XPost: alt.rap

I was working for one of those urban life magazines when my editor gave
me an assignment that changed my life in so many ways. He wanted an
article on the "new phenomenon" of bug chasing. Specifically, he wanted
to tell our shrinking number of readers what would cause people do
actively seek HIV infection.

Even I knew that this was nothing new and had been going on for years.
I could have asked why he didn't choose one of the gay guys on staff to
write it, but I also knew the magazine was in financial trouble. Saving
my job was a priority. So, I took the assignment without protest.

My girlfriend was out of town on an extended work assignment
eliminating the need to explain what I was going to be doing. So, I
Googled bug chasing, found some background information and web sites
which eventually led me to a club downtown called Positively Fourth
Street. I assumed it was named for the old Bob Dylan song, but this
place had nothing to do with Dylan.
I began hanging out there trying to interview self described bug
chasers. I spent the next few weeks chasing them, trying to get their
stories. Frankly, most guys wouldn't talk to me, and the handful of
guys who would didn't have anything to say that I hadn't read online.
Plus I was wading through an incredible amount of bullshit from guys
who only wanted to talk about being pozed and were no action. I had
hoped to find someone who had gone through or was going through this
experience who would tell me why and shed some insight on their hopes
and fears. My plan was to feature one or two guys and tell their
stories. However, I just couldn't find that connection.
Then one night, I was sitting at the bar when this guy walked in. He
was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. He was incredibly handsome.
His tight jeans and t-shirt showed off his rippling muscles. Frankly,
he looked like a Greek God. To my surprise, he sat down next to me. I considered myself straight, but that kind of went out the window.
Introducing ourselves, I learned his name was Eric. Desperate for a
story to write, I blurted out my mission. Eric listened attentively and
then told me he was not a chaser, but rather the opposite: he was an
HIV positive top. He continued, telling me a lot of things including
erotic tales of his experiences that set my heart pounding, and not out
of discomfort, but rather out of a desire to be share his experiences
in some (perhaps) surreptitious manner. I did not want to see myself
having sex with him, but, on the other hand, I had no doubt he was, in
some degree, coming on to me. His HIV status, of course, gave me
additional pause, but I knew the virus could not be transmitted through voyeurism. As Eric continued, his stories took on a somewhat dark hue
(perhaps enhanced by the alcohol we were downing) and he intimated he
was could infect anyone, anytime through a combination of technique and
what he called his "massive viral load". As he talked, he drummed his fingertips on the bar. I immediately noted that he had filed them down
to sharp points. He told me they "helped prime a bottom's plumbing",
which meant nothing to me at the time.
He told me he was "pozzing" a guy the next night at his apartment, and
he invited me to watch, saying he was sure I would learn a great deal
for my article. He told me the guy would be willing and able to provide information on the whole experience. My cock was tumescent at the
thought of seeing watching Eric have sex, and my sense of caution went
out the window. Some chances only come once in a lifetime, or so I
temporized. It probably didn't hurt Eric's hand chanced brushed my
crotch, and that when he stood up to leave, he was jostled by a guy
climbing onto his bar stool, and Eric's crotch chanced to press against
my thigh. In retrospect I think he might have been semi-erect - or was
it wishful thinking on my part?
In short, I accepted his offer and jotted down his address. The next
day, at 8:00 P.M., heart pounding, I found myself ringing is doorbell.
Eric answered the door buck fucking naked. I was totally caught off
guard by this and had a hard time regaining my composure. I was
absolutely overwhelmed by his physical presence. Although I struggled
to keep my eyes off his cock, it was a loosing battle. He was built
like the proverbial shit house: a thick bush, low hanging, veiny balls,
a long, thick, uncut cock that never hung quite down, as did cocks in
my (admittedly limited) experience, but it sort-of arched out from his
body. Man, I thought, this is unfucking real. My cock started to throb
in my jeans. Explaining he had just gotten out of the shower, he bade
me to make myself comfortable while he completed preparing for the
'fuck-fest', to use his words. He disappeared back into another room.
I sat down in front of a TV showing an all male porn film in which a
series of incredibly muscular guys had very physical sex. I was
surprised by how erotic I found this. My dick did not return to its
normal, flaccid state. Within a few minutes Eric came out in a short
robe and sat next to me to watch the video. Out of the corner of my eye
I saw his cock push out of his robe as it grew to 10, thick inches. I
spent the next half hour with one eye on the TV and the other on Eric's
dick. What had I gotten myself into?

Eric and I had a couple of drinks while we waited. Finally he said that
it looked like his friend wasn't going to show. He told me that he was
really horny (no kidding). He asked me, no, he told me to suck his
cock. I started to say I was straight, but he put his hand on the back
of my head. I can't say he forced my head down because I offered no
resistance. A few seconds later I was sucking and licking his cock. I
couldn't seem to stop myself. The smell, taste, texture and intimacy of
the experience was wild beyond anything I had before experienced.

