Tag Archives: 40s

Q&A: Can His Poz (But Undetectable) Load Go into My Neg Ass and I Stay Neg?

Q&A: Can His Poz (But Undetectable) Load Go into My Neg Ass and I Stay Neg?

QuestionI love reading your blog! Not only is it hotter than fuck, but it’s also super informative.

My partner and I are both in our 40s. He’s poz, I’m neg. Recently, after almost a decade together, we started fucking bareback.

When I fuck him, I don’t use a condom and I cum inside him.

When he fucks me (which is more frequent) he pulls out and cums on my ass. I’d love for him to cum inside me but he won’t do it. He doesn’t want to be responsible for making me poz.

His viral load has been undetectable for years.

What are the risks to me if he were to cum inside me? I really want his load in me.

Your blog rocks!

AnswerKudos on you two sharing your DNA! Well, one of you is sharing yours, actually. You really want his and to experience jizzjoy Open-New-Window-External.

I’m going to give you the skinny first with a couple of alternatives.

What Your Doctor Might Say…

What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Slap that condom on both of you and forget about it.

The Drug Route

Serodiscordant Open-New-Window-External couples, as a physician would call you, makes the negative partner a perfect candidate for prophylaxis Truvada Open-New-Window-External regimen, which means you’d take the antiviral as a precaution against getting HIV.

It’s an expensive choice and, in some cases, your insurance may not cover it since it’s just preventative. Plus, you may or may not suffer side effects of the drug.

Now for what I really think.

And part of me wants to take you both, slap you up side the head and then have your partner fuck you and teach you, as a bottom, how to make sure that fucking load ends up with it belongs.

You’re both already doing everything else.

When You Fuck Your Boyfriend

Let me paint a picture.

Micron-DickThis is your cock in the photo your provided to the right. It is 8 inches long and 4 inches around.

Now because HIV is a little bugger, I’m just (for fuck’s sake) going to convert inches into millimeters because that’s the smallest measurement we all think of in our daily lives (but you’re going to be proud because your cock is going to sound huge).

Your cock is 203 mm long and 102 mm around.

The approximate surface area of your cock is 24,000 square millimeters (if your cock were a perfect cylinder, and that calculation skips the base).

That much surface area is going into the HIV-rich juices of your boyfriend’s ass every time you fuck him. Every time. Deep in his gut.

Visualize that for a moment. The smallest skin cut gives a route into your skin.

Now to get really fucking real, HIV is 10,000 times smaller than a millimeter. HIV is about 0.1 micron. In other words, if we were to measure the area of your cock in microns, that would be 24 million square microns. And each square micron could give 100 bugs to pass through at any given time.

Let’s multiply that out even more and say that the “holes” available for HIV to invade your body just through your cock’s surface area alone is something like 2.4 billion.

But so far, you haven’t gotten it.

It’s not like you’re not risking getting it when you fuck him.

When Your Boyfriend Tops You

Has he put a cork in his cock? Has he assured there’s no precum slipping out through that pee-hole?

I’ve never gotten the whole “pulling out” bullshit, which is why I blast inside (sorry, couldn’t resist).

Now he’s inside you, pumping away. Your most vulnerable moments are when you first stretch out and microfissures can open up in the linings of the colon. The colon offers lots of opportunity to transfer bodily fluids both ways, but of course the bottom is receiving.

As he’s fucking you in those early stages, he is grinding his fluids into your ass and into whatever openings are there. You’re getting his precum, his spit, his sweat, left over piss, and pretty much anything else between the two of you anyway.

Take those same measurements and of his cock and you can take the amount of your interior skin being exposed to his fluids through that touch.

I’m skipping your oral activity and the debatable kissing and other fun stuff. And I didn’t even bother to suggest there might be something a little more kinky going on.

Here’s the Point

If you were to become poz, it likely would have already happened. But let me make the logical point.

Your boyfriend’s viral load — the amount of the virus in his blood — is undetectable. I can’t stress this enough. Tests can’t detect it.

I know it’s not an exact congruence, but it’s like HIV has gone into remission. It’s hiding. It’s somewhere in the body, but you just don’t know where it is or when and where it will likely turn up.

