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[Author's Note: I've never really been interested in chasing/gifting fetish before so this is my first story; probably not that great. Lemme know how to improve. V] Why'd I do it? Fuck, I don't know. Maybe 'cause of who he was. Maybe 'cause of who I am. Whatever. But how'd it get started? Now that's easier to answer... That whole month, my life was shit. Had to quit my pharmacy-tech job before they worked out I was stealing, my dick landlord threw me out for the rent I owed him. So there I was, twenty-five year old guy, broke and on the street, pharmacology degree but no fuckin job. Well, I said on the street- I still had my van. An old black 80s heap, half rust, engine shot to hell. Found an old mattress in a dumpster and slung that in the back; that's where I slept, ate and drank as I tried to work out what to do. I'd been kicked out about a week when I parked down on Seventh, where the hipsters and the stoners hang out, trendy little coffee shops and expensive shitty little stores. Figured I'd sell what I had, y'know- mostly benzos and barbs, few hits of acid, MDMA, nothing special. Get that moving and I could look for a new place, new job. The van wasn't helping my prospects for picking up guys, either; the hottest dudes expect you to have a real apartment to screw in. So I parked the van in an alley near Seventh and Rose that evening at sunset, hung around by it looking for my regulars, anyone that'd buy the pills. And waited. No cops around, but the indie-kids and the stoners just weren't showing up. "Fuckin' hippies", I muttered to myself, when along comes this dark-haired young guy in a black Sunday-suit, smiling away, catches my eye and heads right for me and the van. Man, I was shittin' myself when I saw him coming- figured he was a cop for sure, one of those high-up agency guys with the initials for names. Was trying to decide whether to gun the van across the road or just run, when he takes a Bible out of his pocket. "Hi, I'm Mark!" he said brightly. "Could I talk to you about the Lord Jesus Christ?" What a fucking relief. Just one of those God-botherers, missionaries, whatever. I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off so I could pull some trade, when something changed my mind. Maybe it's how pissed off I was. Maybe it was the way he looked; about twenty, neat dark hair, suit all perfect, bright little shiny happy smile plastered across his face, while I had shit. So instead of cursing him out, I pulled it together.* "Why, sure, Mark!" I chirped in my best talking-to-the-Man voice. "I'm just heading home soon; why don't you sit in for a spell and we'll chat?" He looked a bit apprehensive staring at the van; that shiny little smile dimmed a little. But he must've been desperate for a sale or a convert or whatever-the-fuck you call 'em; I got in the driver's seat and he climbed in the passenger side. The alley was that dark, no-one on the streets could see in. So we got to talking; really he just jabbered on about salvation and prayer and shit like that, and I nodded and said "Uh-huh", a lot. Hell, I figured all that talking, he could use a drink. So I pulled two Cokes out of the back, and while he was flicking through his Bible, dropped a couple barbs in his can. Now, I don't know if you've ever tried phenobarbitol; they use it to kill unwanted pets, for Chrissakes. But with people, knocks them right out for hours at a time. I might be a drug-pusher and all-around-scumbag, but I know my shit; sat through enough medical lectures to get my pharm-diploma. Gave him just enough, calibrated for body-weight. One second he was jabbering on happily about God and Jesus and Moses, the next he was slurring his words and reeling until he slumped face down on the dashboard. "Perfect," I said as he passed out. "About time you shut the fuck up." I hauled him into the back of the van and put him on the old dumpster-mattress; I don't know what I had in mind at first; maybe stripping him and dumping him out in the alley naked. But I'd popped a couple octagons that evening; pink Brazilian speed that lights your circuits and gets your mind racing. So I called my buddy Rusty who works the night-shift at the local fetish bar, Saltire. "Hey Rusty," I did my best Southern drawl, "Guess what I got in this here van of mine." "You ain't got shit in your van but pills and stolen car stereos," he laughed.