Cutedelicategay

The night continues.......... I stagger back into the main bar area, the roar of music and chatter slamming into me like a second high. My ass throbs with a delicious ache, Jax's cum still leaking warmly down my inner thighs, soaking into the denim as I pull my jeans up fully. The sticky mess clings, a secret reminder of my surrender, making every step a teasing friction against my sensitive rim. My face flushes, body buzzing from the poppers and the illicit thrill, cock half-hard and twitching at the memory of that thick shaft splitting me open. I spot Jax at a high-top table near the edge of the dance floor, surrounded by three other guys—his crew, all rugged and built like him, laughing boisterously over pitchers of beer. They look like a pack of wolves, tattoos peeking from sleeves, easy grins that scream trouble. Jax sees me first, his eyes lighting up with predatory satisfaction. He waves me over, pulling out a stool with a foot. "There he is—my fresh convert," he says loud enough for his friends to hear, his German accent thickening with amusement. I slide onto the seat, thighs pressing together to hide the drip, but the way I wince draws chuckles from the group. Up close, they're all mid-30s, tanned from travel, with that backpacker vibe—faded shirts stretched over muscled chests, cargo shorts riding low on hips. One has a buzzcut and a scar on his lip; another sports a man-bun and piercings; the third is clean-shaven with a cocky smirk. All HIV positive, I had overheard Jax muttering earlier, on a medical break from treatments back home, turning their Canadian backpacking trip into a raw, uninhibited adventure. "This is the guy I was telling you about," Jax announces, slapping my back hard enough to jolt me forward. "Tight as fuck, took me like a champ in the hallway. You should see his hole now—gaping and greedy for more." The friends lean in, beers in hand, eyes raking over me with blatant interest. The buzzcut one, Lukas, grins wolfishly. "Jax's cum is potent stuff, ja? One load and you're hooked. Bet your ass is already craving round two—milking him dry like a pro bottom." I flush deeper, but the words send a fresh spurt of precum into my skimpy briefs, my rim clenching around the phantom fullness. Man-bun guy, Tomas, passes me a fresh beer, his fingers lingering on mine. "Heard you were negative before. Not anymore, eh? Jax breeds deep—turns safe boys into cumsluts. We'd all love a turn, but he's claiming you tonight." The clean-shaven one, Karl, laughs, raising his glass. "To conversions! Your bottom skills must be killer to handle that beast bare. Jax's loads are legendary—thick and sticky, sealing the deal every time." They toast, the lewd banter flowing as freely as the drinks, their flirting a constant press—hands brushing my arm, knees bumping mine under the table, comments laced with heat about how I'd look bent over for the group, Jax's seed marking me as off-limits at least for now. The whiskey and beer loosen me further, the group's energy pulling me in. Jax's arm drapes over my shoulders possessively, his breath hot on my neck. "Stay with me tonight? My hotel's a dump—shared room with these pigs. Yours got space?" I nod eagerly, the plan forming amid the haze: he'll crash at my spot for two nights, fucking me senseless after dark, while days blur into hangs with his crew—sightseeing, beers, whatever. They cheer the idea, Lukas winking. "Don't wear him out too much, Jax. Save some for brunch tomorrow—we'll see how well he walks after your potent cum works its magic." Hours slip by in a blur of shots and stories—tales of their German roots, wild nights across Europe, the freedom of their med break letting them fuck raw without a care. My ass twitches under the table, the cum shifting inside my, a constant tease. Finally, Jax hauls me up, kissing me rough in front of them. "Time to breed him proper," he growls, and they whoop as I stumble out into the night, his hand firm on my waist, guiding me to my nearby hotel. The door clicks shut behind me, the room's dim lamp casting shadows over the king bed and adjoining bathroom. Jax wastes no time, stripping us both with efficient yanks—my shirt over my head, jeans kicked off to reveal the cum-streaked thighs and my still-swollen hole, puffy and slick. His cargos hit the floor, cock springing free again, already rigid and leaking, the veins pulsing like they remember my grip. He grabs the poppers from his pocket, tossing my clothes aside. "Shower first—clean you up just to dirty you again." I follow him into the steamy confines, water cascading hot over our bodies as he soaps my back, fingers probing my crack. The once-bred ass and his potent cock awaken in the humid air, their voices a sultry echo in my mind, building on the hallway seduction with renewed hunger. MY ASS (my hole, still tender from the first load, a husky whisper rippling through my cheeks as water streams down, the rim fluttering under Jax's probing finger): You're back... I can feel you swelling already, that familiar heat pressing close. Your