ErosWired

By this I guess you mean a cunt that never gets...tired? 😜

I would think that your assessment is more accurate than not, simply because it’s a buyer’s market for the Tops out there. Polls on this forum consistently put bottoms at around 66% of the total MSM population, with Total Tops coming in at less than 10%. Tops not only get to make a choice, they have to make a choice, because there’s simply too much ass to be humanly fucked, and the majority of them are done for the night after one ejaculation. So if a Top is obliged to select one bottom over another, he has to rely on some criteria of some sort, and no one can fault him if he puts his personal sexual needs and preferences foremost in making the decision - that is, actually, the point of the thing for him, and the sine qua non that enables us bottoms to receive cock at all. To wit: ^ This is, in my mind, precisely correct, and well put. This is the sort of Man that I delight in servicing - he understands me, and I understand him.

What a ridiculous conversation.

I just, this moment, realized that yesterday was the anniversary of the day I walked out of the hospital in 2014 to begin life with AIDS. I am now a 7-year AIDS survivor. There are flavors of irony in this moment all mixing together as I contemplate this conjunction of events. First and most immediate of these is that I’m currently lying naked on my bed with another man’s load of semen in my cunt, so fresh it hasn’t even had time to start leaking out. Ironic, on this day, that they call it ‘getting lucky’. It’s ironic that I started this seven-year ordeal, I believe, in much the same position as I was in half an hour ago, bent over taking a rutting up my ass by a gang of men. Ironic that I mark the moment with a confirmation that Fate has intended me to serve this way, and that perhaps there was ultimately no avoiding what happened to me...or what I’ve become...or what this will eventually lead me to. It’s ironic that just before I got just now, I took the bandage off my shoulder from where I was just injected with my third dose of Pfizer’s vaccine against COVID - a booster I need because my immune system is impaired. Ironic because today, in the second year of the pandemic, I’m alive and living with an incurable virus thanks to an infectious disease doctor who saved my life seven years ago - and lost hers to the coronavirus last year even as she tried to defeat it. Rest in peace, good doctor, By any measure, I’m lucky to be alive - the Enemy Virus came very close to finishing its work with me in 2014. By the time I learned it was within me, my immune system had already been destroyed. Not enough of it remained to ward off the pneumonia, the fungal meningitis, the strokes that nearly ended me. But I was lucky - by a chance of anatomy, the circulatory system in my brain was able to prevent the strokes from doing serious damage. I was lucky - my immune system began trying to rebuild itself, and in time it was able to beat back the infections of molluscum and thrush that most people never have to contend with. The price to be paid for rebooting your immune system, though, is sometimes it forgets the battles it already fought, and the result is shingles even though you had chicken pox 40 years ago. Luckily, I got through it all, got newly immunized, and now I’m as healthy as a 54-year-old man with AIDS can expect to be. My HIV doctor even tells me now that my life expectancy isn’t as curtailed as was thought - it’s probably getting closer to what a neg person’s would be... though it’s still shorter. But it could have been very much shorter. Lucky to be alive, seven years on. Alive as a pandemic ravages a world that is inexorably heating up and becoming more populated, more polarized, more polluted and less livable by the day. Lucky me. ...As you can probably tell, I am definitely am not getting fucked enough these days. 😐

I started on Atripla in 2014. From there, Triumeq > Genvoya > Biktarvy. Of the four, Atripla was the biggest pain in the ass because it limited when I could take meals, and because it added 30 pounds to my body. It beat back my viral load, but my cell count wasn’t improving, so my first infectious disease specialist switched me to Triumeq, which wasn’t much of an improvement. I switched doctors, and the new doc immediately put me on Genvoya, then switched me to Biktarvy after a year. She and I had a long talk about Biktarvy at my last visit, because even though my viral load is holding undetectable, my CD4 count is fluctuating and at one point dipped to 204 - that’s 4 points above being back in diagnostic range fir AIDS again. She took my concerns and discussed them with colleagues, and apparently the consensus is that for now, Biktarvy is pretty much the best thing going with the least side effects, and for men in my condition who presented with advanced infection at an older age, it seems to be maintaining health, albeit at a reduced immune level.

