Nothing Good Happens After Midnight

The night is my time. It's when I'm most comfortable. It's when the hunger strikes. When I crave an ass. When I want to fuck. When I want to get off.

It's a kind of ritual — staying up well past midnight and stalking online. It's always past midnight when I find one, when he succumbs to the desire when his ass twitches for what he really wants.

My cock. My cum. His hole.

Despite a recent dry spell, it's not for lack of volunteers. A steady stream of e-mails arrives from the willing and even a few of the desperate. Some are repeats: "Sir, might I have another, please?" Others are curious: "What does it feel like?" Plenty are just sluts: "I'll gladly take your cum."

The other day, I got an e-mail from a 33-year-old. In it, he wrote, "It's safe or it's nothing at all."

I replied, "Fine. Nothing it is. I only bareback."

I didn't hear anything. Then, just after 1 a.m., he broke his silence: "Are you sure you're neg? D/D free?"

"Absolutely," I responded. "You have nothing to worry about. I'm positive."

Within a half-hour, he sprawled on all fours on the carpet, my cock sliding out of his ass, coated with my cum. His ass worked to relieve me but lacked further satisfaction. His hole lacked distinction.

He went home to his wife, crawled into the bed where she slept, my cum inside him, my sperm swimming north into his colon, searching for a seed that isn't there but still impregnating him with my DNA.

If you want confirmation or denial about my status, I don't provide that. I only answer what will turn you on, what will get your ass over here, what will cause you to open yourself to my seeding. I've bred men who beg for my "poz" cum and spunked inside men who like me not to breed. I always cum. I always breed. And it's usually after midnight.