A Health Update--Go Get Tested!

 Northwest Indiana and Home—October, 2024

 

It was three days after the Fornication Party (and just three days until I was headed home) that I realized something was going on in my urinary tract.  It seemed too soon for me to see symptoms from anything I might have caught at Fornication, as bacterial infections usually show a week to ten days after exposure.  And this was different.

Over my checkered sexual history, I have had a sampling of the big three:  syphilis, gonorrhea and chlamydia (but honestly, not as often as you would think with how active I am.)  There was no burn when I pissed or that feeling of razor blades in the urethra.  There was no yellow/greenish discharge or any of the symptoms of syph.  

I went to piss again.  That was the first symptom.  I was needing to piss every 50 minutes—and it had to be the moment the feeling started—I could not hold off.  And there was pressure before the flow started.  Almost as if the piss had to fight to get through a build-up of something in the tract to get out.  It ached after I was done—not a sharp pain—just very dull.  It even made my balls hurt.  I looked in the bowl.  The little piss that came was totally white.

I thought back—I had had the white piss before, but without the pressure/ache.  It was likely a non-specific infection; the whiteness being caused by all those white blood cells trying to fight it.  I had little time with my work schedule down here to fix it—and frankly wasn’t eager to find a clinic out of state.  I waited until I got home.  But I got home on Saturday and the County Health Department (where I go for all my testing) wasn’t open until Monday.  I called the moment they opened…and they still couldn’t see me until Wednesday.  A week after the symptoms had started.

I had the whole battery of tests.  The head nurse agreed with my likely diagnosis, but she wanted to know exactly what it was so she could prescribe the best antibiotic.   She thought she would have the answer on Friday.

She didn’t.  Late Monday she called me.   Test results were finally in.  I was negative for HIV, for syph, for gono, for chlamydia, for trichomonas and hepatitis.  I did indeed have an odd urinary tract infection, likely picked up from feces in someone’s ass.  She sent off the prescription to my pharmacy.

I could feel relief by the second pill.  I finished up the bottle in a week.  Relief.  And back to normal.

Why tell you, my readers, all this?  Well, two things.  It will certainly impact my writing here as I have nothing to relate since Fornication.  (But I will take care of that as soon as this is published…)

The other reason is to help fight that stigma about STI’s.  They are a fact of life if you bareback.  Get tested.  I love the County Health Department as those folks have seen it all.  There was no judgement.  They want what you want—to get it taken care of…

I test regularly.  If you play around, test.  Even the basic STI’s can be there with little or no symptoms.  For yourself and your partners!

Off to the Dentist

 

At the time I usually publish my posts, I will be sitting in a dental chair getting my teeth cleaned.   It’s a slight trip to get there—as I still see my dentist in the town I where I grew up.  For years, I did it for I didn’t have a permanent address as my work took me all over the country.  And it was also a good excuse to see my parents afterwards.  It makes no real sense now…except I like my dentist. 

The man who poked and prodded in my mouth for my adolescence and as a young adult was a talkative bear of a man, who kept up a running patter.  Non-stop. Talking about anything and everything—and rarely anything about the state of my teeth (which are excellent, for those dying to know….)

 One of the last times I saw him he told me his son would be taking over the practice.  At my next appointment, the hygienist finished the cleaning and announced the ‘young doctor’ would come give me the final examination.  It took a moment—but then the most handsome man I could’ve conjured up came in, all smiles.   He put on his latex gloves and his fingers were in my mouth, poking and prodding as he checked for gum recession.

I have rarely had a health professional I would fuck.  In a heartbeat.  He talked, too, but he actually wanted responses to what he asked.  I have seen him mature, get married and announce the birth of his children.  He is a handsome middle-aged man now.

And I still enjoy the image of his fingers in my mouth when I close my eyes…

*

The picture is taken from a protest by French dentists.  They were feeling naked without the proper PPE during Covid, so, being French, they stripped! 

Back to Reality

 My Desk—April, 2023

I came home totally sated from CLAW and the Horse Market.  I was sorry that I hadn’t been able to stay longer at the leather weekend, but I was in the middle of a short-term contract that was taking up a lot of time.  I made some notes about the event and went back to work.

