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Hi. I've been lurking around this forum for 11 years. Thanks for all the stories that I've busted a nut to. I AM NOT A WRITER. I apologize in advance for the editing. It was done on a horrible HP keyboard that I will be throwing away now. I think the story is easy enough for people to follow. Its styled well and no run on sentences, at least! The one thing that you will notice is that I repeatedly change from "tenses" from past and present. This was hard to correct since I was reliving the memories. If a good editor would like to help me fix that, it would be much appreciated. THIS IS MY FIRST WRITTEN STORY EVER. This isn't hardcore at all; but does involve slamming and homoerotica. I would like to tell some other stories so that I can release some memories out into the universe. Sadly one of these guys are gone and my therapist thought this (writing) might help ease some of my feelings. Hope you enjoy, guys. ▌│█║▌║▌║ E N J O Y ! ║▌║▌║█│▌ There's an undeniable tension between Ty and me, something more than just a drug dealer and an addict. It's a twisted sort of love, one we both seem to crave, even if we'll never admit it out loud. I find myself thinking about Ty often, wondering what it is that keeps drawing us together, despite our differences. He's an oddball, sure, but there's something about him that I can't resist – something raw, something real. I know he's fascinated with my body, with my cock, with the way I move and the way I am. And while he might not be able to admit it, I can tell that there's more to his desire than just a simple fixation on my physical form. When I do meth with Ty in the room, I can feel his eyes on me, his hunger for me palpable. It's an intensity that I've never felt before, and I can't help but get off on it. There's something about the power play, about knowing I'm in control that drives me wild. It's not just about the meth, either. Don't get me wrong, I love the high – the rush, the euphoria, the way it makes my body hum with pleasure. But there's something about sharing that experience with Ty that makes it that much more intense. It's like our addiction feeds off each other, like we're both getting high on something more than just the drug itself. I think about the way Ty watches me, the way his eyes follow my every move as I inject, the way he can't seem to look away even as I stroke my dick for his benefit. There's a raw honesty to his desire, an undeniable hunger that I can't help but feed into. I know Ty's caught up in his own addictions, both to me and to the meth, but I can't help but wonder if there's a part of him that sees something real in me, something more than just the trick he's dealing with. Maybe there's a part of him that's looking for something real in return, something beyond the high. I hope so, because I need him. I'm no saint, and I know that I'm taking advantage of his fascination, using it to my benefit. But I can't help but feel a connection to him, a bond that goes beyond the drugs and the sex. It's like we're both drowning, but we're drowning together, and there's a certain comfort in that. I think about how Ty will never have the life he wants, how his addiction to both me and the meth will keep him tethered to a world that's far from perfect. But at the same time, I can't deny the way he makes me feel, the way he pushes me to the edge and keeps me coming back for more. We're both damaged goods, Ty and I, but there's something about the way our lives intersect that makes us fit together in a way that's almost perfect. It's a twisted kind of love, one that I don't think either of us will ever find anywhere else. And as I get ready to slam another dose, as I **watch** Ty **watch** me, I can't help but think about how much I'd do for him, how far I'd go to keep our twisted little dance going. It's not just about the high anymore; it's about the connection we share, the bond that keeps us both __cumming__ back for more. <<author's note: testing forum for Markdown support>> I'm standing in our small, freshly cleaned bathroom. Ty can sometimes be a clean freak, especially concerning the bathroom and kitchen. Then again, sometimes other rooms of the house can look like the motel scenes from 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas." The water is running in the shower, steam starting to fill the room. I've left the door wide open, on purpose, knowing full well that Ty would eventually wander in and catch a glimpse of the show I've got planned. The idea of teasing him, of making him watch and him to anxious or even possibly shy to do a damn thing about it, turns me on something fierce. In my right hand, I've got the tourniquet, loosely wound around my upper arm, ready to be tightened when the time comes. In the other, a folded-up piece of aluminum foil, carefully tucked away until the perfect moment to reveal it. My skin's already itching with anticipation, the rush of adrenaline and arousal coursing through me. I've always preferred slamming to snorting or smoking meth, for the sheer thrill of sticking the needle into my vein and watching the liquid turn into a rush of pleasure coursing through my body. It's a high like no other, and I can't get enough of it. The burn of the meth, the sting of the needle – it's all part of the ritual. The water's getting warmer, and I step into the shower, letting the hot spray dance across my skin, washing away any dirt and odor from the day as I prepare for the main event. I like some smells and odors, even masculine ones, but I have a paranoid fear that I sometimes smell and that it might turn a client off. I sometimes become fixated on that. So, I take my time, soaping up, rubbing myself down, and knowing Ty's likely watching me from the doorway. He's good at staying hidden in the shadows, but I know he's there. I can almost feel his eyes on me, devouring my every move, and it's making my dick swell in my hand as I stroke it, slowly, enjoying the sight of my own flesh. I don't want to brag, but for my size, my boy stick looks rather large; God did me out of proportion, thankfully. Most people first notice the width of it; fucker looks swollen all the time, plump, engorged, even when soft. Then, they normally mention the length next. Right at 9 inches. At least 8 and 3/4, for real for real. FRFR. I will confess to looking in mirrors and even turning myself on. I finish roughly washing my prized junk. My balls hanging somewhat low due to the heat from the water. I shaved yesterday in the standalone shower in the other bedroom. Ty gave me some excellent razor blades and sat in