Living Out An Old Fantasy

[Memprys]

When I was 20, back in the 80s, a wealthy gay man offered to make me his sex slave but live in luxury, if I would let him infect me with AIDS.

We didn't call it HIV back then, and it was a death sentence at the time. I turned him down... not without spending a lot of time talking to him, though! And, as I began to regret that decision over the years, I found it wasn't the life of luxury that I missed, but the chance to be intentionally infected.

Twenty-five years later, I found myself about to enter a bathhouse for the first time since I'd been young. I was nervous; I no longer had the hard body of my youth, my hair was much thinner, and I'd developed a gut somewhere down the line. But it was my birthday, and for the first time in years I had no obligations, no relationship, no one depending on me. And I had promised myself the chance to get infected.

I was embarassed when I saw the young, hard bodies behind the desk... Why would anyone be interested in me when there was meat like this around?

I got my key and my towel and stripped down.

At first I couldn't get anyone to notice me, or of the couple who barely did, one laughed. I felt humiliated, but I was determined.

This club had a gloryhole wall where the men using the holes stood on a platform, and the men sucking could stand up straight. I stood on the lower level until a cock appeared in front of me. I went down on it and it got super hard, about 8 inches long and slender. He was shaved, and there was a tattoo that I couldn't make out. I've always been good at giving head. I can easily overcome my gag reflex, and I can deepthroat almost any cock to the balls. I did this with him for a while.

Before he shot his load, I asked: "Do you want to cum in my ass?"

There was a moment's hesitation, and the cock disappeared. I began to feel like I had blown it, when the man stepped in front of me.

To my surprise, he was my age, but in much better shape. "How do you want it?' he asked, matter-of-factly.

"Bareback," I barely managed to say.

He just nodded and motioned for me to follow him. He led me to a private room and told me to get on the bed. He told me to suck him some more, and to use plenty of saliva, because that's all the lube he was going to use. As I sucked on it, I noticed with a thrill of excitement that his tattoo said "Toxic Cock!"

He noticed the way I looked at it. "You don't have it yet, do you?" he asked. I could only shake my head.

"Do you want it?"

I nodded quickly. "Yes," I said.

He laughed. "You expect me to give it to you tonight?"

"Please!"

"It doesn't work that way," he said. "I'm medicated, and my cum probably doesn't have enough virus in it to infect you, no matter how hard I fuck you."

My disappointment must have been obvious, because he laughed. "I could go off my meds," he said, "And develop a high-viral load. But why should I do that for you?"

I swallowed. "I'll do anything for it," I said.

He looked at me with interest. "I want you to make it worth my while," he said. "Come live with me, and do anything I tell you. The day you arrive, I'll go off my meds. And if you're still there in two weeks, I could have enough virus to infect you."

With that he turned me the way he wanted me and rammed his cock into me. He didn't infect me that day, but I felt wonderfully sore for a couple days after.

It took me a month to get away. I quit my job and collected the deposit on my apartment. These had been his conditions: That I have nothing left to return to. I had complied without even knowing what kind of home I would be going to.

It wasn't the luxurious estate that I'd been offered in the 80s. It was a working farm, and I found myself used not only sexually but for labor. He would work me until I was ready to drop, and then he would fuck me. As he promised, he quit taking his meds during this time.

He didn't simply fuck me. He reamed out my ass with a bottle brush every day so the virus could more easily enter the bloodstream. It hurt when he fucked me, every time.

It's now a month that I've been here, and I'm sick as hell. It's August, so it seems a strange month for the flu... except, of course, what I have isn't the flu. The day I woke up with a fever, throwing up, and aching all over, he told me I'd been pozzed. I've decided to continue to live with him and serve him. We've agreed that, while he will return to his meds, I will never take them. I am not living in idle luxury as per my old fantasy, but I'm nevertheless content with the life, and eventual death, I've chosen.

[Giftundpozempfangb]

Super story and be forever delivered as a toy