But something felt off.   It was 10 days later—and after that wholesale fucking event, I wondered if I had brought something home with me.  On the same day, I got the usual group email from the organizer reminding everyone to get checked for STIs after all the fun.  My county health department isn’t open on the weekend, so I waited until they re-opened on Monday and went in.

With my house move, I was in a new county, and while I had got my vaccines for Covid, flu and Mpox there, I had not gotten the full battery of STI testing from them.  I have to say, I love the women I have met at county health departments.  They are efficient, great at putting people at ease and have seen it all—literally.  The two women I met on this trip also appreciated that I was coming in at the earliest warning sign, knew what I was talking about and I didn’t gloss over my sex life to make me ‘look better’ in their eyes.  (Unlike my GP who really doesn’t want to talk about my gay sex life at all…)

This was also a wake-up call to me.  While not playing during all that time with Covid, I had not followed my usual sex screening routine for some time.  It felt good and empowering to be back on track.

I pissed in a cup.  I was swabbed. I was jabbed in the finger.

The nurse asked if I was interested in learning more about PrEP.  I told her how I had decided before:  I never bottom, I am cut, my regular partners are on PrEP or are undetectable.  I was pleased that she agreed with my reasoning and that, as long as I continued testing regularly, I was in good shape there.

Test results were fast.  They did find chlamydia.  I got the prescription and took my pills, glad that I hadn’t played since the event—so I had no one I could contact.  (I just hope all the attendees of HM took the letter from the organizer to heart.)

This is not the first time I have not had the usual sex driven post—but I think it is a good reminder for anyone having sex out there.  STI’s happen.  Take care of them.  Notify your partner(s) when you can.  It is part of having bareback sex.  Actually, even condomed sex—I got gono from a blow job before the condom went on back in the 1990’s.

So, there’s the public health announcement for today. 

*

I have written about all this before—and perhaps more eloquently in 2017.  I will include a link to:  The Un-sexy Post

Vaccinated

 

FP is vaccinated. 

I had to do some calling and looking around.  (The place I normally get my sexual testing done told me I was too old, so I wasn’t sexually active enough to need the vax!)  But the county health department came through.  I got my first Mpox vaccine dose this morning—and am scheduled for the second.

I have the Jynneos, so just a slight jab under the skin.  I barely felt the needle go in.  It’s been three hours—and I feel nothing in the way of soreness, swelling or itching. 

Protect yourself.  Get vaccinated if you can.

April is the Cruelest Month

Near Home—April, 2019

And that last entry was almost all of my sex for April before CLAW.

Two days after the trip north, I thought I saw some discharge coming out of my dick before my morning piss.  And taking a piss hurt like hell.  Classic gono symptoms.  I let the participants of my last frolic know and headed to the clinic.  The nurse could coax no discharge out, so she did the full battery of tests. 

I got the results in 4 days.  They could find nothing. 

Well, something was up, the pissing daggers had subsided a little, but I knew it wasn’t right.  I never saw any discharge again.  But my piss didn’t smell like my piss. 

I went to a pay clinic.  They told me I had lots or white blood cells in my urine.  I was eventually told I had an unidentified urinary infection, not one of the usual culprits, and they gave me a course of antibiotics.  I finished taking them right before the end of the month.

I celebrated by going to the bookstore…

There is no one here.  Well, no one I would touch.

I watch some straight porn, but it’s really bad.  One man is watching with me—he looks and smells like he is homeless.  I button up and go to the gay theatre.  The porn is better, but I am alone.

Thirty minutes later, the door finally opens.  It’s a balding man I recognize from previous visits.  He is always up to give me a load down my throat, but he has no self control at all.  He nods at me.  I nod back.

I suck his average dick and 15 seconds later he gives up his load.  He zips, pats me on the head and leaves.  $9.00 for two minutes in the building…

Things pick up when a 30-something otter comes in.  He had a nice dick.  And he loves looking at mine.  But he won’t let me suck him—and he has no interest in sucking me.

“But you could eat my ass.”

