Druken POZ Fuck in Atlanta

[1981virginia]

Taking POZ Seed in Atlanta

I was interning in a corporate office to pick up some hours as I was putting myself through school. My boss, Tim, asked me to come along with him to Atlanta for a conference. He said it would be a good opportunity to interview prospective firms that I might apply to for work after school. The company was going to pay for our flight and our room, which we'd have to share, but I knew Tim was professional and it would not be an issue. How could I say no?

The fist two days of the conference went well, and I handed out a bunch of resumes. One firm scheduled an interview with me and I nervously went. The interview was in a living room area in a suite shared by several partners in the firm. I met Chuck, a junior partner, right on time. He was wearing a nicely-tailored slim suit that only accentuated his muscular chest. He extended his hairy palm and shook my hand vigorously. I could feel myself going weak at the knees for this hunk, but managed to hold it together. Turns out that Chuck had gone to the same university as me and was impressed with my resume. After about thirty minutes chatting about life, my ten-year plan, etc., he told me that he would be pleased to offer me a job, on the spot, to start as soon as I got my diploma. Score!!! He offered to take me and my boss out to celebrate.

Even though my boss, Tim, was married and had a family, I always suspected he was a closet-case. I couldn't help but sneak a peek at his chest as he showered and changed clothes for the night. My suspicions were confirmed when I met Chuck and Tim in the hotel lobby and both were dressed to impress. Both of them clearly worked out, and their tight t-shirts clung to every ripple of their muscles and their tight jeans left little to the imagining. They kissed on the cheek and hugged. We three hopped in a cab, with me in the middle. I knew there was some chemistry going on between these two and felt awkward being caught in the middle.

The cab dropped us off on the north side of town and we barhopped, getting more and more drunk with each stop. By the last stop, Chuck and Tim couldn't keep their hands off each other and disappeared into the bathroom for what must have been fifteen minutes. I entertained myself at the bar, knowing those two studs were getting it on in the bathroom. The bartender chatted me up a bit and brought me a drink, “from an admirer,” he said, pointing to a really cute guy in his mid-30s a few stools down. I smiled at him and said thanks. He scooted to the stool next to me, and we flirted a little. He introduced himself as Brad, which made the bartender chuckle, so I doubted that was his real name. Brad had cropped black hair styled up into a faux-hawk , a chiseled stubbled jaw, and pale blue eyes that I wanted to stare into for a long time. He put his hand on my thigh and I let him. He bought me another drink. Still no sign of Tim and Chuck.

After downing the second Jack and coke Brad had bought for me, I told him I would be right back and staggered to the bathroom, mostly to check on my current and future bosses. Sure enough, they were going at it hot and heavy in a stall. All of the urinals were occupied by guys pissing or guys wanking listening to the fucking going on behind the latched door. I let myself into the next stall and was surprised to find a glory hole. I knelt down to take a look and saw Chuck pounding the hell out of Tim's ass. I'm pretty sure it was bareback, but didn't want to get caught peeping, so I pissed and left.

When I got back to the bar, Brad was still sitting there, with a fresh Jack and coke waiting for me. Something in the back of my head told me not to drink it, that he might have slipped something into it, but I figured, what the hell. He was super cute and I figured I was going to go home with him anyway, so what did I have to loose?

From that point on, my memory of the evening is spotty at best.

* * *

I was on my knees in an alley, asphalt grinding into skin, as Brad face-fucked me. He had a thick uncut 8” cock and low-hanging balls that bounced with the force of him driving in and out of my mouth, my jaw opened to the limit. I remember seeing a scorpion tattoo on his groin. It was so sexy, almost dancing as his muscles flexed.

“You like my tatt?” “Ummmmgh-huhghghg,” I gurgled as he kept fucking my face. “Want one of your own?” “Ummmmgh-huhghghg!”

* * *

Brad had somehow gotten me into his pick-up truck. I was slumped in the passenger side with my pants at my knees as he fisted my drooling boner. He was driving my somewhere. He got out of the truck and walked around, supporting me with his brawny arms, and walked me into a neon-lit tattoo parlor. “Just like mine,” I remember him telling the artist as he unbuckled his belt and let his pants drop. A bearded hulk of a guy with a rebel flag bandana and a long unkempt beard pulled my pants down and had to jerk back as my wet cock sprung up. Brad leaned me back and poured some whisky into my mouth as the tattoo artist laid down the design and began to trace it with the needles.

• • •

“No, let's go back to my hotel, Brad. It's classy. You'll like it,” I slurred. I couldn't believe I had invited this stranger back to my room, the room I was sharing with my boss who was more than likely hooking up as well! I remember leaning on him as he walked me through the lobby and into the elevator. We miraculously found the right room and let ourselves in. Sure enough, Tim and Chuck were in bed together, Chuck riding Tim's dick as he bounced him and down, their sweaty backs glistening in the low-light of the room. They froze as we walked in. Brad piped up, “Don't let us disturb you...” He was dragging me by now, into the bathroom. He flipped on the incredibly bright light and tore my clothes off.

I remember the cold of the tile. I remember him sucking my dick as he traced my aching new tattoo with his finger. I remember him tongue-fucking my ass as my face was pressed against the bathtub rim. I remember him slapping me around a bit with his dick. I remember pushing back to meet his thrusts as he fucked me, bare. I remember shooting my load all over the floor and him pushing my face down into it and forcing me to lick it up. I remember him cumming deep in my ass, at least twice.

The rest is a blank.

• • •

The next morning, I awoke sore from head to toe. My stomach was aching more than it ever had. Brad must have beat me black and blue. I had two black eyes, a bloody nose, and innumerable bruises all over my body. I was too weak to stand. Tim knocked gently on the door and let himself in. “Morning, tiger.” He was shocked to see me in the tub, naked, used, and abused. He was even more surprised by my new tattoo. “I didn't know you were a Scorpio.”

Tim was a real gentleman, and helped me stand up and gently held me under the shower head. I knew he was getting hard and could feel his cock nuzzled up against my ass. “I've always thought you were so sexy, but if we ever screw, I want it to be nice for both of us. You're too messed up now to enjoy it...” I smiled weakly as he gingerly kissed my neck and rinsed me all over. I saw a river of pink as he washed my ass. “He must have really torn you up back there! Hope it was worth it!”

It was only later that day that it really sunk it what had happened to me. I freaked out when I realized that he had fucked me raw and came in my ass at least twice. He had used me all night. I cried out several times, but Chuck and Tim thought it was because I was enjoying myself. On the flight home, I confessed to Tim what had happened and that I thought I had been drugged. “So did your new friend convince you to get that tatt?” “Yeah. It matches his.” “You know what that symbol can mean, right?” He told me and I was mortified. Brad might have been POZ. As soon as I got back to my dorm on campus, I dropped my stuff and headed to the student health clinic. They took blood samples and told me that I had definitely been given something other than booze. I tested NEG and had to go back every month for testing for a full six months just to be sure.

Word to the wise, if you're in Atlanta, don't let “Brad” buy you a drink, unless, of course, you're into that sort of thing. Which I now am...