He spread my legs a little and settled on top of me. That perfect, latex-sheathed dick moved in and struck my virgin prize. Yes, it hurt. It hurt very much, but the pain was as blurred as my thoughts and didn't last too long. And then this Bradley was moving his hips and cock inside of me. My first thought was how nice it felt and my second thought was that my virginity was gone forever now. Everything was slow and perfect until he got a little rougher with his thrusting. Rougher and faster."Tighten that ass, kid. I'm about to cum". I clenched as much as I could with a rectum full of big dick. I guess I did it right because he responded with tiny rapid pushes and a loud moan. He was breathing heavily and sweating all over my back. "Shit, shit, shit!" he suddenly exclaimed. Huh? "What?" "The condom broke". I was quiet and feeling warm. Also stupid. This Bradley guy used one of the tricks Gene told me he himself had used on a few of his victims. An unwrapped condom that 'mysteriously' broke at the moment of no return. I should have been outraged, but my whole body was tingling with pleasure. So what? Everybody had to die of something. At least he drove me back to the Bella parking lot so I could get my car and go home. Of course there was a light blinking on my answering machine and of course it was a message from Gene. "Well, it took forever, but I finally got my DNA inside of you. Brad was one of my early conversions and now the three of us are family. If you're feeling okay tomorrow, lets go have brunch or something".

This all starts in the mid-70's sometime before that whole ghastly bicentennial mess. I was eight or nine years old and I was on a vacation of sorts with my parents. We'd been to some super-boring place in Oklahoma to see dumb old antique cars (my dad's passion) and I remember almost nothing about it. What I DO remember is stopping at those those highway rest areas for the first time. I had no idea such things existed. Concrete bathrooms in the middle of long stretches of highway that people just went in to and did their stuff. We stopped at almost all of them because I had a nervous little bladder that always had to empty itself. Most of the time, my dad accompanied me if only to make sure I was safe. Safe? It was a bathroom, and what could happen in a bathroom? Each of those places smelled like pee and they all were defaced with magic marker drawings of really long penises and plenty of words. I wanted to look, read and study every thing. Of course my dad wanted to make good highway time and wouldn't let me dawdle. Fast forward to the mid-80's and I was about to turn 21. I was home from college and working the night shift as a dishwasher at a 24-hour truck stop. I hated it. I always had burns on my hands from that huge industrial machine that I shoved dirty dishes and silverware through. It was exhausting, but the one little, tingling thought that kept me somewhat alert was that there was one of those rest areas only 15 minutes away up the highway. Of course I'd never go there alone, but my memories of the graffiti I'd seen long ago were still vivid and exciting. I could go there, and that knowledge alone was thrilling. I really hated this minimum-wage job and it was only a relief when I got fired on the spot for dropping a whole stack of clean, hot plates. It was only 3 am and I was free to go. Fine. I walked out to my junker car . I was a bit depressed because I really needed to earn more money for school, but the Summer was over in a month and now I could just rest and let my burns heal. What to do now? If I went home this early, I'd wake the whole house up -- including my little sister who had been suffering from a bout of migraines for weeks. So I drove out of the parking lot and made my way to the highway. I'd just drive by the rest stop to only look at it. Within a few minutes I saw the sign for its entrance. Was it my perv brain or some outside force that made me slow down and pull into the place? My legs were shaking for some reason as I turned off the ignition. The car lot was empty but here were a few 18-wheelers parked in the place where I guess trucks were delegated. So I imagined them all sitting up suddenly, noticing my car and stroking their big trucker dicks. My brain was getting more and more pornographic these days. And gayer. I just put it all aside and unsteadily walked into the men's side of the little concrete building because I really did have to pee. I decided to go into one of the toilet stalls instead of standing at the urinals. I really wanted to look at the graffiti more than anything. Each of the stalls had crude holes in the partitions for reasons and I wouldn't know until later. I sat and looked at all the drawings and words. "SUCK MY COCK" "LET ME SUCK YOUR DICK" That was the gist of most of the messages. It made me wonder who took a pen with them to the bathroom until I remembered that I had one in my back pocket. I'd swiped it from one of the waitresses on my way out if only because I wasn't daring enough to vandalize anything. Well a bit of bravery returned as I stood up and made