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It’s Called Bareback for a Reason

It’s Called Bareback for a Reason

“I’ve worked really hard to become undetectable,” he said. “I just can’t let anyone cum in my ass.”

I’m sure he was working those t-cells at the gym. I’d already been fucking him for 15 minutes, my raw cock in his ass, when he suddenly dropped this new bombshell.

Why the little fucker seemed surprised my status wasn’t disclosed on BarebackRT.com up until this point in our hook-up baffled me. We’d been chatting for more than two months and he’d aggressively pursued me, largely due to my blog.

How he wanted my “creamy load” in his ass.

Of course this was only chatter.

He’d promised to treat me like a “king,” his exact words and promise to me.

I’d found him attractive and tolerated the first couple of snubs to my preferences. He’d been riding my cock and with pretty good talent. I’d had better. He was just 26 and hadn’t learned how to milk a cock well. He also couldn’t sync up with my thrusts.

But being that he was 5-foot-5-inches and 110 pounds, I had 10 more inches and 120 more pounds on him. That meant his ass was tight.

I’d cum in him.

His toned, Latino body certainly made me interested. I like the more exotic men, after all.

The bombshell came when I asked him to turn over, as I was ready to breed.

He’d already made it clear that he preferred riding my cock. But when I insisted, he got all “frightened” about taking my load.

Mind you, I didn’t help matters.

I have this tendency to say shit that’s not exactly nice. And he got me started. He’d already been on the track with some patently taboo topics that turned him on. We’d been asking each other questions, each more twisted than the next.

“Do you have a mutated virus?”

So I’m all in the “talk dirty” mode and I’m thinking we’re still in this when I just blurt out, “Yea man. Want my fucking strain?”

“Is it resistant to…” and he names his HIV medication.

Now I have no idea what medication he’s talking about. But there’s a distinct chilling effect going on.

“Naw man,” I said. “It’s cool. Turn over.”

“I don’t think I want to take your load,” he said.

I explain it’s just talk, but he’s made a decision and me, with a leaky cock, is left with no place to put it.

Now this little fucker should have tried to clarify where he stood on which and what he wanted up his ass long before I got up his ass.

Within five minutes, I was out the hotel room door.

I’d thought about turning his ass over and fucking him anyway, but he’d been the second man in two weeks to do this to me.

I’d not quite gotten around to fucking the first… a blond guy who begged me to breed him when I arrived in town.

I arrived in town. I sent him a text. And just before his designated arrival time, he sent a text to admit he’d never barebacked before and just couldn’t go through with it.

Well fuck.

I’ve just about had it with these blue-ballers.

Maybe I should bottom. At least I know I’d deliver.

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We Started at a Glory Hole

We Started at a Glory Hole

For some reason, Inserection proved to be a little busy that day. I’d been sucked by a few men. None stood out. He’d been running a little late. But eventually showed up and we secured a glory hole across from one another.

He sucked me some then slid his ass onto my hard cock through the hole.

The initial entry can always be different. Has he been fucked prior and opened up? That can be a very smooth, easy entry. If the cock was huge, then we’re talking about hot dog down a hallway smooth. Sometimes I don’t get enough friction to get off.

Then there’s the ones who are tighter than an unfucked preteen before the priest molestation. That can be painful, especially because my cock stands rock-hard and I can allow someone that tight to slide onto it.

With his, he’d messaged I’d be churning up a load already deposited a couple of hours earlier. That said, he’d be tightened up.

But his ass started with that resistance to entrance then began to open enough to allow my head to pop inside. His ass hugged my cock. Tight. And like a velvet wrap of warmth with the cum-soaked interior, I felt him back onto my cock.

After he had enough time to adjust, I began my assault on his ass. But it felt just too good to let myself cum too quickly. And I just wanted to get a little deeper. When he came off me and I felt a tap on my cock.

I pulled out and bent over, thinking he’d invite me to his booth.

“Want to go to the darkroom?”

The darkroom was just that… a darkened room with some sofas around the edge of the room. One couldn’t see very well in the space, just shadows, really. Since Inserection had decided to lock the rooms upstairs and charge for their use, the darkroom gained in popularity.

Unfortunately, some asshole will occasionally come in and turn on their cell phones to get a glimpse of what’s going on. Once, a man even punched someone for it. But I was fucking someone and didn’t bother to pay attention much.

I went in behind him, my pants barely cinched up around my hardon. Interestingly enough, he didn’t go far into the room. Right in the doorway, with the best of all possible views (with the light that filtered in), he dropped his pants and climbed onto the semi-sofa and presented his ass.

I opened my pants and aimed for his hole.

The entry this time was perfect. Just enough resistance for perfection in pleasure.

And I began fucking in earnest. Slowing down some. Speeding up. Pacing myself.

A crowd formed around us. I felt hands on my ass, even around my asshole. But no one dared step behind me, lest it dampen what little light came in.

Occasionally a hand would venture down to check and see whether I was wearing a condom. Of course I wasn’t.