first cum's still deep in me, warm and sticky, changing everything. But I'm greedy now—bred once, wanting more of your potent gift. HIS COCK (Jax's shaft, bobbing under the spray, voice a deep rumble vibrating through the water, the head nudging my soapy cleft): Missed this mancunt. Look at you, loose from my load, begging for seconds. I'll fuck you clean in here, then fill you fuller. Poppers first—Jax is uncapping now. Snort deep; it'll make the water feel like lube, open you wide for my slide. Jax presses the bottle to my nose amid the steam; I inhale sharply, the rush hitting with the heat, muscles melting as he bends me forward against the tile. His cockhead catches my entrance, slick with soap and his precum, pushing in with a wet squelch. The stretch reignites the burn-pleasure, my walls yielding eagerly around his girth, the veins scraping fresh paths. MY ASS (yielding to the thrust, inner muscles clenching wetly, voice moaning under the water): Yes—breaching again, so thick in the steam. Guide me through it; how's this breed different, with your cum already coating me? HIS COCK (sinking deep, hips snapping forward to hilt me against the wall, tone commanding as water splashes): Deeper this time—mixing loads, making it stick. Feel me grind your spot? Each pump stirs my seed inside, prepping for the new flood. Poppers signal: huff as I ramp up; keeps you relaxed for the pound. He thrusts steadily, the shower amplifying the slaps of skin, my cock hardening against the cool tile as his balls smack my taint. Another hit of poppers loosens me further, turning the fuck into a slippery frenzy. My ass milks him, the dialogue fracturing into gasps. MY ASS (bouncing on the pistoning length, voice keening): Harder—stir it all! Your potency's building, swelling me. HIS COCK (throbbing near release, voice growling): Take the second load—blasting now, sealing you tighter! He erupts with a grunt, ropes of hot cum joining the first, overflowing to swirl down the drain. My cum untouched, spurting against the wall, body shuddering. Jax pulls out, the water rinsing the excess, but my hole stays full, throbbing. Toweled dry, I collapse onto the sheets, Jax pouncing like a predator. He flips me onto my stomach, knees spreading my cheeks to expose the bred pucker, now red and glistening from the shower load. Poppers bottle on the nightstand, ready. The voices return, intimate in the quiet room. MY ASS (face-down, cheeks parted, voice muffled into the pillow, rim winking): Twice bred, but not enough—your cock's calling me again. I'm yours now, converted and craving. HIS COCK (pressing the damp head to my entrance, voice a low purr as it dimples the ring): Good boy—feel how I'm leaking already? This load's for owning you through the night. Poppers: Jax is holding it—inhale slow, let it sink in with me. The vapors flood me, ass blooming as he mounts and drives in balls-deep, the dual loads squelching around his shaft. He fucks prone-bone style, weight pinning me, cock grinding deep with long, deliberate strokes. MY ASS (impaled and rocking, walls fluttering): So full—your veins mapping me again. Tell me how this breed cements it. HIS COCK (thrusting rhythmically, balls dragging my skin): Mixing everything, flooding your core. Poppers keep the pace—snort when I say, turns pain to pure need. Mid-fuck, another hit amplifies the ecstasy, his pace turning brutal, bed creaking. I claw the sheets, prostate hammered, as he floods me third—no, second for the bed, but the count blurs in bliss. MY ASS (spasming): Cum—breed me deeper! HIS COCK (erupting): Full again—my potent seed claiming every inch! He collapses atop me, cock plugging the load, both drifting into sated sleep. Sunlight filters through curtains as Jax stirs, his morning wood rigid against my thigh. I wake to his hand spreading me, the night's cum crusted but my hole slick and ready. Poppers nearby, the dialogue ignites with dawn's freshness. MY ASS (morning-swollen, voice sleepy but eager): Again? Your cock's insatiable—three times now, but I need this final breed to start the day. HIS COCK (rising hard, tip tracing my crack): Morning loads hit different—fresh and thick. Poppers wake-up call: huff it, open for my ride. I snort, body igniting as he rolls me to my side, leg hooked over his hip for a lazy spoon-fuck. He slides in easy, the built-up seed lubing the way, thrusting slow-building to urgent. MY ASS (grinding back, voice husky): Yes—stir the night in me. How's this one seal the two nights? HIS COCK (pumping steadily, hand stroking my cock): Last for now—flooding you full before brunch. Poppers for the finish: inhale, milk me dry. The rush peaks with his, cum jetting hot as I spurt over his fist, sealing the marathon. We meet Jax's friends at a sunny café, legs shaky but ass humming with three loads. They smirk knowingly, Lukas sliding me a mimosa. "Looking bred, ja? Jax's potent cum got you glowing." Tomas winks. "Bottom skills on point—walk us through the night?" Jax laughs, arm around me, as banter flows, plans for the day ahead in their flirty pack.

