How it Started

41 posts in this topic

I was young - 23, cute, 5'8", furry and preppy looking with brown hair, hazel eyes, a seven inch cut cock and a bubble butt.  And I loved sex.  My boyfriend and I had been together for three years and were monogamous.  We fucked any and every where we could.  We knew about HIV/AIDS.  We both tested regularly even though we only fucked each other, bareback, of course.  Walking around with my bf's load in my hole was amazing. He was a stud. 24, 5'11" 175" smooth and athletic. Hung and hooded. Blond and blue. I bone up thinking about him even after all these years. We were committed to each other.  At least I wanted to be. I mean to be. Thought I would always be.

I was working for DHHS when 'He' walked into my office on a July afternoon in Dallas.  He was sweating after a 30 minute bus ride from the Cedar Springs neighborhood.  Now, our catchment area included what was then the gay ghetto. Bars, gay businesses, restaurants and Chris was a new client. He was nice looking. Built like my bf. Dirty blond with grey eyes. A huge bulge in his tattered jeans. And he was obviously ill. Beginning to look wasted, kinda pale, the fire in his eyes fading. He came into my office to apply for assistance. He had AIDS. He couldn't work. I reached out to shake his hand and holy fuck I wanted him....bad. I don't know why. Maybe it was his lost puppy vibe or his grey eyes or that bulge in his pants. Or maybe it was the bug. Maybe it was that he had AIDS. My cock rose in my pants as my hand touched his. Lust rose up in me.  Inside I was freaking out. I was turned on by some hottie with AIDS.  But I composed myself and got down to business.  That helped. My lust subsided. I did my interview, had him sign the right forms and scheduled his next appointment, which would be a home visit.  Giving him a cab voucher, I showed him out

Back at my desk I got back to work. But he kept coming to mind. That smooth chest, that bulge, those grey eyes, that whatever it was that made him so fucking hot. I kept boning up. reaching down and adjusting my hard-on. All afternoon it was hard and semi-hard, hard and semi-hard. Leaking pre-cum. I'm surprised it didn't look like I pissed myself. I got home that evening. My bf was working late. So I jumped in the shower. As soon as the water hit me, the image of the client popped up in my mind.  I was so fucking horned thinking about him. In my mind I was slowly unbuttoning his shirt knowing that his body was full of deadly virus. Opening it up. Licking his smooth chest and biting his nips.  He was moaning softly. Encouraging me. "Yeah, baby. Suck my nips, you got me so hard. I want you baby. Want your sweet ass." I was licking further down, His belly. Tonguing his navel. Starting down that happy trail to....

Shit. I turned around and flipped on the cold water. The guy had AIDS. What was I thinking? I knew the score. There was no real treatment back then.  There was AZT, and there were also some new experimental drugs, some of which involved massive doses of antibiotics and blood transfusions, but more than not, back then it was still considered a death sentence to come up poz.  And I was insanely hot for this guy.  Monogamous me.  My bf might have due home anytime but there I was fantasizing about having sex with a guy with AIDS.  My cock was rock hard.  Even with the cold water running on me.  I just couldn't stop myself.  An image of Chris' bulge fixed in my mind, I grabbed my cock and stroked once, twice, three times and bam!  I spewed a huge load all over the shower wall, groaning Chris' name as I came. Shot after shot. All I could think was 'I want Chris. I want his cock. His cum. His cum in me'.  And the thought also flashed in my brain 'I want his AIDS'.  Instinctively I put my cummy hand to my mouth as the last shudders of my orgasm racked my body. As I licked my own cum the thought flashed again:  'I want his AIDS'.

I fell back against the shower wall and slid down. Freaked the fuck out. What the hell was I thinking? And why the hell was I still hard? I just sat there for awhile, the cold water running over me until I heard my bf come in.  I wouldn't tell him about this. I couldn't tell him. What a freak I was. That night I slipped inside him while he slept, gently fucking him awake.  I love his smooth fuckhole, still I was thinking about Chris as I filled my beautiful man with seed. We fell asleep again. The thoughts of Chris dulled over the next few days. I had almost forgotten him until some three weeks later I looked at my schedule where I read 'Chris H, Home visit'.  Shit.  My cock started growing.


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Fucking hell, you're off to a good start. More please!! You know what we need . . .