I bent over, he arched up.

“You want my load?” I asked.

“Breed my negative ass,” he responded.

An odd response. This bottom hadn’t bothered to discuss status.

“You want my jizz, no matter what?”

“Give it to me!”

“You got it.”

I stood and began really fucking him, pounding him into that sofa. He started breathing harder.

“Here’s my fucking load,” I growled as I felt my balls tighten up.

As I normally do unless I’m stealthing, I plunged in and completely stopped moving for the initial pulse of my cock.

My cockhead swelled in his tight hole. As it did, he inhaled and gasped. My taint muscles then let loose the first giant pulse and my cum jetted into his guts. He started to practically scream.

I resumed my fucking, feeling my cum mix in the creamy Santorum already mucked up in this bottom’s ass. The crowd surged closer and one old troll lost his load on the floor.

Obviously, the bottom shot all over the sofa thing. He would tell me later he’d never felt anything like it.

“That’s why I’m called, ‘iBLASTinside.'”

Other men pulled at me to fuck them but, for the moment, I was satisfied. I left, headed home before the traffic got too bad.

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Q&A: Is Jizzjoy Real? YES! Would I Be Less Uptight If I Went Raw? YES!

Q&A: Is Jizzjoy Real? YES! Would I Be Less Uptight If I Went Raw? YES!

A “conversation” of comments recently broke out on a post Opens new window of a page on this blog that needed a little more oomph, so I’m bringing it over to its own post when Mikey asked the following:

QuestionOn a less serious (or maybe I am serious…) note I wonder what you or Robert (or anyone else for that matter) think about whether I’d feel better and less uptight generally if I went raw. Is jizzjoy real ? And does it maybe have lasting benefits?

AnswerAllow me to address the jizzjoy Open-New-Window-External issue. The answer is a definitive, “Yes.” I think even you answered the question, but I’ll start with other folks and we’ll come back to you in a moment.

A poor straight surgeon lost his job over a scientific study where he found that sperm contained “mood enhancers” when injected into a woman’s vagina. His colleagues — especially the women — got their douched twats in a twist over the whole thing and he went down Opens new window of a page on this blog like a cocksucker in a gay rugby team’s locker room.

I’ve also witnessed jizzjoy more than once, the most compelling being a young hairy beast Opens new window of a page on this blog who quivered and shook at my cum entering his ass.

What I’ve never written about is fucking him a second time, when I didn’t cum as much as the first time. I’d bred someone the night before and, well, if you want extra juice from me, you’ve got a little work to do. We didn’t have time for him to do it. When I shot, his reaction proved to be significantly muted.

I didn’t tell him I shot less. I didn’t indicate I’d fucked another raw ass the night before. I’d showered in between so he couldn’t have guessed.

His body just didn’t shudder like it did the first time when he got several days of built up cum flooding his cunt.

Not even a week ago, I fucked and bred a slut who’s had so many men, he’d rival my totals —although he’d never heard of me. He’s enjoyed the explosive warmth filling his guts numerous times.

As I let my cum go, he described the sensation like a “tree suddenly branching out and exploding into blossoms throughout his body.” He said he could feel it everywhere, from the curls in his toes to the tingling in his fingertips to the tip of his tongue.

a_me_cumI’m illustrating this, in a way, not to brag but to say some people may have more of the therapeutic sperm with the natural mood enhancers than others because when I breed, people seem to walk away feeling better.

Are there a lasting benefits?

When it comes to mood enhancers like Prozac or Zoloft, one must take them daily. Heck, for the full effect on some people, one must take the pharmaceuticals twice a day or extra large doses.

No mood enhancer stays in a patient’s system for an extended period of time.

If you choose to go with sperm therapy, I recommend regular breedings — once or twice a day. Of course, if you receive a massive overdose on the weekends, sometimes you can make it as far as Wednesday, but by Thursday, your mood will dictate a need for more.

Once you go bare, you’ll always be aware when a cock is wrapped in plastic. You’ll get little to no satisfaction with something between you and the man fucking you.

Uptight Condom Nazi Who Wants a Breeding

You wrote this response in our correspondence: “And we both know if he did stealth me I’d scream with pleasure.” Opens new window of a page on this blog

I don’t think I suggested you’re uptight. You did.

And you’ve divulged your true desire.

I don’t know why you haven’t gone ahead and took a load. You should. I don’t know why. Maybe the hesitation could be explained to me.

Further, I think you’ve discovered your true nature as a bareback bottom, but you just deny it. You can’t face it. Why not?

The Eleven Commandments of a True Bottom

A New True Bottom Finds His Way

Note from Mark, aka iBLASTinside: I received this as a comment to the original post, The Eleven Commandments of a True Bottom Opens a new window from this blog. I spruced up the text a little (not everyone is meant to be a writer) and turned it into this entry. 

It’s a good lesson for bossy bottoms everywhere to stop insisting on how things are going to go and give yourself over to the way the top wants the fuck. You might find yourself having a helluva good time.

