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I was getting a haircut when I received a text from a number that wasn’t in my contacts but that looked familiar. Hi Dan. It’s Ricky. Can we talk? Oh fuck, Ricky who? Is it the Health Department again? I text back with a question mark. Ricky texts back a face pic. Oh, that Ricky. Mid-20s graduate student in music history. Dirty blond hair and soft set dark blue eyes. Sheepish grin. Dimples. Soft spoken with wry humor and the incongruent mix of confidence and insecurity of an exhibitionist. I found him on Craig’s List where he had a body shot. 5-9, 160. No muscle and no hair on his manboy body, but no flab either. So pale, with some moles. Hairless taint. Hairless hole. I was going to skip over the ad because it didn’t mention anything about either safe or bareback sex, and he didn’t sound like somebody with cash because he said he was on Spring Break in Urbana. But the end of the ad said he wanted a young top, preferably black or Latin. I’m young and Latin. He had his phone number strung out through the text of the ad. Hi217, my hole is hungry356, etc. I texted him my face pic and told him to respond if he was generous for an 18yo (at the time) Latin bareback top, 250 roses. He responded with a lowball offer, and we settled in the middle. Graduate students always have money for the necessities. I thought that I was being pranked when I got to his apartment building. Too nice for a student. But also too nice to be a law enforcement trap. I got buzzed into the building and went to the apartment. It was filled with antique guitars on the wall, memorabilia, old sheet music and piles of glossy music books. And there was a framed Ph.D. in music history hanging on one of the walls. Ricky tells me that Matt the professor is out of town for a symposium so he has the place to himself. Where do I sign up for one of these professors of my own? Ricky is wearing a black t-shirt and bright white Fruit of the Loom briefs. Looking at him in the t-shirt would make you think he was picket fence white until you kept gazing down and the briefs showed that he is pale and pinkish instead. Ricky has a few small blemishes and blotches on his legs. He must bruise easily, and he must get tossed around in bed. He also had some cute moles, but no freckles (which was a shame). I fucked Ricky twice, and he came both times. He was wearing a cock ring that made his 8-inch uncut cock beet red. The first time was in the living room up against the sliding glass door to the balcony. Blinds pulled open, of course. The second time was on the bed. I had Ricky with his legs up over his head and his cock in his mouth while I shot in his ass and he squirted in his mouth and all over his pretty face. Ricky licked and scooped it all up and ate it, and put his black and white outfit back on. Ricky didn’t want me to leave, but I was working and I needed to find another client if I was going to make rent. My parents wouldn’t kick me out or anything, but they count on the money. Ricky watched me wash up at the sink. My next client was going to have to be a top because I was soft and depleted. I had forgotten to turn off the sound on my phone. We didn’t hear anything while we were fucking, but now it was making me feel awkward. All the feelers that I put out before I landed Ricky were texting me, wanting action. Ricky said that I can check messages at his place. I decline, but he insists. He volunteers himself for a three-way if that’s what the next client wants. Okay, sure, that will happen. I stay and respond to messages. Ricky is also checking his email and scrolling through Craigslist. I know that I am breaking some escort rules here, but I live by my own rules. Now Ricky wants to trade devices. No. No fucking way. Ricky accepts that answer, but sits next to me. I know he can read the screen, and some of the chats reveal that I am trying to arrange a bareback encounter with a Poz prospect. Ricky asks if I’m Poz. This question comes up over and over again AFTER I have shot one or two unmedicated loads in a guy. I tell Ricky that I am Neg and that I test every month. He says thank God because he and Matt (the professor) are both Neg. Good for you both, Ricky. Time for me to go. Before I can get to the door, Ricky wants to know if I will do a three-way with him and Matt. Ricky will take care of the payment and Matt doesn’t need to know that I’m escorting. I make Ricky tell me what Matt looks like and then I say that Matt is not my type, even though Matt sounds hot as hell and like a more mature version of Ricky himself. A week later, Ricky texted me three days in a row pleading for me to do the three-way. I never responded, and that is how Ricky’s number got deleted from my contacts. Maybe I should have blocked him. Another three weeks go by before I get the text at the barber shop. What should I do? He could confront me if he tested Poz. He’s could have been topping Matt, too because all of the cock and sexual energy that Ricky wields would be a shame to go to waste. Another text arrives, it says something like: I tested Poz. Matt swears it wasn’t him. I need to know the truth. I don’t play raw with many guys. I want to hear you tell me in person. I’m not biting. It’s not my problem. It could be a setup. A few minutes go by and my haircut is done. The next text says: Please. Will roses help? Shit, it is the end of the month again. Now I bite. 20 minutes, 250 roses. Where’s Matt. I’m not going to walk into a shit storm. Ricky says okay and that Matt is in Chicago all day. Come over now if you can. I can leave my truck where it is parked and walk to Ricky’s apartment. I check for utility and delivery trucks like I can spot cops if they were around. Ricky buzzes me