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My name is Charlie, and I am a recovering addict.  Almost 10 years ago, I got involved with some guys in California who got me hooked on meth, used me for a few months, and then basically left me for dead.  I survived.  Well, part of me did.  Sometimes I think its the part of me that should have died.

I hadn't done tina in almost 10 years, though, like a bad addict, I would still look at chem porn, and read sleazy, chem-filled stories on sites like this one, on bugshare, on NKP.  I got off over and over again to stories of guys getting fucked up, whether it be by their choice or not, and getting used like the sluts most gay men are.  I got off on stories about pozzing, stealthing (chems and poz), zoo, you name it.  I was a secret (or not so secret, I don't know) pervert, but I hadn't relapsed.

That was until recently.  See there was this guy that I had talked to over those almost 10 years, from the time I was in California through the time that I moved to Boston.  For most of this time, he didn't know that I was in recovery, that I really shouldn't be talking about how much I would love to be between his hairy thighs while he spun his pipe and blew clouds over me.  This guy was my kind of pig.  Tall, about 6 foot or a little more, and bearish - both furry, and with a belly.  But best of all, he was a pig, and made no bones about it.  Well, he may have made a few bones, if you catch my drift.  His name was Pat, and he was local to me in Boston, only a few miles away, but as anyone who lives in a metro area knows, 6 miles can be a very long way to go for cock.  Pat was into leather harnesses and slings, piss play and fist, sweat, spit and anon sex.  All of that made me hot.  What made me hotter was that he didn't care about his status for most of the 10 years that we were chatting and camming.  He didn't care about his status until he tested positive for HIV in 2015, after which point he started to care more about what his partner's status was.  See, once he converted, he began to like gifting and stealthing guys.  So he would tell some guys that he was undetectable, or just not talk about status with them when they would party with him. 

But he and I would talk about it.  I was still neg, and had been something of a passive chaser for most of my sexually active years.  It was all fantasy to me - granted a hot fantasy that got me off time and again, but still a fantasy.  I let undetectable guys breed me, and didn't ask status for a lot of the guys that used my holes, but still tested neg in 2016.

I had been cautious about talking to Pat after moving to the Boston area, as I hadn't wanted to break my sobriety and relapse, although every day dirty fantasies would flit through my head, where I would go, and someone would slip a booty bump up my hole, and by the time I realized what it was, I wouldn't be able to do anything about it but beg for more dick.  Then I did something that would change my life completely, and free me from the fantasy Hell I had been trapped in.  I told Pat about some of these fantasies, especially ones where I would be kidnapped and forced to do chems and take cock for days.

When I was young, there was no real worry about a guy finding your address if you didn't want him to - it was too much effort for most people to go through, and besides, shit like that only happens to other people, right?  Well, since there has been such an upsurge of technology that utilizes a phone's GPS for the purposes of finding ass, it has become easier to triangulate someone's location based on these applications.  Guess what?  It didn't happen to someone else.  It happened to me.

And I couldn't be happier.

You see, a few weeks ago, Pat and I were talking on Scruff, and I noticed that he was only about a half mile from me.  This was closer than his usual 6 miles or so of distance, so I asked what he was up to.

"Running an errand, had to come down to your neck of the woods to grab something," he said, and I thought no more of it.

I was outside, having a clove in my garage to stay out of the wind, when a car pulled into my empty driveway.  This was a black sedan, unremarkable in its make and model - probably a Camry, there are like a billion of those.  In the driver's seat was someone I recognized, Pat.  He pulled all the way down the drive, not trapping me, but there were few places that I could go to get away.  And believe me, I wanted to get away.  I knew that something was going to happen, I just felt nervous all of a sudden.

"Hey Charlie!  I was in the neighborhood, and decided to drop by to see you, since we have been talking these 10 years and haven't met yet." His voice was as sexy as I remembered, medium timbered but clear and resonant.  All I could think of were the videos he'd sent me of him being a verbal, nasty top with piggy bottoms.  The vids that I had jacked to countless times.

