leatherpunk16

56 minutes ago, Justaholeff said:

Men are such visual creatures when it comes to sex ...it's the way we are wired and I'm not ashamed of our sexual natures. However, in this day and age of instant access to social media, porn, etc....I think some men have gotten so over stimulated and that their view of real men has gotten unrealistic that they will cruise or visit a bathhouse and never get laid because that perfect man in their brain is real. Once I realized this for myself and regulated my standards to reality...Ive had some of the best fucks!

This is why I don't enjoy going to a bathhouse. I don't think I'm looking for perfection, but I certainly don't find anything that's even close. When I do, they don't want to play. And what I attract are guys I would NEVER consider doing sex with. There's no chemistry that I just need to "give in to"; he doesn't excite me in any way, and I end up leaving having wasted $25 and four hours of my life doing laps.

I used to have such a guy in my life. He was a total pig, huge dick, and got me all smoked up and drunk as part of the fun. He would call, I would be coy and say no thank you, and then two hours later, I'd be in his kitchen with his monster dick down my throat. It was wonderful. 

But he died. Pancreatic cancer. I no longer have such a guy, and I think he was the last one. That was eight years ago.

He is attractive. Too bad he's a homophobe.

I've always absorbed the few loads I have received. There is one exception - one hung dude pumped so much extra air into me that I really had to hold a huge fart on the long drive home, and when I let it out, the cat ran scared. And my underwear was quite soaked from the expulsion.

One of my fuckbuddies is a fisting pig, and he has developed this knot at the entrance to his hole. Takes up valuable real estate, in a manner of speaking. It bleeds on occasion when he does this activity. He wants to get it removed. Might be a hemorrhoid, or something else, I forget what.

I think you and I are the same. I fuck because I love sex with men. Other things that may accompany it are just second place or farther down the list.

24 minutes ago, pigbro said:

makes me think of this image

I would love to own such a suit. If, for no other reason, than to freak people out.

I've been shooting testosterone for the past nine weeks, and let me tell you I feel incredible. I'm horny all the time, my muscles look fantastic, my ankle and hip do not hurt anymore, and my confidence is through the roof. I've also got the first signs of steroid abuse - shoulder acne. I wear it like a badge of honour. I earned that shit.

This is incredible, and at the same time horrifying. Imagine if that were a real thing! You get pounced by one of these monsters, and instantly swoon into their arms no matter your sexuality, and then they breed and you almost instantly transform inside and out. Horrific. 

But I doubt there's a reader among us who doesn't wish they could submit to such a thing. I can't say it enough. This is superb.

Sometimes I'll be in the gym shower and catch a handful of my own piss, and taste it. All those hormones from the steroids need to stay in my body, lol. But usually I can't do more than that little cupped hand. Too much garlic in the diet, and I taste it heavily in the piss. But it's good to check once in a while.

Ever eaten a dish at a restaurant that had way too much garlic? It's like that.

In my mid-30s, I used to see this guy who would occasionally turn up on my cam page. He lived locally and supported my early porn efforts, and we screwed occasionally. I remember one time I was in his neighbourhood, and after a quick text, I was driving to his house. I got there, we promptly went downstairs, and he got on his knees facing away from me. Bent over, and I put my dick in his hole. He had only a few minutes while his man was out, and we worried we could be caught, so this had to be fast. I forced myself to pump a load in him after only a couple minutes, and when it was over, I was back outside and rushing to my car. We hardly said more than a few words to each other. 

Not a great fuck, but a hole is a hole sometimes.

I notice that no one has so far mentioned the other possibility, the other outcome of telling a partner about hidden desires. He may be totally okay with it, and actually have those interests as well that he is keeping from YOU. It sounds like an unlikely possibility, but not impossible. Wouldn't that fix everything? 

There's also the other extreme: "Let me do ______ so I can be happy, or we're done." That's not designed to have a positive outcome, no matter what goes in the blank. Don't put him in that position, and likewise, do not let him put you in this position. 

From what you've told us, I don't think it will go that far, either, because you immediately expressed concern for your partner. Do let us know what happens, or if you need support in whatever you decide.

You're in the right place! 

It can be hard to make that statement. I certainly struggled with it until I admitted I was a bugchaser. These feelings are normal. You are not a fraud or imposter. This is just who you are, or who you wish to become. And if you stick around, we will be here to support your journey, whatever that might be. 

PS - poz men do indeed like men like yourself: negative and unprotected. And if you want the bug, pursue it long enough, and it should happen. Just be aware of the consequences of your choice.

Looking back over my list of hookups (yes I've kept a list of all the guys), I would say I have the best luck (or most luck) picking up guys who can't do any better.  The ones who are horny for seed or getting a small dick sucked, and they don't care by who. Or is it whom? I always get this wrong. 

🤔

🤔

🤔

Sorry, what were we talking about?

On 8/11/2020 at 12:34 AM, Neg4pozbreeding said:

I actuall got fucked bareack by a nice guy last night. there is a good chance I will be poz this weekend

It's been about 13 days since you posted this, which is the usual incubation period for the Bug. Any news?

... incredible...