While there’s a chance that it could change at anytime and reemerge, for now he’s essentially negative.

You’re both basically seroconcordant Open-New-Window-External.

Either fuck or don’t. I personally say fuck. Your boyfriend needs to understand that you can just as easily become HIV-positive by what you’re currently doing if the virus decides to return. But tomorrow there could be an earthquake or an asteroid or a car wreck. I’m not suggesting you live your life as if you’ll die tomorrow. I’m suggesting you live your life as if the traffic light is on green all the time, not yellow.

Postscript

You do need to be prepared for the possibility of conversion Open-New-Window-External, even if you keep fucking the same way you are now. And while I wouldn’t pretend to know the nature of your relationship, I am betting you don’t have a problem with being poz. He’s not hearing you right now because he sees the prejudice that being positive brings among gays.

I want that to stop as much as you do. My point of all this was to make it clear that you both are lucky to have found one another. It’s a wonderful thing to share and your partner needs to stop feeling guilty that he might expose you to something that you’re exposed to already.

It’s a choice you’ve both made to share. I think it’s wonderful.

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Mark Bentson aka iBLASTinside welcomes getting messages from his readers and loves answering them. Send a message to iBLASTinside@gmail.com mailbox_full or hit him up on his contact page Opens new window of a page on this blog.

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Abortion Tales #2: The Tweaker and the Tittie Twins

Abortion Tales #2: The Tweaker and the Tittie Twins

I’m getting too fucking old for this.

As I mentioned (and no one seems to want to read Opens a new window from this blog since the stats show only a few people have checked it out) I’ve been focusing on getting out of my job situation, so my attention has been focused elsewhere. However, I decided Wednesday evening since I’d be downtown for an appointment that it would be a convenient time to hit the adult bookstore Inserection and get a load out of my system.

Now, I was especially frustrated because I’d had a massage from a fucking hottie. He was naked. I was naked. He teased me for the hour, bushing against my balls and cock and all my erotic spots. When it gets to that moment for the happy ending, the massage ends abruptly.

I didn’t get off. He didn’t get a tip.

I knew Wednesday nights were not ideal at Inserection Opens a new window from this blog but usually I can find some ass. Since I would be in Atlanta anyway (I live in the far northern suburbs), I figured it would be worth a shot.

To improve my chances of ass, I always post an ad or two to Craigslist and BarebackRT.com Link Opens in a New Window to let bottoms know a top will be at Inserection. Sometimes it works Opens a new window from this blog. And often with these posts, I’ll get messages from people asking that I skip Inserection and come to their place instead.

Sent away by a bottom

I get the usual assortment of messages. The old, ugly and overly used (Grade F Asses Opens a new window from this blog). A few interesting ones do show up, including one from a 28-year-old bottom. We get to texting and he invites me over.

He mentions he’ll be on his back deck.

It’s early evening and not quite dark. I expect though it’s an enclosed deck and he’ll be ass up and waiting.

I drive the three miles and pull up to the house, pulling into the driveway. I can clearly see the back deck where a man — obviously in his mid-40s — is standing. He’s not horrible looking or anything. I get out of the car and there’s that awkward moment. He comes down off the deck. As the awkwardness continues, I finally say, “Am I at the wrong place?”

“Yes, you are,” he says.

“Sorry about that,” I say, knowing I’m at the only home with this address with a man with an iPhone texting from a back deck.

“Thanks for stopping by,” he says as he shakes my hand.

Attempts at the adult bookstore

I get in my car and drive to Inserection adult bookstore, pay the $11 admission and begin cruising.

The crowd appeared thin and a few too many familiar faces walked among the groups. Also one of the worst cruisers is there: A man who slaps on a little makeup, a cheap wig, a bad blouse, panties, pantyhose and high heels.  I hesitate to call it a drag queen or a cross-dresser due to the horrible effort put into looking decent. There’s no effort. I don’t mind it’s a slut. Some guys are into it. That’s cool. But not me and it’s too aggressive.