the bathroom with me, fixated on my downstairs area. I didn't get hard because I was nervous about having an audience while also handling something so sharp. I have accidentally made some stupid motions while fucked up tweaking that did damage to my joystick. I mean, what kinda kinky pervert wants to watch somebody shave their junk? Other than my homeboy Ty? I'm not sure why Ty's so into me; Jesse, this dirty, filthy addict. But I've learned to use his fascination to my advantage, toying with his desire while getting my fix. It's a game we play, and I'm always one step ahead. The water's now steaming hot, and I turn it off, leaving a puddle of water at my feet as I step out of the shower, dripping wet. I towel off my hair, letting one small towel slip to the floor as I bend over to pick up another and also the foil from where I'd left it. The aluminum crinkles in my hand as I open it, revealing the clear shards inside. I've never been one for subtlety, and I hold the foil up for Ty to see, watching his eyes widen as he takes in the sight of me, still naked under the larger towel, getting ready to shoot up. He's probably got a lil bit of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth; probably pre-cum leaking out of his semi-aroused pole. My body was still slick with water; the water droplets on my tattooed arms began to evaporate as I focused on the task at hand. With the crystal now on the counter, I begin carefully preparing a shot. I take out a clean syringe and a small spoon, and I measure out a heroic dosage of clear onto the spoon. I then add a few drops of water to the spoon, and I stir the shards and powder until there’s nothing left but a smooth, liquid pool in the spoon's concave center. After adding my filter, I carefully draw the solution into the syringe, making sure to remove any air bubbles. My movements were practiced and precise, the result of years of experience. I could have done this in my sleep; hell, I think I have worked some shots up in my sleep. But, never while driving, I promise. I find the vein in my arm with practiced ease, running my fingers over the crook of my elbow, feeling for the right spot. With my other hand, I grab the syringe from the counter, filled with my hefty dose of dope, noting the liquid filled chamber. I'm not one to skimp on my high, and Ty can watch as much of it as he wants. This is gonna be a master-blaster. So stand back, or get closer, either one! The tourniquet, now tight around my arm, I trace my throbbing vein just like a hunter would sight through a rifle, to insure myself where I'm aiming. I'm getting ready to slide the needle when I notice how quiet it is. I normally turn on the bathroom fan, but didn't because I wanted to retain the heat and humidity from the shower. In the quietness, I notice I can hear Ty's breathing quickening as I set up the show for him. And, I smile, or maybe smirk, knowing he's getting off on this as much as I am. I plunge the needle in, feeling the cold metal bite into my flesh, then slide it smoothly into my vein. I push the plunger down, watching the meth enter my body, feeling it course through my veins like wildfire. I let out a low groan as the meth hits my system, the rush of pleasure and euphoria spreading through my body like a wildfire. I mutter some curse words. I guess my mouth must've been open because a tiny trail of slobber ran down my chin and landed on my abs. My dick involuntarily twitches, moving the towel still wrapped around my waist. It's a sign that it will eventually be rock hard and ready for anything. I toss the used syringe into the sink, letting it clatter against the porcelain, and reach for the towel to wipe my arm clean. I stand up and turn back to face the door, my almost nude body glistening with water, my skin taut and flushed with excitement. Ty's there, leaning against the doorway, his eyes locked on me. I think I can still hear his breath coming in ragged gasps. He's wearing a blinding white t-shirt and athletic pants that button up each side, like you're able to just rip them off. Though I sometimes still get confused about my attraction to some males, I'm no longer ashamed of it. So, as Beetlejuice would say, "it's Showtime..." "You like what you see?" I ask, my voice thick with arousal. Ty swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing as he nods. "So fuckin'' much," he whispers, his eyes locked on my downstairs, which seems to be throbbing or vibrating from the drugs. I grab my one eyed anaconda and shake it at him. I know I've got him right where I want him, trapped in his desire for me, unable to do anything but watch. It's a heady feeling, having the power to turn him inside out with just a look, a touch, or a comment. "Hey, Ty. I'm not ignorant, man. I know you want it, don't you?" I ask, stroking my dick slowly. "I bet you even want to taste it? Even want to feel it inside you, don't you, man?" He swallows again, his voice shaking as he nods. "More than anything." "Then why tha fuck don't you come here and get it?" I taunt him, enjoying the power play. "I'm right here, all wet and ready, and you're too He nods, his eyes locked on my hand as I continue to stroke my dick, feeling it flex and then grow in my grip. I almost never get dope dick; but I sometimes can't bust a nut. This shot of clear, though, appears to be getting me rock-hard and ready to burst though. So, luckily, I know it's only a matter of time before I will be cumming. I lean back against the counter, spreading my legs, giving Ty a clear view of my cock as I stroke it faster and faster. The water on the floor steams up as I work myself into a frenzy, watching him watch me. "You like that, Ty?" I ask, my voice rough with need. "You like watching me play with my dick while you're stuck outside? Wishin' you could feel it for yourself?" He nods again, his face flushed, his eyes transfixed on my hand. "More than anything," he says, his voice hoarse with desire. I can see the outline of his cock straining against his Adidas pants, and I can almost taste his need as much as my own. It's a heady combination, knowing I've got him right where I want him, trapped in his desire for me. I close my eyes, savoring the sensation of my hand on my own cock, the meth-induced euphoria making every touch feel electric. I stroke faster, my breathing quickening, the sounds of my own pleasure filling the room as Ty watches me lose myself in the moment.. "God, I'm close," I say, my voice ragged. "So fucking close. I'm gonna come, Ty, and you're gonna watch it all." He nods, his eyes wide, watching as I begin to really pump my piston, noticing my dick