Yes.....there is a lot more to the entire conversion process. I am in the process of writing other chapters - the entire weekend where not only Jax but his other friends used me behind his back. I am also in the process of writing multiple chapters of my first and only relationship of 8 years. This one will be erotic but also a bit emotional. I hope guys enjoy my work.

As I approach 6th conversion anniversary, I present you with my conversion story. My stories are based on true events however, I try to add erotica. In my story while I am running through emotions of my conversion, I am imagining if my negative ass and his positive cock were to come alive........... The seeds of my conversion were laid in a gay bar The gay bar pulses with raw, unfiltered energy, a throbbing den of desire where the night air hangs heavy with the scent of sweat, spilled beer, and the faint, musky tang of arousal. Bass from the speakers vibrates through the sticky wooden floor, syncing with the rapid heartbeats of the crowd packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Strobe lights cut through the haze like knives, flashing over bare torsos glistening under the dim glow, hips grinding in shameless rhythm on the dance floor. Men of all builds—lean twinks, beefy bears, smooth jocks—press close, hands roaming freely, lips brushing necks, crotches bumping with deliberate intent. It's a place where inhibitions dissolve, where the line between flirtation and fuck blurs into oblivion. I sat at the scarred oak bar, a fit guy in your mid-20s with a slim, athletic frame honed from gym sessions and runs along the beach. My dark brown hair is tousled just right, falling over my forehead in a way that screams approachable yet fuckable. I am dressed to tease: a fitted black shirt that hugs my defined pecs and narrow waist, unbuttoned enough to show a hint of smooth chest. Below, snug jeans cling to my thighs like a second skin, the denim molding over the firm curve of my bubble butt and the subtle bulge of my cock, which twitches occasionally as the club's vibe seeps into me. I've ordered a whiskey neat, the amber liquid burning down my throat as I sip, trying to play it cool. But inside, a storm brews. I've always been the safe one—condoms, regular tests coming back negative. Tonight, though, something feral stirs. The whiskey warms my belly, loosening the knot of caution, whispering temptations of risk, of letting go and getting lost in the heat. My eyes scan the room, drawn to the dance floor where bodies writhe like a living organism. A guy nearby laughs too loud, his hand sliding down his partner's back to squeeze an ass cheek possessively. I shift on the stool, feeling my own hole clench involuntarily, a phantom ache building. The bar's energy is infectious, pulling me in, making my skin prickle with anticipation. I've come here alone, telling myself it's just for a drink, but deep down, I crave connection—raw, unprotected, the kind that leaves marks. Across the crowded space, Jax locks eyes with me. He's in his mid-30s, rugged and commanding, with a build that speaks of hard labor or heavier lifts—broad shoulders straining a sleeveless gray tee, tattoos snaking up his thick arms, a salt-and-pepper beard framing a square jaw. His dark eyes smolder with confidence, scanning the room like a predator selecting prey. When his gaze lands on me, it sticks, raking over my body with blatant hunger. He smirks, the corner of his mouth quirking up, and jerks his head toward the shadowy back corridor—a dim hallway leading to who-knows-where, away from the main throng. My pulse hammers in my ears, louder than the music. My cock stiffens fully now, pressing insistently against the seam of my jeans, a damp spot forming where precum beads at the tip. I hesitate for a beat, glass halfway to your lips, but the pull is magnetic. I down the rest of the whiskey in one gulp, the fire spreading through my veins, and slide off the stool. Weaving through the press of hot, sweat-slicked bodies feels like wading into a sea of temptation. A hand brushes my ass accidentally—or not—as I pass, sending a jolt straight to my groin. The air grows thicker, charged with pheromones, every inhale filling my lungs with the promise of sex. Jax waits at the corridor's mouth, leaning against the wall with casual dominance, his muscular legs spread wide, crotch outlined prominently in his faded cargos. He doesn't speak, just nods once, and I follow, heart thudding as the club's roar fades behind me. The hallway swallows me whole, the noise muffling to a distant thump, replaced by the echo of my footsteps and ragged breaths. Graffiti scars the brick walls—crude drawings of cocks and asses, scrawled messages urging 'Fuck raw' and 'Breed me'. Dim bulbs flicker overhead, casting long shadows that dance like ghosts. Jax doesn't waste time. He spins me around, slamming my back against the cool, rough brick. His body pins mine, solid and unyielding, heat radiating from his skin like a furnace. I can smell him now—clean sweat mixed with cologne and something earthier, masculine. His crotch grinds into my hip, the hard ridge of his erection unmistakable, thick and insistent. "That ass," he growls low, lips grazing my ear, breath hot and laced with beer. "Been teasing me all night, swaying like it wants to be owned." His hands are everywhere—fingers digging into my hips, yanking me closer, one palm sliding up under my shirt to thumb a nipple. I gasp, arching into him, my own hands fumbling at his chest, feeling the hard slabs of muscle beneath. The danger thrills me; I overheard him earlier at the bar, bragging to a friend about his status—positive, on a medical break and hence potent in reality. It should scare me, but instead, it ignites a dark fire, making my hole twitch with forbidden need. Jax's mouth crashes onto mine, a bruising kiss all tongue and teeth, devouring me like he's starved. I kiss back hungrily, tasting salt and smoke, my cock throbbing painfully confined. His fingers hook into my belt loops, tugging my jeans down with rough efficiency. The zipper rasps, fabric pooling at my ankles along with my skimpy briefs. Cool air hits my bare skin, raising goosebumps, my erection springing free—seven inches of rigid flesh, curving upward, the head flushed and slick with precum. But Jax's eyes drop lower, to the prize: my plump cheeks framing a tight, pink pucker, the rim smooth and virginal in its untouched tightness, clenching shyly under his stare. He steps back just enough to free himself, shoving down his zipper with a metallic snick. His cock emerges like a weapon, a girthy nine-incher, the shaft thick as my wrist, ridged with bulging veins that pulse with his heartbeat. The mushroom head is a deep purple, swollen and weeping a steady stream of clear fluid, balls heavy and low-hanging below a nest of dark hair. It bobs aggressively, pointing at me like an accusation, the slit oozing more precum in invitation. I know what it carries—the virus, humming in his blood, ready to rewrite me. My knees weaken, ass cheeks flexing as if already feeling the invasion. Jax pulls a small brown bottle from his pocket, the label worn but unmistakable: poppers. He unscrews the cap with a grin that's all teeth and promise. "These are gonna make it good," he murmurs, voice a gravelly command. "Open you up wide, turn that tight ring into a hungry hole. Inhale when I tell you—deep hits, let it rush through you." He takes a snort first, eyes half-closing as the chemical high hits, his cock jerking visibly. Then he holds it under my nose. The sharp, vinegary scent invades my senses; I huff deeply, the vapors exploding in my brain like fireworks. My body melts, muscles loosening, blood rushing south as my rim softens, blooming slightly in readiness. In this fevered haze, the world narrows to the intimate space between our bodies. Reality bends, and my ass and his cock come alive—not in flesh, but in sultry, internal whispers that echo in my mind like a private duet, raw and intimate, heightening every sensation. They face off, his tip hovering inches from my entrance, tracing teasing circles on my inner thighs, building the tension to unbearable levels. HIS COCK (Jax's massive shaft, a deep, resonant baritone that rumbles through my core, the length flexing with each syllable, veins standing out as it inches closer, a fat drop of precum dangling from the slit): Look at you, tight little mancunt, all puckered and pink, clenching like you've been waiting for me your whole life. I've been trapped in these pants all night, watching that bubble butt grind against the bar stool, calling to me. Feel how hard I