AIDS Love Story

[Guest mspsubmale]

Found this story on an obscure site that purported to have been saved from the old bug-share site.  The more i've read and re-read this, and comparing it to another story here about an Old Troll that also touched something deep inside me, i wanted/needed to share this and express how much i feel that i would love to find myself in this scenario, and would be doing the same thing:  submitting myself to these men and to become United as One with them, to have their DNA blend with mine and so they could live on in me.

AIDS LOVE STORY

I hit the baths Monday night and things were really dead. I counted a mere eight cars in the lot.

I had the good fortune to find an old compadre lying in the Sling.

He's POZ.

In fact, he has full blown AIDS.

What with the cost of Meds and the precariousness of his health, he only ventures out maybe once a month when he feels at his peak. He's extremely wasted and effeminate—a real mincing queen, but very gentle.

I once observed him comfort a drunken boy who'd just been dumped by his Boyfriend. I watched as they embraced and he wiped his tears away.

At that time I still didn't know his name, for all the years I'd seen him around. I guess that's true of many of my casual acquaintances.

Most of the guys avoided him like the plague. They bitched and moaned about him almost to his face. Yet I never heard him rebuke any of those Screaming Queens. I know I wouldn't have been so kind.

He climbed in the Sling—his Cock and lumpy Ass on display and up for grabs. I pictured myself kneeling down to lick his Hole, my Dick sliding in his Cunt.

Yeah, I had a secret passion for the guy. How gladly would I have drunk his piss and eaten his shit to fuck his bony Ass.

I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. But not just yet. I didn't want an audience in case the guys freaked out (as I was pretty sure they would) and ostracized me as well as him.

It was cowardice on my part, simply put. How I despised my wimpishness. I was drowning in my own timidity.

Reluctantly acknowledging there was no white knight in shining armor cuming to ride his haggard Ass, he knotted his ragged towel about his meager waist and smiled at me and everyone as he pranced past.

I decide to fraternize with the boys and listen to them bitch and moan about the dude. Cowed by my cravenness, I didn't say a word in his defense.

Still I was beguiled by his she-male thing, the AIDS thing, the hole ball of wax. It made him seem so vulnerable and impotent—though impotent was hardly the proper term. But the character assassination never ceased, and it was not my part to remonstrate.

Before checking out, I searched the Maze for him. He was lying on a leather bench. I wasn't sure if he were asleep or waiting for his paladin. I couldn't deny I admired the man. It took guts to cum here and put up with all the crap.

I stopped and listened. I could hear the sibilant sing-song of his wizened nasal passages. Otherwise, it was deathly silent in the Maze.

We were alone.

What could it hurt?

Why not?

Despite the harangue, we were still two human beings in need.

Before I knew it I was beside him on the bench. I ran my hand over his thin body, down his scrawny back, over his bony Ass, and onto his emaciated thighs and twiggy legs.

His skin felt more infantile than masculine.

In the darkened room. He squinted, "Hi."

"I'm John."

"I know. I'm James. I was getting vibes from you before."

"Good or bad?"

"The best." He drew up to kiss me. I pinned him down and frenched his teeth and gums—a warm, deep-throated, passionate exchange presaging things to cum.

Our souls bared, our raw pent-up emotions boiled over.

I went on auto pilot, as my years as a Top ensured.

No, I was not ashamed I craved his disease-ridden, effeminate Gay Ass.

We kissed. I tweaked his Nips.

I sucked his spongy Dick till it grew tall and proud.

I licked his hairy Balls, savoring even the random, cloying strays I extracted off my tongue.

My hormones raged.

I nudged him over so I could rim his Ass. I smelled the remnants of a recent bout of diarrhea and plunged on in. The Queer began to whimper which only served to whet my appetite.

I rimmed him deeper, straining to please and compensate for all the undeserved ill-will.

"I'd love to fuck you."

"I'm full blown POZ."

"I think I know what POZ is all about."

It was then or never. "Might be better in my room. More privacy"

I squeezed his knobby hand and pulled him to his feet. Fleetingly we kissed again before I led him up the stairs and down the hall, past the TV Room where the guys were prone to congregate.

But, like I say, it was a quiet Monday night, and the TV set was off. No witness saw us traverse the halls, which was just as well—for I wasn't yet prepared to deal with the ostracism about to come my way.

The vicious catcalls already reverberated in my ears.

You that hard up?

You have to fuck that Sicko Queen?

I never once released his hand.

It was like I was emboldened by his unassuming feminine mystique.

I felt the certitude of one who's finally met his match,

the paramour who was destined to become my live-in mate for the few years we had left.

[FFun2BB]

 

"mspsubmale" ...WELL DONE !!!

 

                                                            ...please let us read the rest of this story!!!

[CharlieInACave]

Whoa, memories...I remember this story from back in the day! I loved how the writer realistically captures that "mean girls" attitude that we've all witnessed in situations like this one. Now if only he had ostracized his timidity and cowardice enough to remonstrate his thesaurus; clearly the dude relies upon it like it's his paladin.  ;-)

[shinelover]

I love the tone of this story. Well, not the meanness, but definitely the physical and emotional draw. And hopefully that grew into love.