* "Guess again," I grinned. "Meet me round back, half an hour." I got the van grinding into gear and cruised round to Saltire; the disused parking lot round back, dark and deserted and covered in garbage. Rusty was waiting, already in uniform for his bar-shift; leather pants and chest-harness, studded boots. We're just buddies, Rusty and me- his whole smooth clean-cut college-boy look isn't my type. But that, and his red hair, drives the guys wild; most popular bartender at Saltire and he gets great tips. He smiled. "So whatcha got for me?" I opened the van's back doors; Mark the missionary was sprawled across the dirty mattress in his black Sunday suit and white shirt. "Fuckin' Christ!" Rusty roared with laughter. "You're even more screwed up than I thought." I shrugged- I was riding smooth on the speed. "Serves the asshole right for preaching at me when I'm working." I gave Rusty a sly look. "I know you like the first-timers; this guy deserves fucking up and I'm betting his cherry ain't been popped yet." Rusty licked his lips and his leather pants bulged outward; he was tempted. "Lemme see." He clambered into the van. "This heap is filthy," he muttered darkly. He rolled the boy over and had a look at his face; unbuttoned the shirt and checked out the body. "Fuck yeah, man- I'll do it, if he don't see me. But if you really wanna fuck him up, you should let the guys at the bar do him; they're as rough as it gets." "Sold," I laughed. "Your shift doesn't start til nine, and it's eight-thirty; go for it." Rusty helped me up into the van and closed the doors, clicked the light on and yanked down Mark's suit-trousers. He was still peacefully unconscious; I'd dosed him perfectly. Rusty grabbed a crusted jar of Vaseline out of my toolbox and unbuttoned the leather pants; I'd seen him hard before. Nothing special, but a nice looking cock, cut and about six and a half inches. He rubbed the Vaseline on himself and the kid's hole, then mounted up. "No kidding, this boy's a virgin for sure, no need for a rubber," he grinned, pushing his cock at the tight hole until it started to give. "Fuck!" he groaned as he got half-way in. "It's like it's squeezing me." He started sliding it in, wet and slippery, back and forth. "Aww yeah, nice and tight," he groaned again. He went at him in silence for a few minutes, slow and steady, then gave a loud moan as he spurted in the kid's virgin ass. He lay flat on him for a minute, then pulled out and wiped himself off. We both gazed at the suited figure, jacket pulled up, pants down, hole exposed, pink and moist. "I owe you one, dude. We gotta get the guys in on this," he said, panting. Then he tilted his head into the van. "He good for now?" "Two hours minimum," I answered. "Awesome," Rusty smiled. "I know just the guys." It was already hot and heavy when we got into Saltire a few minutes later. Black on the inside, chains hung from the ceiling; with the diagonal cross that gave the bar its name, mounted on the wall. Guys milled around, most in leather or rubber, talking here and there. It was still early, but plenty of talent on display. Rusty went straight up to a young bodybuilder in thick studded leather straps, murmured in his ear. Then a salt-and-pepper daddybear with grizzled hair all over. Then a skinny bald guy, middle-aged and wiry. They followed us out. Rusty had explained everything before he headed back inside for his shift. "Anyone got a problem with this?" I asked in the dark parking-lot. Felony date-rape wasn't a walk in the park; that's why Rusty had chosen the edgiest sleaziest guys he could find. The muscular young guy shook his head, so did the skinny dude and chain-hung bear. We all climbed into the van. Mark was still tapped out on the dirty mattress, ass in the air. "I'll go last," announced the skinny guy. No-one minded; maybe he liked sloppy seconds. The grizzled bear was first, quick and easy- a short stumpy cock and he shunted his load after a couple minutes into the kid's curvy butt, leaving without a word. The *built guy was different; pretty well-hung and thick, about eight inches, veined and uncut. The muscles in his ass and hips strained as he forced his dick into the young hole; the whole van shook as he held the kid down hard, pinning him like a wrestler. After a few hard deep thrusts it came out smeared with blood. He kept on screwing, deep as he could, whispering under his breath, "Yeah, take that raw cock," then spewed a thick load, half across the exposed back and half in the butt-crack. After the bodybuilder had fastened himself up and gone, I asked the skinny guy why he was last- he said, "You and Rusty and the other two are negative; I'm a poz dude." I laughed; Mark had a bigger surprise in store than a torn butthole. The skinny guy had a long thin rod that