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17 minutes ago, joethomas said:

PART 8: ASHTON’S WRESTLING MISADVENTURE

If Ashton remembered anything from his breeding Friday night, he didn’t mention it Saturday, although Jimmy and I exchanged a few knowing glances and winks at times. We all slept until about 10 a.m. and woke up refreshed as if we never had a drink the night before. Ashton was his same outgoing, fun, young self. I truly think he didn’t remember being sucked off or having a potent load of HIV pumped into his jock hole just a few hours earlier.

I treated Jimmy and Ashton to lunch at one of my favorite bistros in town, and from there we headed to the arena to begin a busy day and evening of entertaining about 600 fans. Ashton was a hit with the crowd, and later he told me he sold about $250 worth of t-shirts and 8-by-10 photos.

His match would be first on the card that night, and I was so busy that I didn’t even have a chance to talk with him to plan. I finally saw him about 10 minutes before bell time, and he approached me and asked if I had any requests.

For the first time, I saw his attire for his match: White wrestling boots, no shirt (thankfully), and a pair of skintight, faded jeans with holes carefully ripped to reveal just the right amount of skin while barely keeping a PG image. Tonight, he was playing the “good guy” in his match. Damn, the girls and gays will eat this up, I thought.

I wished him good luck and went to chat with his opponent for the night -- Joe, that 6-4, mature, burly, hairy, muscle god I’d booked to abuse my previous toy Cody weeks earlier. I gave Joe clear instructions: “Don’t go easy on this kid. Find a way to grab the holes in those jeans and rip ‘em to shreds. Give him a few minutes to look good and come back late but destroy him in the end. Whatever’s left of his jeans, bring them back to me. I’ve got an extra $100 for you.”

Joe winked and laughed heartily as his thick hairy chest heaved. He said, “That’s twisted, but I’m not even gonna ask why. But you got it, boss.” His eyes lingered a little more than usual with mine as he answered, and something in my mind told me that he and I just might think more alike than I realized. In his eyes I saw a twinkle, yet there was a hint of evil understanding.

And he wasn’t kidding about carrying out my wishes. Sexy Ashton got in a few good moves early, but Joe turned up the heat quickly and began a vicious beatdown of the jock kid. I counted at least 6 times when Joe grabbed Ashton by the holes in his jeans to either lift him up or toss him across the ring. Each time, Ashton’s jeans ripped further, and large chunks of denim eventually came loose and littered the ring. Joe allowed Ashton a brief comeback near the end of the 15-minute encounter, as planned, before once again grabbing a piece of loose denim and lifting the stud over his head.

As Ashton came crashing down, his entire left denim pant leg stayed in Joe’s hand. Ashton crashed to the mat on his back, his left leg thoroughly exposed so much that the bottom of his white jock strap was on full display. A rip had developed all the way to his crotch enough to show his cock bulging through the white jock strap to anybody who chose to look.

Joe sneered as the ref counted 1-2-3 and declared the big man as the winner. He grimaced to the crowd as they booed the brute’s vicious attack. As Joe stood, he took one final souvenir off the jock’s body – with one swoop, he grabbed the rip at the boy’s denim crotch and pulled, tearing another huge chunk of jeans off the kid and leaving him wearing just a few shreds of demin covering a well-filled white jock strap. Joe stomped back to the locker room, gathering up all the pieces of Ashton’s ripped jeans as he went.

Ashton slowly lifted his sweaty body off the mat, revealing his scantily clad young, sweaty physique as catcalls echoed off the walls and flashes from camera phones lit up the ring. But Ashton clearly enjoyed the attention, and even in his legitimate pain, I could see his cock swell slightly in his jock, exposed from the lack of denim.

The boy slowly walked to the back, where Joe and I were waiting and enjoying a laugh. “Damn, you didn’t hold back,” Ashton said as he walked toward Joe. He looked down and saw that I was holding all the remnants of the tight jeans that just moments ago had hugged Ashton’s sweaty body. They would be great reminders of the weekend – but for me, not Ashton.

“Yeah, Joe plays kinda rough,” I said. Joe and I chuckled as Ashton rubbed the back of his neck and headed for the shower.

Ashton and Jimmy went out for drinks that night, but I went home and straight to bed. The next morning, Ashton was limping, obviously in pain. Turns out that when Joe had gone in to rip the last shreds of denim (and dignity) off the kid, he discretely grabbed a handful of Ashton’s dick and balls (either intentionally or by mistake) briefly before tearing away the denim.

