After work Friday night I was horny as hell for a poz Gifter to get off in my neg ass.
So I checked out the play-for-pay masseurs in the classifieds and started down the list. I explained my requirements: me neg; him poz; no condoms. After several rejections, I found a guy who did that sort of thing. He said he�d be right over.
I wasn�t expecting the blond demigod who showed up at my door. About 27, long hair bronzed by the sun, he would have almost about perfect, had he not been perceptibly underweight, with a few telltale lesions on his legs.
I was down on his dick the moment he walked through the door. I nursed his cock for half an hour before I started to nag him about fisting me. We hadn't discussed it when I called, but he was more than ready. Two, three, four fingers. Before I knew it, he had his whole hand punch-fisted up my butt.
I really don't know how long he worked my ass, or how deeply he went. And I didn�t care. What I knew was that this guy was into some serious interior redecorating, and I was getting myself getting fucked up. What could I to do? Ask him to stop? I didn�t want to. When you�re impaled on a guy�s arm there precious little you can do except lie back and enjoy it.
When he pulled out, he wiped the shit on the sheet and shoved his huge cock up my ass. I knew that I was torn up inside. The likelihood of his poz jizz permeating my wounded innards got me even hotter.
"You want my poz cum up your hole?"
"Oh, yeah, baby. All of it!" So he lit it rip. When he finally came, he shot like a geyser.
The fucker was a gentleman. He waited patiently to be paid off. I handed him a fifty, and the last thing I heard, as I dozed off, was the front door slamming.
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I awakened to sun�s rays and a knock at the door. It was almost noon!
Mark, a married dude whom I�d picked up at the bookstore several months ago, stopped by often, usually on the weekend or on the way home from work, or whenever he could beg off from his wife, with an fictitious appointment or an imaginary errand.
He usually arrived unannounced, which I didn�t object to, since he loved to fuck and I was always the willing receptacle. The only thing wrong was that Mark was neg. But I hoped to fix that someday.
We did our usual thing�roll around on the bed for an hour till he dumped his load. With his faggot urges temporarily abetted, he�d grow obsessed with the possibility that his unsuspecting spouse might be getting suspicious.
With a hasty goodbye and a apologetic expression, he�d collect his things, race down the stairs, jump in his car, and peal away. As I watched this charade for the umpteenth time, I hoped to hell he didn�t have an accident or heart attack before I had a chance to poz him.
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The yellow pages were too slick for what I needed next�because yesterday�s KS plagued blonde-bomber had whetted my appetite for a lowlife, AIDS infected streetwalker who would comply with my fondest wishes. And to my delight, I found two of them.
I explained my situation. "Boys, cum fuck the shit out of me. $25 now. $25 after.� Negotiations settled, we headed off to their place near Santa Monica Blvd. I had seen them around on the streets before, so I knew they were OK.
It was strange. We made love in a simple, gentle, old-fashioned way I hadn�t done in years. I really enjoyed it.
They knew I wanted it bareback and were willing to accommodate. No pizzazz, no sirens, no fireworks. Just lots of cum in all the right places Just the touch I needed to finish Saturday night.
The only unromantic part was the payoff, when I had to fork up $25 that I didn�t have. That necessitated a trip to the ATM. See you on the street, guys!
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By Sunday afternoon, I was ready to go again. I found a chat room and located a newly pozzed LA kid. Ostensibly to commiserate and to share advice and wisdom, I invited him over.
He was 23, had been infected only a few months, and already had a viral load of 40,000. I told him I was still neg and needed to convert for personal reasons. He told me I was the first real Chaser to cross his path. At least he had his terminology correct.
I told him if he did an effective job of it, I could turn him on to a number of other Chasers like me, some of whom might pay. He got my gist, and another poz load went up my ass!
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But my sexual thirst remained unquenched. I knew I would have to seek further relief or face a night of tossing and turning. So I called up a Bug Chaser friend of mine, a little Asian named Charles, whom I�d laid the week before.
Charles had a crush on me. He sounded like he'd been sitting by the phone waiting for my call for days. Do girls still do that sort of thing or only boy-girls? He said he that he�d been saving himself for me all week and was starved for my jizz pulsing into him. I told him to get his ass over here, and I�d give him what he had cumming.
I opened the door in the nude. I could tell he was horny. The bulge of his cock against his athletic shorts was obvious. That made me horny�but it doesn't take much�and I felt my dick rising in response.
Soon as we hit the couch he went down on me.
"You want it again, don't you?"
"Oh�so bad, so much."
"Show me how much you want it, baby doll."
He was all over my dick, practically climbing on it. I got him to pause long enough to get us into the bedroom.
The sheets, which had been fresh Friday morning, were soiled with numerous cum stains about the pillows, shit stains at the foot, and the midsection was damp with piss and cum from a few hours earlier.
Knowing full well he had a crush on me and sensing that a little jealousy might be good for the faggot, I detailed how my weekend had progressed so far:
The tales I�d recounted (and maybe embellished) got Charles so excited he climbed over me and let himself down on my cock.
I pulled him toward me and kissed him. "Go for it, baby doll."
And he rocked away on my dick until he brought me off in his ass! He gushed forth feminine gratitude.
"Can I stay? Would you be able to do it again?"
�I don't know. I've played pretty hard this weekend.� But stay he did, for another 8 hours, until 2 a.m. And I was able to get off, not one, but two more�poz loads.