"Oh, hi, glad to finally meet you in person!" I stammered in response, nervous as all Hell.  He came to me and wrapped me in a big bear hug, and I could hear him sniffing at my neck as he hugged me.  So here I am, being hugged by this guy that I think is both sexy and dangerous as fuck, and dammit if my dick doesn't start to chub.  He can feel it, since even though he was around 6 foot tall, I was about 6'4", so my crotch was pressed against his stomach.  I could smell the sweat on him, if I bothered to pay attention, and that was driving me up the wall too.  Pat's arms were around my back, and even though he was holding me tight still, I could feel his hands moving lower, rubbing my lower back, and then my ass.  I couldn't help it, I moaned softly.  He let me go and stood back, peering into my face.

"Please tell me you aren't busy right now," he whispered seductively into my ear, his scruff tickling my neck and jaw.  "Now that I have seen you in person, I'm thinking I'm going to have to feed you my hog right here."  His hog, that was what he has always called his admittedly ample fuck stick.  About 8.5x6 uncut inches, getting thicker towards the base after a head that was great for popping holes open to stretch for his thick shaft.  I'd seen it plenty, in various states of hardness, and I knew that I wanted that cock, that I had wanted that cock for close to 10 years.  I didn't care that he was admittedly poz, not on meds, and wanted to get me to relapse.  None of that mattered, now that I could feel his bulge growing against my hip.

I sighed, knowing that I was being stupid, but not caring.  Knowing that even if it was stupid, I would regret for my entire life not taking the offer that was on the table - getting to play with this guy that I had been into for a long time.

"Not so busy that I don't have some time to finally get to know you, Pat.  It's been too long that we have been dancing around this."  I could feel my face heating up, turning red.

"Good, because I want to make you my pig.  You aren't cleaned up by any chance are you?"  I shook my head, having not planned on meeting up with anyone, let alone someone I had had a dangerous crush on for years. He smiled and said "Well, I have a lot of time, and you are going to go inside, get rinsed up - only inside, mind! And then I'm going to bring you back to my place."

I stubbed my clove out, and told him to follow me inside where I could get ready for him.  I did the usual thing to clean up for a good long fuck, cleaning as deeply and as quickly as I could.  When I came out of the bathroom, Pat was on the couch, looking at his phone, grinning.  He looked at me and said, so you think you're ready for this hog?"  He grabbed his crotch and moved his half hard dick around in his pants.  The thirst was strong, and I nodded.

"Ok then," he said, "grab some lube, I'm going to give you some piss up your ass before we go to my place."  My dick got hard, and I went to get the lube from my room, along with my harness, and bag of toys.  I slipped the harness on under my shirt, put a jockstrap on - red Nasty Pig, sweaty and unwashed, as well as a cockring.  Pat grinned harder as I came out, and I handed him my bottle of Gun Oil.

"Turn around and let me see that hot ass."  I pulled down my pants, and bent over slightly so that he could see and feel my ass.  His hand on my ass felt great, but I was still nervous.  Here I was, letting this guy that I knew was partying, piss up my ass and plug it in me.  He spread a bit of lube on his fingers and lubed my hole, one finger in, then two, and then three, and then four.  In and out, my hole hungry for the attention that it was getting.  I heard him fumbling with the lube again, and then I could hear the unmistakable sound of a cock being lubed.

"You're going to love this.  Hold still."  I felt his hand on my lower back, holding me in place, and then I felt the head of that hot, uncut cock right on my hole, and I pushed back just slightly to get the head of his hog in me. As his head popped through, and I could feel the stretch of his much thicker shaft pushing in me slightly, a light sweat popped out on my brow. Am I doing the right thing here?  I thought to myself.  But even as the thought crossed my mind, it was too late, and I could feel his strong, warm piss filling my hole, and I could feel the heat growing stronger and stronger.  After about two minutes, with his cock pulsing inside me, he sighed and said "There, now clench."  I clenched my hole, holding his very large load of piss inside myself.  It probably would have been too much liquid had I not just rinsed out and had water up there before.

"Hold still pig, I have a plug for you so you don't get that good piss on my car seats."  I felt something cold on my ass again, and then more pressure, and a decent sized plug - I presumed, since I hadn't seen it - popped its way inside my chute.  Pat pulled up my sweats, patted my ass, and said "Let's go, pig." Already feeling hornier than I had felt for the last 10 years, I followed him out, knowing that I was going to be his sub pig for as long as he wanted me.