I guess Joe has a sadistic side, too. Maybe he and I really do think alike more than I’d realized.

Ashton and Jimmy were back on the road by noon. I tossed in another $200 to Ashton’s payout to buy new jeans, and he was more than appreciative. We all vowed to work together again when our schedules would allow.

Two weeks later, I saw a post on Ashton’s social media that caught my attention:

“Hi folks, I’m really sorry to share this but I’ve been fighting what feels like the flu, so I have to cancel my two events this weekend. Thank you for everybody’s support and I will see you soon!”

Looks like we both had a souvenir from that weekend. I got the remnants of his sweaty wrestling gear, and he got my virus.

Can’t wait for the next chapter!

Posted

Twice the Poz flu, in stories that's hardly mentioned otherwise. Thank you. What about the two Heten? Neither wants to be gay or bi. Or? And with the girlfriend? Or are they prevented from fucking their girlfriend?

 

Zweimal Poz - Grippe, das wird in Geschichten sonst kaum erwähnt. Danke. Was wird mit den beiden Heten? Beide machen von sich nichts schwules oder werden bi. Oder? Und mit der Freundin? Oder werden sie gehindert die Freundin zu ficken?

Posted (edited)

PART 9: PASSING TIME WITH THE JOCK DOWNSTAIRS

My wrestling company hadn’t held an event since back around Thanksgiving, and then once the coronavirus began to flare up, I realized we’d have to wait a bit longer. But I needed to breed, and soon. Naïve, neg jock boys like Cody and Ashton made me realize that pumping my dirty virus into random boys from those online sites wasn’t what I craved anymore. No, I needed something with more … depravity, and a sense of ownership.

I own a nice two-story house, which is divided into two residences. I occupy the entire top floor, and since November I’ve rented out the bottom level to a cute 22-year-old. Of course I checked him out on social media when he applied to rent the place a few months ago. I knew when I saw his social media that he was my top choice: He’s a former Division I college baseball player (and most recently a star on a local city league team), a total gym rat, and he loves to post gym selfies along with pics with random people in bars and clubs. Since moving in, through our few interactions so far, he seems to be a somewhat quiet beta male. So yes, he’s a great tenant.

He let me know in late February that he was out of a job because of the coronavirus. So March 1 came along, and he wasn’t able to pay rent.

My mind began to churn as I thought of ways I could take advantage of this. I asked him if he provided personal training, and he said he does from time to time. A while back I had set up a rarely-used home  gym in our shared garage downstairs, so I scheduled a time to meet for our first session. I was getting things in place when he arrived, sweaty from a run on a 70-degree afternoon on a warm day in March.

I sat on a weight bench as he stood in front of me, catching his breath from the jog.

I asked about his situation, feigning sympathy for this sweaty, straight jock boy standing in front of me. Bryce is about 5-8, maybe 160 pounds, short blond hair, a cute hoop piercing in his eyebrow, and beautiful green eyes. His gym shorts and wet t-shirt clearly showed the tight, worked-out body he was packing. Occasionally he would lift his shirt to wipe his sweaty face, unveiling a hot set of abs and a smooth, hairless stomach.

“My girlfriend lost her job, too, so we’re both in a bad situation. I don’t know what we’re gonna do,” he said, staring at the ground as I stared at his crotch. “I’ve been stressed, she’s been stressed. All we do is sit around and worry. Man, it’s so frustrating.”

He shook his head, still staring at the ground, and quickly scratched his sweaty cock the way a straight boy does when he thinks nobody’s paying attention.

“If we make this a regular thing, I promise you’ll have a lot less to worry about financially,” I said. Thankfully my well-paying job was secure, so I was more than able to give him free rent if I chose, and If he deserved it. But I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

We went through a few stretches to warm up, then Bryce guided me through a few simple moves using the set of free weights along the wall of the garage. After about 30 minutes of close contact and sweating, and about 10 minutes after Bryce slipped his shirt off as the heat of the day rose, I was rock-hard and already dripping poz seed. I’d been on the fence about even fucking this kid during our very first workout session, but my mind was settled now.

With me on my back, and Bryce spotting me, I picked up a pair of dumbbells and lifted them a few times over my chest. Staring upward, I got a great view of Bryce from the thighs up – cute, blond hair slightly dusted his legs, his crotch jutted out slightly from his black gym shorts, and his tight abs glistened with sweat. I’d seen enough.