Anyway, as I’m walking around, I eye an older man who’s big and bulky with big muscles wearing a tight t-shirt with protruding nipples. (Oh, and he’s got a wedding band.) He reads to me as a bottom. His cock is obviously small. He’s not going for any gloryholes. He wants his nips worked over.

With guys like this, their nips are the gateway to their ass, I know.

We hit a booth together. His shirt was up as I went to work. I’m great at nipple work; it’s one of my specialties. I had a boyfriend years ago who could cum just from my nip work. Within moments, I’ve got his four-inch cock rock hard. He’s groaning from all my nip nibbling, chewing, flicking, licking, twisting, contortion, punching, teasing, tickling, pulling, brushing, pinching and other manipulations…  both hard and soft. He’s got a bit of stink to him, which really isn’t my thing.

I’m moving my hands (when they’re free) to his ass. I am finding his asshole, which is dry but puffy. He either has hemorrhoids or he’s been fucked plenty. But he hasn’t been fucked today. As I poke and prod, he moves his ass away to prevent too much work.

Seems like this one isn’t going to work out.

He bends down to suck me. He does well, but not so irresistibly that I feel like I could cum from his blowjob. I thank him for his work and zip up.

About then, I get a text message from the supposedly 28-year-old bottom.

“ETA,” he asks, which means, “Estimated time of arrival.”

You can see our exchange on my iPhone.

I’d sent him a photo of my cock which barely showed my goatee. And my stats clearly stated in my ad that I was clean-shaven. But he’d ignored that.

I didn’t bother to point out that he obviously wasn’t 28 years old.

As we texted back and forth, him begging me to come over, me looking for ass among the dregs of humanity at the adult bookstore, soon a balding Asian began eyeing me.

Now we all know I have a little something for the more exotic among us.

As I stood upstairs by a vacant room, the Asian passed me and closed the door. But it didn’t lock. An unusual technique. Normally men step into the room with the door open and eye their object of interest.

I opened the door. He stood in the dim light, playing with his nipples through his shirt. I stepped into the room. He pulled up his shirt. His alabaster, perfect skin revealed, delightfully smooth with very nice pecs and nickle-sized nips just protruding out. But as soon as I flicked them, they stood erect.

His cock, a respectable five inches, never really got so hard. And his ass, so nice and smooth and bubbly. I stepped behind him while still working his nips. I felt his asshole, his pucker perfectly dry. He didn’t pull away. I spit on my cock and aimed it at his hole.

He was much smaller than I was. I took again his nipples in my fingertips. This man preferred the light touch and I knew how to really work them that way too. I did it in a way he’d enjoy. All I needed him to do was arch his back a little so his asshole would line up better with my cock.

As I continued, with my wet cock tickling his sphincter and pleasuring his nips, his ass never moved. But he jerked intensely and he breathed heavily.

He was getting close.

Fuck that. I wasn’t going to get someone else off if I wasn’t getting what I wanted.

I dropped everything. Pulled up my pants and was out the locked door. He didn’t even have time to pull down his shirt or pull up his pants. He stood there exposed, wide-mouthed as I walked out, the door wide open.

He recovered after a couple of beats and closed the door.

The texting continued with the bottom. He wanted to know when I shaved the beard off (I’m interviewing for jobs, so I was told to shave it off by a few recruiters; plus it just looks nicer during the summer).

I wonder around and get a couple of attempted blowjobs but no ass action. One guy even asked me to piss in his mouth, but no ass.

Back to the bottom

Finally I decide to head back over to fuck and breed the bottom who earlier turned me away.

I drive up and this time, he’s a bit more welcoming. He meets me and we step up onto the deck, but go inside the house.

It is between now and the next 20 minutes that I should have left because it’s that long before we start doing a fucking thing. He first has to prepare a daybed. It’s got something like 30 pillows on it. Then he can’t find the remote to turn off “The Voice,” which is blaring on the television. He keeps searching his closet for something — for what, I’m not sure. He also refreshes his drink.

Then he gets lube — petroleum jelly — an unusual choice.

Finally he’s ready.

All through this, he’s chomping gum. And I mean CHOMPING it. I’m suspecting Tina use, but maybe it is just gum. But he is darting around his place like a crystal meth user cleaning. But I also noticed that drink is a pretty strong alcohol, so I’m guessing he’s a little buzzed.