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great beginning. I had that same issue with a counselor and the local AIDS prevention office, he was super hot, not sure his status, but I wanted that bad and that thought kept me going for a week or two. 


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Great start...let's hear more of: "I want his AIDS!"


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So Chris and his bulge and his hot body had faded into the background. I hadn't forgotten the encounter. I had just been able to gain enough distance to be rational.  My lust for him in the moment was just a fluke...just some chemistry and his looks.  Sure I still boned up a little thinking of him but it wasn't like the first few days. The constant boner, the jacking off then fucking my bf, then jacking off again. It was almost three weeks later and I had returned to some semblance of normal. I just told myself that saying "I want his AIDS" was just a weird one-off moment of crazy lust. No HIV for this puppy.  Just my bf and I happily ever after. Then on a Friday I checked my schedule for the following week like I always do. There it was. His name. On Thursday’s schedule. “Chris S. 2pm. Home visit.”

An utterly strange sensation ran up my spine. I just stared at the appointment. I felt as if a veil dropped over my brain. Blood rushed to my head, to my cock, my balls drew up. “Chris S, 2pm, HOME VISIT.” Home visit. With him. Just him. In his apartment. With 2 hours set aside for paperwork and benefits review that would take maybe an hour. No return to the office after. Just him and those grey eyes and that bulge. I was barely breathing. His image rose up in my mind and my cock throbbed in my pants, pushed painfully against my tighty whities. Just him and his virus.

Shit, I thought. “Fuck” I said. Then “fuccccckk” I moaned and dropped my head to the desk and my hand to my crotch. My bf was out of town that day too. He wouldn’t be back till midday Friday.

I shook my head. “Get a grip.” I muttered. I closed my calendar and went out to the smoking area. I didn’t smoke but it was time to start. The only person there was Stennette, a supervisor. I bummed a butt from her. She told me I looked whiter than usual and laughed. Dubbed out her smoke and went inside. I stood there. In that little courtyard. Secluded, out of anyone’s view and smoked. Deep. I started to relax and sat on a bench.

My hand went instinctively to my crotch. I was still boned. I rubbed it hard. Moaned quietly. I don’t know why, but I rubbed it again and allowed Chris’s image to rise in my mind. I was stroking it now. Picking up on the fantasy from that first day I met Chris. Imagining myself licking his chest lower and lower as I unbuttoned his shirt. My tongue rasping across the small lesions between his pecs. Tongue fucking his navel as I reached for his belt and slipped it open.

“Yes, baby.” has was saying, “Yes baby. It wants you. You want it. Take it in your mouth baby.” In my mind I had opened his fly and shifted his ratty jeans down his hips. His cock tented his boxers. So hard. I could feel it through the material. Precum spotted the boxers.

“Take it baby. It wants you.” His hand was one the back of my head. Gentle pressure. He wasn’t forcing. I grabbed his cock through the fly of his boxers. My mouth watered. I didn’t need to be forced.

The image was too much. The lust over-road the fantasy andmy cock exploded in my pants. I just kept stroking and rubbing. Lying back on the bench as my cock pulsed and pulsed filling my pants with cum. A dark wet semen stain spreading across my crotch. Spurt after spurt of young sweet uninfected semen. I was moaning…loud. I didn’t care. I was lost in the fantasy. “fuuuucckkk…” I moaned “fucking want it. I want it so bad. I want that virus, the death-cock” as the last spurts of cum filled my pants.

The orgasm was subsiding. I shuddered. I sighed and reached into my pants scooping up cum and bringing it to my mouth. Licking my fingers I muttered “Chris’s jizz.”

I must have dozed a little. The screech of the inner door to the smoke break area brought me back with a start. In an instant I knew what I looked like. I sat up, grabbed an abandoned McDonald’s soda cup and as a couple of people pushed open the door I “accidentally spilled the old lukewarm, ash-filled soda onto my crotch.

“Shit. What the fuck.” I said standing and heading for the door. The two smokers just laughed. I laughed back and headed to the Men’s. As I tried cleaning myself and letting the hand dryer get dry up the worst of the “spill.” I looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t freaking out. Wasn’t really thinking of my bf. Only of Chris. Only of the orgasm that stained my pants.

I looked long and hard at myself in the mirror. “You are so fucked.” I whispered. I went home that night and raped my bf as soon as he walked in the door. He loved it. So did I. All I could see was Chris’s cock as I spewed my load in my bf’s hole.



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