Setting the weights down, I reached upward into his loose shorts and felt his cock. He was stunned for about 2 seconds, then jumped backward.

“What the hell?” Bryce said, then kinda laughed. “Back to work. We gotta be serious, man.”

“How’d you like to stop worrying so much about rent?” I asked, sitting upright to stare at him crotch-level.

He stood there quietly, obviously realizing what I had in mind. He hadn’t said no so far. His look got serious quickly.

“So … like … you wanna suck me off, right?” he said. I nodded yes. He paused and looked pensive. “A hundred?” he said.

That’s a deal, son. But of course it would be more than a blowjob. I wasn’t interested in his dick. 

Edited by joethomas
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Posted

PART 10: A HOME RUN WITH THE JOCK

I stood up and pointed to the weight bench, where my 22-year-old stud neighbor boy Bryce went and laid on his back, waiting for my next move. I slid his shorts down past his size 8 feet, leaving him naked except for the Adidas running shoes and socks. Those will stay. I knelt beside him and gently began running my tongue up and down his smooth balls and long, skinny shaft, which quickly began to grow despite his obvious nervousness.

Bryce laid there silently as I worked him to a full erection in less than a minute. Sure, I could’ve finished him there, but why ruin the moment?

“Turn over,” I commanded. Bryce rolled onto his stomach without question, revealing a beautiful bubble ass, mostly smooth except for a fine layer of blond hair around his hole.

“Lay still, you’re going to love this, I promise,” I said.

With little warning, I spread his cheeks and dove my tongue into his virgin ass. He twitched slightly.

“Oh my god, is that your tongue?” he asked. “That feels weird. Holy shit.”

I quickly had my tongue deep into the boy’s hole, pushing and prodding as far as I could into his sweaty, musky, beautiful young, virgin butt.

After a couple more minutes, and after a few slight moans from my straight jock tenant, it was time to finish the deed.

Part of my earlier preparation included stashing a small bottle of lube behind the weights, which I retrieved quickly to lube up my pulsing dick.

“If you liked that, you’re going to like this even better,” I said as I knelt over his ass and lined up my raw, dripping poz cock against his little negative hole. I began to push and felt the head slip inside his body.

“Aaaaaaaahhh fuck, what are you doing, man?” he said, squirming. He didn’t quite try hard enough to get away, telling me that maybe he wasn’t entirely opposed to his deflowering. But he certainly wasn’t expecting this.

“I can’t do this man, I’m not gay, no way,” he said, turning his head and trying to see how much of my cock had invaded him. Even as he protested, I continued my slow push inside him until I was about halfway in. The tightness and resistance of his hole against my thick poz tool assured me that I was ripping this kid’s negative ass to shreds. He’s going to feel this tomorrow.

“You can handle this, son, I know you can,” I assured him. “Especially if you want your rent forgiven this month. All of it.”

“Fuck,” he said quietly. “Fuck.”

Bryce just laid there on the weight bench with his muscled arms flexing behind his head, his eyes facing downward to the concrete floor as I escalated my assault into the kid’s bubble ass. Once I was all the way in and stopped, I heard another “Fuuuck” come from the boy, probably as the tip of my mushroom head began to knock at his prostate. But he said nothing else.

In and out, in and out, I pulled and pushed my cock into the jock’s hole. It wasn’t long before I saw the red streaks mixed with lube coating my cock. This kid’s hole was in bad shape now – and pretty much guaranteed to accept my poison. Sure enough, within a minute, I was erupting into the kid, filling this hot baseball hunk’s little ass with enough unmedicated poison to knock up him and his whole team.

It seemed to take forever for my cock to finish milking seed into this kid. Once it finally did, I slid out and lifted myself off the bench and off my downstairs tenant.

“Feel good?” I asked.

Bryce took a few seconds to reply, still laying on his stomach.

“It hurt like fuck,” he said. “I mean ... guess it wasn’t so bad once I got used to it. I saw two of my teammates in college fuck one time in the lockerroom. The way they were moaning and going at it, it sounded like they were liking it. I guess I kinda wondered what the big deal was.”

Bryce lifted himself up into a seated position on the bench. I was hoping my cum wasn’t leaking out onto the bench – I wanted every drop of it to stay inside the kid.

“It’ll feel better next time,” I said. I laughed, and I saw him break a crooked grin at that comment. I had a feeling that “next time” was practically guaranteed, especially with the prospect of free rent danging in front of him.