So I do.  I get on the cold, hard floor and eat his hairy butt as he jerks himself.  Occasionally I come up and lick his tightening testicles.  He quickly unbuttons his shirt, exposing his hairy chest.  He pushes me back down to his hole.  I jam my tongue into him.

He shoots.  Ropes of semen that cling to his fur.

Now he is fine with me licking it off his chest, but not his cock.  It is sweet, delicious cum.

*****

Another long time of being alone and jerking.

A cross dresser comes in.  Short, loud skirt, white blouse and a bobbed wig—and a five o’clock shadow.  Two men come in at the same time.  The CD takes turns licking the men’s hard dicks—which end up smeared with lipstick.

I am invited to use the made up mouth. 

I decline.  

But then I watch one of men groan like it is the best head ever.

I reconsider.

I allow myself to be sucked.

Enthusiasm, but no skill. 

I sigh.  I walk through the deserted store—a Saturday night, no less—and go home.

*****

This belongs in the “I swore to tell the truth” section.

Here is the first link to all the great times I wrote about as they happened.  CLAW 2019

And a new dick pic to brighten this post…

“Can I Cum In Your Boy?”

Public Health Clinic—October, 2018

It was after I showed Brody, from the last post, out the door, that I went to the phone and got a message that no one wants to get—a message from a fuck bud saying I might have been exposed to chlamydia.  Now it’s the news I didn’t want to get.  I am a firm believer that you tell the people you play with if you find out exposure was possible.  I made a mental list of the men I’d played with since that particular guy, and it was pretty long.  While I had no symptoms, I went straight to the clinic and got a full battery of tests.  I think I’ve talked before that I test for HIV at least once a year and for the curable bacterial infections every four months or so, with the rate I play.  On the way home, I realized there were about 8 more men I should contact if I indeed had picked it up.

The good news was that in five days time, I got a clean bill of health. 

I am thankful I play with many guys who think as I do:  that we are truly a band of brothers looking out for each other.  Not every exposure = an infection.  But I want to check it out and nip the spread of it in the bud.

Thus endeth the PSA for today.  Let’s get back to a hot threeway.

Northwest Indiana—October, 2018

I was working again in Amish country in Indiana.  I got the phone results of my tests the day before I was to have Don and his partner Reid to my hotel for a threeway.  I let them know we didn’t have to cancel.  Now they are the couple who the bottom, Don, finally told his partner about seeing me once or twice a year.  It so turned Reid on, we arranged the threeway…after we had bumped into each other by chance in a bookstore.  You read about that meeting in ‘Beer Can with a Downward Hook.’ 

I have the afternoon off.  The sling is up, only slightly cramped next to my king sized bed.  The rimseat is set up on the other side of bed.  They are right on time.  Don, 50, is always well put together.  He looks great, his clothes flattering to the now slight tummy he’s reducing.  He excuses himself to ‘check things’ in my bathroom.  Reid and I finally get to talk a little as we wait.   We sit, two tall, older, lanky men, me in my jock and boots and he fully dressed on the end of my bed and look at the kinky German porn playing on my computer.  He’s never seen anything like it.  And he likes it—from the growing bulge in his jeans.  He gets up and strips down to nothing.  That monster of a cock really likes what is happening to Rod Painter in the video.  I kneel in front of him and, when it’s not fully hard, I get more of him into my mouth.

Don emerges from the bathroom and is visibly excited by us already playing.  He kneels next to me and we both have more than enough dick to lick.  I pass it to him.  I watch how much more he can take into his mouth.  I lick Reid’s balls, which begin to pull up into him.

I stand up.  Don goes from cock to cock.  From Big to Bigger.  Back and forth.  In a moment of madness he tries to get the heads of both our dicks in his mouth at the same time.  There’s no way—but it feels hot to be head to head with another dripping dick.

I ask if I can taste Don’s hole.  He kneels on the bed.  I dive in.  Reid moves around so he can continue to feed his boy that beer can of a dick.  I tongue Don, prodding his hole open.  I stand up.  I lock eyes with Reid.  I slap my dick against the wet hole.  He looks down at my dick, poised to enter Don.

“Do it,” he says hoarsely.