The gold standard, in my view, is shots that capture the cock actually pulsing in the act of delivering the load. Hard to arrange cinematically, no doubt, because the camera has to be at just the right angle, the lighting has to be perfectly set, and the anatomy has ho be at the sweet point where just enough of the right area is visible so that we can see it swell and contract as it pumps fluid. Rare to see, but when it happens, it’s exhilarating, because there’s absolutely no way to fake that. You’re watching a breeding take place.

The difficulty with the whole line of questioning is that the law and the complaint are predicated not simply on a question of whether someone violated consent, but the fact that there is a purported intent to do harm by intentionally exposing P to disease. But the moment that condom fails inside the body, the protective barrier has been compromised and exposure has potentially occurred whether D intended it or not, and even if he stopped intercourse the moment after breakage. The deed is done. Yes, P might have stopped intercourse to prevent any further possibility of infection, but by that point, stopping could not have prevented any possibility of infection. His failure to stop then becomes reckless rather than definitively causative. It would seem to me that this complicates (as if it weren’t already complicated) the relation of the issue of consent to the issue of assault. The same action either is, or isn’t, an assault depending on whether P intended it to be one. I’m not sure I understand how the quality control testimony would be useful - there is no such thing as a foolproof condom. Even if P had no malicious intent, he could simply have been woefully ignorant of chemistry and been in the habit of stroking himself hard every time prior to insertion with the help of a nice petroleum-based lube, almost guaranteeing condom failure. The fact that he experienced repeated failure does not prove intent. He could simply explain that couldn’t understand why his condoms kept breaking, even though he had tried different brands of latex condoms. If the defense can provide an alternate plausible explanation for repeated failure, the evidence in preponderance becomes subject to interpretation. The case of D v. P becomes, for practical purposes, the case of Trojan v. Vaseline.

You’re being kind. The way they treat paying customers is appalling. Right after I had purchased a six-month subscription, my account was suspended because my username - which had been my username there for years - suddenly got flagged by their anti-drug filter because it contained the word ‘wired’ (!). Not only was the tech support incredibly rude about it, when I sent a note of complaint the admin replied that any further response would get me banned. I don’t think he has much in the way of business sense. Here’s how useless Grindr has become: Over the course of 24 hours of slutting in Louisville a week ago, my Grindr profile, which advertised that I was actively hosting and where, racked up 287 views. Fucks resulting from those views: 0. Admittedly, that may partly be a reflection of the suckitude of Louisville as a place to get laid (and indeed, I have decided to stop hosting there altogether), but zero out of nearly 300? Growlr has never performed. Those bears seem to be in a perpetual state of hibernation. A4A is a bot machine, but I do get a good hit on it from time to time. Doublelist is... improving? I usually manage one hookup a session from DL, even though their text and image censorship is so heavy it’s almost impossible to get across what you’re really after. It’s really too bad these systems are so flawed. Not everyone is adept at the subtleties of eye contact and wordless signalling that make for successful cruising. A man would to practically stick his hand down my pants before I would realize he was making a pass at me (it’s possible that I’m not as blind to it as I think - it’s entirely likely that no passes are being made for me to overlook). I live in hope that when RAWTop eventually launches whatever alternative he has in mind it will have learned from the mistakes that other sites have made before and give us something that will actually connect people together in useful ways. I would open my wallet for that.

Now that I think about it, it’s curious that there wasn’t even any negotiation my first time. He just cruised me, took me home, and Topped me. There wasn’t any discussion about it; he didn’t ask what I wanted, and it didn’t occur to me to do anything other than take him. I guess he must have perceived something about me that I didn’t know myself. I hear that some Tops can tell that certain men are meant for cunting just by looking at them - I don’t know how true that really is (I wish it were, it would simplify life so much more) but on that first fuck, he got me exactly right.

Given the propensity for condoms to fail for a variety of causes, from excessive friction to overdryness to exposure to oils to accidental snags during application, isn’t it going to be a rather tricky business to prove intentional sabotage in a court? I can see how a serial stealther would have some difficulty explaining how his condom failed repeatedly so often the same way, but especially in the case of a single incident I can imagine a defense attorney working a reasonable doubt angle pretty heavily. Removing a condom altogether is a bit harder to explain away, but condoms fail on their own demerits too easily to hang a jail sentence on that without some pretty damning proof, I should think.