am? Throbbing, veins full of blood and more—I'm positive, loaded with my special gift, the kind that flips boys like you from safe and empty to wild and owned. Let me seduce you into it. Imagine my head pushing past that ring, bare and hot, stretching you wide till you're gasping. No rubber, just skin on skin, my precum leaking in first to tease what's coming. Then the flood—thick ropes of cum blasting deep, converting every cell, making you crave this rush forever. What's holding you back? That negative status? It's boring. Let me change you, make you mine. MY ASS (my eager hole, a breathy, vulnerable tenor that quivers from the cheeks, the rim fluttering shyly toward the approaching heat, inner walls tingling with nerves): Oh god, you're so close... I can feel the warmth radiating off you, that drip from your tip almost touching me. I've been negative forever, clenched tight against anything that could change me. Guys poke and prod, but I stay safe, locked up. But tonight... you're different. Huge, veined, pressing like you own the air between us. Why me? What makes you think I want your conversion? HIS COCK (nuzzling closer now, the broad head brushing my perineum, smearing a warm trail of slickness upward, voice dropping to a seductive purr, the shaft bobbing with restrained power): Because I see it in you—the way your cheeks tense when eyes linger, how your hole winks when you think no one's watching. Conversion? It's pure fire. I'll start slow, my crown dimpling that virgin ring, popping in with a burn that turns to bliss. Inch by veiny inch, I'll claim those velvet walls, dragging friction that lights up your nerves. You'll feel me pulse inside, leaking more precum to lube the way, priming you for the real change. But first, poppers—essential for this. They drop your defenses, make your muscles go slack so I can slide deep without fight. Jax is holding the bottle; snort now, deep and long. Let it hit you, melt that resistance. I snatch the vial from Jax's hand, pressing it to my nostril and inhaling sharply. The rush crashes over me like a wave—dizzying, euphoric, my vision spotting as heat floods my body. My ass relaxes instantly, the rim softening, parting slightly as if inviting entry. Jax chuckles, low and dark, his tip catching on the loosened edge, testing the give. MY ASS (blooming under the high, voice turning husky and needy, the pucker quivering openly now, pushing back instinctively): Fuck, the poppers... everything's spinning, so loose and electric. Your head's right there, teasing the edge. I... I'm seduced. That warmth, the promise—guide me through it. Show me how to take you, how the conversion works step by step. HIS COCK (pressing forward with intent, the flared crown dimpling my entrance firmly, tone shifting to firm instruction, the slit oozing steadily): That's my boy—poppers are key, keep you open and hungry. Now, relax and push out like you're bearing down. Feel that? My head breaching, stretching the ring wide. Good—grip me as I sink in. We're going slow; first few inches to let you adjust. Those veins of mine? They'll scrape your walls just right, building the heat. Conversion starts here—my precum seeping in, marking you from the inside. When I hit halfway, poppers again; it'll make the deeper stretch feel like heaven. The penetration begins with a sharp, delicious burn as Jax's cockhead forces past your sphincter, the muscle yielding with a slick pop. I cry out, the sound muffled against his shoulder as I clutch at his arms. Inch after thick inch follows, my walls stretching impossibly around his girth, the prominent veins dragging along sensitive nerves, sending sparks of pleasure-pain radiating outward. Jax rocks his hips gently, feeding more length, his hands spreading my cheeks wide for better access. The poppers' glow lingers, turning the fullness into a throbbing ecstasy, my prostate already brushing his shaft. MY ASS (yielding to the invasion, inner muscles fluttering around the buried length, voice a muffled whine of sensation): Shit, you're huge—splitting me open, those ridges pulling at me. It burns so good... guide me more. How deep now? When's the next poppers? HIS COCK (half-seated, pausing to throb inside me, the shaft pulsing rhythmically against my walls, voice steady and dominant): Halfway in, perfect—feel how your mancunt's hugging me, milking already? That's instinct, begging for the gift. I'm leaking deep now, that precum warming your core, starting the rewrite. Poppers signal: Jax is bringing the bottle—inhale deep as I push the rest. It'll loosen you further, let me bottom out without a hitch. Jax presses the open bottle to my face; I huff greedily, the fresh hit amplifying everything—the stretch, the heat, the illicit thrill. My body goes limp with bliss, ass opening voraciously. He surges forward with a grunt, burying the final inches until his balls press flush against my taint, the head nudging deep into my guts. Fullness consumes me, every vein mapped against my insides, my own cock leaking profusely onto the floor. MY ASS (fully impaled, walls clenching greedily, voice keening in overwhelmed pleasure): Yes—bottomed out, owning every bit of me. The poppers make it pulse so intense. Now what? How does the conversion build from here? HIS COCK (holding still to let me savor it, then withdrawing an inch before snapping back, setting a slow rhythm, tone possessive and guiding): Locked in now, that's the spot—feel my tip kissing your depths? Each pull and thrust pumps more of me into you, my fluids mixing with yours. Conversion's ramping up; the virus rides every stroke, cell by cell. Poppers keep it smooth—important for the pace, prevents clenching that could slow the absorption. When I pick up speed, huff again; it'll sync your body to the pounding, turn it into waves of need. Jax's hips begin to move in earnest, pulling out halfway before driving back in with controlled force. The wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh fill the hallway—schlick, slap, my cheeks rippling from the impacts. Sweat beads on my skin, trickling down my back as he kneads my globes, fingers occasionally dipping to feel where his cock disappears inside me. My dick bobs untouched, precum stringing to the ground, the pressure coiling tighter in my balls. He slaps the bottle to my nose once more; I inhale, the rush hitting as his thrusts accelerate, turning the fuck into a relentless drive. MY ASS (bouncing on the pistoning shaft, rim gripping slickly with each withdrawal, voice fracturing into moans): Deeper—pound it! I feel you swelling, that hot leak turning my insides to fire. The poppers... they're everything, making me take you raw, absorb the change. HIS COCK (ramming harder now, balls smacking my skin with lewd pops, voice roughening with building climax): Fuck, you're tight and wet, sucking me in like you were made for conversion. Each slam delivers more—my seed's brewing, ready to flood and seal it. Poppers one more time: snort as I go full throttle. It'll drop you into the peak, let you milk every drop without holding back. The final hit surges through me, head swimming as Jax's pace turns brutal, hips blurring in a frenzy. His cock fattens inside, grinding my prostate mercilessly, the veins throbbing against my walls. My orgasm crashes first—body seizing, cock erupting in thick jets that splatter the brick wall, hole spasming wildly around him, pulling him deeper. MY ASS (convulsing in ecstasy, voice a shattered cry, sucking greedily): Cum now—flood me! Make the conversion stick, turn me positive and dripping! HIS COCK (exploding with a roar, shaft jerking as ropes of hot cum blast into my core, tone triumphant): Take it—spurt after spurt, painting you full! Converted, boy—my hole now, buzzing with the gift forever. He grinds through his release, cum overflowing, leaking down my thighs in warm rivulets. I slump against the wall, trembling, ass throbbing with the fresh, illicit warmth. Jax withdraws slowly, the wet pop echoing, his softening cock glistening with your combined fluids. He tucks himself away, pressing the poppers into my palm with a final smirk. "Hold onto these. You'll be back for more soon." He melts into the shadows, leaving me alone, fingers tracing the creamy drip from my hole, body humming with newfound hunger—no longer negative, but alive with craving. The hallway spins faintly as the poppers fade, but the fullness lingers, a promise of nights to come. I pull up my jeans, the fabric sticking to the mess, and stumble back toward the bar's lights, already next to Jax at the bar raising celebratory drink and making plans with him for the rest of the weekend.