twitching in my hand, as my body puts itself on auto-pilot, preparing to empty my nuts and blow my load. The meth's got me wired, and I can feel the tension in my balls building, the pressure rising, ready to burst. My nut sack narrowed around my balls. I could feel that familiar sensation I craved of my cream-filled balls rising, snuggling up to meet my body. I could feel them drawing up and tightening, even feel my boy-juice flowing up from my sacred jewels and loading into my giant cum cannon. "Fuck, Ty," I gasp, my eyes still closed, focused on the sensation coursing through me. "I'm gonna come, yo!" He swallows, his eyes locked on my cock, and I can see the muscles in his jaw flexing as he struggles to contain his own desire. I don't think he's blinked a single eyelid since this drama began. My orgasm hits me like a freight train, my body twitching and spasming as I erupt, shooting ropes of cum across the bathroom in every direction. I keep stroking my shaft, avoiding the sensitive head, a trick a mutual friend of ours showed me he could do that allowed him to double nut. My hips began bucking uncontrollably, and more jizz flew out of my balls, splattering loudly against the mirror, spraying the sink, coating the floor, and even a jet landed on the wall adjaent to the sink, painting the room in my silky hot spunk. I lean against the counter, panting as I watch the mess I've made, knowing that Ty's going to be the one to clean it up. With a smirk, I say, "You can clean that up for me, you straight chasing relentless cock worshipper. Its all yours, and plenty of it, my white nigga." Ty nods, his eyes locked on the cum-coated surfaces, his hand reaching out as if he's about to touch it, but stops short once more. His eyes flick to mine, and I can see the desire burning in them. "Don't worry, you sick fuck, I'm gonna let you have a taste," I say, enjoying the power play one last time. "Just hurry and clean it up." His face lights up with excitement, and he moves to start wiping the cum from the mirror, the sink, and the floor. As he gets up off the floor to clean the wall, I can't help but notice the bulge in his pants, the evidence of his own arousal. "Once you're done here, you can do that other thang you do," I say, watching him work. "I'm high as fuck, so you might get an encore in just a bit. I mean, if you’re up for it,” Ty nods, his voice shaking as he speaks. "Fuck yeah, bruh. That's what I'm talking about." He finishes cleaning the bathroom, and I watch as he leans over the sink to retrieve one last smear of my cum from the mirror. To my surprise, he brings his finger to his mouth and licks it off, savoring it, with a satisfied grin on his face. "Goddamn, Ty. What the fuck? You really really like my boy cream, don't you? Dayumm, like you for real for real, aintcha?" I ask, my voice thick with curiosity. "Shit, man," I continued. "You fuckin' addicted to dope, dick, and my jizz. After all, they say it's the other white cream," I chuckled, trying to fashion a joke together but, as it turns out, I was too blasted to follow it through, and so it fell flat. Ty wasn't concerned about my comedy failings. He still was sucking MY semen from HIS finger. "Man, I gotta admit that I do find that pretty hot. I mean, never have I ever had any client or fuck buddy that was such an openly dedicated and enthusiastic cum guzzler." He sheepishly nods, his eyes locked on mine, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "I think I just might be ah-dick-ted," he said amusingly, his voice low and husky. "But, its more that I feel closer to you when I eat your cum, like there's something more so intimate, yet twisted, about it. Look, this friendship we've forged, this relationship we have, has come along way in the past year, don't you think? Sometimes I forget that the only reason I even know you is because you STOLE my boyfriend’s Harley while he was in jail. The one I was still making payments on!" <<author’s note: I hope to work this story in eventually. Remind me if I don’t! >> I raise an eyebrow, the memory also just reemerging to the front of my consciousness as well. Amused by his admission. "Well, consider yourself lucky then. I'll give you as much baby batter as you need to keep you hooked." Wow. That def fed my ego: I have somebody, by their own admission, saying that they are addicted to my precious jock juice. Ty laughs, or tries to, as he is hampered by continuing to lick his finger clean. "I'll take all you've got, Jesse. Every last muthafuckin' drop." And with that, he stands, walks over, and sloppily kisses me on the lips. (I forgot to mention that we both have big, full, natural lips. So, all of our kisses are sloppy, no matter who we’re making out with. Plus, Ty totes like 4 tubes of various tubes of Nivea chap sticks at all times because he hates dry lip, which he said he gets from certain batches of meth. If we ever smoke clear with our friends, we use a shabong. When Ty passes it, they know better to complain and just grab a towel and wipe it off from his previous nigga-lippin’ action.) He heads back toward his bedroom to get more drugs, leaving me alone to enjoy the afterglow of my high and the twisted dynamic of our relationship. I can't help but wear a goofy smile as I sit there on the sofa knowing he'll be thinking about that orgasm, my orgasm, for days. He loves me in an inconceivable way, but I know its real. Ty used to have all kinds of guys around, whether he wanted them there or not. They were usually boys younger than me, which were plentiful in and around Athens. He preferred the backwoods guys over the university ones. But, for slightly over a year now, since I've been around, he obviously marked me as his territory, and I haven't seen any more dudes hanging around in a long time. I sometimes check his phone. He never deletes anything and really is too honest to cheat. Nada. Other than porn, which I love too, there’s no signs of a significant or insignificant other. I think to myself how lucky I am. I mean, he brought me out of homelessness. Once I realized he was a genuine person and got over his intense preoccupation with me, I realized I had the dick and the power in this relationship. I will reflect on this later, I tell myself. For now, I'm freshly drained but still buzzing. My hormones and neurotransmitters are sending signals to my in the facis...Jed move away from there. Ty and I had lots of sayings and inside jokes between us.) I feel the high beginning to wash over me in waves. It's a high like no other, and I know that no matter how many times I do it, I'll always be coming back for more. The end.