Oh, God, I hope not - If I fucked like I dance I would never get laid again. 😅

I don’t do a lot of external wiggling - I have found it to be a risky maneuver. While some Tops may enjoy it, more often than not I have found that tops feel that too much movement by the bottom disrupts their rhythm. A Top is focused on the signals he’s getting from his cock, and is generally trying to find the best angle/speed/friction that generates the greatest pleasure. If he finds it and then I suddenly change everything up by bouncing my ass around, it can be very annoying. I think that’s why Tops so often pin us down in place while fucking us. I’m with you, however, in not thinking much of dead-fish lazy bottoms who just lie there. I move my ass plenty - but I do it internally. I’m always practicing squeezing, tightening, relaxing, pulsing the muscles inside so that I can massage, stroke and tease a cock when it’s in me. I don’t do it often because I believe a Top should be able to fuck me as long as he wants, but if a Top is ever really hurting me and I need him to climax so that he finishes with me, my ass can get it done in a hurry. I’m not proud of it, but I can do it.

If it’s any consolation, they’re probably not forever lost. They probably exist in personal download collections. You may have to reupload them somewhere else to make them publicly available (and yourself an internet exhibitionist) again, but they probably still exist out there somewhere in the vast, trackless cybersphere. You can never count on anything posted to the Internet to be truly erased. Some years ago I actually had established credentials as a performer with XTube so that I could post video of myself and monetize it. I did a few, but quickly discovered that you couldn’t do it casually and make any money at it - you basically had to make a business of it, and aside from the fact that I already had a very fulltime job, I was nowhere near pretty enough for that. It’s as close as I ever got to bring a professional pornstar, lol - that’s now lost to the world (the world may breathe a sigh of relief) but it has more to do with time overtaking my body than XTube disappearing.

The “validity” of any definition of human genetic diversity in terms of race has never been a “reality” - it has always been a subject of debate and dispute, especially as no universal consensus has ever been achieved on what constitutes the defining traits of any such “race”. In terms of modern scientific biological classification and taxonomy, subspecies are designated on the basis of geographically distinct populations that in the wild do not, for reasons of either isolation or sexual selection, interbreed. While they may be genetically capable of interbreeding, and may do so in captivity, subspecies do not, as a rule, do so; were they to do so regularly, their morphological distinctiveness as subspecies would be erased. Homo sapiens do not actually have much phenotypic variety, contrary to what one might think. We are merely sensitive to minor differences. For actual phenotypic variety within a species, I submit to you the chihuahua and the Great Dane; the dachshund and the dalmatian; the afghan hound and the pug. These are neither subspecies nor races of Canis major, but simply breeds of the same animal. So are we. We just look a hell of a lot more like one another. Nor can a case be well made even for subspeciation among humans on the basis of genetic variance tied to original geographic separation - there is considerably greater variation between individuals from different parts of Africa than there is between some Africans and Europeans, skin color notwithstanding. It bears pointing out that the earliest divisions of people by race had to to with language and other purely cultural differences rather than physical traits, so any notion that race is a valid delineation between people rightly ends up discredited. Broad scientific consensus finds typological definitions of race simply untenable.

Thank you for this. The guy you describe sounds much like what I do, and I always hope, but am never sure, that there are Men out there who are glad to find someone like me with an open and welcoming door (and cunt). I know that I’m never going to be anyone’s “target” type, and I’m not interested in trying to be. Sometimes it can be really discouraging to be ass-up in a hotel for hours and get ghosted and flaked over and over - it makes it hard to believe sometimes that anybody really wants what I’m offering and makes me think sometimes that maybe I’m just deluding myself that anyone sees me as anything but gross and ridiculous. Hearing that there really are Men who appreciate what I and men like me do inspires me to keep doing it.