I want a rosebud. Not for fisting, I just think they look pretty.

Welcome back, pup. We missed you. 

Nice touches of suspense here.

My first boyfriend wanted monogamy. I was just starting to turn my wheels in porn, and thus having both was an obstacle. He actually tried to break up with me when I was hired to host an event at Steamworks. Just hosting and nothing more. I did the event anyway, but things went awry at the event, and I may as well have not done it for all the good it did in my porn career. My man stayed with me, but I was still shooting porn and not telling him. Eventually that caught up with me, and I got gono. Had to tell my guy before a doctor told him, and we split up three weeks later. Totally worth it because seven weeks later, I met the man who would be my husband.

Now THIS guy let me be a ho. I even had sex in front of him with someone else on our second date. My date was so impressed by my work that he asked me to do the same thing with him later. It was always "You boys go have fun." 

Strangely, I was super protective of him, and was not fond of him bedding other men. Why the double standard? I don't know. Maybe I was the alpha? Who knows.

But his own ho life is what got him killed. I've beaten this story to death on BZ and elsewhere, but suffice it to say that he was ruled by his hole, and the wrong people took advantage of that, and it ultimately claimed his life. 

Can my next relationship be like this but without the tragic ending? I'd like that. Two big muscle kings seeding and breeding and getting pumped full of cum by others, and still happy in their relationship, would be ideal for me.

I am very like #3. When I've flipped with guys, I always have to tell them that if they get me to cum first, my hole will slam shut. And it's certainly been proven true. One exception - a bearish guy fucked me last January, and he jerked me until I blew while he was still inside me. I guess that's how it's done! My body is weird.

It's been several days since a new chapter was added. Such a good introduction and premise, I hope it doesn't just disappear into the ewegkiet. 

Your first name (or a name you'll respond to): Scott or Shannon

Your cell number (for texts and voice calls): no number, I don't need extra calls. Just message me here and I'll see your request. Plan in advance, not sperm of the moment! I won't see messages after 8pm any day.

A location (be at least as specific as a zip code): 61109

Times you're generally not available: Sunday mornings, late nights (10pm CST-7am CST)

Age: 40 but don't tell anybody

Height: 6.1

Weight: 195 and growing

Ethnicity: Irish

All right, you asked for it, lol. Here's the final instalment.

Epilogue

Several months later…

I left the crowd behind me as I stepped on to the back porch of the fetish bar, not caring about the almost negative wind chill, and winter’s hateful snowfall. Thank goodness that whole nonsense with the Covid is over, and people are out enjoying themselves again. And the boys are as hungry as ever, making up for lost time, and plundering holes and nutsacks as much as they can. A lot of earlier limits don’t matter so much now - barely legal, geriatric, pretty, overweight, meth heads, toxic - they are all practically foaming at the mouth for sex. The best part is they don’t even ask status anymore. I’ve put a significant number of notches in my bedpost since my summer visit with Rick as a result.

I pulled the Asylum from my motorcycle jacket’s front pocket, clicked open the torch, and a blaze erupted before my face. I turned the thick stick in my mouth, puffed hard, and when the cherry was fully lighted, off went the torch. Rick was right - I *am* a cigar pig, and while my bank account isn’t too happy with the new deduction (nor are my lungs or my doctor), I don’t give a fuck. I’m connected to this, and it’s a great memory of a man I no longer see. As the smoke curled upward, I began to reflect on how I got here.

Rick’s bugs did the trick. I went home and back to my normal life, though by the end of the weekend, I bought a full box of fat cigars, a guillotine, and a torch. My house is now powerfully impregnated with their odor. When my sister came to visit, she said, “It smells like a humidor in here.” And every time I fire up, I remember her saying that and how Rick gave me what I wanted.

Then the seroconversion came twelve days later. I awoke in the night, frying and freezing at the same time. The bedsheets were already quite soaked with sweat, and it didn’t take me two seconds to realize that Rick actually did it. All it took was one dose of his toxic poz seed, and my destroyed hole, and we were there. I actually had my doubts prior to this night, and talked myself into believing that Rick refused to break character until I was out the door. Ten bucks says he went straight to his chest of drugs and resumed his medication. Then I got only silence from him. No contact whatsoever. No follow-up, no text saying “Hey, how’s your hole doing?”. Just … nothing.

The first morning after the conversion, I texted him briefly. “Yo, Rick. It’s happening. I feel like I’m dying. Congratulations, you’re a poz dad! And thank you.” A few minutes passed, then I got back a single emoji as a reply:

😈

No other words accompanied it. Didn’t hear from him again. I think he’s mad at me. It was entirely his decision to come off the meds, but I think maybe he hates himself for it, and doesn’t want to deal with me. I broke his perfect healthy world with my request, and maybe he couldn’t take the stress of it. I really don’t know what happened. His friends say he’s fine, just “super busy”, but no real details of anything about him or his life. But I choose to not cling to people that don’t want to talk to me, so I let it go after a few weeks.

