I Don't Trust Myself

[nppf69]

The year was 2010. The dim glow of the laptop screen illuminated Darren’s face, casting shadows across his sharp cheekbones and the shaved contours of his head. At 42, he had mastered the art of discretion, his lean frame and clean-shaven jawline projecting an air of quiet confidence. But tonight, alone in his sparsely furnished apartment, he allowed himself a rare indulgence: scrolling through profiles on BBRTS. The anonymity of the platform was both thrilling and terrifying, a digital playground where his deepest desires could be explored without judgment—or so he told himself.

His fingers moved methodically, clicking through profile after profile, until they paused at one whose private photos had been opened for him and a message just saying "Hi" had been received. There he was: profile name LoyalBrother. The man’s photos were artistically filtered but what emerged was a swimmer's physique with a layer of fat and a vascularity that hinted at a life lived boldly. Darren’s heart quickened as his eyes traced the curves of LoyalBrother’s body, his gaze lingering on the fat cut cock. But it was the status beneath the photos that caught his breath: ‘positive’.

Darren’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, his mind racing. He knew what that meant. He’d seen it before, always scrolling past, always reminding himself of the risks. Darren had been barebacking for a few years now. At first only with guys who professed to be negative. More recently he had graduated to taking bare cock from undetectable guys believing that was even lower risk. Still, he drew the line a detectable guys.

But LoyalBrother’s profile was different. There was something magnetic about him, a raw authenticity that drew Darren in despite his better judgment. After a moment’s hesitation, he began to type: “Flattered, but I don’t think we should hook up. Your status…”

The response came quickly, as if Randy had been waiting. “I’m positive, yeah, but I can fuck you with a condom. No risk.” Darren’s breath hitched as he read the words, his chest tightening with a mix of desire and fear. He knew the risks, had been drilled into him since his early twenties. But LoyalBrother’s casual assurance was disarming, a challenge to the boundaries Darren had carefully constructed.

His fingers trembled as he replied, “If we met, I wouldn’t trust myself to stick to that. I’d want you to cum in me.” The words felt like a confession, a secret he’d never voiced aloud. But there was something liberating about typing them, about acknowledging the forbidden thrill that had haunted his fantasies for years.

LoyalBrother’s response was immediate, bold, and unapologetic: “Sounds like you’re into it. Come over.” Darren’s pulse pounded in his ears, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He wanted to say yes, to surrender to the raw, unfiltered desire that LoyalBrother’s words had awakened. But fear held him back, a voice in his head whispering of consequences, of danger.

“I’m tempted, but…” Darren’s fingers faltered as he typed, the ellipsis hanging in the air like an unspoken question. He thought of his righteous upbringing, of the years spent hiding his true self, of the carefully curated life he’d built. And yet, here he was, teetering on the edge of something reckless, something exhilarating.

LoyalBrother’s tone softened, just a touch, as he replied: “No pressure. But if you ever want to talk..." Darren typed back a quick "Thanks."

"By the way, your pics suck," LoyalBrother messaged, "If you ever want better pics taken, I’m a pretty good amateur photographer.” The offer was casual, almost offhand, but Darren sensed an underlying intent. It was true his pictures sucked. He had done his best to take them on his own in a mirror, but there was only so much he could accomplish. On the other hand, the setup seemed bound to tempt him into sex. And Darren didn't trust himself. The most he could bring himself to say by way of reply was that he'd think about it. 

Darren logged off, the screen fading to black, but his mind remained alive with images of LoyalBrother’s lean face, his body, the weight of him pressing Darren into the mattress. His hand drifted down to his cock, his fingers brushing against the fabric of his boxers as he imagined the other guy’s hands doing the same. He closed his eyes, letting the fantasy take hold—LoyalBrother’s raw heat filling him, the forbidden thrill of bare skin against bare skin, the unspoken longing for something more.

His breath quickened as he stroked himself, his thoughts a tangled mess of desire and danger. He imagined LoyalBrother’s lips brushing against his ear, whispering filthy promises, his hands gripping Darren’s hips as he thrust deep inside him. The fantasy was intoxicating, a heady mix of fear and arousal that left Darren trembling.

As he neared the edge, his mind lingered on the line between fantasy and reality, on the quiet ache of what could be. He thought of the unspoken power dynamics that had drawn him in, of the raw, unfiltered hunger that had awakened within him. And then, with a ragged gasp, he came, his release a messy, desperate spill into his hand.

The room was silent afterward, the only sound Darren’s heavy breathing as he lay back against the couch, his heart still pounding. His mind was a blur of emotions—regret, longing, excitement—but beneath it all was a quiet, unspoken truth. He wanted more. Not just the fantasy, not just the thrill of danger, but something deeper, something real.

The laptop sat closed on the coffee table, Randy’s profile a ghost in the machine. Darren’s hand rested on his chest, his fingers tracing the faint outline of his heartbeat. 

The city outside his window pulsed with life, a reminder of the world beyond his apartment walls. Darren took a deep breath, his thoughts lingering on the offer, on the unspoken promise of connection. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, he allowed himself to linger in the ache of what could be, the quiet, unspoken longing for something more.

[oinker]

Great start ,keep it going leading to raw erotic fun Oink ☣️