went in fast like a plunger and came quickly, buried deep and hard, grunting as he added his toxic juice to the mix. He excused himself and headed back inside; but he'd given me an idea. Alone in the parking lot with the dosed guy, I hit the message boards on my phone: "Newbie non-consenting hole needs raping; rough fuckers wanted, more hung and filthy the better." In half an hour I had five guys show up, wordless and waiting; they lined up by the van and took their turns one after the other, grunting and hissing as they climbed on the boy and went to town on his ass. One black dude had prison tattoos across his hands, a Hispanic one had a blade scar across his lip and slammed the kid's head against the mattress. These were the guys I needed, filthy sleazy fuckers to show up and dump their loads in Mark's rectum, to teach this clean-cut little kid the meaning of pain. None had washed in days from the smell; thick dirty cocks dripping with god-knew-what STDs. I'd saved the best for last; a tall bald muscular guy in his forties called Duke in plaid shirt and jeans; he'd advertised as being 'hung like a God'. You know how much that's worth online, specially with sleazy dudes; but when he opened his jeans I was speechless- it was more like a nightstick than a cock, had to be twelve inches, uncut and thick. By this time the Jesus-freak sprawled on the filthy mattress was a mess; suit covered in lube, shit and cum, pants and underwear torn, hole wide and leaking blood like an open pit. I'd had to dose him again to keep him under; no way would an awake person take this monster willingly. Duke looked at me appraisingly, giant cock hanging out- I gave him a quick suck before we got to business. I could barely manage the first couple inches, it was that big; but it tasted sour and salty and musky, dripping with pre-cum. Like cocks taste in dreams. "Who's the suit?" he growled.* "Some missionary kid," I shrugged my hair out of my eyes. "Does it matter?" "Not to me," he muttered. He wiped off the worst of the mess and positioned himself, greasing his club with the last of the Vaseline and aiming for entry. In one long smooth thrust he rammed it home; blood and grease and filthy spunk squirting around his dick as he fucked, hips like pistons, faint moans coming from the boy underneath; even unconscious, it had to be agonising. Duke's face was great to see; concentrating wholly on the task, the feeling as he buried his monster in the kid's guts. "Are you poz?" I asked, more to pass the time than as a serious question.* "Yeah," he answered between grunting thrusts. "Undetectable?" I asked hopefully. I had to admit I wanted to try that cock myself, if I could stay negative. Fuck, I was horny and high- it was messing with my inhibitions. He gave a short laugh, groaning harder as he got closer. "Nah, more like 300,000. Haven't cum in a week, either." Fuck- there went my chances of getting an awesome night of sex with Duke. I chuckled as I realised what a charged load the kid was getting, though. His ass flexed as he gave three last titanic rams, growling and grunting like an animal, dumping his thick toxic load in Mark's violated guts. My cock was hard as a rock just watching; I pulled it out and started to yank, unable to stop myself. Duke panted and withdrew, his footlong cock turning rubbery, leaning heavily against the inside of the van. He looked at me. "Your turn." I stopped jerking briefly. "Me? Nah- nearly a dozen guys have had his hole; probably half had high VL. Look, he's a mess." Duke put himself away but stared into my eyes intently, tucking in his plaid shirt. "You still want to. You want to be one of us. I can see it." He smiled cruelly. "You didn't get this kid drugged and rammed and ruined just for the fun of watching." I looked at the slumped figure on the cum-covered mattress, speed vibrating brightly in my head, and realised he was right. It was what I wanted more than anything, even if I couldn't admit it. Duke reached forward and took my dick in his hand; it was tender, almost paternal. I could feel the calluses on his palms. Gently he guided me down onto the stained bed, grinning widely as I gave myself up to the feeling. I aimed myself eagerly at that open cum-filled hole- it was a much bigger target than the tiny pink rosebud I'd offered Rusty hours ago. There was a thick squelch as I sank in deeply, the tenth guy taking this ass tonight, his muscles still hot and responsive, flexing around me. I was lost in it, lubed and slippery with the thick dirty cum of all the others. Duke's hands were warm on my back, urging me on; in minutes