Bryce stood and pulled his shorts back on over his semi-hard cock. Neither of us said much after that as we re-racked the weights and pushed the bench against the wall. I thanked him for the workout.

“You’re welcome, any time,” he said, walked toward his door.

I went back upstairs to my place and saw that I had a text message waiting for me on my phone. It was from Joe, that 40-something muscle bear wrestler who had beaten both Cody and Ashton into a pulp at my recent events.

“Hey boss,” Joe’s message read. “You free for a beer? We should talk. Looks like we have some things in common.”

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Posted (edited)

PART 11: SURPRISES FROM JOE

The text from Joe definitely got my interest – especially the line about “we have some things in common” -- so less than a week after seeding straight jock Bryce on my downstairs weight bench, I met Joe for a beer. Most of our local bars and restaurants were still shut down because of coronavirus concerns, so I met him at his house – a nice two-level place not far from me that he shared with two dogs.

I never knew Joe outside of wrestling, but I knew he was always friendly, although a man of few words. Mostly he came to the events, did his job, got his money, and left. I had always thought Joe was married, but he’s not. I’d assumed a lot about Joe, and some of those assumptions changed quickly. Joe greeted me at the door with a strong handshake.

“Hey boss,” he said with a big smile. Wearing a tank top, gym shorts and Nikes, his massive body made me feel small, almost vulnerable. Joe was a bear of a man – at 6-foot-4 and all muscle, his thick beard and thick, dark body hair against his tan skin made him very intimidating, even though I was several years his senior.

I learned quickly that Joe wasn’t much for small talk, and I respected that. He grabbed us both two local craft beers from the fridge and guided me out back to his patio. We sat in chairs across from each other. He quickly took the lead and spoke his mind.

“It’s been a pleasure to work with you for more than 2 years now,” he said. “I consider you more than a boss. I consider you a friend, and as a friend, I want to be honest with you.”

He stood up and slid the waistband of his shorts down to the top of his heavy cock. There, under the stubble of freshly shaved pubic hair, was a black biohazard tattoo.

He took two steps toward me and grinned, still holding the waistband of his shorts down to expose his secret. “Just wanted to make sure you saw it up close,” he said, looking down at me.

Joe winked, then slid his shorts down further to reveal a solid metal bar embedded in the tip of his thick, mushroom head. This dude’s pierced cock was destined to rip apart tight holes. He laughed as my eyes grew wide.

“It’s a beauty, ain’t it?” he said.

He turned back and sat down across from me, pulling his shorts up. I was still trying to process what I just saw and heard.

“I’ve been poz about 2 years, never got on any meds and don’t plan to now,” Joe said. “I know I’ve put some of my wrestling opponents at risk, but I’m coming clean to you now. I just want you to know.”

“And fuck, as long as I’m being honest, I know you’re gay,” he said, “and it’s cool with me. I am too.”

I was definitely startled, not so much by his confession of being gay, but by the fact that he knew I was. And the poz issue? That made my head spin.

“Wow, I um … I …” I began, but Joe cut me off.

“Wait, boss,” he said. “As long as I’m on a roll, I have one more thing.”

There was about a five-second pause while he looked down at the deck.

“I saw what you did to Cody in that room,” Joe said. “I was walking down the back hallway and saw you through a window. I watched almost all of it go down. I saw you bend him over, saw you take pics, saw you bite his neck and draw blood and rub your cum into his cut. I saw all of it. I knew right then what you were doing. You were trying to poz him.”

Shit, I thought. What window? I had tried to be so careful and cover my bases. I felt all the blood rush from my face. I was busted. This guy’s going to ruin me. He’s going to tell everybody. What if he had video?

“But,” Joe said, “I liked what I saw. In fact, I have an idea for you.”

My mind was still racing to process all this new information, but I was starting to listen more and panic less.

“Your next event has to be an online event, with no live audience,” Joe said. “And I’m going to wrestle Cody again. At the end of it, I’m going to strip him in the middle of the ring, cuff his hands behind his back, and fuck his jock ass and recharge him.”

He was right. I do like this idea.

Edited by joethomas
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  • 3 weeks later...
Posted (edited)

PART 12: DIRTY MINDS THINK ALIKE

After my initial meeting with Joe, I barely slept that night. So many thoughts flooded my brain.

Is he serious about all this? If he already knows I’m gay and poz, what else does he know about me? Is he really packing poz seed inside that big body? How hot would it be to see his pierced dick invade young Cody’s muscular jock ass that I’ve flooded with dirty cum twice already? Why am I even waiting to make this happen?

