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I lived in the Chelsea neighborhood of New York all through the height of the AIDS crisis. At the time, Chelsea was the epic-center for gay life. This was back in the days when we used the telephone (not smart phone) to call hook up sites and talk with like-minded horny men. I made a hook up date with one of the guys form the phone service. He sounded, hot, lived nearby, and was poz. I was so turned on when he answered the door and I saw his emaciated body and lean face with cheek bones jutting out. He was wearing leather chaps, sunglasses and was surprisingly suntanned. He later told me he laid out on the rooftop of his apartment building. His apartment was quintessential Leatherman: Tom of Finland posters, a sling in the corner and an entire wall of mirrors. My cock stiffened as I thought about the number of men that must have become infected with HIV in this room. As my hands roamed each crevice and depression of his lean vascular build, his tongue wildly jabbed down my throat. I could feel the tautness of his face and sharpness of his facial features. After a few minutes I moved us closer to the mirrored wall. I love to tease out the inherent vanity that gay men have. I made him pose and show off for me. Made him say how hot he thought his own body was. I moved him even to closer to the mirror, as I was going to make him kiss himself. As I guided him, I realized that something was off. His moves were tentative and I suddenly realized he was blind. I gently asked him about it and he explained that AIDS had led to cytomegalovirus (CMV) which caused him to go blind. None of this made him any less attractive to me. In fact, it added to the overall image of the AIDS God that I saw him as. He was too weak to fuck so he sat down and I reverently sucked his toxic penis. He closed his eyes. As I slurped away, I would occasionally tell him how much I loved his AIDS-cock. That made him harder and he soon spurted his diseased seed down my throat. He shortly fell asleep. I quietly left and as I closed the door I thought, not only do I love his AIDS -cock, I love him
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Part 1; I'm a 23 year old neg sex pig, and today was no exception, I was feeling fucking horny as HELL. So, into the shower, wash, and a real thorough douche of my sweet round ASS that I am very proud of, I should be, I work it out regularly enough, then, off I went to my usual sauna haunt. Ben was on the counter. - Hey Ben, how ya doing? - Hey Ollie. GREAT thanks. How are you mate? - I'm doing very good thanks. Too fucking Horny though. - Really. What brings you here then ... He said, being silly We both laughed. I paid my entrance. Given the usual locker key, and towel, and off to the locker area I went. BUT, today was different than usual. A guy in full Leather Gear (Chaps, Boots, and a Leather Waistcoat) was lurking around, drinking a Beer. He was also wearing a Cock-Ring that housed a massive bulging with veins erection. What made this look even HOTTER, was, he was skinny, gaunt, yellow, and a big Bio-Hazard tattoo above his naval. This Man screamed Danger. He screamed Death. BUT FUCK, I was already intoxicated! I found my locker, and got undressed and out of the corner of my eye I could see DANGER Man just staring! I locked up, wrapped my towel around me, and went to walk to the spa when I heard . - OI, cunt, stop right there!!! He kinda startled me, and part of me was saying to myself, 'fucking walk Olllie', a natural reaction I guess if the brain senses danger. BUT, as said, I was already intoxicated. So I froze. He came up from behind, and ripped my towel off letting it fall to the ground. - FUCK Yeah. One peachy round ASS! He slapped each cheek hard, then he parted them, spat on his fingers, and made my CUNT wet. He then inserted a finger. I gasped. - Sweet Jesus. You are one super tight Bitch! Right, get ya towel back on, and come with me to my private cabin. I am your very own private AIDS Daddy for the afternoon. I got my towel back on, and started following him as he walked off. I was filled with utter Fear. Yet, I was filled with an immense erotic intense excitemenT ?☣️?