When he finally gets on the bed to suck me, he takes breaks to work his jaw.

No gum.

He’s tweaked out of his gourd.

He can’t suck for than a few seconds without pausing in order to work his jaw. I’m afraid he’s going to bite my cock off. That fear drives me to take control.

I put him on his back. He puts some petroleum jelly on my hard cock.

“That’s a big one,” he says. “I’m not sure I can take it.”

I’m rubbing some jelly into his ass. I probe it a little. As my fingertip works past the sphincter, I touch the tip of something. I touch the tip of a small turd. Yes, a turd.

“I’m really going to need you to use a condom,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’ve got some condoms.”

Now he’s saying this as I am touching a turd and using petroleum jelly.

This guy must know he’s not clean but he’s also a complete idiot since petroleum jelly breaks down a condom Opens a new window from this blog.

But I’m horny. I’m fucked sloppy holes. At least his isn’t nasty.

I position him up, putting his legs over my shoulders. I don’t ask. I just put my cock at his hole and put it in. It breaks in.

It’s not pleasant.

The small, hard turd moves toward his prostate and becomes a rough rock scratching against the underside of my cock.  He’s trying to resist me, but I keep pressing forward.

“What are you doing?” he says.

“Fucking you,” I say.

“I’ve been nothing but nice to you,” he says. “You don’t have to be mean.”

“You’ve done nothing but jerk me around all day,” I say.

I begin fucking in earnest. I try to aim down to get that turd out of my way. But that little hard piece of shit won’t move and I’m more and more afraid it’s actually going to scratch my cock and add fecal matter into a wound on my cock.

I can’t focus on fucking. He’s chomping a lot. He’s jerking. He’s moving too much, squirmy even. It’s all not working for me. As horny as I am, that’s all I can do. I’m not going to be able to cum even though I’ve got something like two weeks worth of blue balls.

I pull out.

“This isn’t going to work,” I say.

“Huh?”

I begin putting on my clothes.

“Oh,” he says. “This is revenge for me turning you away earlier.”

“No man,” I say. “You’re not clean.”

Then the dude does the craziest thing ever. He sticks his finger in his ass, pulls it out and sniffs it.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“Believe me,” I say. “You’re not.”

He disappears into another room. In a couple of seconds, he returns with a white towel, wiping his ass.

“See,” he shows me a clean white towel. “My ass is perfectly clean.”

“Look,” I say. “You’ve got a small, hard turd right up against your prostate. It’s scratching my cock and making it uncomfortable to fuck you. Beside that, your working your jaw on Tina is driving me fucking crazy. I hate fucking with tweakers. You have a nice one.”

He stands there shocked and naked as I walk out the door.

I go home. Blue balls. Still.

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Travel Diary: The Honest Hot Chest

Travel Diary: The Honest Hot Chest

He proved to be the only man who never lied to me. Coming from a link up on BBRT, I’d noticed him in a geographic search and he’d come up less than 15 miles away — a feat indeed. We did the normal exchange and he wanted to come for a fuck.

A mix between Asian and Latino, his photos seemed more Asian, but when he arrived, he spoke with a thick Latin accent. He stood pretty damn short too at five-foot-three inches and a shaved bald head. Despite his age in his early 40s, his skin was smooth and taut over his muscles as he stripped and we got right down for business.

No chit chat with him, he climbed up and as I reached for his pecs, I soon learned the key to his ass would be his pecs and nipples.

Years ago, I’d experienced a boyfriend with nipples so sensitive that I learned to cause him to shoot just but playing with them. It’s a skill I’ve never lost since the door opener to the poop chute tends to be the nipple highway.

So as I worked his nips, he began to grind on my cock against his hole.

I didn’t take long for some spit to find its way to my cock, for him to take a hit off some poppers sitting on my night stand and for him to impale himself.

This man meant business. Truth is, he probably wasn’t all into me in general. But a hard cock is good to find and he was willing to overlook the dislike for a ride on my cock.