in, and he opens the door right away when I get to his and Matt’s apartment. Ricky is dressed for the occasion in a baseball cap and plaid boxer shorts. He’s not wearing a wire. I’ve already decided on a story on the way over. Yeah, I’m Poz. I just found out, too. I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt anybody. That sort of shit. But Ricky beats me to the punch. He loves Matt. Matt denies being Poz but doesn’t want to get tested. Ricky has been so sick with the fuck flu most of the time that Matt has been back from the symposium that they have not had sex even once. So Matt is safe if Ricky got it from me. Tears are streaming down Ricky’s pretty face. He is struggling to not fall apart. Funny thing is that all this guy wants from me is to hear that I am Poz and he doesn’t care if I knew before we met or learned about it afterward. I still think my lie is the safest route, but I blurt out the truth. I explain that we didn’t talk about HIV before we met, so I just assumed that he was Poz. And when he asked me about my status I froze and lied to avoid a scene. I should have been honest. But that’s why I didn’t come back for the three-way and expose Matt. Ricky let out a loud sigh of relief and broke into a big smile. Then he frowned. Oh Dan, I’m sorry you’re Poz. Are you okay with it? Sure, sure, yeah, I’m cool with it. No problems so far. I ask if I should go now. Ricky says No, and that he has one more question for me. Do I have time for him to thank me for coming over and being so honest? Ah … yes .. but … how? Ricky says that he needs to break his dry spell now that he’s feeling better. Craig’s List wasn’t panning out and he thought he could kill two birds with one stone if he had me come over. I get lost in my own thoughts. Here is my most recent known convert. He is a vulnerable bag of emotions. And he wants a second (or third) planting of his Gift seed. Ricky is cute and nice. Matt is lucky. They’re fucked being one Poz and one Neg, but that’s not for me to solve. All I can do to help is make love to Ricky. Damn it. I face Ricky on the sofa, remove his baseball cap, and put my hands on his cheeks. I wipe away the remnants of his tears, and I pull his lips to mine. Kiss me Ricky. Kiss your young Latin Gifter. Do you even know whether you like it or not yet? You are only a year behind me in my Poz journey. Matt will never let you stay off meds, but nobody is ever going to push that poison down my throat. My life, my body and my Rules. And my cock is hard. My balls are boiling, brewing a virile load. I pull Ricky’s face down and press his lips to my crotch. I’m still in my jeans. Ricky moans. His voice is so soft. Tender. Ricky licks and nibble the denim before he unfastens, unbuttons and unclothes me from the waist down. My six inches of uncut Latin killer cock is right there. My dark foreskin is still covering all but the very tip of the head, letting my piss slit leak some precum. Each drop is enough to bond another bottom into the Brotherhood. I pull Ricky’s mouth back down onto my manhood. He takes me in one blessed inch at a time while he fishes his semi-chubbed meat out through the fly of his plaid boxers. That beautiful cum gun is never going to shoot Neg blanks again, unless someone like Matt forces silencer pills down Ricky’s throat. What a shame if that happens. There are blowjobs, and then there are blowjobs. Ricky has been on the injured reserve list for four weeks, and now he is back in the game with something to prove. Ricky tongues the head and puckers and purses his lips all the way down the shaft. It’s a symphony of tongue, lips, spit, throat and lust. This is the lust of a boy who has found his way home. Yet he is the elder and I am the younger, and still it is my seed that has allowed Ricky to fulfill a quest that he has to have known that he was on even if he was not willing to admit it to himself until he had taken the final steps. Suck it Ricky, you’ve earned it. I remember how much fun the bedroom was last time. Let’s go to the bedroom Ricky. The sparks in Ricky’s dark blue eyes responds with a soft but unmistakable yes. Ricky and I are on our feet, hand in hand. Oh wait. Get rid of the boxers, Ricky. Get rid of my t-shirt. Now take my hand in yours again and let’s return to the scene of the … , let’s call it the immaculate conception. I get on my back and Ricky knows exactly what to do. Time for some PrEP. Ricky positions himself with his ass above my face, bending forward to deep throat my cock some more. How can a 26 year old man naturally have not a single hair along the path from his balls to his newly inaugurated AIDSHole and out all the way to the small of his back? Let me explore that mystery with my tongue while Ricky continues his deep dive into the secrets of the young male penis. Ricky tastes like desire, and he has goose bumps encircling the alluring moles and blemishes that show this little angel to be a mere mortal after all. Now you have your wings, Ricky. Will you fly, or will you allow them to be clipped? I massage Ricky’s buns, and work my hands into his primal center. I want to get the blood flowing to his rectum and anus so that he is warmed and ready to receive me in that moment of discomfort that yields to pleasure when the right buttons are pushed and the proper levers are pulled – like the Latin lever fucking Ricky’s throat while I am still working on his ass end. If Ricky is more ready than me for the fucking to begin, then he is more ready than 10 men because I am throbbing with desire to get back inside his lovely manspace. What position shall it be? I reach forward and grab the sides of Ricky’s head. His soft hair feels nice in my firm grip. I shake his head like he is an Answer Ball. Ricky plays