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A big thanks to the guys who write stories. This one is for all of you who inspire me to do filthy unspeakable things. Chapter I. My boy and I had been through a lot of ups and downs in our six years together. We’d fucked around with a bunch of guys, sometimes friends, sometimes strangers. We’d played separately and together and it was always a blast, until we both hungered for something more. We were both in our early twenties and we each had a hard, gym-toned body for which guys in the bars would go crazy. We’re both pretty versatile, but I’ve had more experience topping than he has. As nice as his hard dick is, it would be a shame not to share his ass. Our play got more and more risky, and more and more thrilling, and eventually we started playing around bareback. We found ourselves on a mattress surrounded by a bunch of POZ strangers. Between the two of us, we must have had ten POZ loads dripping out of our bare NEG holes. That was as out-of-hand as things got, and it sort of freaked me out more than it did him. We went to more than a handful of these parties and made friends with some of the regulars. Some guys at the group parties were POZ, some NEG, and some not even sure of their status. One night we wound up at a two-floor house party. Somehow we got separated, and he ended-up upstairs at the bottom of a pile of sweaty guys taking load after load, while I ended-up on the second floor topping a group of three bottoms, all of whom were chasers, and all of whom begged to be POZZED. Afterwards my boy and I enjoyed telling each other what we had gotten up to that night and ended-up giving each other a hard fuck. It was great, until a few weeks later when my boy came down with a really nasty cold. After he had the shakes for a few days, it dawned on me that one of those anonymous loads he had taken at the last party might well have been POZ and it might have taken. I got scared and we went to the clinic to get tested. (What happened there is another story!) Anyway, turned out that he was NEG, and after a few months, we got tested again. Still NEG. The experience really seemed to change things, and we settled down a bit and sort of lost interest in sleeping around. I decided the best way to keep both of us NEG and safe was to propose to him. He accepted, agreeing that we had been playing with fire. We started making wedding plans and agreed to live monogamously. We thought about having a joint bachelor party, but decided it might be best to celebrate separately and then have a big reception together. We picked our “best men,” mine was an ex from college, Carl, who was a good friend, but just a friend. My boy’s “best man” was Jim, a hot hunk of a guy both of us had fucked and been fucked by, but their friendship stopped being sexual back during the big POZ scare. I went out with my ex to make plans over a few beers with Carl. Over dinner, we decided to play it more-or-less tame and we planned to go to a Go-Go Bar and get a lap dance with some of the guys from our seedier days. Jim came over to our apartment to make plans with my boy. I got back to the apartment and, upon letting myself in, I heard Jim and my boy carrying on. They had both had a lot to drink and were slurring their words. Jim kept egging my boy on saying, “Come on. It’s your last big bash! It may be your last chance to get IT. Let’s just have a crazy gangbang and invite all the POZ tops we can find! I know an escort service that would even set us up with a POZ hustler!” My stomach twisted as I realized that’s what they were planning for my boy’s last big bash. I snuck back out of the apartment taking in what I’d just heard. After a few minutes in the hall, I made a show out of unlocking the door and greeting them. My boy was just hanging up his phone, presumably having booked a POZ hustler to breed him at his bachelor party, and hopped up to greet me. I saw his hard-on straining against his pants. He kissed me and wrapped his arms around me. As soon as Jim left, we had great sex, flip-fucking and cumming in each other’s holes. The whole time fucking my boy, I was fantasizing about his POZ hustler, as I suspect, he was also as he clenched his eyes while taking my load. The next morning as he showered, I unlocked his phone and jotted down the last number called, hoping I could contact the escort service and try to pay them off. That afternoon I ducked-out of my office and called the number. A gravelly voice answered, “Big Top Escorts at your service. How can we help you?” I explained my situation, claiming I was a “friend” who wanted to call the whole thing off. The guy on the other end of the line chuckled the whole time. “Well, your ‘friend’ seems to have paid the deposit with his credit card already, and we’ve book a very especially gifted date for his party. You’ll have to pay him off if you want to cancel.” I agreed wholeheartedly. When he told me that the deposit was $1,000, I gasped, and pleaded with him to work with me. “Alright, here’s what we can do. If you want to come down here and talk things over, I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.” He gave me an address in a really rundown part of town and without hesitation I hopped in my car. Twenty minutes later, I was literally on the wrong side of the tracks, buzzing an intercom next to a dented metal door with bulletproof glass. Big Top Escorts buzzed me in and I climbed the stairs, trembling with each step. I climbed up several dimly lit flights of creaky stairs until I came to a shoddy door with a hand-written sign scrawled Big Top Escorts. I opened the door and entered a claustrophobic office with one tiny filthy window and a broken metal desk. Behind the desk sat a balding stocky man with a goatee. When he stood him, I realized he wasn’t wearing pants, only boxer shorts. He extended his paw to me and made sure I was the guy who had called earlier. He told me his name was Vinny and that he had a job for me. If I did the job well, he’d cancel the POZ bachelor party for my fiancé, and ignore the deposit fee. I asked what the job was. He grinned and groped himself, “Get me hard.”
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Sold Health (Part 01) ** Please remember to ‘like’ the story if you enjoyed it. Feel free to comment or to contact me via mail. Thx. ** “Hey… need a hole to fuck – only 50 Dollars and you can fuck mine” the twink whispered to me. I knew, there would be young hustlers in this part of the park at night. Most of them were addicts. They were shadows of human beings. This one was not finished yet. He was still good looking, but his youth was vanishing. His eyes seemed clouded and he slurred the words. “You got a place to go?” I asked. “There are many deserted areas here. We can find a place easily…” he answered. “Nah… I am looking for a guy to fuck him in his bed” I said shortly and turned around to leave. “Wait… wait… let’s say 30 Dollars and you can fuck me here… what do you say?” he begged. “What do you say, if I give you 100 Dollars for your mouth and a bit of your time?” I replied. “Okay. But my flat is not so… tidy.” he said. “I didn’t expect it to be. It will be enough if you are on your knees and suck my dick there… and maybe some other stuff.” I answered. We left the park and walked through deserted streets. It was way after midnight and the good people were all asleep. We walked without talking. The guy was always two steps ahead and I followed him. I watched his ass move and this made me quite horny. His body was shaking from time to