I came, squeezing the kid's cheeks together with my hands as the lube/blood/cum mix ran down his legs. It was an incredible feeling, better than I'd ever imagined; fireworks exploded in my head. "I bet you've been made, now," said Duke, rubbing his juice into my cock-head. "One of us." he was smiling like an idiot, and I realised I was as well. The speed was finally releasing its grip on me by 3am, and I'd tidied up Mark the Jesus-freak as best I could; surprisingly he didn't seem injured. Most of the mess wiped off; sure, he'd be sore for weeks, but no hospital needed- more than I'd expect for anyone on the receiving end of tools that big. He was coming to when I sat him down at the base of a tree in Hawthorne Park, groaning and clutching his rear. I whispered in his ear, "You spread the Word of God, boy? We've given you the Gospel of the Seed." I was up and gone by the time he opened his eyes and looked round. In two weeks, I'd sold off all my pills and got a new job as a pharmacy-tech at a private clinic in Cicero. Lax security procedures and all the drugs I could sell- rich lazy patients and fat paychecks. Life looked good. On my way down past the coffee shops, I caught sight of Mark, on his rounds, suited and strolling but looking flushed and groggy. Sure enough, he was fine- walking a little funny, but that was to be expected. I sat on the wall and waited patiently as he walked past; he glanced at me with no recognition- the barbs had made him forget it all. Suddenly he stopped and sneezed heavily, coughing and fumbling in a pocket. I passed him a pack of tissues. "Thanks!" he exclaimed with his old bright manner. "Flu, right?" I asked. "Yeah," he said thickly, blowing his nose. "Well, it's the season for it." I grinned widely and headed down on Seventh, to the docks where the hustlers plied their trade. Just like Mark, I was off to spread the Gospel.
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This is my first story on here, and... well... it's a long one folks. I've been reading fiction from this site for over a year and here's my crack at it. I really wanted to focus on a more romantic element to the POZ genre, so it will get a bit slow at times. Thankfully, I already have a few parts already made so I'll be able to post them pretty quickly before I break to create more. Tell me what you think and see you on the other side of these LONG ass post. It might take a little bit of time to build to the POZ stuff too, but don't worry... it's cumming. ? Enjoy! -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prologue POP It was the sound that Daniel had dreaded to hear ever since he first started to have sex at the age of 15 and even more so since he started bottoming at the age of 18. The condom had broken while Jeremy was fucking him. From the look on Jeremy’s face, he knew it too. He slowly pulled out of Daniels ass to reveal the shredded piece of latex waving at the end of his dick. “Oh shit. I knew that would happen. This thing’s been in my wallet for forever.” “What?! You’re not supposed to do that!” Daniel had done his share of research on the topic of condom use and proper condom use around the time he started to bottom. “I know, but it’s not like I have room for them in my other pockets. Do you have another one? Maybe in your glove compartment?” They were parked in an open field and in the back seat of Daniel’s SUV. “No, my parents take my car so much, I don’t want them to start snooping and find any.” “Well… fuck. What do we do now?” Jeremy asked, looking more bummed out than Daniel had seen him be in a while. “I could-“ “What?” Daniel asked. “You know… do you without a condom.” “You mean raw?” Daniel did not like the idea at first. Even though he and Jeremy had been going out, monogamously, for a while now, he didn’t know if he would be comfortable risking his entire future once he came down from being so horny. But he was incredibly horny. And even though the thought may have repulsed him a little at first, he was curious as to what Jeremy’s big cock would feel like up his ass. “I guess that’s what you would call it. So, what do you say? I’m pretty sure I’m clean as a whistle. You’re the only man I’ve ever been with, and I REALLY like you.” Daniel couldn’t take it anymore, and on top of everything, Jeremy looked at him with his pretty blue eyes. The moonlight shining through the windows reflected off the interior of the car and lit his face in a nearly perfect crescent (an image that he would come back to on his lonely nights in the future.) Laying on his back, Daniel grabbed Jeremy’s cock, removed the shredded