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As I lie here browsing Breeding Zone, it occurred to me that I probably don't have that long left. With that in mind, why don't I tell my story? It all began 6 years ago in earnest, but the situation I find myself in has probably been set in stone for the entirety of my life. 6 years ago, this was me: I was 23, I worked hard on my body, and made sure I looked good. I was training to be a nurse, had a boyfriend, house, car, the lot. Life was going well, and the sex with my boyfriend was fantastic. However, there was a part of me that he could never fulfill. It wasn't a part of me that I ever thought would be fulfilled. I used to fantasize about being pozzed. The thought of it drove me wild. Only ever a small thing at first, a thought that would drift into my head on occasion if I was jacking off, but later it became all I could think about. The thought of toxic death being pumped into my hole - heavenly. The fantasies grew, and I used to jack off thinking about getting knocked up and then pozzing my boyfriend. Obviously I could never tell him this, and as much as I loved him he had a real bias against guys with HIV. I knew that this was a secret I had to keep to myself, but as I fucked his ass at night I used to pretend I was putting him to death as I cummed. Things changed when I got into work one cold, January morning. I was on assignment in a dermatology ward. Mostly spotty teenagers and old women with psoriasis. I was bored, and I'd told my boss at the time that I wanted a new challenge. "Good news, we're moving you", she said. I could tell she was delighted - she hated me, and the feeling was mutual. "Where am I going?" A smirk crossed her face - "There's a hospice downtown that needs a new nurse". Bitch. Hospice duty was notorious for being an awful assignment. Death all around, people at the lowest ebb of their lives. You were told as a junior nurse to try and avoid it at all costs. How ironic that that's where I now find myself... Anyway, off I went to the hospice. It was in a fairly run down part of town. I sent my boyfriend a picture that morning: And he sent one back: Fuck he was hot - I made a mental note to not even say hello when I got home that night - I'd push him into the wall and fuck his tight hole until I exploded. I messaged back, 'Make sure you're lubed by 6pm x' and put my phone away. I could smell death as I headed into the hospice, and my inappropriate horniness soon died away. It upset me, the poor souls in here at the end of their lives, but I tried to put on a brave face. My new boss was a mousy little woman, and you could tell that the stress of working in this place for years had got to her. She perked up a little bit when she saw me though. I could see her, looking at me in my tight uniform. 'You're barking up the wrong tree dear' I thought. We did the rounds, checking in on each patient. It was mostly older patients, and mostly women. I did my introductions and we checked vitals. "Now," the boss said. "This next patient - I want to warn you, this is a sad case. He is in the advanced stages of AIDS". I felt my cock jump, I couldn't help it. "This particular strain is a nasty one. No medications have worked for this patient. He was diagnosed as HIV+ 10 years ago. His condition has deteriorated at a phenomenal rate". Why oh why did I have such tight pants on? My cock was rock hard and I was praying she wouldn't notice. I moved the clipboard in front of my crotch. "He has no family or friends it seems," she whispered. "He looks awful, I'll warn you. You must take extreme caution around this patient. Gloves to be worn at all times please. He has a number of other STIs, but we can't treat them as we don't think his body could cope with the medication at this stage. He's very near the end". We walked in to see the patient. He looked awful. Skeleton thin, lesions all over him. He coughed, a long, raspy rattle that made it sound like his lungs were trying to escape through his throat. He looked over at me and his eyes lit up. He smiled a toothless grin. He was 50 but didn't look a day under 90. "Hello," he whispered. "Good Morning Mr. Pearce," the boss said as she pulled on some gloves. She nodded towards to glove box and I started to put on a pair. "Please..." he rasped. "Call me David". We did his vitals, which weren't great, and as I made notes I could see him staring at me. Mentally undressing me. My cock was aching, trying its best to force its way out of the fabric of my pants. What was I thinking? This man had a fast-acting strain of HIV. He was dying of AIDS. But my cock didn't care. It wanted him. I decided to be daring, and I moved the clipboard. I could tell he noticed my straining cock straight away. He licked his lips greedily. I put the clipboard back. "Who is your friend?" he said to the boss. "This is Nurse Bateman, he just started with us today". She had a way of talking down to patients that was starting to annoy me. "Good Morning David, nice to meet you". He flashed me a wicked smile. "The pleasure is all mine". We finished his checks and the boss gave him a little something to help him sleep. Before I knew it it was lunchtime. I hurried to the toilet and locked the cubicle door. My pants were down in seconds and I was milking my cock, thinking of David, imagining riding his toxic cock. I cummed hard, just as my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was the boyfriend. "How's the job going?" Just then, a wicked plan began to form in my mind.