time. Obviously he needed money for his next fix. It was such a shame. He had been a good looking lad once. Don’t get me wrong. He was still doing ok. I have seen worse looking boys. It would be a pleasure to use this one. We stopped at a run down house in some part of the city. The lad tried to open the first door to the hall with his key, but he was shaking so much, that it took him a while to open the entrance. I didn’t touch him… Not yet. I just watched his petite frame. He would have been a cute guy, with his blonde hair and his cute little ass, but he chose the wrong path one day in his life and now he was rushing downhill, with no one able to stop him. “Sorry… I am a bit shaky” he apologized. “Take your time…” I answered with my low voice. I followed him to the second floor and again he had to complete the impossible task, to open the door with his key in a calm fashion. When he finally managed to unlock the door to his flat, he opened the door and he stumbled into his own one room apartment. I stood outside and waited. After a second he came back and looked at me questioningly. “Don’t you want to welcome me?” I asked. “Yeah sure… come in” he said. “No I mean… welcome me, with your mouth - outside of your flat.” I insisted. “Dude… I live here. The people around here know my girlfriend.” he whispered desperately. I stood there calmly and simply looked into his eyes. “Oh damnit…” he cursed. He walked outside into the hall and crouched before me. With trembling hands he tried to open my jeans. It was hilarious how much time he needed to set my cock free. And still it was cute, how bad he needed the money, that he even serviced a John out here in the open, just to get cash for his drugs. My cock hardened already, because of the massage his fingers gave to me, simply by opening my pants. Finally he grabbed inside of my cage and freed my hardening cock. I pressed the button for the floor light. The twink flinched. “Man… please… don’t…” he whined. “Open your mouth and suck!” I ordered him loudly. For the first time I saw his face in a bright light. The lad seemed to be broken already. His face showed the story of his decline. He was working for one thing only and that was his drug. It didn’t matter what kind of substance he abused. The drug ruled his life. His blue eyes looked up to me, while he sucked my cock deep into his throat. He had this pleading look. He wanted me to give him the sign, that we could move into his apartment to finish this job. I nodded at him. Thankfully he smiled at me and crawled backwards into his one room flat. I followed him inside his home. Home sweet home… The whore wanted to get up and close the apartment door. “Stay on your knees dog.” I simply ordered and closed the door myself. “What…?” he asked. “You understood me. Stay where you belong… on your knees.” I pushed the light switch but the room stayed dark. “No light?” I asked. “I didn’t have the money to pay it. I guess they shut down the electricity.” the boy mumbled. On his knees he scurried through the room and lit some candles. “How romantic…” I said ironically. “Can I have my money first? Then I will finish sucking you.” he asked with a broken voice. I interrupted stroking my dick and gave him the 100 Dollars. “Who are these people on those pictures?” I asked and pointed to some photographs on a cupboard.” “That’s none of your business I guess. I will suck your dick…” he argumented. “I paid for that AND your time faggot” I rebuked. The teen moved closer and watched at those pictures. “My parents… and that’s me one year ago. When I turned 18.” he sighed. “That was you? One year ago? May I say it, you look shit today” I replied coldly. “I know. I have changed a bit, but I am still handsome… at least my girlfriend tells me so” the boy mumbled. “You changed a bit?” I laughed. “You’re girlfriend… *chuckles” “Is she a whore too?” I asked him. “Huh?” “Is your girlfriend also a whore like you?!” I repeated the question. “She does what she has to do” he answered. I turned to him and fed him some cock. I like my boys to keep their heads still. It is my job to move and so I held him by his ears and shoved my cock deep into his throat. “Open up” I ordered. “Would it be okay if I would piss into you?” “Ho… mu….” he inarticulated. “What?” I pulled my cock out of his mouth. “How much… can I get for it?” he asked. “So you would drink it. You would be my urinal, for my stinking piss. It just has a tag on it” I chuckled. I will give you another 100 Dollars just to piss. But I won’t use your mouth bitch. What about your bed? Or could I simply piss into your closet… onto your clothes. He could see another 100 Dollar bill waving in front of his face. It took him a while, but then he grabbed for the money. “Easy cash… easy cash…” I repeated. After he accepted the other bill I turned around to the little cupboard and showered all the pictures with my yellow liquid. I laughed out loudly. “Saw that? I pissed on your family. I pissed on your girlfriend and I pissed on you… 18 years old handsome guy…” I grinned evilly. Then I stopped pissing and wandered around. I opened the closet and started another stream of my dark yellow colored piss. “This is okay… for you. Right? I'm allowed to piss on your clothes. Since your flat is a pigsty anyways…” I reassured myself. The guy held his money in his fist and nodded defeatedly. I walked to the fading beauty and crouched next to him. “Listen – you have already lost everything. Do you think you can make it – any time soon?” I asked him seriously. “Maybe… if I get some help. Maybe then I can start a new life” he whispered. I stood up and pushed my cock deeply into his mouth again and rocked softly in and out of his throat. “What would you say, if I tell you tonight… I will give you a great amount of money, if you are willing to gamble with your health…” I asked him softly. “*Hrmpf* I don’t understand…” he interrupted his sucking motions. “You know HIV and AIDS? Sure you know…” I grinned knowingly. “Are you clean…?” I asked him “I am carefully – sharing my needle and I don’t let guys fuck me without a condom” he said. “I got an HIV rapid antibody test with me. We could know within 20 Minutes, if you are infected or not” I told him. “And then…?” he didn’t know my intentions, but he accepted my cock again and suckled on it. “If you are negative… a friend of mine and I will pay you 10.000 Dollars to fuck you bareback. The only risk is, we are both not medicated AIDS Tops and highly contagious. Are you willing to take the risk?” I asked him. The lad was stunned. His eyes seemed to be empty, but I knew his thoughts were rotating around the money. He probably didn’t realize, but he was still sucking my infiltrating cock. “Think of all the things you can do with it. Pay your next fix. Move out to a better apartment with your girlfriend. Start a new life!” I reasoned with him. “You can keep the 200 Dollars and I will leave, if you decide that’s a risk, you don’t want to take” I withdrew my cock from him. “But if you are willing to get POZ fucked, we will pay you the money tonight. My buddy will have the cash on him. And there is still a chance, you won’t get infected. In that case you can keep the money of course…” I explained. “So? Do we have a Deal or No Deal?” I wanted to know.
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Anybody hooked up with a homeless hustler lately? I always get approached late night by them in my neighborhood. Ive done it once but he turned out to be total bottom and i saw him on my street the next day. Couldn't get myself to do it again.