Red Star     Red Star     Red Star

Today, I followed the Eleven Commandments of a True Bottom Opens a new window from this blog.

I have never barebacked before or ever been what I now consider a “true bottom.” I was always a bossy bottom.

iBLASTinside's Bareback Loading ZoneToday I decided to try something new and met someone on BarebackRT.com. I invited him over. His cock was already thick as a beer can.

I gave myself over to him and told him to do whatever he wanted, the lube was on the night stand.

I lay down on the bed, ass up, and he put lube on my hole. He then inserted his thick man cock.

I then made a big mistake. I told him I like it rough.

He began to spank me.

As the commandments I had just read stated, I can only give sounds from pleasure, so I was quiet.

He pulled out his cock and shoved in the lube bottle, which was so thick when I wrap my hand around it, my finger tips don’t touch. It was rough. He pushed me further on the bed as he pulled the bottle out then shoved it back in.

Then he did something completely unexpected.

He added his cock on top of the lube bottle in my ass.

I couldn’t help but scream. I know it shouldn’t have but he pushed my head into the pillow and kept on plowing.

It was EXCRUCIATING.

But it was THE MOST EROTIC THING I HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED.

After a while, he took out the lube bottle and rammed his dick (a solid 8″) straight inside me and came deep inside.

Then, he slapped my ass, pulled up his shorts and left without saying a word.

Thank you for posting this. Thank you for “opening me up” to this new amazing experience. I owe it all to you.

Red Star     Red Star     Red Star

Loading Zone is a feature of the iBLASTinside Blog where readers submit their stories. Have you got a raw fuck tale that just needs to be told? Send it (along with a photo or two) to iBLASTinside@gmail.com.

Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: A Murky Beginning

I don’t recall exactly why. Seems like my mother had to go to the doctor or something medical. On a summer’s day in the South, the perfect solution seemed to be letting the kids go to the nearby lake with neighbors.

Not just a small lake. This one had several access points and so the “beach” attracted dozens of people. An older man and woman — very distant relatives of ours — picked my little sister and me.

Who knows the exact date, but I’m guessing 1978. My memories fade from extremely blurry to crystal sharp, so forgive the moments in between. It’s as if some of my memories live beneath the murky lake water where it started and then emerges as it gets closer to the surface until it breaks and emerges above the surface. And then I can see what happened. But more than see it, I can feel it. It’s not just the sensation of him but also the confusion and conflicts I felt every moment of that day. Drawn to stay in the water and allow him to touch me.

I remember us going into the men’s changing area and him teasing me. At the time, he was probably in his early 40s with a respectable body — big wide chest with a little hair, more than six feet tall and a long angular face. We changed.

As an awkward, not very athletic child, my photographs show me as lanky, too thin with a bowl-cut for a haircut. Indistinct. At least this occurred prior to the plague of acne would take away my smooth ivory skin.

Playing in the water with my sister and others probably was the norm. But the moment his strong arms wrapped around me, I didn’t move much. I’m shy by nature and, back then, even more so. At some point, a game of swimming beneath the water’s surface and between each other’s legs occurred. At first, just a brush. Then a little more obvious. My cock ached beneath the surface of the water.

As I would swim beneath his legs, under that crotch, I remember him making sure to push me down and toward his cock. I know I felt it, but it would be months before I really touched or saw it.

My cock pulsed harder than ever. I’d felt it like this in the gym when we did something called “donuts,” lying flat on our stomach and lifting our legs and shoulders off the floor so our tummies and crotches were the only thing on the gym floor. It would be years later before I’d realize the dry orgasms I’d had everyday in gym, looking forward to this “exercise.” So much so, I’d do it at home on my own.

As my cock ached, my sister retired to the beach with the wife and we were alone. I didn’t dare return to shore. Unsure whether I wanted to stay here, in the water, with this man I barely knew. But something kept me there. Something in the back of my mind. Something that made me fantasize about Tarzan rescuing me from the jungle and carrying me to safely against his bare chest and in his strong arms.

That fantasy seemed to turn reality, as he stood behind me and took me deeper into the water but held me safely in his arms. Around my back, his hands rested on my bathing suit shorts. Right on my cock. He stroked me through the thin fabric.

I remember his hot breath on my neck. The only words about what was happening beneath the murky surface, “Do you like this?”

I hesitated. How should I answer this question? What should I say?

I stuck my face into the water and screamed into it, “I don’t know.” Only bubbles emerged and I swam away.

When we changed to go home, I found a stall by myself. I made sure not to be alone with him. I stayed quiet and distant. I do remember getting ice cream — an orange cream “push up” as they were called.

Only recently do I recall these details. If you want to know, the man lives — still a neighbor to my mother. He suffers from cancer and Alzheimer’s. My stories do not end here, but my next memory occurs in the winter. I’m not certain if I’ve somehow blacked out some of those moments or perhaps there’s no memory because nothing happened.

But it began at a lake in murky waters. He touched me. I was changed.

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