Over the next couple of weeks, Joe and I talked more, and my mind was put at ease as I began to see all the upsides of seeing Joe abuse Cody and release a new strain of deadly HIV into his young body. He and I also agreed that some things would be our secret – no need for others to know all our personal details just yet. I booked the venue, booked the wrestlers, made all the arrangements, and we were set. Joe and I went over a variety of scenarios that would end with Cody getting fucked and seeded with his strain, and we finally settled on one that was particularly twisted.

We had six matches that night, including the big finale – we decided Joe vs. Cody wasn’t much of a challenge, so we added a twist. I booked a cute kid name Ryan to be Cody’s partner, so the match became a 2-on-1, no-disqualification bout. Ryan’s been wrestling for about a year, and at 19, he’s got a cute look, compact athletic body, and a great attitude. Like Cody, he’s a country boy, a bit naïve (thankfully), and comes from a sports background. He seemed eager to work with us and do as he was told, which of course was a turn-on.

Before the match, I had a conversation with Cody and Ryan.

“Look, Joe’s been in a weird mood lately, so he might be kinda rough tonight,” I told them in the locker room (Joe had warned me that he hadn't cum in about a week, so he was overdue). “But I want to make it worthwhile for both of you. Just play along tonight and do your part, really sell the moves, and take whatever Joe gives you, and I’ll get you both to that tryout in New York with the WWE guys. I’ll even pay for your flight up there and back.”

That was the clincher.

Their jaws dropped, and both agreed – eagerly -- that they were in. I wondered in my mind if Cody suspected what was to come, based on his previous experience with my "promises." Poor Ryan surely had no clue, but he was adorable in his eagerness.

“We do have a new policy, though,” I added. “You both have to sign a non-disclosure agreement and liability waiver. Our insurance requires this now.”

Neither even asked a question as both signed their forms and handed back to me, not realizing that the signature also made it clear that they consented to a variety of sexual situations and simulations that would protect me in court. These kids will fall for anything. Oh, to be that young and trusting again.

I also assured Cody and Ryan that their match against Joe would be the main event, but neither of the naïve jock boys knew our real plan. In fact, we scheduled the first five matches to be streamed live online and arranged for Cody and Ryan’s big matchup with Joe would be recorded purely for our own sadistic pleasure later. By the time that match match rolled around, the live stream had ended, and the building was empty aside from the ref (who I knew to also be gay) and two camera men (all of whom I’d paid extra up front and forced to sign a NDA. Yeah, they surely wondered why, but thankfully, they didn’t ask. I also knew them well enough that I was confident they wouldn’t care what happened as long as they got paid).

Having sent our regular announcer home, I stepped in as the announcer for the final match, going through the motions as though wrestling fans around the globe were actually tuned in to watch this 2-on-1 sexual massacre. We had to keep up appearances, at least for a few minutes. Joe was first to come to the ring, clearly drooling from the prospect of the sexual frenzy ahead. Every muscle in his big body bulged as he moved, his black wrestling trunks hiding what I knew to be a pierced, monster cock waiting to unleash a torrent of toxic cum into a willing (or unwilling) hole.

A minute later, I introduced his two hot opponents. The young jocks practically bounced to the ring with youthful male energy, high-fiving each other and playing to the cameras as two of wrestling’s future stars. As I’d instructed, both wore plain white spandex wrestling trunks and white boots that contrasted amazingly against their tanned, tight bodies. If I hadn’t known better, the two looked like they were headed straight for a BG East shoot. This truly had the makings of a hot good-versus-evil matchup.

I rang the bell to get the match started with Joe facing off initially with Ryan as his partner Cody eagerly waited in the corner for his partner’s tag. Joe came out like a house on fire. It was clear that Joe wasn’t pulling punches, and his goal was to decimate this kid. I winced at times when Joe would fling his arm across Ryan's neck or pound his fist into the kid’s back or mid-section, each time sending the young jock flying backwards. Joe was clearly full of pent-up sexual energy, and until he found a way to release that energy through his cock, it was going to come from his fists.

Poor Ryan maybe got a couple of weak blows in, but Joe countered with at least two punches for every one of Ryan’s. With Ryan finally weakened, helpless, and sprawled on his back struggling to catch his breath, Joe stepped out through the ropes to the floor and reached under the ring to pull out a cardboard box.

Now the fun can begin.

Edited by joethomas
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