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Wreckin-Aids-Bone (WAB) Part 1: The heat from the pavement rolled up and over Jerome’s body like a tsunami inundating a small island. New York City had not seen a heat wave like this in May for fuck – like 80 years or some shit. Slowly Jerome pushed himself away from the rough, brick wall, stood up straight, took the well-used red tank top out of his back pocket and wiped the sweat off his face and chest. He paused, shook his head, rubbed his aching stomach and ran a finger over his protruding bulge. Yeah man needed to eat – and soon. Here is his story. My momma’s voice keeps ringing in my head over and over no matter what I do, how fucked up I get…’faggy’…’faggy’…’faggy’. Her pain, anger, sorrow, confusion – all like a fucking knife in my guts and trust, I know how bad that can fucking feel as the finger-length scar on my left side shows. “Jerome Christopher Hughes – what in the fuck Lord’s name you doing?” I knew it was bad when she used my full name and the name of God. Well what can I say, Mr. Gonstill’s mouth felt good and he could swallow my dick right down to the pubes and flick his tongue on my balls at the same time. Holy FUCK! I always shot monster loads with his mouth on me. Yeah he was an old white dude from across the street who could have been my grandpa from another mother, and he would take his teeth out when he sucked me. I ain’t no fucking faggy, but I tell you right now that felt better than any pussy I ever dipped in and a mouth’s a mouth and a hole’s a hole – you feel me? The first time he did that was the week after I had graduated high school. I had turned 18 and momma had worked 2 or 3 jobs to ensure I could just focus on school, but once that shit was done, she said it was time for me to man up, get to work, and figure out what came next in life. Mr. Gonstill had a fancy printer that I had used before for school papers and shit and he said he would print off some resumes for me. Well that day when I showed up he had some wild shit porn playing, a few smokes for me, some cold beer, and it didn’t take much to persuade me to blow my load down this throat then two more up his ass. Any time I was in need all I had to do was show up and he was ready to take my monster BBC anyway I wanted, and I always got something good in return. I might be an ugly dude but I got a big dick, and that will fucking compensate for a lot. No one knew about what I did. Not my girl, not my homies - although a couple of them I dicked down to on the DL – and certainly not my fam. Well that was until the day my momma came home early and went looking for me at Mr. Gonstill’s and found us in his garage. So here I am, JC – that’s my nickname – coolin on a corner in New York City (NYC) – my stomach rumbling, my ass crack sweating, my balls aching, my dick dripping, my chest is tight from this fucking cough I cannot shake. In between bumming a few smokes, I ain’t been doing nothing all day except holding up this fucking wall, trying not to scratch the shit out of my face from my beard – damn need a shave – and twisting my hair into something half presentable. I’ve been in the city for a couple months now and its been one ”fuck-me-over” after another. After momma threw me out without even a dip of all the cash I had saved up that she was hanging onto for me, I got Mr. Gonstill to give me enough dough for a bus ticket out of Cincinnati. He let me use his phone to call my cuz – Treyvon in NYC, who said I could crash with him and his baby momma. I had to fuck Mr. Gonstill for all that, but not like the first time, so as I walked down the street – the stank of his ass on my dick – I turned one last time to look back at the house I had known all my life. I hit NYC with nothing but the clothes on my back and $10 in my pocket and by the time I got to Treyvon’s in the fucking hood even that was gone. He set me up though – at first anyways. The first few days was like fucking jamming as we drank, did whatever drugs he laid out, and fucked whatever ass was closest. It was about 4 days in when I got sick the first time. I puked, shit, and hacked my insides out for almost a week straight. That kind of hell takes a toll and just as I was beginning to think I might feel like eating again, my fuckin cuz kicked me to the damn curb as word had spread – my momma had called his momma and well, I was dead to the family now – even to my lazy ass punk cuz. FUCK! Nights on the streets in NYC are fucked up. The freaks and hood fucks come out, shit goes down, and you need a place to roll up and keep out of shit. I didn’t have that, or any cash to get it, and have to admit I busted a few noses and did some other shit to survive. I had been on the streets about 3 weeks I guess when I discovered one of the Adult Book Stores (ABS). For a few bucks, me and other folks from the street - hustlers, thieves, homeless, life’s cast outs - could stay warm, avoid the worst of the night’s crazy shit, and if we got lucky, find a warm hole to nutt up in or a few a extra bucks for our pocket. When the ABS don’t work, I crawl up in some basement, trap house if I can, or just walk til the sun comes up. Yeah, a few faggies have offered me a place to crash but I ain’t looking for no strings. Been offered a few hustling jobs – not the sex kind, but drugs and shit – and I ain’t looking to get rolled up in no crew and become someone’s bitch – so I go it alone. It ain’t been so bad except for those days when the sickness hits again like truck barreling down the highway. In NYC puking on the sidewalk is a common every day thing – but it’s the squatting in some alley for hours on end that can get to you. Anyways, last night at the ABS is where I came to hear the phrase AidsBone for the first time. I had always been a slim kat and on my 6”2 frame, losing 10 pounds from being sick made me look even thinner – yet made my 10inch black dick look gigantic! I was probably down closer to 15 now, my cheeks sunken in, dark circles around my eyes from not sleeping. I was hot, hungry, and broke and figured could cool off in the ABS and maybe make a couple bucks. The first time I showed up there I had to let the clerk touch my dick with a promise to fuck him later if he let me in (he played that shit with all the ‘new trade’) – cool – I could fuck skanky ass no problem. Tonight as I came through the door the clerk smiled, waved me through to the back, and went back to reading his trashy magazine after making a note on my ‘tab’ that I owed him another fuck for the free pass. Once I cooled down a little and made a few rounds of the usual trolls, hall-wall holders (those faggys who just stood around holding up the wall), the few scared tourists and a couple locals, I zoned in on this little youngin white guy. All the folks were cruising that little wanker ass and I figured he would go for more of the clean cut, handsome