DNA studies of the population of Mexico in recent years do not bear out any notion of any sense of European racial purity. From a demographic standpoint, roughly 62% of Mexicans are mestizos, whose identity mixes European, Amerindian, and African heritage. Another 30% identify strongly with Amerindian cultures, not only the major Aztec and Maya influences, but also the more than 60 distinct Amerindian cultures within Mexico’s borders. I suspect that many people who imagine themselves lily-white might be startled at the results of a test of their DNA. I had such a test done to get a sense of my ancestry, and hoped for evidence to support a family assumption of Native American ancestry along one line. The result: White as a sheet, and all by way of the British Isles. But DNA can also take you further back in time - I could also see links to France, to Italy, to Scandinavia - I may be the descendant of Britons, but I’m also the descendant of their Norman, Roman, and Viking invaders. Populations don’t remain segregated. People fuck. And some people will fuck anybody. Thereby, race inevitably becomes a dubious distinction. But really, it never was anything but an artificial construct, devised to leverage social power. Name any other species that is divided by race. Humans are the only ones that stupid.

I detect a flaw in your planning for your camping trip... 😉

Gono, chlamydia and herpes can all be contracted and present no initial symptoms. This is why regular testing is so important, because by the time any of these reached a second or third stage infection, they can start to do real damage. Myself, I’ve never had asymptomatic case - my ass always flags when I have something, and I’m glad it does so that I can pull myself out of service until I get it cleared up. I absolutely refuse to be a conscious spreader of disease.

I was a little surprised this last weekend when I commented to my regular Top about being able to handle the way he DPs me with a dildo because I’m stretched enough, and he replied, “You’re not stretched, you’re seasoned.” I had only ever thought in terms of being either stretched or not stretched, and knowing what it was like to once be unable to take objects of size before I worked on expanding my range and before several hundred fuckings, I had assumed I had reached some level of ‘stretched’. I’m not hanging-loose stretched, and my cunt has not (I admit with shame) fully taken on the appearance of a vaginal vertical slit, but thus far I have never failed to take a cock of any size and there have been some monsters. So I’m conflicted about whether to take his comment as a compliment, even though he meant it as one.

It may be that when you say we “are not born to it” you simply mean that we are not born ideally equipped, and are making no statement regarding whether one is meant to accept the abuse of his anus as natural. But for me, and I imagine for many others, the sense that we were born to function in this way transcends the mechanics of biology. Perhaps it would be most simply expressed thus: I did not twist my hole to become a cunt - I am a cunt, and I was born this way. Clearly, on the face of it, men are not biologically designed for coupling with one another, so to that extent the point is inarguable. But I cannot dismiss the simple reality that a man’s use of my anus as a cunt feels natural to me - natural in a very deep way, in that it seems to harmonize and resonate with the core of my physical and psychological being. Attempting to Top, on the other hand, feels discordant, forced and contrived; I can tell at once that I’m not meant to do it, 7-inch cock notwithstanding (a tragic waste of a good cock, as I have always thought, but it can’t be helped). The very fact that I am not suited to the use of that particular piece of equipment I was born with suggests, then, if we are each born to some sexual purpose, that some alternative equipment must be that which I was born to use. The natural feeling I derive from being cunted does not feel like it is the twisted product of unnatural desires - it is an unforced answer to an inner calling. When men first began to explain to me that I was born for this purpose, and to train me on that basis, I found it not only easy to accept, but in fact a relief - so much uncertainty and doubt was dispelled with that simple truth. I cannot reconcile the bliss I see in a Top’s face as he enjoys my cunt with the notion that it is an abomination.

