#bumdickstalker – Who Got That Aids Dick?

[whthole4u]

#BumDickStalker – Who got that AIDs dick?

 

Can you tell the difference in taste when a guy shoots in your mouth and his cum is filled with AIDs?  Can you feel the difference when he blows in your ass?  The venom, the toxic acid, the hell fire spit, the dick that streams poison and death tastes so much better, and feels so much greater than any other.  My voice is hoarse as my vocal chords feel burned and my insides are twisting from his virulent stew that is brewing.  So it began -#BumDickStalker.

 

What do you do when your god issues a commandment?  You obey – or should anyways – guess that’s why there’s hell or whatever for those who don’t.  Well my god, my MASTER, is a straight-thug-fag abusing-uber alpha-swamp footed-evil mother fucker, and I’m honored to serve him.  Yet I had to wonder, how low can one go?  How much degradation is too much?  At what point does the humiliation for his pleasure stop?  I guess the answer is 'never'.

 

It had been a typical work week like any another.  Busy as fuck and I was tired.  And my Master was demanding as ever with a list of shit I had to do for his financial and perverted pleasure. Each week I received a list of tasks to complete and Master was not happy unless I reported back that I was getting bred raw like a slut and had some BBC planting his load in me.  To get there, I was typically ordered to respond to at least five Craigslist ads per day, in addition to placing my own.  The ads he preferred me to hit were ones from straight or bi guys who were as desperate for pussy as I was for dick.  Anonymous, drinks, smokes, gas money – whatever it took to entice them I had to do.  

 

When, as expected, I would not hear back or get an outright, hostile rejection, I had to share that with Master for his twisted pleasure and enjoyment.  He loved to laugh and tell me I was a ‘cock hungry ferret’, but on those occasions when it did pay and I found a DL man who just wanted a pussy – any pussy to fuck - and I got another guy’s load, Master would praise me saying “Good job, keep up the great work!”

 

Feeling totally frustrated and in excruciating need of dick, I decided to take my mind off my troubles and go for a nice walk.  Luckily I live near the river and there is a nice path, some benches to sit on and enjoy the view, as well as a few hide-away bushes and fuck dens where, if one is real lucky, one might find an eager dick.  The sunny day and clear air helped, but the lack of any potential dick added to my desperation.  I was about to turn around and head back home when I saw a tall, dark man in the distance by one of the benches at the end of the yacht club storage house.  I wove my way through the few other people on the walkway and as I got closer saw he was in Army fatigue pants, a black short sleeve shirt, camel boots, and was standing guard over a couple large bags.  He looked quite clean, but I immediately thought – ‘homeless’ and my ass clenched a little as it was rare to see homeless guys hanging around this part of town.  I was about two yards away when he turned, the cigarette in his mouth dangling precariously on his lip.  I stopped like I had just been caught doing something. He scrunched his eyes, scratched at his beard, cocked his head so his gray/black dreads dangled to the side a bit, then took the cigarette out of his mouth and raised his chin in the universal, “What’s up?” greeting.

 

“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked.  Lame, I know, but that’s what came out.

 

“Good, good, good my man. Good my man. Just enjoying this beautiful day right here,” he replied as he thrust forward his right fist to bump mine as a greeting.  He was taken aback though when I held out my hand for a handshake instead and the smile he gave me in welcome was truly heartfelt, and also showed me his badly stained teeth.  I then had to focus on the pain now shooting up my right arm as he gripped my hand.  Fucking hell, he was strong as shit and felt like he was breaking it!  The sinews and muscles in his arm flexed and bulged and I thought, ‘hell, for a homeless dude he’s damn cut and powerful'.  Of course my next thought was, ‘..and I bet he would be a rough dirty fuck’.  Well, I hoped to find out.

 

Suddenly a crowd of construction workers, tourists, and locals seemed to descend from nowhere and my courage took flight like one of the ducks from the river.  I quickly handed him a couple $1s, excused myself, and headed back home where I jacked off twice in a row thinking about him fucking me and sniffing my hand for any trace of his musk.  Like a good dick chaser, I reported this Master and his email response began with, “WTF!!!”  That’s never good.  A ‘WTF’ is like a parent using your full name – you know shit’s about to hit the fan.  Master went on to tell me I better get my ass back out there and lure that bum dick in using all my fag-pussy tricks so I could get his dirty AIDs cum.