types that were there. Some of the hustlers were down right pretty boys – not the TS, TV, CD’s that were there – but boys who were just damn pretty. But no, the youngin kept scoping me out – eyeing my thugness. My sick look and dirty clothes, did not seem to put him off. I made my way around the corner and to the end of the back hall and settled myself by the last booth. Slowly the white youngin made his way back towards me, his pale skin almost glowing in the shadows and dark lights of the ABS. He was nervous for sure, but held his own deflecting the advances he encountered along the way. When he got to me, he looked at the floor, his head down, fumbled in his pocket, “Want a cigarette? He asked. I nodded, took tapped out a couple, took the lighter he handed to me, inhaled, pocketed the lighter as he looked confused with his own unlit cigarette still in his hand. I kept on smoking so he pulled the pack back out of his pocket and put the one he was holding back in. I grabbed his wrist, squeezed, brought his hand up and his fingers automatically released and drop the pack of cigarettes into my hand. I smiled, nodded, and said, “Whatch-you need kid?” The white youngin nervously looked around and looked ready to bolt as some of the aggressive trolls started closing in. I grabbed him by the arm, swung him around so his back was to the wall and I placed myself between him and them. I turned and snapped, “STEP THE FUCK OFF MOTHA-FUCKERS!” to the closest trolls who slunk back the way they had come. I asked again, “Whatch-you need kid?” This time he looked up, licked his lips, fished back in his pocket and pulled out a folded $50. I snatched the Grant, stuffed it in my pocket with his lighter, set the cigarette between my teeth as I unzipped my pants and fished out my stank, ripe, black dick. The youngin’s mouth gaped, he reached out to stroke it and I smacked his hand away, tapped my cigarette out on the wall beside his head and set it on the ledge molding that ran about head height along the wall for later. I looked at him and sneered. “Here’s the rules. NO touching, no kissing, NO sucking. You feel me?” He just nodded, fished back in his pocket and pulled out a ratty looking condom packet. I snatched that too, tossed it into the hallway behind me – let one of the trolls use that shit if they want – and when the youngin looked at me questioningly I said, “I ONLY FUCK RAW, NOW PULL YOUR PANTS DOWN.” His face lit up like a fucking angel on the Christmas tree! “You want to go into a booth? Someplace more private maybe?” he asked. I shook my head no, hell I was not wasting a dime on that shit when I had some raw ass pussy right in front of me and frankly had all the privacy I needed. I’m a wild freak and don’t mind folks watching and had barely got a little spit on my dick before the youngin’s pants were down and his white ass pushed out waiting. I lined up my dick, grabbed his hips, and pushed hard. The youngin cried out, which just made my dick swell and unleash some prejizz. The next shove popped his pink little hole and before he could cry out again I covered his mouth with my left hand. I pulled my dick all the way out, spit a couple times, smeared it around, lined my monster back up, and this time before I popped his hole again I laced my right fingers with my left, covering his whole fucking face, his breath coming out hot and rapid against my skin. I gently moved my hips a little and his breathing got even faster in anticipation, I then clamped my hands tight on his skull and SLAMMED THAT ASS! The youngin’s body went stiff as I slam fucked him against the wall, busting that hole open wide, tearing those pussy walls up. All my anger, frustration, and craziness came out as I fucked him hard and fast. After a couple minutes of brutal pounding his body relaxed, his hole gave out, and I moved my hands from his face to his shoulders so I could dig him out for the grand finale. “GIVE ME THAT AIDSBONE,” the youngin gasped and pleaded. WTF? What the fuck? “FUCK ME WITH YOUR AIDS DICK MISTER, POZ MY HOLE, WRECK IT – OH FUCK YEAH PLEASE WRECK IT!” Hot damn – guess it is the quiet ones you got to watch out for. Hell that shit made my dick steel hard – holy Christ. I stepped back, edged my dick to the lip of his ass pussy and slammed back in. Fucking faggy loved it and moaned, groaned, and begged, “PUSH YOUR AIDSBONE IN ME, CUM IN ME MISTER, OH PLEASE FUCKING CUM IN ME, FUCK IT HARDER – THAT’S IT MISTER – HARDER – YEAH POZ ME UP – POZ MY ASS WITH THAT DICK.” I had fucked some dudes a bit rough before, with my size you had to now and then to get your nutt – but this, this was a balls out rape fuck with no mercy. I wanted his ass to hurt, wanted him to feel it, wanted him to experience the same sort of pain I was feeling and man did he! I shredded his guts and felt my balls pull high, tighten up like race horse at the gate raring to go, and one final thrust and I blew my toxic wadd as deep as I could in his faggy ass. I bottomed out and broke through something when I did making him cry out even louder. He had no place to run and I held him on my dick as my balls jumped up and down, pistoning my cum out. I was done –with him anyways – and pulled my dick out in one tug. He sounded like a mouse with his head in a trap on that one. I laughed, reached over him, grabbed the half-smoked cigarette off the ledge, used his – now my – lighter, and took a well-deserved long drag. The youngin was panting as he looked at me with awe, wonder, lust, need, and a newfound calling in life. I knew guys liked my dick, but this was different. This was RAPTURE. BLISS. ECSTASY pure and true and the blood rushed like a flash flood back into my dick and I was ready to go again. The youngin stared in amazement, I chuckled, and laughed right in his face as he now begged and pleaded, “Please fuck it again – oh my God, I need your AIDS man, did you poz me? Will you wreck my ass again? Please, oh please I NEED IT!” I just looked at him without a word, he got the message, “Umm…I only got like $5.00 left. I can give you more tomorrow, will you be here tomorrow?” I stepped away, dropped my smoke on the floor, looked at the crowd we had gathered and eyed one of the regular pretty boys that had tried to get me to fuck him before. I knew his pockets were full with goodies and while I generally lived by the adage ‘don’t shit where you eat’ and didn’t need any drama, my balls were full up again and it had to go someplace. I swaggered over to the pretty boy and said, “You think you can handle this?” He nodded, practically jumped into one of the booths while trying to get naked at the same time. I turned to the youngin, “Come better prepared tomorrow,” closed the video booth door, and as the youngin pulled himself together and headed out into the night he could hear the cries of the pretty boy getting his ass pussy hole wrecked with my AIDSbone.