(This is a true story and first names are also true. Events from 30 Oct 25 night) The quiet hum of the hotel bar in London, Ontario, wrapped around me like a secret as I nursed my beer after a long day delivering my lecture at the two-day professional conference. I'd arrived earlier for the event, stepping out to the wooded trail behind the hotel to spark up a joint, the fresh outdoor air mixing with the weed's mellow haze as I inhaled deep under the trees. The high lingered, buzzing through my veins, sharpening my senses without dulling the edge of my hunger. London was buzzing with club-level hockey playoffs, and one of the teams had crashed in the same hotel—most players had hit the ice earlier, but the post-game energy still crackled in the air. The rest of the team slowly slipped into their rooms to sleep, leaving just two lingering at the end of the bar: Ryan and Chris, mid-forties white-collar pros who doubled as players on the squad, their athletic builds honed from years on the rink and in the gym. They were friends, dressed down post-game in casual polos that clung to their broad shoulders and sweatpants that outlined powerful legs, Ryan's clean-shaven face and strong jaw exuding that executive confidence even off the ice, Chris with neatly trimmed hair and glasses perched on his chiseled features, his frame radiating quiet dominance. I'd changed out of my conference suit into casual clothes before hitting the bar—light grey running tights that hugged my legs and accentuated my bubble butt, the thin fabric riding low enough to expose the deep crack of my ass when I leaned forward. As I bent over the bar to order my drink, I felt their eyes lock on, Ryan's gaze tracing the curve of my cheeks, Chris shifting on his stool with a low whistle under his breath. The exposure sent a thrill through me, my hole twitching under the material, knowing it drew them in like a magnet. The bartender, a younger graduate student in his mid-twenties moonlighting at the bar for extra cash, poured my beer with a knowing smirk, his sharp features and lean build suggesting he balanced studies with late-night shifts. He was efficient, chatting lightly about the playoffs chaos filling the hotel. I caught Ryan's glance first, his green eyes locking on mine with a spark of interest, fueled by the view of my ass. I shifted on my stool, letting my knee brush his as he ordered another round. 'Tough playoffs game?' I asked, voice low, the weed making me bold. He grinned, wiping a hand over his damp polo from the earlier exertion. 'We pulled it off, but with the team crashing out now, it's just us left to unwind after the conference crowd clears.' Chris leaned in, his subtle cologne cutting through the bar's haze. 'You here for the event? You look like prime company in those tights.' Their flirtation hit quick—Ryan's hand grazing my thigh under the bar, Chris whispering about heading upstairs for 'private negotiations,' his fingers itching to explore the crack they'd eyed. I nodded, pulse quickening, my cock stirring against the tight fabric as they sketched the scene: me sandwiched between them, no barriers, just urgent release. The bartender polished glasses nearby, clearly catching every word, his eyes flicking our way, lingering on the heat building and the way my tights outlined my form. We wrapped up plans—my room in ten—and the two guys headed up first, the bar emptying as the last echoes of the team's footsteps faded down the halls. 'Put it on my room,' I told the grad student bat tender sliding my keycard details over. He nodded, jotting down 312 with a subtle grin, the quiet amplifying my anticipation as he locked up. I slipped back to my room, heart pounding, the high turning every step into foreplay. They were waiting outside when I opened the door, polos tugged off to reveal smooth, toned torsos marked by faint bruises from the game and tan lines from outdoor practices. Ryan pulled me in by the waist, his mouth claiming mine in a deep, commanding kiss, tongue probing like he was checking for weaknesses on the ice. Chris pressed from behind, hands roaming my chest, pinching nipples until I gasped into Ryan's mouth, his palms sliding down to squeeze the bubble of my ass through the tights. 'That crack at the bar had us hooked, especially with the team finally bedding down,' Ryan murmured, stripping the light grey fabric away along with my shirt. I fumbled for the poppers in my bag, inhaling deep as they shoved the tights down my thighs, the rush hitting hard, loosening my body and firing up every nerve. Naked now, I dropped to my knees between them, their cocks springing free from their sweatpants—Ryan's thick and veined, Chris's longer with a pronounced upward curve. I took Ryan first, lips stretching around his girth, sucking deep while stroking Chris. They groaned, hands in my hair, guiding me back and forth. 'Skilled tongue, especially after teasing us with that ass while the rest of the guys headed up,' Chris muttered, thrusting shallowly past my lips. The weed kept me relaxed, savoring the musky taste post-game, but the poppers made it electric, my throat opening as they face-fucked me in turns. Ryan hauled me up, bending me over the bed. His fingers probed my ass, spitting on them for lube before sliding two in, scissoring rough against the deep crack they'd admired. I moaned, pushing back, the stretch burning sweet. Chris knelt in front, feeding me his dick again, muffling my cries. 'Ready for bareback?' Ryan asked, voice husky from the exertion. I nodded around Chris's shaft, begging with my eyes. He lined up, pressing his fat head against my hole—no condom, just skin on skin—and thrust in slow at first, then deep, filling me inch by inch. The poppers' wave crested again as I huffed from the bottle on the nightstand, my ring relaxing to take him fully, every ridge dragging inside me. He started pounding, hips slamming forward, balls slapping my skin with wet smacks. Chris pulled out of my mouth, watching with a grin before joining, sliding under me on the bed. Ryan lifted my hips, and Chris guided his cock to my entrance—easing in after Ryan withdrew, his length spearing deeper, hitting spots that made my vision spark. Ryan straddled my chest, jerking his slick cock over my face, dripping pre-cum on my lips. I licked it up, sucking his balls as Chris reamed me, the bed creaking under his powerful drives. They flipped me onto my back, legs over Ryan's shoulders now. He plunged in, folding me in half, his post-game sweat mingling with mine as he kissed me hard. Chris stroked himself beside us, then leaned in to suck my nipples, biting just enough to sting. Ryan's thrusts turned brutal, prostate hammered relentlessly, my cock leaking untouched onto my stomach. 'Gonna fill you up,' he grunted, beads of sweat tracing his defined abs from the rink. I snatched the poppers, inhaling sharp—the chemical high blending with the lingering weed to push me over, my body clenching as I came hands-free, ropes of cum splattering my chest. Ryan followed seconds later, burying deep and pulsing, hot seed flooding my guts, thick and warm. He pulled out slow, cum dribbling from my hole, and Chris dove right in, using the fresh slick to glide smooth. His pace was faster, hips snapping like he was chasing a loose puck, churning Ryan's load into a frothy mess. I wrapped my legs around him, urging deeper, the fullness overwhelming. Another hit of poppers, and I floated as he unloaded, jets mixing inside me, overflowing with each pull back. They collapsed beside me, breathing heavy, cocks softening against my thighs. 'That hit the spot after the game and with the team finally out cold,' Ryan said, tracing a finger through the mess on my skin. We lay there, sticky and spent, until my phone buzzed on the nightstand. Unknown number—hotel line. I answered, voice hoarse. 'Hey, it's the bartender from downstairs—the grad student pulling shifts. Overheard your plans and saw your room on the tab. Mind if I come feel that body under me? Bar's shut down, and the halls are quiet now.' Chris and Ryan exchanged smirks, nodding me on. 'Door's open,' I said, hanging up, cock twitching back to life. He arrived quick, stripping as he entered, his body wiry but toned from campus runs, cock average but hard and ready. Both the guys watched from the bed, stroking lazily as he climbed over me, pinning my wrists above my head. 'Been stiff since you leaned over the bar in those tights,' he confessed, kissing down my neck, tasting the salt. His mouth found my nipples, sucking hard, then trailed lower to lap at the cum on my stomach. I arched, the weed's outdoor buzz still mellowing the intensity, but his weight grounded me. He flipped me onto my stomach, spreading my cheeks to see the mess—cum leaking from my used hole. 'Damn, that's inviting, especially after eyeing that deep crack,' he murmured, diving in with his tongue, rimming deep, slurping the combined loads. I moaned into the pillow, pushing back as he ate me out, his stubble scraping sensitive skin. The poppers bottle was within reach; I huffed it, the rush making his licks feel like fire. Satisfied, he mounted me, sliding his cock in easy through the slickness, groaning at the warmth. His fucks were steady, hips rolling deep, grinding against my prostate with each push. The two guys joined in—Ryan feeding me his semi-hard dick, Chris fingering my mouth. The bartender gripped my hips, pounding harder, the room filling with slaps and grunts. 'Still gripping like a vice,' he panted, spanking my ass red. I clenched around him, milking his shaft, and he came quick—spurting inside, adding to the flood, his body shuddering over mine. He rolled off, spent, joining the pile of bodies. We lay tangled, the air thick with sex and satisfaction, my ass throbbing full, already craving the next high amid the conference whirl and playoff vibes, the hotel silent now with the team tucked away.