 

Now Master knew I got fucked raw and had once asked me my status and then that was that.  It was never anything addressed specifically again and he had never before told me to chase dick specifically hoping I would get a load full of AIDs.  Maybe my bug chasing ways were rubbing off on him?

 

The following few weeks my #BumDickStalker activities would have made the beginnings of a great police blotter:

 

-        I walked by his bench early in the morning on my way to work and a couple times when he was there and sleeping under an old blanket, I left a pack of cigarettes, or a bag with a sandwich, or some other little offering.

 

-        I walked by his bench every night coming home and would even sniff around a bit hoping for some lingering man funk smell.

 

-        I caught a glimpse of him one night as I left the grocery store and with full bags in hand, stalked him for three blocks trying to catch up with him.

 

-        I began doing large circuits around those blocks looking for him if he was not on his bench, and I always had my offerings in my backpack of cigarettes, something to eat, and an extra five dollar bill in my pocket.

 

-        I saw him up by the Metro entrance begging for change and I hung around, circling, trying to find an opening.

 

The more I failed to track him down beyond glimpses, or a quick run in in front of the grocery store, the more Master rode me.  He dismissed all my excuses of ‘never the right time’, ‘too many people around’, ‘the guy had too many bags with him and I didn’t want people in my building to see’, or that ‘the guy seemed just more than a tad crazy’.  The first couple of times I saw the homeless guy he seemed good, but then a few other times he was talking to himself, pacing back and forth in short little loops.  Once I caught the whiff of his smoke – spice – and that shit can fuck you up big time.  Also, instead of carrying on any sort of conversation as much as I tried, whenever I gave him a five dollar bill he would start a rehearsed speech that was the same every time:

 

                  “Abe Lincoln was a free man. He was a free man and a lawyer. Abe Lincoln fought for the rights of his countrymen and by God I shall too until every man is free….”

 

The first time I listened to the entire speech.  It was a long one.  The second time I lasted about halfway through and was impressed, but frustrated.  The third time I just gave him the cash and bolted.

 

Finally one afternoon as I did the extra circuit on the way to see if I could spot him, there he was, resting under the shade of a large tree in front of a building just a block from my house.  I did a quick scan behind, and it was all clear, no one seemed to be walking this way.  A quick scan ahead, and side-to-side seemed good too.  My palms got sweaty, my throat dry, I felt nervous as I approached him.  Like a gentleman with the best southern manners, he rose from the bench and smiled as I approached and held out his fist to bump mine in greeting.  His brow was damp with sweat, his camo pants and jacket looked dirtier than I had ever seen and the skin of his arms had a light coating of dust.

 

“Hi, how’s it going?” I asked using my standard greeting.  

 

The homeless guy took the cigarette butt from his lips, threw it into the grass by the sidewalk, reached into one of his bags that contained his world, and pulled out a Subway wrapper with a half eaten sandwich. “This from you?” he asked.  I nodded.  “Well I don’t much like roast beef, but whatever,” he continued on, “Thanks though. Guess you left the cigarettes too?”  I nodded again.  “So what do I owe for all this generosity you been throwing my way?” he asked.  There it was.  The opening.  Weeks of waiting, wanting, needing.  I looked up into his bloodshot eyes – he’s a good deal taller than me – and said, “I…umm…just trying to be friendly.  I recently moved in up the street, saw you around, and well…” OK, now or never, I could not blow this chance, might as well get right to it, “…wanted to help you out if I could.  And…I…well if you might be up for making a little cash thought maybe I could help you out some more.”  PHEW – there.  I said it.  Sortof.  Kindof.  Not really.