along, not missing a beat as he adjusts the suction to allow his oral tour de force to continue with an impressive demonstration of fire and nice. Ricky should have been a Ginger with all of his fiery desire and deviance. He has the complexion and markings, lacking only the hue of the hair. One gene away from being a full and true Ginger. And one more Latin load away from recommitting to being a true and full member of the Brotherhood, if only you can keep it that way. The Answer Ball says fuck Ricky on his back. Ricky tilts, lifts and slides off me, flipping right onto his back with his face at my feet. He pulls in my foot and licks my sole. You do touch my soul today, Ricky. Now let me touch yours. Ricky puts his hands behind his legs above the inside of the knees and raises himself up as I get on my knees between his makeshift altar of debauched man love. It’s not the First Communion, but it is the Confirmation. And the same padre ministers to both ceremonies. That would be me. Oh God, what have I done to you, Ricky? You are Poz beneath me, spread before me, and devoutly awaiting to be boarded for the journey to the next station. God forgive me, but I am going to re-infect this sexy and lovely man if I possibly can. I don’t know where my foreskin went. My dick is so hard, the head is exposed like a circumcised penis. But I know where my cock is going. In. Further in. Decisively all the way in. Crushingly in with my balls pressed against my body and my shaft rubbing Ricky’s prostate. Do you feel it like I feel it, Ricky? Will Matt the professor do this for you? I bend down and slide my arms under the back of Ricky’s shoulders so that I can grab him by the clavicles and pull him harder onto my pulsing penis. Easy, Chief. Not yet. Look at him. His cheeks are so red and where once there were the tracks of tears there are now droplets of sweat trickling down all the way from his furrowed forehead. His heart is beating so hard he could break a rib. His cock is at 110 percent of capacity, soon to burst at its hidden seams if the pressure is not released. His feet are on my shoulders. I kiss the top of one, and the toes of both curl. Ricky cannot remain in this precarious state a moment longer. Time slows. Ricky is looking me deep in the eyes and I see nothing but desire staring back at me. Dark blue desire set in a face beautifully contorted into a display of primal expression that signals permission to mate. And then it happens. Ricky’s hands are at his side, glued flat to the bed. My hands are on his feet, which I have moved down from my shoulders to my chest so that I can press his soles into my sweaty chest. Ricky’s pinkish pale toes dig into my pecs and his hips thrust into the air. Crescendo. Ricky’s foreskin covers most of his cockhead, but it is no match for the force of his orgasm. His Poz load, the load that I made Poz for him, rockets out as the shaft of my penis continues to rub against the ejector button that is his prostate. Ricky’s head thrashes from side to side and his body convulses in successively diminishing waves. Mid-way through Ricky’s return to earth I launch my own missiles. Every Poz soldier landing as far inside Ricky as possible and establishing a beachhead. I don’t give a fuck that I Pozzed you once, but I am proud that I may have done it twice. And look at you, Ricky. That sheepish smile reveals all. You like it. Ricky tilts his head up and says he can’t believe that just happened. The evidence is clear, Ricky. But here, let me eat the evidence. OMFG, it is warm and salty sweet with just that little hint of Ginger that makes it unique to this hot little fucker. I lap it all up, traversing the moles and the blemishes on Ricky’s pale, smooth torso along the way. This little journey within a journey ends with the thick chunks of cum that were the first to fire, and that landed on Ricky’s chin. My mouth is full of Ricky’s cum. Then my lips are on Ricky’s lips. I empty my mouth into his, and he licks my tongue clean with his own tongue. My cock has slid out of Ricky. It was released slowly as I worked my way up his cum trail. But there is another cum trail that I need to take care of. I get my face down between Ricky’s legs, and he raises his ass up off the bed for me. The errant spillage of cum is small but still substantial. I lick it up with my tongue, and I continue licking right into Ricky’s gaping rectum. His most intimately exposed flesh is wet with the cummy signs of love. This has to feel good for Ricky. I know it feels good when guys do it for me. I finish lapping up Ricky’s ass, and journey again to his lips for a final kiss. On our first visit together, I washed up at the sink. But this time Ricky and I showered together. Still, I moved through the task with some speed, because I didn’t know what time Matt might return from Chicago and I wanted to give myself plenty of time to clear the area, and Ricky enough time to gather his thoughts. I know he will tell Matt that I Pozzed him. But will Ricky tell Matt what he did to thank me for the information?
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Last December I found out I was positive. I've been on meds since then and am now undetectable. When they discussed how the meds work, they talked about reinfection from another strain of HIV. I'm curious if anyone who has consistently taken their meds and taken poz or undetectable loads run into this issue. Thanks!
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Has any of you (poz) effectively experienced reinfection from barebacking? I mean, a health-compromising situation you can only explain as a result of whoring-out: your meds "prematurely" stopped working, or switched from undetectable to unexpectedly high viral load, etc.