Not too hopeful of receiving any response on this site howver visiting London ON for one night on Thursday 30th Oct and staying closer to the core downtown area. Hoping to find willing uninhibited tops to fill me up all night. Room door will be unlocked all night. Just walk in, use me to your satisfaction, breed my ass and leave.

Never took meds in last 5 years since my conversion in Montreal from a German guy. I know him very well and I am still in touch with him and we meet every year. However, on Dr. advice I was due to start medicines and now I am on Biktarvy. It's been 10 days now. No known side effects as yet. I will be achieving hopefully by the holidays.

(Based on true events from 2 weeks back on the last hot Saturday night of the season) The thrill of Claireville Conservation Park has always hit me all summer the moment I step onto the trail in the night. Toronto's summer heat lingered in the air, thick and humid, making my skin prickle with anticipation. I'd sparked up a joint in my car before heading out, the weed smoke filling my lungs and loosening my inhibitions, turning my cravings into a burning need. I craved raw, dominant men to use me as their submissive bottom, no barriers, no holding back. My heart raced as I wandered deeper into the woods, the path narrowing until the city lights faded behind me, the high making every rustle in the leaves feel electric on my skin. That's when I heard the low voices—two guys, their tones rough and commanding, pulling me like a magnet. I spotted them through the trees: let's call him Mark, bearded and burly with a hairy chest peeking from his unbuttoned shirt, and his buddy let's call him Jake, clean-shaven with a lean, muscled frame. They eyed me like prey, and I froze, my cock twitching in my booty shorts. Mark stepped forward first, his voice a gravelly growl. 'You need cocks slut then strip. Now.' The command sent a shiver down my spine. I obeyed without hesitation, peeling off my shirt, kicking away my shoes, and shoving down my shorts until I stood naked, exposed under the moonlight. My dick hardened instantly, pre-cum beading at the tip as they circled me, the weed haze amplifying every sensation, making my body hum with readiness. Mark grabbed my chin, tilting my head up to meet his intense gaze. 'You're here to get bred, aren't you? Cheap whore.' I nodded, whispering yes, my voice trembling with need. Jake dropped to his knees behind me, his hands spreading my cheeks wide. His tongue dove in without warning, lapping at my hole, wet and insistent. I moaned, pushing back against his face as he rimmed me deep, his stubble scraping my skin. Mark watched, unzipping his jeans to free his thick cock, already leaking. 'We're both poz, but undetectable,' he said, smirking. 'But you don't care, do you? You want our poz loads churning in your guts.' The forbidden edge made my pulse thunder—I shook my head no, but my body screamed yes. Jake stood, his mouth crashing onto mine in a rough kiss, his tongue shoving the taste of my ass into me. His hand wrapped around my cock, stroking firmly while Mark positioned himself at my entrance. No lube, just spit—he hawked a glob onto his shaft and thrust in hard. I cried out as his girth stretched me, burning and full, his hairy chest pressing against my back. He didn't ease in; he pounded immediately, hips slamming forward with wet slaps echoing through the trees. Each drive hit deep, his balls smacking my ass, making my legs shake. I fumbled for the small bottle of poppers in my discarded shorts, inhaling deeply as Mark reamed me, the rush hitting like fire, relaxing my hole and intensifying every thrust until I was floating in ecstasy. I braced against a tree, moaning like a whore as Mark fucked me senseless. Jake broke the kiss, jerking my dick faster, his fingers twisting my nipples until they ached. 'Take it, boy,' Mark grunted, his breath hot on my neck. Sweat dripped between us, mixing with the slick sounds of his cock pistoning in and out. My hole clenched around him, greedy for more, and he laughed darkly, spanking my ass hard enough to sting. The poppers' wave crashed over me again when I took another hit, my body surrendering completely, every nerve alight. They switched seamlessly. Jake pulled me off Mark, spinning me to face him. His cock was longer, veined and throbbing, and he lined up, sliding into my loosened hole with one smooth push. The angle was perfect—he nailed my prostate right away, making my vision blur. My knees buckled, but Mark held me up, his hands gripping my hips as Jake fucked me relentlessly. 'Beg for it,' Jake demanded, and I did, pleading for him to breed me, to fill me up. He growled, thrusting harder, his slim body slapping against mine until he buried deep and unloaded. Hot spurts flooded my ass, thick and endless, making me whimper as the warmth spread inside, the weed high blending with the rush to make it all feel surreal and overwhelming. Mark wasn't done. He flipped me onto all fours in the dirt, my knees scraping the ground as he mounted me from behind. My hole was sloppy now, Jake's cum lubing the way, and Mark dove in with brutal force. He reamed me wide, his hips snapping like a machine, churning the load already there. Cum dripped down my thighs, sticky and warm, as he chased his release. 'Gonna breed you full,' he snarled, one hand fisting my hair to arch my back. I pushed back eagerly, my own cock bouncing untouched, leaking onto the forest floor. Jake knelt in front of me, stroking his spent dick back to life. 