 

The homeless guy sat down, unwrapped the rest of the sandwich and started to finish it off.  I just stood there a second not sure what to do, until he casually pushed his green canvas bag off the end of the bench to make room for me to sit down too.  When he did however, a pile of things spilled out of the open top onto the ground and I quickly knelt to pick them up for him as he continued to chew nonchalantly and watch me.  A few t-shirts, some crusty socks, a well read copy of the Bible, and wrapped up and poking out of a holey towel was a large Ziploc bag.  As I grabbed it, the sound of hundreds of little pills echoed around the bench.  I slowly turned the bag side to side, and around, reading the labels as I did so.  They were all scripts from the Whitman Walker Clinic and included various antibiotics, pain meds, but what made me stop and stare were the bottles of AIDs pills.  Some quite old, some newer, some seemed partially full and others maybe never opened or barely used.  I recognized the names on the bottles as I had taken many of them too over years.  Other bottles I had no idea what they were but my ass lubed up right then and there thinking about how his virus must be mutated like a B-horror movie.

 

I looked up and the homeless guy had an evil smirk on his face that caused his upper lip to slightly rise revealing his row of fucked up teeth – a predator’s smile.  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, brushed a few bread crumbs off his beard, stood up and stretched then ran his left hand up and down his stomach and said, “Much better.  OK, come on.”  He then bent down, grabbed three of his bags, nodded to the open one I had been putting stuff back into and told me, “You grab that one.”  Not a word was said about the pills and maybe he thought I did not know what they were and he was trying to stealth breed me!  Fuck!  That made me rock hard just thinking about.

 

The walk to my condo was a quiet one and while I tried to make small talk with him, the homeless guy seemed more interested in his own thoughts and even just nodded when I told him my name, without giving me his in reply. Fine. That’s cool. I liked anonymous dick. When we got to my building I used my digital key to open the door to the outside stairwell on the end and held it open for him. I was not trying to hide him, but knew the security guards who monitored the cameras in the lobby would call or come by if they saw him walking in with all his bags looking as dirty as he was. Up the stairs I went, hoping he was getting a good view of my ass on the way. Down the hall to the far end we reached my condo, I unlocked the door, he stepped in, dropped his bags in a jumbled pile in the hall, and strutted into the living room.

 

“Nice. Nice place you got here,” he said. “What you got that’s good?” I was not sure exactly what he meant, but went to the kitchen and pulled out a couple options for him to smoke, asked if he wanted beer or liquor and when he said he wanted something clear I grabbed the Vodka bottle and a glass with some ice. I set everything down for him on the side table, flipped on the TV, hit play on the DVR and watched as he squinted with interest at the porn that came on. “Let’s get down to business,” he said, “What do you need done and how much cash you got?” Damn, did I really have to say it? He saw me hesitate, put the cigarette between his lips, slid the clasp back on the belt holding his pants up, dropped the fatigues to the floor, unstuck his balls from his thighs and said, “You trying to get some thug dick? You can see I got a nice one and I’m straight, but I’ll hustle if you pay-to-play.” Nice? I was thinking gigantic, huge, delicious, chewy, drippy, thick, OMFG! And THUG is my favorite flavor.

 

I eagerly nodded my head and he said, “Well get the fuck over here and start sucking it.” I dropped to my knees and scooted into position, looked up and asked, “Can you shoot more than once? I got like $60 on me, plus whatever you want to drink, smoke, eat and stuff.” He placed his large, right hand over his dick as he thought about it, moved his hand away, smiled and said, “Let’s just say I got more cum than most folks can handle. Are you most folks?” I wasted no time then and twisted my head and cupped his slimy balls with both hands as I flicked out my tongue for my first taste – RANK, SALTY, SWEATY, MUSKY  - ALL MAN! I bathed his balls in spit while gently guiding his dick to the right out of the way. My hands held onto his thighs, which seemed just muscle and tendon like skinny chicken legs or something. The homeless guy was focused intently on the porn and his smoke, with the occasional lean to the side for the bottle of Vodka. He was skipping the glass with ice and hitting it straight.

 

I repositioned myself and spit three times onto his flaccid, uncut dick. It was crusted in spots, dark and delicious looking, and I opened my jaws wide so as I rolled the skin back on the head I could slide the shaft as deep as possible into my mouth and throat before closing my lips over it. I forced myself to taste it all at once to inundate my senses with his dick funk. I pulled back off, breathed in, closed my lips over his hardening shaft again, and then with his dick completely in my mouth began running my tongue all around the rough edges of the head, scooping up the cheese and crust – the potent smegma that only certain men can truly make. The homeless guy liked that and moaned in pleasure before grabbing the back of my head hard and forcing me to get down to serious business.