And I was unbelievably horny after I was able to walk again. The sickness lasted only a couple days, and it was no worse than the usual flu, though I did have diarrhea rather badly at the start. And then it was over. But the horn - it never fucking stopped! As soon as I felt like myself again, I got on my hookup sites, changed my status on my profiles, and let the world know I was poz. An avalanche of messages and winks and woofs suddenly popped into my message centers, and I was a very busy boy! My hookups went from me just being a bottom ho to a full-on top poz breeder. After the first three days of constant sex, I had to give myself rest. My dick was rubbed so raw that I was getting a scab on the shaft, and my balls were shooting out less and less cum from being emptied so often. They couldn’t turn it out fast enough!

So far, I’ve had eleven confirmed conversions, but most of the others are unknown. They didn’t report any change, so I didn’t ask. I fuck them, I dumped a hot charged load in them, and leave them. On to the next one, and I seldom see the same guy twice. It’s about quantity while I’m still super infectious. Guess I’m making up for lost time, too.

Eventually it caught up to me when I nailed a prissy bear, and when I told him, “I’m going to infect you now,” he screamed the walls down until his neighbor came, and seeing the bear in restraints - which was his fantasy - and me naked over him… Well, let’s just say I lost a tooth that day. It’ll be a long time before I go back into that part of the city.

But I have no regrets. I would have liked to have more control over when it happened, but as it was my inevitable destiny, I may as well embrace it. And I did. My toxic seeds are being spread by others, some known, others not. And it’s fucking empowering. I’m like a nasty poz god, corrupting countless men’s holes without ever leaving my street. It made me chuckle.

While lost in these memories, I realized I’d smoked nearly half the cigar, and have been out here almost twenty minutes. I silently stared at the night sky. So many stars. And for some reason, I said aloud, “The seeds that go out from my body. Look at the stars. I cannot count them, but so shall my seed be.” It was a perverted quote and I found it hilarious. As my mind wallowed in the humor of the situation, I flicked my ash over the wooden balcony.

“I never took you to be a biblical scholar,” a voice suddenly said next to me. My head quickly turned to the left to face the voice, but I couldn’t make out the face. The alley back here was too damn dark to see distinctly if it wasn’t directly in front of you, plus this space was quite smoky.

The person came closer. My eyes widened. It was him. He gave me the once-over at my new look.

“Looks like my work was more thorough than I thought.”

I was stunned. “Rick! Shit the bed, how have you been?” I was overjoyed at this unexpected reunion. I hugged him tightly and released him quickly. “I’ve been asking around about you since the summer, and no one could give me a straight answer, but fuck! It’s good to see you!”

“Easy, bro,” he said, raising his gloved hand. “After we fucked, I needed to get away, so I took a long trip around America. I needed to be away from people, and Covid, and politics, and just took a long extended vacation. I’m back on the meds, and healthy again.”

“That’s good.”

“Are you happy with the life you’ve chosen?” His usually musical tone was suddenly monotone and discordant.

I looked away for a second. I put the Asylum back in my jaw, and pulled up my leather pants by grabbing the belt buckle with both fists. I posed seductively as if for a motorcycle calendar. My Muir cap tipped slightly, and I said, “What do YOU think?” with a big grin on my face.

He gave several small nods of the head in approval. “Very good, you look like a genuine leatherman. But what have you done with my… gifts?” He said that last word rather knowingly.

I turned my head away ever so slightly. “Oh, you know, the usual. Seedin’ and breedin’. Staying off the meds as long as I can take it. Life is for the living, and I am doing it on my terms.” Non-committal responses? “Steve, you’re an asshole,” I thought to myself.

Rick’s face contorted to incredulity. “You’re still not on them? Dude. Fuck.” He shook his head, blinked once or twice, and sighed. “It’s your life. Do what you want. Also, do this.” He pulled his right hand forward, and for the first time, I saw a chain in his hand as a smaller body came forward from behind him. It was a human pup, completely dressed in his fetish gear. A few extra pounds, but his color was definitely blue, and he didn’t speak unless spoken to. The chain in Rick’s hand ended around the pup’s neck.

“Dog. I picked this one up in Florida. MONSTER COCK and deadly as fuck.” Rick said proudly. “I’m showing him a good time while I still can. AND he has a greeting present for you. Dog?” The pup cocked his head, listening. “Give him a Cuban Delight,” Rick said to Dog in an evil voice, followed by a grin to match. 

“Ruff!” He did his best imitation of dog panting. “You’re gonna die tonight.” I could see a fire behind Dog’s eyes. He was also charged, like Rick and me, but with… something different. Curious. 🤔

I stubbed out my cigar, smiling wickedly. I knew I was about to get another upgrade. “This oughta be good.” 

THE END

I am not fond of "pussy". Here's how I see it.

Hole: for dumping loads 

Cunt: for well-fisted holes

Pussy: something that women and trans people have

Sorry, I like men. And men have dicks most of the time. That statement is not imply an anti-trans sentiment, but if you present yourself as a man, and we hook up, I have the expectation to pull off the pants and find a penis. I wouldn't know what to do with the other option.

Thanks for the comments, guys. I just let the words come naturally, and tried to not overimpress with the need to outdo the previous entry. I think I ought to do the follow-up ending. Give me some time, and you'll have it.