'Clean it,' he ordered, shoving it past my lips. I sucked greedily, lapping up the salty remnants of his cum and my ass, gagging as he face-fucked me shallowly. I snatched the poppers bottle mid-thrust, huffing it hard, the chemical burn sending my head spinning as Mark's pounding turned my world into pure sensation. Mark's thrusts grew erratic, his grunts filling the air, and then he came—pulsing deep, adding his seed to Jake's, the mixture overflowing and trickling out with every pull back. I trembled, body spent, as they used me until I was a mess of sweat and cum. They pulled out, zipping up with satisfied smirks. 'Good boy,' Mark said, patting my ass before they vanished into the woods, leaving me on my hands and knees, hole throbbing and leaking. The drive home was torture and bliss. Every bump in the road made the cum slosh inside me, a constant reminder of the double breeding. My ass clenched around the fullness, my cock half-hard against my thigh. The lingering weed buzz kept me mellow yet horny, and I couldn't stop—hunger gnawed at me, demanding more. Spotting the 24-hour Tim Hortons, I pulled in, still naked under my hastily thrown-on clothes, the sticky mess between my legs drawing my hand back to probe my used hole. That's when I saw him: lets's call him Alex, the cute Freshco stock boy on break, early twenties with a slim, toned build, messy hair, and eyes that lit up when they landed on me. He was sipping coffee outside, but his gaze dropped to my lap where my hand lingered. I shifted, letting my cheeks clench visibly around the loads, and he smirked, standing to approach. 'Rough night?' he asked, voice low and teasing. I nodded, breath catching as he leaned in close. Our lips met behind the dumpster, his kiss hungry and demanding, tongue plunging deep. His hands were everywhere—twisting my nipples through my shirt until I gasped into his mouth, then sliding down to grope my ass. Fingers probed my crack, finding the slick, cum-lubed entrance. 'Fuck, you're soaked,' he murmured, eyes darkening with lust. 'Been bred already?' I confessed in a whisper, and he groaned, freeing his cock—average but rock-hard, veins pulsing. He spat on it, then bent me over a crate, hiking up my shirt and shoving my pants down. No hesitation—he thrust in bareback, gliding through the creamy mess with ease. I pulled out the poppers again, inhaling sharply as he started pumping, the rush making my hole open up even more, every slide of his cock feeling amplified and urgent. The pump was fierce, his hips snapping fast and urgent, the quickie turning intense as he chased his peak. My hole squelched around him, the combined loads making every slide filthy and smooth. He gripped my waist, nails digging in, fucking me like he owned me. 'Gonna add to it,' he panted, and I begged yes, pushing back to meet him. His release hit quick—hot jets mixing with the others, filling me to overflowing. Cum leaked down my legs as he pulled out, scribbling his number on a napkin. 'Call me,' he said with a wink, zipping up and walking away. I straightened, the weight of three loads heavy in my belly, ass aching with delicious satisfaction. The drive home blurred into ecstasy—every red light a chance to finger myself, savoring the churn, the drip, the weed still softening the edges while the poppers' afterglow kept the intensity alive. I craved more already, the night etching itself into my skin, promising endless hunger.

I wear thongs as my daily underwear and I like them a lot. Turns eyes in gym locker room and under mesh gym shorts for sure.

45 loads until now. The year started slowly but more loads during the summer. We still have a few more weeks of good warm weather in late evenings early nights and I will maximize my load counts before things move indoors and slows down. 2024 ended with just above 100 loads specifically 102. I want to at least match the 2024 tally. With 3 months to go and quite a few loads required let's see what ingenious ideas I come up with. Maybe a truck stop for a night who knows....

I wandered through the woods of Claireville Conservation Park, my heart pounding with anticipation. A mysterious message on Sniffies had lured me here: "Pull your pants down, bend over the car, and spread your ass for me." I found the secluded spot, my body already tingling with excitement. A tall, commanding figure approached from behind. I complied, bending over the car and spreading my ass, already slick from the home event earlier. His finger traced my crease, sending shivers down my spine. "You're already so wet and ready," he growled. As he positioned himself behind me, he leaned in close, his breath hot on my ear. "Hope you're on PrEP, because I'm HIV positive, but undetectable," he whispered, his voice low and intense. With a powerful thrust, he entered me, his cock thick and hard. I gasped, my body arching back to meet his every movement. He pounded into me, his hips slapping against my ass. The night air was filled with our moans and grunts. I felt the pressure building, my body tensing as I neared the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside me, his cock pulsing as he unleashed his massive load. I trembled with the aftershocks of my own release. As he slowly pulled out, I straightened up, my legs shaking. "Well, that was quite the adventure," I said, my voice breathless and satisfied. He simply nodded, a smirk on his face, before disappearing into the night, leaving me alone with the memory of a night I would never forget.