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Part One: A Blinking Light ********************************************** A bump in the road snapped me back to reality. It was nothing more than a gravel driveway, and I slowly navigated the darkness, the crunching sound of tire on stone and rock the only audible noise, heading for my destination. My stomach lurched with every tiny bump and pothole I hit. Yes, I was really doing this. My mind began to wander back again to our conversation just a few minutes previously. I had been driving when the telltale flash of my phones status light told me I had a message, that distinct orangish hue indicating it was from Grindr. I was in the middle of nowhere so I did what I shouldn't have and flicked open the app. He had started simply enough with a "hey man," and little did I know it would be anything but simple from there on out. As I always do, I flipped to his profile to see what I was dealing with: no picture, 46, 6'0", 145#, top, right now, positive. My pulse quickly sped up with that last part. It didn't say undetectable. Ordinarily no picture means instant dismissal but a guy on Grindr who straight up said positive was a rare find indeed! Of course guys who say positive often mean undetectable, but still the thrill of his stats (that one in particular) had me intrigued enough to respond. "Hi there." "You looking for some fun sexy stud? Slightly older guy here, but always ready to please." Slightly corny, but okay, I was still horned. "Depends on what you have in mind for me." Vague and elusive, I wanted him to give me more so that even if he turned out to be one of the thousands of flakes, at least I'd have something to beat off to when I get home. "Looking to slide inside a young buck such as yourself and ride him until I unleash my seed inside." A barebacker it sounded like, just my type of response! But now for the real test. "Sounds hot, you got any pics to share?" My phone fell silent for a moment. I knew it, he was one of those guys who probably hit up everyone in range just to amuse himself. I set the phone back down and returned myself to the task at hand of driving, though I noticed with slight amusement that he had definitely gotten the blood flow going down there. And then the steady pulsing of the notification light returned. He had responded. Oh fuck! His pictures took my growing uncut 7-inch piece straight to a solid state. His first pic was a full body shot. He was definitely rocking a semi-wasted look. He was thin with a hint of rib cage showing beneath his well-tanned skin, a nice but not too thick pellet of fur on his chest. His face was slightly gaunt, a thick but trimmed beard and a buzzed head. Thin, hairy, and veiny legs supported him, but his cock... my god, it was true what they said about wasting men--it makes their cocks more impressive. It looked long, uncut like mine, with an ample shaft but a quite impressive head that definitely flared out under the hood. It was the type of head, much thicker than the shaft, that would create that feel of a suctioning plunger inside an ass. There was a second picture, an even more impressive close-up of his wonderful monster. Now clearly hard and pointing at an erect and upright angle the head looked solidly larger than the shaft as I had noticed from the first picture, and just the tip of his piss slit peaking through the opening of his foreskin with a succulent and substantial strand of precum dangling down. I was sold. I responded with a picture of myself and one of my ass, as clearly that would be the most interesting part of me to him. I am a pretty good looking guy if you can get me to admit it. I stand 28, 5'11", 179#, fit though not muscular or ripped, but well exercised from all the sports I play. My chest is smooth, my skin a lightly tanned color, and my ass nice and firm--a slight bubble to it--and just a hint of fuzz on it. "Boy, I would love to be inside that beautiful pink hole, unleashing my seed inside you." "Fuck yeah man. It sounds like you play raw and shoot positive seed, right?" Again my phone fell silent. Had I perhaps broached that topic too quickly? I'm not one for small talk usually, but maybe this time should I have held off slightly, let the conversation develop more? The flash returned. "Prefer raw here, boy. My cock doesn't appreciate plastic. Oh, and my seed will change you - if that's what you want." Fuuuuuuck. It was. "It is, but your cock looks quite large, not sure that head will make it in!" "It's the hardest part to take, but once it's in, you'll never want it out." "Where are you?" This time there was no pause. Up popped the little map clip with the marker. Holy hell, he was just a few miles ahead. I was on a state road, but at 11:00 PM it was all but deserted and dark from the thick woods on either side. I had driven this road many times and had never noticed a house along my drive. "Looks like I'm driving toward you now and would arrive at your place in about five minutes. Is that too quick an arrival?" "Not at all. That cock pic is me - now. I'm ready if you are, boy." "Then I guess I'll see you shortly!" "Fuck yeah boy. Just be sure, 'cause I don't stop once I start, and once I'm in my head doesn't soften until it has unleashed its load inside you." Music to my ears. "I want it." "See you soon." And now, just a few minutes later, here I was, his small house in front of me, deep back in the woods. I parked, turned-off the Jeep, and took a deep breath. Last chance. I opened the door and stepped out into the crisp, cold, late-night air of a fall evening. Another deep breath and a pause. I turned and walked to the door and knocked. A few seconds later I heard footsteps approach the door. A hand on the knob, and the door opened. "Come on in," a voice said from inside. The room was dark, I couldn't see him in there. One last deep breath. I stepped inside.
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The guys that get me the hottest are the guys with big dicks, sometimes hot bodies, but faces that are not traditionally handsome. I get particularly turned on if they are slightly pass their prime and even look like they have fallen on tough times. BJ Slater has a look I would call ugly/handsome and it gets me rock hard. Any others come to mind?
