blackrobe

In Washington State there is a program called PrEPDAP which allows at risk populations to get free access to PrEP. That's how I'm getting PrEP at the moment. If you are in Washington State or any other state with a similar DAP, there is *NO EXCUSE* for not being on PrEP.

I had this experience for the first time a few weeks ago. A tall, strong, 9+" man got up in me so deep and tight that I felt my guts shift around him. After hours of fucking and more than 8 loads, I didn't see a drop escape into my lower cunt. It was in so deep, I absorbed it all.

I think you're talking about the sphincter to the Sigmoid colon.

How many daddies are you fucking, brother slut?

It's his boss fucking him. Who teaches that silly idea? Its always good to serve men higher in the pecking order.

I'm down with most everything here. Of the things that are on the "will remain fantasy" list, 2, 3, 4, and 7 are all frequent things colonizing my mind. Regarding #3, I have my chastity cage already picked out, sized, and priced. I don't get why it's on your "stay fantasy" list.

This. 100% this.

I've never been fisted, but if it's like this, I'd definitely like to be.

Thanks, lesson learned. The side effect being I'm not going to invest the same level of effort in my writing again.

I have been working on a Last Load draft post that I'd just about finished over many days. Suddenly the draft is gone and I can't get back to it. It was real work to write and I'm pretty down thinking it's gone forever. Is there any way I could find the post or recover the text?

I was either 12 or 13, I know it was warm weather. The religious brother who was my dormitory master at a Catholic boy's home took me away for an overnight trip. I'm pretty sure he drugged me before fucking me so hard I was still bleeding the next day. Full story here. <= Not erotica.

I think of it as savaging the West.

I think we need to establish a kind of legacy or membership inter-breeding program.

I don't know about that last statement. I was able to arrest the pushing out at a certain stage. I'm not sure how much of his 9" were still inside me, but I did something and he said "You've stopped pushing me out". It's all a learning experience.

I'm really interested in understanding in what way guys you've fucked are damaged goods and therefore no longer fuckable.

Color me shocked. Not. 😉

Thanks, this was after more than four hours of him fucking me pretty hard, pissing into me and filling me up, and then piss-fucking me while I was full. I lost count after eight loads. It sounds like it's just my body working as it should by design.

I've been told by a dominant man who's been fucking and breeding me that I'm "domming from the bottom" because after he cums in me my hole "pushes him out". Firstly, there's no conscious desire on my part to push him out, in fact the reverse is true. I want him to stay inside me until he's ready to give me another load. The reality is that I have a tight hole that hasn't been fucked much and it seems pretty normal for a tight hole that's just been soundly fucked and stretched to try and return to its prior state. This is especially true when his cock is less hard than it was before he came. Now, he has a long cock so it takes a fair while for his cock to slide out of my cunt. I'm interested in hearing from tops and bottoms on what's normal, what their experience is, and what this might be about.

You're a great candidate for a chastity cage to formalize his control and denial of your orgasms, and to limit your ability to even get hard.

It presses my buttons hard. Consensual adult dad/son fucking and breeding is beautiful.

