Sharing the Bug and Our Lives

[Hotload84]

I'd like to tell you a little story. It's about something we've all heard about and many of us fear. It's about HIV. How I went about converting.

Perhaps this is a little too abrupt for you, this blunt disclosure of my status. A lot of you get queasy discussing AIDS. If you are one of those, this story is not for you.

My lover and I met about a year after I divorced my wife. I’d been browsing for a masseur. I’m not into paying for sex, but I’d been promoted to a new position and wanted a special celebration.

I’ll bet you're saying, "His BF is a prostitute!" Well, I didn’t intend for him to become my Lover. We hit it off and I wanted to see him on a regular basis as a person, not a client. He agreed, long as I understood that he was a “working boy”, and there could be no expectations, other than for a mutual good time.

The early days were interesting. He was always on the go, doing tricks, clients, friends, fuckbuddies, parties, etc. Get the picture? It wasn’t long till I wanted more of him to myself.

I’d never had unsafe sex. Sure lots of straights and marrieds cruise the parks and bookstores, and get off on the sleaziness of cumming in any hole that presents itself. I did get off on sleazy, but never played unsafe. Until one night, that is.

That night this sexy BF sat on my hard, bare dick. Maybe you can remember the first time you came bareback up someone's ass For me it was mind-blowing, since I’d never done it raw. And, incidentally, I’ve NEVER used a condom since—with him or anyone else.

He was ecstatic as my seed pulsed into him. I don’t know how many times he’d been fucked since we’d met nine months before, but he was sure enamored of my jizz inundating his gut.

It seems odd that I yielded so readily to unsafe sex, since I’d always been so careful with everyone else. He was blatantly promiscuous, and to me that spelled “high risk.” Sure enough, a week later I was diagnosed with genital herpes.

My first thought was that I’d contracted it from him; but there was no way to tell, since herpes transmits so easily. I told him I’d have to lay off sex for a while. He got checked by his doc, and got a clean bill of health.

Both our docs suggested an HIV test. We talked about what would happen if one of us came back poz. He seemed concerned, but not afraid. He knew the odds, considering how promiscuous he'd been. I wasn’t as unflappable as he, so it was great having him around to talk to.

I figured we were getting pretty tight since we discussed so honestly and openly the hardest things to share. Death and disease are not your typical infatuation topics. That weekend we headed to Palm Springs. I got my results back the day before we left. His weren't due back for a week.

I’d tested neg. As I walked out of the doctor's office, I breathed a huge sigh of relief—but things change, and today I feel much differently.

Anyway, I was almost clear of herpes. I had been taking my meds regularly, and didn’t think I could infect him.

Actually I was so horny to fuck him and cum in his ass, we didn't even check into our room. When we got to the Bed-and-Breakfast, we went skinny-dipping. But I had one thing in mind, and, damn, if we didn’t do it in the pool. That was hot! We had a wonderful weekend of laughter, love, and sex.

The week after we returned we reminisced about our trip. For both of us, the pool was numero uno. For him it was doubly memorable.

First there was a couple in the hot tub across from us who’d watched us fuck. So BF had a voyeuristic streak! I hadn’t been aware of that or them.

The second was my BF’s fantasy that I might be giving him herpes or he might be giving me AIDS—his test results weren't back yet, remember?

It is one thing for two guys having high-risk sex to consider the possibility (no, probability) that they might infect each other. It’s something else to eroticize about it.

Disgusting? Absolutely. Sick? Positively.

The only trouble was—that was my fantasy, too!

We got so horny discussing AIDS that we simply had to fuck then and there. We raced to the bedroom so I could screw him and eat my cum out of his ass.

After that we made a pact. If either of us tested poz, the one would pump the other full of contaminated jizz. If one of us became infected, he had a duty, obligation, to knock up the other. How many nights did I fantasize about breeding him! To do so would be a dream come true.

As time went on, we fell deeply in love. Ours was always an “open” relationship that allowed third party trysts with whomever we wanted—but afterwards we always shared our dalliances.

Our lives became intertwined, and when I bought a condo we moved in together. But we retained a sexual autonomy most relationships can’t stand. Our sex lives were especially full back then. We made glorious love together, augmented by adulterous flings. Maybe not so much on his part. His escort work had dwindled considerably. But I more than made up for everyone he didn’t do.

It was during one of those dissolute affairs that I got nailed. I tested quarterly—not because I was scared of HIV—but because I wanted to know as soon as possible. I wanted it to happen. One morning I woke up in a night sweat and got tested the next day. I had sero-converted.

Can you imagine what it's like to hide a smile when your Counselor tells you you’ve converted? I was neither sad nor angry. I was thrilled!

It was a lunch time Thursday when the Counselor told me. I rushed back to the office to call BF.

I couldn't wait to fulfill my part of the bargain. I got rock hard with an erection that could cut glass. I couldn’t believe how wonderful it felt to be carrying the Virus, with which I would soon infect my Lover. It gave me such an erotic high, I could barely function for the rest of the day. I couldn't wait to get home to impart “THE GIFT.”

I leaked precum all afternoon, and took every opportunity to taste it with the knowledge that the BUG was present in that salty, slippery fluid. I knew BF would relish it on his tongue and lubing his tight hole. When I arrived home that afternoon, I was greeted with passionate hugs and kisses at the door.

The Gift I had to share with him aroused us in the most magnetic way. We were so high with lust that we lost our appetites as our dinner conversation turned erotic.

"I want my poison cum soaking in your ass all night. I've been thinking of nothing else ever since I found out. I need to breed you."

"Knock me up. Make me join the Brotherhood. P-l-e-e-e-a-s-e!"

Such were the sentiments we exchanged that weekend. We called in sick, so we wouldn't have to work on Friday.

We spent the next three days doing it—in bed, the living room, the kitchen, bathroom and garage—everywhere—fucking and sucking. Barely a drop of poison jizz escaped us. I fucked him 13 times. And, in between, I sucked him, he fucked me, or I ate my noxious cum out of his ass. He was sore and I was worn out by Monday morning.

Although he didn't get his test results for several months, I knew I’d pozzed him. I knew it with every drop of caustic cum he took.

That weekend was 6 years ago. We frequently have poz and neg guys over for bareback sex, relishing each drop of toxic jizz we share. Do you believe in reinfection? We certainly do, and it gives us special pleasure when the poz loads we take rejuvenate the Bug in us, despite our meds. Perhaps we’re shooting for a Superstrain.

I have not been ill with HIV-related complications. But BF was hospitalized once for loss of weight. He’s gained it back, though, and then some, and has been healthy ever since.

We’ve never regretted THE DECISION. Our Conversions defined our lives and solidified our love. I still get hard reliving his. So we continue to share the BUG. But that’s a story for another time.

[Guest nastypozhole]

A great story.  My experience was the same...but with my dad!