I was at the notorious Claireville Conservation Park last Saturday night, cruising for some action. I pulled up next to a car and spotted a hot guy jerking off, his cock glistening in the moonlight. I was in a hoodie, blending into the shadows, and he hadn't noticed me yet. I stepped out of my car, dropped my pants, and exposed my bare ass to him, leaning against the car for a smoke. I didn't realize he had snuck up behind me until I felt his breath on my neck. He whispered huskily, "Don't look back. Bend over the seat." His voice was a mix of threat and promise. "I'll fuck you right here, and you won't be able to find me after." My heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement. I did as he said, bending over and exposing myself completely. He was rock hard, and with one powerful thrust, he was inside me, stretching me wide. "Sniff these," he commanded, offering me a bottle of poppers. I took a hit, and the world spun as he pounded into me, each thrust deeper and more intense than the last. He grunted with each movement, his body slapping against mine. "Take it, you little slut," he growled, and I complied, pushing back against him, wanting more. He came with a roar, filling me with his hot load. He pulled out sharply, leaving me empty and aching. He slapped my ass hard, the sting mixing with the pleasure still coursing through my veins. As I came out of my haze, I realized he was gone, leaving me wanting more. The guys in the other two cars had been watching, and they approached me, their eyes hungry. "Stay just like that," one of them ordered, and I did, ready for more. They took turns, each one fucking me hard and deep, leaving me with three loads inside me. But they left without a word, leaving me high and dry, my own cock still hard and unfulfilled. I drove home, my body still tingling, and rode my 9-inch dildo attached to my fuck machine, finally finding release as I relived the night's events.

This topic is so redundant in today's world especially in the western world. With Prep and DoxyPep and further research bug chasing will get nearly impossible. I am convinced that noone in their right frame of mind would want to acquire HIV just to be "liberated". I agree with one of the posts that at least make your posts to distinguish between fantasy and reality. The bug chasing was something that many from the AIDS Era felt. For them liberating and getting over with was out of desperation. They couldn't separate from their identity and their sexual needs. They saw friends and partners dying in front of them. Healthy one day and gone the next. This is how this sub community of bug chasing began. However of note is that many even in the 80s stayed negative and gay. HIV is indeed the most misunderstood thing in the community.

Although I was broken in with almost a 7.5 in cock I preferred smaller cocks in size and girth. However being a bottom all my life over years I started experiencing anal orgasms through prostrate pounding. Also my ass remains gaping and open and smaller cocks do not satisfy me sexually anymore. My prostrate is about 4.5 inches inside and needs proper pounding. Anything less than 7in is not my preference any more. Having said that smaller cocks still appeals me because I can accommodate the cock in my mouth for a throat fuck. It's all mood dependent. If I need to break my dry cycle then any cock is a cock but if I am at the luxury of finding a cock to ride I will go with anything more than 7in. Having said that big cock is more of a stereotype because average cock size across various ethnicities is between 5in and 6in.

This is a big discussion within the medical community as told to me by my ID specialist - Prep fatigue. Prep is a medical miracle for the community and a couple of breakthrough cases are based on inconsistent use. A Prep resistant strain would harm a lot of people who religious take Prep to stay negative. TBH it is not a joke to mess around with medication doses. Either take it everyday or on demand or ask for Prep injection. If Truvada is an issue switch to Descvoy. If at all just stop the medicine and take chances but do not ruin it for others who want to take care of their health and the health of others around them. Such discussions really scare a lot of men that I know.

Since losing my virginity I never kept a count. I am trained to be a submissive bottom to sexually please men. I am trained to be available for men to be fucked anytime they want sexual relief. But if I have to guess the number then it would have at least 3 zeros. I went through a phase where my stepfather would find cocks for me then through a phase where I would take any or every cock inside me to a phase of spikes in sexual activity followed by a long dry spell to being a selective bottom. I am stepping back into my second phase once again where I am taking every and any cock available to me.

My stepbrother was the first cock in my mouth and after a while when my step father found out he took me under his wings to train me to be a man pleaser, a proud submissive bottom.

I feel like a total submissive woman when I am under a man. I enjoy that feeling.

I am strongly recommended to end my 5 years of medicine free lifestyle. While my stats have remained very steady throughout my doctor will starts ART after October November testing. What is the overall experiences of guys on ART as to staring the medicines? Side effects? Sex drive ? Anything and everything as information advice recommendations are welcome. Starting medicines will begin another phase of my life.

An uncut cock of my stepbrother was the first I put in my mouth. A cut cock with a huge head of my stepbrother's best friend was the first that violated my body. As for preferences prefer cut over uncut due to hygiene however if an uncut has a lot of foreskin and tastes clean then I love to play with the foreskin with my tongue

I put as much details as possible in my profile on hookup apps for the top to understand that I am a total bareback bottom. Despite that if they ask for condoms I respectfully refuse the hookup. Bathhouse or cruising areas are a total different game. No question asked or no answers given. Most tops love a wet hole. I have refused dream cocks just because they insisted on condoms and I have walked out on tops who put condom on despite me refusing a condom entering my body.

Not exactly a bathhouse staff but a staff at the gay themed sex parties. A buddy of mine owns an underground bar and organizes various gay themed events like naked trivia or naked board games etc during the week and sex parties like naked nights or jockstrap nights or thirst traps on Friday Saturday and Sunday nights. I volunteer for clothes check if he is short staffed. There is guy on his staff who did me while I was volunteering at the clothes check right at the desk putting up a show for a few guys waiting for clothes check service. As the Night progressed I was asked by quite a few men to go with them to the dark area to bend over for them.

Generally a bit of salty and sour. Have had tasted sweet salty too. Worst are the ones who smoke cigarettes and/or weed and use drugs. Their pre cum taste is what will give you an idea about what is coming next. If I feel precum taste was awful then I will pull away from the cock when cumming. I am a slut but with personal standards 😆

My step brother's best friend and hockey teammate. While my stepbrother's cock was the first one that I had actually seen hard and sucked on his friend was the first who breached my ass. He did it with my stepbrother's blessing. At 19 years he was 6ft 3in tall hairy and athletic build. I vividly remember his full man bush and a 7.5in cut cock with a huge head. He was on a mission to consummate me but he was very gentle. He actually made love to my body. He is now married to a woman with kids in mid 40s. I meet him whenever I am at my stepbrother's house in Ottawa. He has asked me so many times to get under him but I have always said no just out of respect for his wife who is also a good friend and I don't want to let her down. While the past was great the present is not something I want to ruin. FYI....both his sons are reaching the age of voting rights (in canada consent age is 16 years with conditons) who knows but the future is bright for their uncle 😆

Men on the Net is another website I use. Literotica is also great.

So far less than 50. Haven't been sexually active earlier in the year but caught up with some cocks in the summer. Still about a month more before it starts getting chilly in the night. 2024 tally was 101. I am hoping to at least match last year's tally.