For me, this isn't a simple question to answer. TL;DR: It takes time, effort, and luck to get back to who and what you were always meant to be. A thirsty-cunted bottom. I was a sweet, sensitive, and cute little boy. I can remember having strong feelings for boys in my class at primary school (the blond sports loving rough-houser, the beautiful Italian musician, etc.). Looking back I can see they were crushes and pretty natural ones. I didn't have any similar feelings about girls in my class. Shit happened and my brothers and I ended up in a procession of Catholic children's homes. In the final one, a Catholic boy's home, I spent 4 of my 6 high school years. For reasons too involved to go into, I really, really hated it. It was like "Lord of the Flies". In my second year there, the dormitory master for that year, a religious brother who ran the Army Cadet Corps (think ROTC) for an adjacent school, put me right across from his room. He gave me some of the affection I'd been so starved of, but some of it made me feel strange. After we'd been sent to bed and the dorm masters had their evening meal together, with alcohol, he'd return to the dorm and come quietly into the room I shared with another boy. Then he'd kiss me on the lips saying "Good night" and leaving the smell of alcohol on my lips and in the air around me. He'd have me in his room and hold me immobile on his lap, his very strong arms wrapped tightly around me as he tried to kiss me as I squirmed over his cock and balls. These things made me feel strange because he was acting as a parent to me and many other boys. I was 13 and very small for my age compared to all the other boys in my dormitory. Puberty had not set in yet, so I wasn't aware of my own sexuality or anyone else's. During the summer of that year, the dorm master needed to make a trip along the coast to pick-up or drop-off something for the boy's home. Unlike many other boys at this home, we didn't get to go home and have time with our family very often. When the dorm master proposed taking me on this overnight journey on a weekend, it would get me away from a place I thought of as my prison. He got my mother's consent and off we went. I don't remember much about the trip apart from being in the car and feeling the warm sun and wind against my skin and hair. I remember the motel we stopped at to stay overnight dimly. It was like a hundred other coastal motels in other country towns, strange atomic age design and signage, and a fancy restaurant as an anchor to bring in both the locals and out-of-towners to spend their cash. We ate dinner in what seemed like a fancy restaurant. I remember a lot of glasses on the table and it seeming very fine. We ate and I have a vague memory of him giving me something to drink, or a taste of his drink. When we went up to the room after dinner, I remember being excited to be away. The room had a double bed and a single bed and, for some reason, I was bouncing around laying claim to the double bed. Looking back, that was very unusual behavior for me. We started to get ready for bed and I remember getting undressed next to the big bed and finding him next to me stripped down to his underwear. I was feeling odd by this time, and having the wiry, muscular and hairy adult so close to me with an enormous erection stretching his briefs made me feel even stranger. The last thing I remember clearly is being put on my back on the bed and him climbing over me, his adult sized hard-on hot and firm under his briefs as it brushed my skin. The first memory I have after that night is the next morning, standing under the hot shower and feeling both a kind of heavy dullness in my head and a powerful throbbing soreness in my bottom. I've thought a lot about why I don't remember what happened in any more detail. Whether, as I strongly suspect, he drugged me, or whether my unconscious mind kept the memories locked away to protect me, I can't say for sure. That made it tough to say with much certainty what had happened to me. Many years later after lots of work with therapists I came out to my mother. As soon as I told her she asked me, "When you went away with Brother X while you were at the boy's home, were you sexually abused?" I was startled, but said "Yes, but why do you ask?" It seems she had found blood-stained underwear in my travel bag when I came back from the trip. She had seen the proof of what happened to me, never told me, and done nothing about it. She only mentioned it then to say "Post hoc ergo propter hoc" to absolve her of any possible blame for my gayness. That was the moment I knew without any shred of doubt that I'd been raped until I bled. I'd always carried the trauma of my rape in my body, whether I remembered what had happened to me or not. The prospect of having sex with a man filled me with a kind of terror that was not hard-on inducing. At the same time I was a horny young man who needed something. I had no idea what I wanted. I muddled through my first boyfriend, who made me cum by fingering my prostate and sucking my cock at the same time, and my second boyfriend, who desperately wanted to fuck me but I could not relax and get into the idea. In fact, one night as we were lying in bed together after he'd been asking me for it, I had a full on panic attack. What had happened to me as a boy made sex as an adult feel incredibly dangerous, physically damaging, and mentally and emotionally traumatic. I had even tried getting fucked when I was drunk enough to avoid the terror, but then I couldn't enjoy it or even feel it. Not a good long term plan. Lots more therapy and personal effort got me over the sex hump through a workaround. When I met a guy we did other things and occasionally I topped. As years went by it just started to feel more wrong to me and my desire to fuck or have any sex at all left me. In the last few years I've been dogged in working to find and understand my kinks, acknowledge their likely sources (including my rape), and explore and accept them as a natural part of me. I also recognized a strong vein of submissive thoughts and feelings in me, and how much I really wanted to surrender myself and be fucked. Starting a few months ago, I've sought out men to fuck me, and dominant men to explore my submission. For those of you have been reading my "Last Loads" posts, this won't be a surprise. My past mental image of myself was of a dud fuck who was too traumatized to take a finger in his hole, let alone a cock of even average size. Being penetrated used to connect back to the feelings of being raped. What I've learned in the last three months is that I really, really enjoy having my ass fucked, and that I really prefer being fucked bare and bred. Thanks to: 1) to a visiting Brazilian bear who had no english but did have a dominant streak and fucked me breathless over a chair, 2) a traveling man who I had an incredible connection with and whose passion and intensity made him fucking me so easy that I had the beginnings of my first ass-gasm, 3) a granddad who treated me like a boy when I needed it and fucked me until I was relaxed and open and encouraging him to go harder, 4) an Hispanic bear who fucked me so well and with such finesse in so many positions that's I'm eagerly looking forward to a repeat, and finally 5) to a very calm and dominant black man who fucked me and bred me 9 times in two and a half hours and showed me that I'm built for, and need, the big cocks in my cunt too. When did I know I was a bottom? I suspect I always was as a boy, before someone distorted and stole part of my life. When I think back to how I felt about those boys I had crushes on, it connects so strongly to wanting their cocks inside me and fucking their seed into me. But I only knew I was a bottom the first time a man's cock was inside me and making me cum through my ass for the first time. That was about three months ago.

I'd be honored to have your DNA fucked in deep and infused throughout my cunt.

Agreed. I commit to cherish the seed of tops who breed my cunt. That means honoring their will that their seed stay in my cunt where they put it. I've absorbed all the seed that was pumped up into my guts so far. I'd love to be bred past my cunts capacity to absorb potent top DNA.

Happy to meet another MPREG brother.

My cunt would be a perfect home for your fertile seed.