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Part I. My boy and I had sort of fallen on rough times. Maybe we’d overspent in the last few months and when we both got laid off from work, our savings started to run thin pretty quickly. I went looking for part-time work in my field, but nothing panned out. My boy kept going on interviews, but he never landed a steady gig. With no prospects, we were quickly getting desperate. Some fuckbuddies invited us out for a drink to catch up, and we kept putting them off since we couldn’t even afford to drink. Before we hit hard times, we’d often go out clubbing with Bobby and Dylan before winding up back at our apartment. Bobby and Dylan were a super cute couple, both in their early twenties, and both super fit. They were, like me and my boy, both pretty versatile, and also like us, they liked raw sex. Whenever we played as a group, we always fucked bare. It was so hot watching Dylan breed my boy. His thick cock would stretch out my boy’s ass good, leaving it loose and sloppy for me to fuck when he pulled out. I loved sloshing around my boy’s ass, feeling Dylan’s cum squelch around my dick as Bobby fucked and bred me. After we bowed out several weeks in a row, they started getting concerned. They thought we didn’t like them any more. It was embarrassing when we confessed that we couldn’t afford to go out, but they invited us along anyway, saying that they would pay, especially if they could get to fuck us! Over drinks at our regular bar, they told us that they had fallen on hard times a few months ago, and gotten part time work in a go-go bar to tie them over until real work returned. Bobby said that the boys could make upwards of $500 a night, even if they didn’t do any really dirty stuff, and much more if they were prepared to go all the way with customers. I was so naïve, and asked what ‘all the way’ meant. Dylan started telling stories of lap dances that got out of hand, even once or twice where the guy paying him to dance had a really big cock that worked it’s way out of his pants. Bobby said it was so hot watching his boyfriend dry humping bare dick, and that sometimes, if they were willing to pay more, they would both let guys tease their holes, and maybe even get the head inside them if none of their bosses were looking! My boy and I had both given up our gym membership a few months ago, to save money, and I was not feeling at my best physically, but my boy had kept up running and doing exercises in our backyard. He looked as great as he ever did, and our friends suggested he go for an audition right away and see if he could get the gig. Maybe it was the cocktails hitting us hard after not drinking any alcohol for a few months, but my boy was instantly eager. Had we been sober, I’m sure we both would have thought it through better, but he was ready, right away, to go start dancing in his undies to make some good money from strangers. Two hours after starting drinking with Bobby and Dylan, they poured us into their car to drive us over to the gay strip club to meet their boss. There, in the parking lot, Dylan helped me into the back seat. I was dizzy from the cocktails I had drunk. Bobby helped my boy into the seat, and I heard him chuckle. He said told Dylan that he had seen a glimpse of my boy’s underwear and that it simply wouldn’t do for a proper go-go interview. Of course, a few months of unemployment meant we hadn’t been buying anything we could do without, including cute new underwear. I’m sure we were both wearing last year’s model at best, and stretched out elastic jockstraps at the worst. Bobby and Dylan winked at each other and suggested we make a quick stop on the way to the strip club to get my boy some sexy new undies at a friend’s shop. My boy was clearly getting turned on talking about stripping and sexy underwear, and was rubbing his crotch. Dylan and Bobby kept watching my boy in the rear view mirror as the car started. It got me hot too to know my boy would soon be shaking his lithe mostly-nude body for money, and I worked my hand down the back of his shorts. It was true that his underwear was stretched out; I could easily get my whole hand into his pants to finger his ass! My boy was wriggling on my hand, as Dylan, in the front passenger seat took out his cock and started wanking. I wondered aloud, “How are we going to pay for new underwear? That stuff can be expensive, and we’re broke!” Bobby assured me that their buddy, who owned the underwear store, would give us a good deal. The way he said it made me ask if my boy might have to do something naughty. Dylan answered, “Absolutely! You’re ok with that, right?” Bobby told me that it was so hot watching Dylan with this guy that he had to join in. As I fingered my boy’s ass, and Dylan jerked his big cock, Bobby told us that their friend, Alex, was really well hung, and really hot. He said, “Alex started by taking Bobby’s measurements, waist and stuff. He had Bobby drop his shorts so he could see how big his dick and balls are. He got out a few choices, leather jockstraps, rubber shorts, and tight g-string bikinis. Bobby went into a changing room to try the rubber shorts on and then danced for Alex, just like a go-go boy. Alex then had Bobby grind into his lap. Alex got so hard that his dick was straining against his jeans leaving a dark wet spot from his precum. He asked Bobby if he could remove them for him. It was so hot watching Bobby pull that stud’s jeans down. When Alex was just in his boxers, he told Alex to change into the g-string. Bobby did it right there, stripped naked then pulled up the g-string. Alex grabbed Bobby and had him sit down hard on his crotch. Alex’ dick slowly worked it’s way out of the boxer fly. I could see Alex’s precum getting all over Bobby’s ass. Alex pulled the thong aside so his dick could really rub against Bobby’s hole. When it got shiny from so much precum, Alex told Bobby to switch to the jockstrap. Bobby shimmied out of the g-string, and into the jockstrap. He was so hard that his dick wouldn’t fit into the front pouch. That didn’t seem to bother either of them, and Bobby sat right back down onto Alex’ cock. This time, his hole was totally free, and after a few passes, the head of Alex’ dick went right up Bobby’s ass. I started to freak out a little, and Alex just smiled, ‘If your boyfriend wants to make the real money, he’s got to learn to take dick!’ Bobby started riding that cock as I stood there and watched. After a few minutes of getting pounded, Alex held Bobby’s hips and came inside him. Even if Bobby had wanted to pull off, Alex wouldn’t have let him!” By this time, my boy had taken off his shorts and underwear altogether and I was working three fingers into his ass. Bobby shot his load into his hand and offered it to Dylan to lick off. I realized that the car had stopped and we were in a parking lot, lit only by neon light from the window. We were at Alex’ shop, and the time had come to offer my boy up to this stranger for free underwear. I knew my boy was horny, and would probably let Alex go all the way. What had we gotten ourselves into? To be continued...
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Rentboy.com offices raided http://www.nbcnewyork.com/news/local/Rentboy-Male-Escort-Website-Manhattan-Arrest-Takedown-Federal-Agent-Police--322826271.html Personally I think there's other issues/crimes that should be dealt with first rather than going after the website
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Hey, a query with not much to go on, but here goes..... has anyone seen that video clip of a young latino, gay for pay "straight" hustler called "Chance"? The video is around 12 minutes long, and features him posing naked for some older guy, showing off his hole, and eventually sucking dick and getting bb fucked. He comes across as kind of disinterested, but obedient and compliant. It's totally fucking hot. Sound familiar? Anyone know it? My questions: What studio produced this video? What other videos has "Chance" performed in?
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