remains of the broken condom and placed it at the entrance to his hole. He looked up into Jeremy’s eyes, “I REALLY like you too, Jeremy.” Daniel kissed him. As he was kissing him, he wasn’t sure if he just LIKED Jeremy. He wasn’t sure if he LOVED him, but he did know that he felt so safe in his embrace. Safer than he’d ever felt with another man before. As they were kissing, Daniel grabbed the lobes of Jeremy’s ass and pushed his dick into his asshole. They both let out a moan of pure ecstasy. This was the first time that either of them had fucked or been fucked without a condom and the feeling, momentarily, overwhelmed them both. Jeremy continued to push further into Daniel’s ass, and with each inch, Daniel felt as if he was going to explode. He had never felt this close to someone else and, deep down, he was glad that it was Jeremy that he was with. Jeremy began to slowly piston in and out of Daniel’s asshole. “Oh my god! Your ass feels so good! Like warm silk. Are you doing alright?” Jeremy asked between grunts, each one sounding as if he could cum at any minute. "Yes, just please don’t stop yet. Your dick feels amazing. It’s like I can feel every detail on your skin,” Daniel said as Jeremy continued to piston his hips into his ass. Jeremy then began to pick up his pace and really started to pound Daniel’s ass. This was a new side to Jeremy that Daniel had never seen before; Daniel never fucked him like this with a condom. All the while they kept eye contact and while, without him even knowing he was going to do it, he began to mouth out the words, “I love you.” That was what pushed Jeremy over the edge. He pulled Daniel in close to him, chest against chest, and held him as he continued to plow his hole until he slammed into him as deep as he could and began to fill his hole with his cum for the first time. They both took a minute to catch their breaths, and Jeremy continued to hold Daniel who was, internally, freaking out over what he had just said, or hadn’t said; he wasn’t sure if he had just mouthed the words or actually said them out loud. While Jeremy was still hard inside Daniel’s ass, he pulled back, just enough to see Daniel’s face and said, “I love you too.” That night, Jeremy pumped one more load into Daniel before Jeremy allowed Daniel (who normally didn’t bottom) to pump a load into him. At the end of the night, Daniel dropped Jeremy off before returning to his parent’s farmhouse out in the country. That was the last time Daniel would see Jeremy for a few years. In the morning, Daniel got a call from his friend in Utah that was working for a lawyer who happened to need another associate. Daniel didn’t want to leave so quickly, but he knew that chances like that didn’t come around all the time. He jumped at the opportunity. Daniel texted Jeremy in the morning and, even though he seemed happy for Daniel, he could read some angry subtext. He left on a plane two days later for the interview and was hired on the spot. He went home, packed up his things and headed in his car to Utah. He thought about seeing Jeremy again while he was home, but the thought was too painful, and he didn’t think he’d be able to go through with the move if he did. He was running away, yes, but he also knew that this was the best chance for him to have a career. As he drove west from Illinois, he’d occasionally catch himself looking in the back seat remembering being held in Jeremy’s arms as he told him, “I love you too.”
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Part 1. It was a Saturday on Market Street when I rambled through the crowd into the small shop where I worked. When the bell on that door clanged, it was like stepping back at least 60 years when your foot firmly planted on the well worn warehouse wood floor and the mixed scents of the tobacco took over from the now almost sterile air of the street. I worked in what was a true anachronism in these health obsessed days—an actual tobacconist. In here there was a safe haven for the last of the smokers. In here, you could feel free to take a deep draw on the smoke of your choice and there wasn’t a stink-eye in the place. Well, unless you were stupid and green and just wanted a pack of Marlboro Ultra Lites because “I only smoke when I drink!” That line was always delivered in exactly the same way: a flourish, a giggle, and a twenty dangled offhandedly at you, never toward you. For those, you banged out the transaction on the register and tossed the change at the counter, never toward them. Assholes can sweep up their change. It was moments like this, and chasing off the dead eyed bro-stoners