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The Fucker Deserved It


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I always thought I was saving myself for the right guy. He would be fit, beautiful, successful, worthy of being my husband. Yeah, I jerked off to Treasure Island, Dark Alley, Sweet 'n' Raw, you name it. I even posted an ad on BBRT with no pics, just so I could fantasize about raw loads. I'd flirt, I'd lead them on. Then I'd flake. "Sure, I can email pix." Then I'd shoot my load and disappear. I had a nearly-perfect body, and I'd always meet boys when I went out and they would always fuck me or take my cock. Because I wanted to be neg for my future husband, I kept a supply of latex condoms in my nightstand and in my front right pocket. I held back, knowing my skin-on-skin lust could someday be fulfilled with one perfect man. I met him, at a bar in midtown, New York. He was everything I thought I wanted: beautiful, ripped body, and god-so-fucking charming. We were both in our late 20's. The first night we met, we fucked like wild animals - except for that layer of latex. We started dating, fucking, and I fell in love. He said he did too, but we always kept that barrier. He swore he'd never fuck without it, even when we someday got hitched. It was just too important to be safe.

Over time, we got comfortable. I put on just a few pounds. Not much, but enough that a thin layer of padding covered my abs. That's when he changed. He stopped being as charming, as attentive. Finally he broke it off. "I just can't be with you like this. Let's be friends." I thought my life was over. He meant the world to me, but I tried to be friends. We took our break, then started hanging out again. I put on a few more pounds, and it was no longer just a thin layer over my abs. I watched as he made out with other men, right in front of me. I'd kiss others too, just to prove I could.

Then I started working out again, and stopped talking to him. I got my abs back, my pecs back, my perfect muscled ass back. And on one drunken night, I saw him again at Barracuda. I watched him scoop-up a handful of latex condoms and leave with some hottie. I went home, logged onto BBRT, and put up pics of my new, hot body and face. I tried not to want him. I still did, but I couldn't have him, but I could try the other thing I wanted. I was so afraid of the bug, but had jerked off so many times to gift giving fiction.

When my pics were approved, I did my first search. I wanted someone so unlike him, but still hot. I looked for someone in Harlem, someone Latin, someone black. Someone without all the yuppy hang-ups. I got to status. I clicked that I wanted someone who said, "Ask Me." My cock was throbbing as I started going through profiles, replying, waiting for a response. Finally I got one. His cock was huge and uncut. His body was a perfectly-sculpted ebony fuck-machine. His status said "ask me." I didn't ask that, but I asked his address, and when he told me I got right in a cab and got right up to Harlem. When I got there, he was wearing nothing but basketball shorts, his half-hard dick poking down the leg. We didn't waste any time with bullshit. We made out like crazy, devouring each other's face like men who hadn't been fed in years. I sucked him just long enough to get his 9" uncut dick good and wet, then I pushed him on his back and finally gave in. I pressed my ass down onto it, clamping it and feeling the precum leak around my hole. I felt the foreskin bunch at the entrance to my ass and then slowly push back as I fucked myself onto him.

In no time, I was all the way down the shaft and started working my ass up and down, up and down on him. He was helpless as I started pulsing my ass muscles, finally feeling raw skin inside me. I used his body and his cock as my objects, mercilessly ramming myself up and down on his dripping rod. I knew I couldn't touch myself, that I would cum instantly and I wanted his load before I could let mine out and start thinking about my behavior. I had waited so long to finally get barebacked, and I felt so right there impaled on his cock. He tried to take control, but I was out of control. I just rode him like there were no tomorrows, and finally he gave over to the assault of my ass. He simply lay there moaning saying "Fuck yeah," repeating that over. Finally his "fuck yeah" refrain took on a new more urgent tone and I knew he was about to cum. I reached back and felt his balls, stroking his bulging prostate between his balls and his ass. He closed his eyes and started grunting and I felt that prostate start to pulse. I knew he was cumming in me. Nothing had ever felt so right. I shot a massive wad of cum all over his abs, then left him panting on the bed and left with his probably-poz load in my ass.

I jerked off for days to that as I waffled between going for PEP or not. I didn't, of course.

I logged on more often after that. Next came the Latin kid who was 22, whose tongue went halfway down my throat as he flooded my guts with seed. His profile said "ask me." Next was another black guy, this one in his 30s, whose profile said "ask me" and who told me "take my cum, slut" as he loaded me up over and over. Next was a muscled bartender from G Lounge with a biohazard tatt who threw me around like a rag doll and didn't ask any questions when I ripped off the condom and milked his cock with my ass. After that came a hot blond twink from BBRT whose profile said "poz" and creamed me four times in one night. I was actively chasing and loving it. Every new dangerous encounter thrilled me. Ten, twenty, thirty loads went up my ass.

That first black guy hit me up again, and I went back for more. I brought some coke, we did a couple lines, and in no time I was slamming up and down. Then I finally let him have control. But I finally asked him, as he was ramming the fucking hell out of me. "You poz?" "Yeah, you?" "Not sure. You on meds?" "Hell no." "Fuck yeah. What's your viral load?" "Hundred thousand last I know." He just kept fucking with this wicked grin. "Mmm, I'm about to cum. You want the bug?" I didn't even want to hesitate. "Fuck yeah!" He rammed me harder than ever and buried his tongue in my mouth as he exploded with a series of grunts and moans, shooting spurt after spurt of charged cum deep into my guts. I was probably already poz, but I shot a massive wad all over myself at the thought of his bug juice going up my hole. I came down with a flu a week later and knew what it meant. One of those 31 loads had taken.

With my abs back and my body back, I was looking pretty hot and ran into my ex a bit later. Condom boy was drunk and wanted to fuck. I was still mad, still hurt, and I knew I was poz though I hadn't tested, but when he asked, I knew what I wanted to do. On the way home I stopped at a drug store, purchased some lambskins, and slid one on when we went to bed. We flip-fucked for an hour, using those porous condoms. The poor guy didn't know what hit him as I shot a massive four-day load inside a condom that was good enough to stop babies, but not the swimmers I had in store for him. I knew I was acute, probably with a viral load in the millions. And several million little particles of virus seeped through those tiny pores in that lambskin and planted themselves in the fucker's tight little ass.

When he left, he said, "that was a mistake. We shouldn't do this again." I just laughed and said "We probably don't need to." I kissed him on the cheek and sent him on his way. When he messaged me that we needed to talk a couple months later, I just ignored it. After all, I was in the middle of getting fucked by another big poz cock, and it was just about to spill some more microbes up into my willing, hungry guts. I still don't have a poz test result, but fuck am I having fun getting the loads I can while I hold off on going to find out.

Edited by Hotload84
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  • 6 years later...

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