We got in the car, and he pulled out of my drive, taking off for destination unknown - his place.  I had no idea how long it would take to get there, and I was just happy I had the plug in me to hold that chem piss inside of me.  The ride took about 20 minutes, and we were at his place, where he told me to go right to the tub, bend over, and wait for him. 

The bathroom was simple, beige walls, beige shower tiles, clear plastic shower curtain.  There were hard water stains on the bathtub, but by this point it was something that I noticed only because Pat wasn't there yet.  The sun was shining through the window in the shower, and I could feel its tenuous heat on my skin.

It was hardly a couple of minutes that I was there, in my jock and harness, and nothing else, standing with my head on the shower wall, back arched, ass out.

"Damn, I love a pig who follows instructions.  Ok, we won't be wasting it like this very often, but I want you to push out all of that chem piss into the tub.  We want to make sure I didn't loosen anything else up there."  As soon as he told me to let it go, I started to gently push, as I had had a cramp building from trying to hold it in too long.  The piss came out dark yellow, but clear of any debris, apparently I had cleaned out better than I thought.  Pat made sure that I was still clean, and that there wasn't anything else forthcoming from my hole - that I was ready to get stuffed full of what I was born to take - cock and cum.

"Here, another treat for you, because I know you will be the pig I want soon." Pat's voice was getting sexier, and more dominant with the minute, and again, I did as he told me to - bent over the arm of the couch as we had left the bathroom and gone to the living room.  There was porn playing on the TV, a laptop connected to it, and I recognized the porn, one of my favorite scenes from a TIM flick, one with Calvin and the Fucktard.  My head was out there, focusing on all of the piggy thoughts that I had buried (poorly) over the years, when I felt Pat behind me again, fingers sliding into my hole with a little lube.

"I call these Devil's Cocks."  He said to me as I then felt something frozen touch my hungry hole.  I was already high from the chem piss earlier - it had been pretty strong, but I knew that a Devil's Cock was.  Frozen cum.  He was lubing me right. "Only, these Devil's Cocks have an extra ingredient, my favorite vitamin T.  You are getting about a third of a cup of cum, and quite a bit of tina with this pig.  We will make sure those inhibitions go away."  Shit he knows how nervous I am. I thought this, even though I was already high, already lost.  Already relapsed.  I felt the cumcicle pop its way into my hole, chilling me.  Pat kept rubbing my hole, making me moan.

"Don't worry, we are going to have this hole stretched around my poz hog soon pig.  I'm just going to reteach you how to smoke a pipe, and I'm going to watch you suck my cock while I spin for my hits."  My cock couldn't really get hard any more - I get crystal dick very badly - but I was so horny, and those words made a small wet spot appear in my jock pouch.  He sat on the couch and told me that since I got the booty bump, he was going to enjoy me servicing him before he taught me how to spin the pipe.

The floor wasn't comfortable, but I didn't care, especially not after Pat threw a pillow on the ground for my knees.  He pulled his hog out of his jock - he was wearing chaps, a black leather jockstrap, his leather harness and a cap - fucking hot.  As he pulled his dick out, I could smell his cock and balls, knew that he hadn't washed them in a while, and I was good with that.  The smell was intoxicating.  Or maybe that was the cloud he breathed down on me, not sure.  I sniffed up and down the length of his cock while he spun the pipe, groaned and otherwise enjoyed the feeling of my beard on his cock and balls, and I enjoyed getting his scent mixed up into my face fur.  It wasn't long before I started licking the head of his cock, the very barest part of it sticking out of his foreskin, a drop of precum already in his slit.  I slurped that up while I made eye contact with him, and started to suck his cock into my mouth, savoring the taste of manly flesh, a hint of my ass and piss.

For at least an hour, I knelt on the floor between this man's thighs while he spun the pipe, and I finally got to suck on the cock that I had dreamed about for years.  And suck I did.  I used every skill, every technique that I had developed over the years to give him as much pleasure as possible.  I brought him to the edge 4 times in that first hour, and never let him cum in my mouth - since that would be a waste of his seed.  I was able to better than I ever have in the past, holding him down my throat until black stars danced in my vision.  He held the back of my head and made sure that every inch of his hog was in my throat, and that his full nuts were up against my beard.  I tugged and pulled on his sack while he moaned in that deep voice of his. He grabbed my hands and pulled them to his nipples, "Work em, pig."