After a few minutes he told me we were going in the bedroom. I just let
him lead me in there. I don't remember undressing, but I ended up
naked, on my back, on his bed. Facing my crotch, he straddled my face.
I eagerly continued my work on his magnificent cock, balls and even
found myself sliding my tongue in his ass crack. He was clearly
enjoying the attention: not only did his cock not loose any rigidity,
but drops of pre-cum were sporadically oozing out of his cock head. His
pre-cum was fascinating: slick, salty and sweet at the same time. He
started touching me all over and then leaning forward, began loading my
asshole with lube, using hard, sharp, sometimes painful thrusts. I
could literally feel myself being opened up.

I knew what he intended, and so said 'no' to each of his several
entreaties "hey, man, I've gotta slip my cock in your hole," but
persistence and lust won out over logic, and, when he assured me he'd
pull out if I asked him to, I acquiesced. To be sure, however, I told
him there was no way i was going to let him shoot his load in me. He
just kind of smiled as he positioned me on all 4s. He pushed some more
lube inside my hole, and, generously lubing his cock, coaxed his way
inside. It hurt like hell at first - pain the likes of which I had (not surprisingly), never before experienced. But after a few minutes of
superficial penetration, my ass opened-up, and I guess my ass juices
began flowing. Pain morphed into pleasure, and pleasure morphed into
ecstasy as somewhere in there he began to hit my prostate. I found
myself begging for more. The experience was like nothing I had ever experienced: was I going to piss myself or was I going to blow a load?
I honestly didn't know, (and in some measure, didn't care), but I did
know I now understood why so many guys loved anal sex.
Eric mostly kept up a nice slow pace while he slid his rod in and out
of my hole, alternately teasing my asslips and torturing my prostate
when he slid all the way in. I tried to listen for any moans or changes
in his breathing that would signal an orgasm, but I heard (or didn't
want to hear) any tell-tale signs. His hands were all over me, a few
times reaching around to pinch my tits really hard when he sped-up his pounding, but then letting-up as he slowed down. I didn't really want
him to stop but was prepared to tell him "no mas" at the first sign he
was going to cum in me.
While all this was happening my mind was racing. I felt that I was
experiencing all the terror, emotions, and pleasure that someone taking
his first positive load could conceivably experience. I tried to make
mental notes of everything I was experiencing, but I must admit my
brain was quite befuddled by the overwhelming impact of the turn of
events, and, of course, Eric's cock sliding in and out of me.
After a really long time, perhaps twenty minutes or so, he said he had
some things to tell me. He told me that he could stay hard and fuck for
an hour or more. He said he could cum and not make a sound. Then he
told me something I was really not ready to hear. He told me he had
already cum in me twice. Then he said "here cums the third load."
Before I could react, Eric's right hand moved to my shoulder and pushed
me face down into the mattress. His left arm tightened around my hips.
Then he rammed me hard a couple of times and moaned very loud. I felt
his cock seem to vibrate and then felt the hot liquid fly into me. I
guessed that having my nipples pinched had masked the first two loads.
However, there was no mistaking what he had done this time.
I was overwhelmed with terror. How could he do this to me? Eric
collapsed on top of me, his semi-hard cock plugging my ass, keeping his
cum in me. I asked him why he had pozzed me. He told me that my
"friends at the bar" had hired him to do it. They told him that I
wanted it. They said I'd make up some story about why I hung out in the
bar, but that he should ignore it. I was surprised he would do this for
money. He told me he was paid quite well. He called himself a
'poztitute'. He told me he had cut me up inside with his fingernails,
and there was no doubt his bugs were already in my blood. He told me he
liked me and said I could stay the night. I locked myself in the
bathroom for a long time. I needed time to get my head around all that
had happened. I tried to force his cum out of me somehow, but very
little dripped out, and what did was mixed with my blood. When I
finally came out of the bathroom, the apartment was dark, and he was
snoring. I thought about it for a bit, and finally slipped into bed
with him. He later fucked me two more times, cumming multiple times.
Early that morning I dressed and went home.
When my girlfriend got back to town, I broke up with her. I told her I
met someone else. I hated hurting her, but I just couldn't take the
chance of infecting her. What I subsequently learned was the fuck flu
hit me about a month and a half after my night with Eric. My subsequent
HIV blood test was positive. I wrote the article about my experience as
though I had interviewed someone else. It was the best thing I ever
wrote, but the magazine went out of business before it was published. I
work for a public relations firm now. I haven't had sex since all this happened, but I think I'm ready to get out there. There are some
big-talking, no-action guys at a certain bar for whom I have certain
gifts. Paybacks are a bitch.

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