Yesterday I had just come off a pair of very bad, frustrating days of trying to host (so incredibly bad that I’m not going to host in Louisville anymore) and I responded to a summons from the Top back at home who wanted to fuck me. When I got to him, I told him about what had been happening, and ended with, “So now, what I really, really need is for you to basically fuck me in half.” He didn’t ask any questions. He gave me some fresh poppers and told me to get well poppered-up, then set to work. This man is a long-haul copulator, and always takes between one and one and a half hours for a complete fucking of me, nonstop. He has a standard set of about a half-dozen basic positions that he puts me in for every session, plus others that he mixes in for variety, most of these are chosen either because they give easiest access to assault a specific spot in my internal anatomy, or to give him the greatest depth into me. He seems to have an intuitive sense of just which position to use at which stage to hit a spot in me where stimulating it will be nearly unbearable. Last night he worked me over for a while through two or three different positions, then set me on my knees on the edge of the bed, knees together, head on the bed - it’s a position that makes me feel extremely vulnerable, as it thrusts out and exposes my cunt and reduces everything about me to that one thing. He entered me roughly, and began deep power-fucking. He kept at it, ramming his cockhead deep into the walls of my gut until it became uncomfortable. I tried to will myself to expand internally to accommodate him, but it seemed like any extra space I made just encouraged him to go deeper and harder. I’m always vocal, so I’m always making some sort of grunt, growl or moan in response to being fucked, but I must at some point have begun to whimper a little in distress because he suddenly shifted gears; he seemed to become invigorated, more determined. He thrusted faster, harder. I started hearing the squelching, sloshing sound from my cunt it makes when it’s super wet, and he did, too: “Oh, fuck yeah,” he said. Then he picked up my dildo, slid it into me, and began rapidly raping me with it, so fast, so hard, and so deep I couldn’t adapt to it quickly enough. I hunched, bucked, tried to stretch, but he held me firmly in place and kept sawing it in and out of me. I began to sob quietly, then more desperately, and finally, against everything I believe, I cried out, “Please, please stop, please sir” - He might as well have been stone deaf. He didn’t even break pace. After a moment, I realized there was nothing I could do that was going to stop him, and my body just sagged. At that point he paused, then joined his cock with the dildo, double-penetrated me, thrusting them both in and out. I was sobbing openly now. It’s not that he hadn’t done it before - he had, lots of times - but in that position, at that intensity, at that depth, it mastered me utterly. My complete defeat seemed to exhilarate him. He yanked the dildo out and began fucking me furiously, banging balls-deep with every thrust, and said, “Oh, fuck I’m going to cum so deep in you...” And he did, wave after wave. That wasn’t the end. He always loads me at least twice, and we then shifted straight to an intense missionary position until he blew again. But it was the first time he had ever broken me that way, and he did it because, basically, I asked him to. I am not sorry to have asked for what I did, and I am not sorry he responded as he did. He is a consummate Top - he had an innate understanding of what he needed to do, and what I needed as a submissive, and administered it decisively and effectively. Have any of you ever asked for something - and gotten it - and been sorry you asked? Or gotten something else that you really needed instead?

Just straight up coconut oil. Note, however, that in the grocery you may see shelved together small (~14oz) tubs of solid coconut oil alongside bottles of liquid coconut oil. The liquid variety is fractioated coconut oil, which has had its lauric fatty acids removed to enable it to remain liquid at room temperature or in the refrigerator. Personally, I would suggest sticking with the solid form for two reasons: 1) Relative ease of transport and application in various ways as a (transitional) solid; and 2) Lauric acid has been shown to have antimicrobial properties useful against harmful bacteria. This would seem to possibly recommend its choice over the liquid form as the lauric acid might aid in preventing infection from objects inserted along with the lube.

So Palmolive works well? That’s good to know - I’ve spent ages trying to clean up after J-Lube. Not that the person using it was being particularly tidy...

Actually, coconut oil, for all its charms, is not ideal for fisting. Fisting calks for lubrication with an absolutely tenacious slickness that doesn’t wipe away and doesn’t suddenly absorb away at the worst possible moment. I find that the warmer coconut oil gets, the thinner and more waterlike it becomes. For fisting, you need stable consistency and slickness that stays where you need it. Crisco seems to be the Everyman’s alternative, but as @WelshBBCigarFuck notes above, the gold standard for fisting is J-Lube. J-Lube, however, in my experience takes “messy” to a whole new level - like a you-really-ought-to-lay-down-tarps level. But absolutely gets a fist where a fist has no real business going.

Coconut oil is liquid at body temperature, so once inside you it would never have an opportunity to solidify. In fact, if you apply it by hand you have to move pretty fast if you’re trying to get a solid chunk inside your ass before it melts away in your fingers. The freezing method suggested above is a good idea - I’m going to try that myself. 🙂