"Your throat is fucking awesome, dude.  Why did it take so long to get my hog down your throat? Fuck!" he exclaimed at one point. Because I was a recovering addict, and too chickenshit to let go again. I thought as I worked this hot specimen on manhood with my mouth.  And there is no where I'd rather be right now.  I want this thing in my hole, so fucking bad. I didn't realize that I had said that out loud as I stared at the fully hard 8 plus inches of cock in front of me until I heard Pat chuckle.

"You want my cock up your little hole pig?  You want this hot hog that you have been slurping on for an hour and a half to dig you out and plant my seed in you?  My POZ seed?"

I was looking up at him, hunger still written on my face.  "Fuck. Yes. Sir."  He chuckled again, muttering under his breath, almost too soft for me to hear: "Hog gets em every time."

Louder, he told me to get on the couch next to him, and he would pack a bowl for me, and refresh himself some, since he'd been enjoying the polish job I'd been doing on his glorious tool too much to really blow any clouds.  I sat with my arms behind my head, sweat beading on my head and running down my sides from my arm pits.  I could smell them without moving my head.  So could Pat.

"Woof!  Hot scent coming from those pig pits!"  He was packing what looked to me to be a lot of tina into the bowl, a big pile sitting there in the bulb, which he soon melted into a puddle.  "So, it's been a while since you partied, you told me, right?  So I am going to remind you how to twirl the glass cock.  I'll control the fire for now, you start inhaling slowly and steadily once I tell you.  Don't take your eyes off the hole." I smirked like an 8th grader, and Pat sniggered again.   He heated the bowl like the professional he was, and soon told me to start inhaling, slowly and steadily. "A little harder.  Nope, too much, just...there you go boy.  Pull that cloud in deep.  A little more.  More.  There, hold that until I tell you to let it go."  My lungs are filled to bursting, more than I would take for a toke of pot, way more than a drag of a cigarette.  I felt my lungs start to quiver when Pat finally told me to release it.  A huge white cloud enveloped my head, covering Pat from my view, but it was strangely satisfying.  A couple of seconds later, I heard a cell phone video clip ending, and then some more bits and tweets. 

"Fuck, that was a good cloud boy!  You are going to take a few more like that before we are ready to bend you over.  I like my fuckholes SPUN!  I recorded that, sent you a copy, and am uploading a copy to NKP right now."  I am sure my phone vibrated somewhere around my sweatpants, but I could care less.  I was floating, and perfectly happy to stay that way.  My hole was tingling hungrily, and my eyes were closed, but I heard Pat say "Time for another, slut." I repeated, took another huge hit and blew a nice thick cloud. Twice more.  Then Pat had me operate the fire, and told me to put my feet on the couch and expose my ass. 

As I got into position, Pat got his baggie out again, and put a nice shard on his finger tip, before shoving it knuckle deep in me.  It felt so fucking good. I could feel the cum from the Devil's Cock around the finger, feel it move in me when Pat got in.  I loved it.   Pat saw it on my face and grinned a sleazy sexy grin, and told me to go ahead and release the hit.  I did, and he said very seductively, "Well, I liked what I felt in that hole earlier.  I liked it again just now.  I want to take your hole, keep you high as fuck, pound you, use you, and get lots more loads than just mine in there.  Are you ready to take my cock, and let me make you mine?"

I didn't have to think for very long.  My ass was on fire, doing all of my decision making.  And my ass needed cock.  Pat's cock.  Pat's poz cock.

"Please, yes Sir."

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Damn frigging HOT ctcub!!  I boned up big time the way the story-teller so easily and quickly returned to the piggy pleasures and seductions of Miss Tina!  10 days or 10 years - it doesn't matter...once you've felt the pull and power of T she ALWAYS has conTrol!! Eager to read more of his re-corruption!

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Making my mind spin here -please post more VERY soon! This is fucking hot!! I've always told everyone that I am rather a lightweight when it comes to substances, but reading stuff like this definitely makes me want to meet the right guy to let go with.

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I've been in recovery for about two years, so I could really relate to the narrator's initial trepidation. My drug of choice was heroin, but when I started transitioning and testosterone kicked in and boosted my sex drive, I began fantasizing about getting turned into a tina-fueled fuckpig. It kinda scares me- and excites me- to imagine how sleazy I could get in the hands of a guy with a fetish for corruption and depravity

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