in their year-round cargo shorts and teva sandals who touristed the hell out of the pipe selection, always trying slyly to prize out a secret stash of glass pipes. “Head shop is six blocks over,” and a distinct nod at the front door to demonstrate we were at the end of our interaction. “How are things tonight, Mick?” I asked as I passed my buddy behind the counter and made my way back to the barbers chairs set strategically in front of the walk in humidor. “Calm before the storm,” Mick laughed. The streets outside were packed tonight, maybe a little more than usual, with a different flavor to the air than usual as well. “They’re having some sort of Leather something or other up at The Hammer and Anvil tonight. Probably gonna be some interesting folks in, I’ve already seen some assless chaps and they look like they mean business,” Mick laughed around his ever present cigar. I felt myself flush a little, some tightness developed in my jeans as I tossed that image around in my head. I sat down in the well worn leather of the barber chair and crossed my legs to adjust the growing discomfort downstairs. I had recently come through my divorce. It had been a bitch of a time, but I dealt with it like any sane individual. Namely I drank way too much and made as many bad choices as I could possibly access. The drinking was now mostly back in check. Mostly. The other choices, well, I was beginning to see them as not so bad as I got further into them. As I reclined back in the chair, still getting harder, the thoughts of those assless chaps were banging hard inside my head. Right before the divorce, when things were getting out of hand, I escaped to the seedier side of town and the adult bookstore that dimly glowed like a vaguely Pizza Hut shaped pimple is the center of a large parking lot. When I was younger, it was a taste of real rebellion. Getting ankle deep in porn when there was no internet to pump it directly into your skull was a real buzz. It smelled like danger and it had those doors to the back rooms and the video booths. At that time I never had the stones to venture back and explore. Just picked out a Hustler and maybe a Barely Legal to jack to. But my eyes, and my mind, always were magnetically drawn to those dark entrances. I could never shake that. So, with the marriage heading south and a head full of lager, finally I ventured back. Got my tokens at the register and in to the unknown I did dive. Quickly I took a dim walk around the maze of booths to figure out what to do. It was pretty self explanatory so, without making eye contact with the ten or so guys loitering around, I slid into a booth. After dropping my tokens, the TV behind the plexiglass began to blast my eyes. As my pupils finally constricted enough, I saw the channel was on gay porn. I went to switch it, but the switch was in about the shape you’d imagine it to be. So I was watching one guy do an absolutely miraculous blowjob on another guy who clearly had a special effect for a cock. It was mesmerizing and my own cock immediately leapt to attention. I undid my jeans and yanked it free from my boxers and started the five finger shuffle. Just then, a note skittered under the door, ricocheting a bit off the sole of my shoe. I dipped down to see what it was and, unfolded it said three simple words: “suck your dick?” I broke into a cold sweat immediately. I’d never been anywhere near this kind of action but goddamn I wouldn’t mind getting my dick sucked right now. I slipped the bolt and the door popped immediately open and in slid a guy who was pretty much the trashiest guy I’d ever seen. He had a trucker hat on and a grey sweatshirt and bam, he was on my cock. No words, no eye contact, no nothing but my cock in his mouth and he worked it like there was some kind of cure buried inside my balls. And the weirdness made me even harder. As hard as I’d ever been. He sucked and tongued and licked and sucked again so hard I thought he was going to give me a full dick hickey. As lost as I was, I had zero control and after about three minutes total I unloaded like a fire hydrant that just took a direct hit from a truck. He sucked it all in really quickly, then he turned his head and spit it right on the floor and then, poof, out the door he went. There I was, some cum still dripping off my cock along with plenty of saliva, and I was both grossed out and completely hooked. It was a pump of weird adrenaline that I knew I needed to keep feeling. But for now I had to get the hell out before I passed out from the sensory overload.
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