 

Over the next few minutes his dick swelled, deflated, swelled, before he finally pulled back and said, “I gotta piss.” I frowned as I watched him waddle into the bathroom with his pants still down around his ankles and boots. I quickly followed and asked, “Hmm…you want me to drink it for you?” He looked at me, scowled, shook his head, “Naw, I ain’t into that freaky shit,” and continued to stand over the toilet willing his bladder to release.  I stepped back into the living room and a few seconds later heard the forceful rush of piss against the porcelain as his bladder let loose. He finished, popped his head out, “Come here.” I had taken the time while he pissed to shuck my pants and my dick led the way back to the homeless treat. Once in the bathroom he backed up, his heels against the tub facing the sink and mirror that filled the wall. On the shelf above the sink was a torn, crumpled Polaroid picture of a nice looking woman. I faced him, he spun me around and said, “Time to take some dick!” I couldn’t have agreed more and happily bent over, my face inches from the sink bowl. He paused, “You got some lotion or something?” I shook my head. “No, just want it dry or with a little spit – want to feel it.” That made him laugh and he replied, “FUCK YEAH, FEEL THIS BIG DICK,” as he started pushing at my dry ass ring.

 

It wouldn’t go. His dick bent, curved, my hole clenched tighter. Nothing. The homeless guy did not get frustrated, just took a step back, squatted behind me with his big hands covering my cheeks, spread my hole apart and inhaled. “DADDY’S HOME NOW HONEY. IT’S ALL RIGHT NOW. EVERYTHING’S GONNA BE ALRIGHT. SWEET SWEET PUSSY HONEY,” he said right before burying his face in my hole and kissing, lapping, slurping, and priming it with his spit. His beard was rough, and his tongue felt like sandpaper, and I loved it. When he had had enough, he straightened back up, aimed his missile, and pushed. Once he forced himself a little in, he pulled his t-shirt off over his head showing some faded tatts running up his side. His ribs poked out with every breath, his clavical showed, but his abs were cut so he was either wasting or super tight/thin. I was betting on wasting and my hole clamped down on his dick like a kitten on his momma’s tit. “FUCK HELL YEAH – TAKE THAT DIRTY DICK,” he said. Holy fuck my ass about snapped his dick off right there! So many meanings – like earth dirty or disease dirty – and in this case I was literally betting the house it was both.

 

I moaned in pleasure, “DID I HURT YOU HONEY? YOU WANT DADDY TO STOP?” he asked with true concern in his voice. I meekly told him, “No, please fuck me daddy,” and he did. “I’ve missed you honey,” my BBC bum said as he pushed the dreads out of his eyes, “YOU’RE PUSSY IS SWEET LIKE A GEORGIA PEACH. WET AND MISTING ON MY BALLS, THICK LIPS FOR DADDY TO SLIDE AGAINST, JUST THE PERFECT CUNT FOR MY DIRTY BABIES.” I moaned and groaned even more and pushed my ass back and out encouraging his AIDs dick to fuck me deep.

 

He had just started to pick up the pace when he suddenly stopped, backed out of my now wet hole, and said, “Stay right like that.” The BBC bum went to his bags, rooted around, came back with the Ziploc full of pills, set it on the toilet, fumbled a bit, opened a couple of the bottles and then choosing carefully set a few pills out on the toilet, closed the lids, then proceeded to roughly stuff each pill up my ass. I moaned and he used my hole’s wetness to force two fingers in, his dirty and long nails cutting my gut lining as he explained, “YOU KNOW WHAT THOSE ARE HONEY? MY DICK VITAMINS. MAKES MY CUM GOOD AND POTENT SO MY BABIES WILL TAKE. YOU WANT SOME BABIES HONEY? WANT SOME OF DADDY’S BABIES? WE BEEN TRYING SO LONG FOR CHILDREN, NOW I THINK YOU’RE READY TO MAKE SOME BABY BULLS FOR ME.” OK, now I’m thinking he’s back on the edge of crazy, but his big black dick had felt so good I could deal with some crazy.