my own graffiti. "I want to give you a blow job. Be here 7/8 at 11: 30 am. Stay in this stall and signal me." I left right away, feeling like I'd already done something filthy. I I had two whole days to get ready for something I was pretty sure wouldn't even happen. I spent the next 36 hours wondering and fantasizing and worrying. I left the house a little too early that day and killed a few minutes at the discount store near me. I bought a little travel-sized bottle of Listerine. if I ended up taking a naked dick in my mouth, I'd probably need some antiseptic to kill any diseases that might be on it. I got there early anyway. Well, this was good because I could look at and judge anybody who got out to go to the bathroom. If he looked gross, dangerous or sick, I could just drive away and try again some other time. So I sat with the engine running, cooling in the A.C. and listening to my heart beating super loud. Not even a minute later, a snazzy new black pickup truck sped in and parked right in front of me. It had a personalized license plate that said "TAINTED". I mulled that over for half a second before a man stepped out. He looked right at me. I sunk a little in my seat. He was tall with short brown, curly hair, a very trim beard...and obviously gay. Don't ask me how I could tell. I just could. There was just something familiar about his snooty scowl and walk. He went into the men's room and I studied every step. He was wearing tan shorts and had a pretty nice build. Okay. I was determined to go through with this. I counted to twenty and got out of my car. The entrance was only fifteen feet away, but it felt like a country mile. I made it inside and noticed he was in one of the toilet stalls -- most likely the one I'd left my graffiti in. I couldn't remember for sure right now. I couldn't go right into the stall and say "hi", so I stood at one of the urinals for what felt like a good five minutes. I flushed and went to the sinks to carefully wash my hands for another long set of minutes. Nothing. It had to be just a guy who needed to just poop or something. Okay. This would not happen today I guess. I went back to my car and started the ignition right as the dude walked out of the bathroom. He was looking at me again. I turned off the car again and wondered what to do next as he sat on the little concrete bench right outside. It was the right guy alright. TAINTED I played with that word in my head as I fumbled out of the car and headed my way back into the bathroom. I went slowly because I didn't trust my knees completely. I was literally shaking. I passed right by him, nodded and said "hi". That was all it took because he made with a bunch of small talk. What was I name? Where did I live? How old was I? Did I work somewhere? I gave lies in return. He was "Steve" and he was a hairdresser. We stood in silence for a bit before he finally said "It's hot out here". He made his way toward the entrance and held the door for me. On autopilot, I went straight for the designated stall and sat down but didn't latch the door. This was going too fast, but what did I expect after leaving that message? In a flash he was right there, rubbing the crotch of his shorts and glaring down at me. While I wondering if I should open his fly, he did it for me. And then I was staring at a big purple dick in person. I wasted no time in leaning over and tasting the pointed tip. "Take off your pants, man." I couldn't. No way. I didn't know too much about any of the other gay stuff and this was all I was ready to do. I moved up and down his hard shaft and tried to use plenty of spit. TAINTED i wasn't able to the whole thing in my mouth but still thought I was doing a pretty good job, Not good enough I suppose because he pulled off my face and started jacking off. Oh. Okay. I sat there stupidly for a half a minute while he growled and huffed and masturbated just inches from my face. Then he bucked a little, put his meat back in my mouth and started to spasm. I waited for the taste that didn't seem to be on its way. But then it hit my tongue. It was so alien and strong. I was tasting something made inside another man's body. It's almost the same as if I were tasting his lungs, heart, blood or phlegm. It was all HIM. A car door slammed somewhere outside before we could say any good-byes or anything. He left and I stayed put. Thinking. I locked the latch wondered if my life was over. Did I have AIDS now? I really should have thought this through a little. Too late. The whole incident lasted less than three minute, but I mentally replayed it for the rest of the Summer. Sometimes I jerked off and sometimes I just worried. Was my future 'tainted'? Once I go back to school, I fretted so much that I finally went to student health center to get tested for any and all STDs out there. The doctor came back after the results were back and cautioned me that I needed to come back in another three months for a second blood test. I didn't have HIV yet, but I did have syphilis. That's the first price I'd pay for leaving graffiti in a pubic place, but it wouldn't be the last.