And rode it he did. For a mixture of Asian and Latin, his accent might have been Latin but his cock was all Asian. He leaned forward to allow his slight belly to  pin his cock between his  and mine. No hands needed. As I played with his nipples and he just rode my cock with increasing pace, he soon began to proclaim he’d be coming soon.

I felt his tight little hole clench down in pace with the cum shooting out from the head that poked between our bellies.

He climbed off, taking a break and wiping off the cum, not that it bothered me at all.

“So how would you like to cum?” he asked.

“In your ass, ” I answered. “On your stomach.”

I knew he was a little reluctant, but he still laid down and I climbed on top, sliding my cock into his hole. I took a  popper snort.

I began going to town. He grunts were not ones of pleasure but of discomfort. Not that it mattered. He offered. I was going to take what was mine. In a moment, I was asking whether he wanted my load in his ass.

“YES!” he said emphatically. “PLEASE!”

And that put me over the edge. I began pumping my DNA into his ass. I made sure to push it in deep for good measure.

After I finished, he showered and tried to shit it out, as I hear him in my hotel room. Not that it mattered. I’ve learned to make  sure to maker my territory well.

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Slapping Some Sense into a Senior

Slapping Some Sense into a Senior

@PositiveLife tagged a Tweet with the Bareback Brotherhood’s hashtag (#BBBH), getting my attention today and sending me into a bit of a tizzy. The heartfelt piece, written by Charles Walton, a man in his 60s who became HIV-positive late in life, indeed tells a compelling story. (It’s something that should be read, but in April 2011, the site took it down so you can’t.)

But what I find despicable is the conclusions to which the author comes.

In summary, the author visits his doctor and gets Viagra, begins a three-year period of indulging in unsafe sex (in other words, barebacking) including visits to bathhouses that includes a gorgeous man named “Dave” who he singles out among all his dalliances to conclude, 18 months later when symptoms appear, caused him to seroconvert.

The implication in this story that “Dave” might be the culprit or Viagra causes HIV bothers me tremendously. Neither Dave nor Viagra did anything. The author’s justification that the temptation brought on by a turgid cock or a handsome man (who he’d seen numerous times at a fucking bathhouse, hint-hint) can be linked to seroconversion is circumstantial at best.

Every man — straight, gay and in between — finds himself tempted. And obviously, “Dave” was not the author’s “just this once.”

The author took a risk knowing the possible results but not willing to accept becoming HIV positive. Or thinking he might remain negative.

Furthermore, the author waits 18 months, failing to get regular blood tests with his physicals — if he had any. I am in my 40s. I visit the doctor at least four times a year and he’s always taking blood but not for HIV. It’s to check cholesterol, hints of prostate cancer and a dozen other indicators that come along with being older. If this man failed to follow basic protocols of visiting his doctor for regular visits, come on.

After all this, the author attempts to turn this into a safer sex morality tale. While heartfelt, this story isn’t about safer sex or condom use.

Condom use is not the end-all and be-all of safer sex. Using seroconversion as “wake-up call” for safer sex seems like closing the barn doors after the horses have already bolted. Now he’s going to become an activist and get involved in his community.

WTF? Seriously?

It reads like some religious conversion rather than seroconversion. He learned that condoms fucking suck. They lessen sensitivity and make for difficulty in maintaining an erection, especially as the plumbing starts to rust. So what do we need? More condom use? No.

The barebacking movement won’t back down. More effective safe sex messaging to resonate in the community won’t work. Believe me. I know. I’m in marketing. Nothing resonates with a cock other than the tingling sensation of another human’s skin. The intimate connection of that touch cannot be duplicated no matter what plastic flesh created in a lab.

The scientists need to figure out ways to kill HIV transmission in lubricant or absorption through inoculation. Our prophylaxis needs to be the “gay pill” to allow fucking the way it was meant to be.

As for the author, he has sampled the fruit of barebacking. As he adjusts to life as a poz man, the shock will wear off and, I will bet, barebacking will return to his menu. Oh, he will deny it as he has written this online article despite covering his face and likely obscuring his name. But fuck raw he will. He can’t deny that hard cock and how good it feels to touch another human without plastic between two bodies.

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