 

This time when he shoved his man meat back into my secret chamber, he had gone from BRICK to ROCK to STEEL. His dick swelled to the extreme. “DADDY’S STROKE GAME IS AWLAYS ON POINT. I STILL REMEMBER HOW TO MAKE THOSE SUGAR WALLS SING DON’T I HONEY? THAT FEELING GOOD? BEND OVER A LITTLE MORE, THAT’S IT…LET ME UP IN THERE…TRYING TO PLANT THESE BABIES DEEP…TRYING TO FILL YOU UP…MOAN FOR DADDY…LET DADDY KNOW YOU LIKE HOW I’M STROKING IT…MOAN FOR ME HONEY….MOAN FOR ME YOU FUCKING COW SO THIS BULL KNOWS YOU MEAN IT….WHITE COW PUSSY FOR BIG BLACK BULL DICK…READY FOR THAT DIRTY DIRTY NUTT…READY FOR THAT BULL SPERM AND BABY BULLS…FUCKING….OH JESUS FUCK…YES HONEY!! YES HONEY!! TAKE MY BABIES!! TAKE ALL OF ADDY’S BABIES!! OH JESUS YOU GOOD AND PREGNANT NOW FOR SURE!!”

 

Yeah I’m sure my neighbors heard all that and did I care? Not a fucking bit as my ass was full, throbbing, and my guts were roiling from the charged up AIDs cum my BBC daddy bum just gave me. “Taste it for me honey,” he said as he slowly withdrew from my well-fucked ass. His long dick was slick with funk and the cum/ass juice strands seemed almost greenish in tint against his dark skin. I didn’t get to taste it long before he took my hand, walked me into the bedroom, climbed up onto my bed and pulled me towards him. He then rolled me onto my stomach, got behind me, and buried his face in my ass again, slurping and relishing his aftermath. Soon he was ready for round two and this time as he sank balls deep into me, there was no resistance, just a welcoming of his warmth and steel.

 

In the next hour my BBC daddy bum fucked me in multiple positions, fingered my ass with his long fingers and sharp nails leaving little bloody trails on the bed cover, and planted two more loads of his POZ cum inside me. No not just POZ – full on AIDs cum. I was sure of it now as he laid beside me, soundly asleep, his snores coming in regular beats. I was able to study his face now, the sunken eyes, the drawn skin over his skull, the sunken cheeks partially hidden by his beard, the lesionish looking spots on his body. Did the fact that he had kept the crumpled Polaroid always within sight someplace on the bed as he fucked me freak me out? No. Whatever it took, I was willing to do.

 

I held his AIDs bull babies in my guts as long as I could, but finally I had to use the bathroom. When I did, I stood up and examined what came out – the spotting, the thick ropes of cum and ass juice, some gut lining, and swirling chunks of now discolored and broken pills. Can you OD from having pills shoved up your ass? Too late now to worry about that and when I thought about how he must have been on and off a dozen or more AIDs meds and how mutated and resistant his virus must be, I had to stroke myself a few times knowing his bugs were now swimming inside me. My revelry was interrupted as the bathroom door banged opened, my BBC daddy bum walked in, his dick hard and angry, his eyes quickly took in what I had been admiring, and he smiled.

 

The bum then dragged me roughly back towards the bed, pushed me forward, I got on my hands and knees as he slammed into his new home he exclaimed, “I AM RA, YOUR GOD, YOUR KING, AND YOU ARE MY EGYPTIAN QUEEN. SACRIFIC YOUR PUSSY FOR MORE OF YOUR MAJESTY’S ROYAL JELLY!!”

[Hellboy]

Fucken hot

[pigmicah]

so hot! where is the rest of the story!!

[Detchiller]

One of my all-time favorite stories. Bumdick reminds me one of the guys from Oz. Also reminds me of a guy I met on a bear site from Chicago who didn't tell me about his problems staying on many different regimens of meds, so now he was on new meds but he still would forget to take them. He didn't tell me until he had already loaded my ass twice with his mutated load. Been over a year, doc still says my bloodwork looks great. He was still detectable 6 months later. I could see this story continuing with the stalker going to homeless village and getting gangbanged. Woof!

[losolent]

Amazing story, wish there was more 

[richmondass]

Love this story. I have dreamed of offering my hole to the homeless