I slide into his man.  Don chokes around the dick in his mouth.

Reid’s eyes come back up to mine.  He is grinning.  “Fuck that boy.  Make him feel it.”

I do.  I fuck him so that my hips are slapping against his upturned ass.  Reid clambers off the bed and watches me fuck from the side.  He comes around behind me.  The curve of his cock is against my ass crack.  He reaches under me and adds a finger into his boys hole so my cock travels over it. This makes his dick throb.

I pull out with a “Fuck him.”

He does.  And not gently.  I make Don clean my dick, but come back to the side position to watch the fuck.  I ask to taste the ass juices all over Reid’s dick.  He looks surprised for a moment, but then gladly gives me a taste.  He lets me lick, then pumps it back into his boy.  The next time he pulls out all on his own.  He likes having me there.  I swab up the ass juice with my tongue and this time I guide his cock back into the winking hole.  He seems to love that.  He pulls out of Don again and again for me to lick and re-insert.

“Let’s do the sling.”

I go first once again on Don’s now juicy hole.  Reid does put his dick in Don’s mouth, but until it’s his turn, he mostly sits alongside the sling and watches me plow his partner.  Don’s eyes dart from me, to the mirror above the sling so he can watch his ass get filled and then to the side to see how Reid is taking it.

Soon enough I pull out and let Reid go in.  Don’s eyes are wide open, staring at the mirror, as that curved beer can presses against his now puffy hole.   

It’s my turn to sit on the bed and watch them fuck.  It’s intense and primal.  Reid is fucking him relentlessly.  I stroke to the live porn happening inches from me.  Soon, I move around behind Reid.  I kneel and his ass connects with my tongue on his backstroke.  He finds a way to give a slight grind into my face before fucking back into the hole.

We change up again.  It’s not long before Don asks for a rest—and has a request.  “You have to really eat Reid’s ass.  I’ve told him how good you are.”

Reid gets in the sling, claiming never to have been in one before.  I go to work.  I have him panting and growling in no time.  He strokes his dick.  Don watches, loving that his partner is getting a taste of what he feels.

“I can’t get deep enough,” I tell them.  “Let’s move to the rimseat.”

I get under.  This is certainly a new experience for Reid.  He sits gingerly.  His hole is pulled open by the seat and my tongue enters him as deeply as any tongue ever has… “Argh!” he grunts in all out pleasure.  Don is busy sucking my cock as I eat out his man’s ass.  When he gets my dick totally wet he rides me, bending forward slightly to stroke his partner.  He finally stops stroking Reid when he fears he might cum.

I turn my face to the side so I can talk.  “Let me taste Don’s hole now.”

They change.  Don sits his totally wet hole on my face.  His puffy lips open and I lick deeply.  Reid stands on either side of my chest so he can feed Don his dick.  I don’t ever want to move.  It’s a perfect moment.  I am so into exactly what is happening at that moment in time.

We do move of course.  Back to the sling.  I fuck first…and suddenly Reid is right there, shooting a week’s worth of cum onto Don’s ass.  Blast after blast.  When he’s done, I pull my cock out, wipe up his cum with my fingers and wipe them on my cock.

“Fuck his seed into me.”

I do. 

I turn to Reid.  “Can I cum in your boy?”

“You fuckin’ better.”

And I blast my load inside.  I hang, spent, from the top of the sling frame, my cock deeply imbedded.  Don shoots in about five quick strokes.  I mop it up again and finger some into his ass.

“Felch me.  I promised him you would.”

I smirk and fall to my knees to sample the three mixed loads in his ass…

The Un-sexy Post

I think it may have been the very next day, when I was still luxuriating in the afterglow of the ten man orgy, when I got a text from a man I’d seen earlier in the month:  “Sorry, but I think I may have exposed you to syphilis.  You should get it checked out.”

I got in the car the next morning and went to run the entire battery of tests.  I thought again about a comment that a reader had written on the Jan 8, 2017 post:  “So can you post something about how you avoid health risks with all the unprotected sex you have? Do you ever worry about it?”  I had put off answering.  And while you could read that “…do you ever worry about it?” as if I didn’t have a brain in my head, I have decided to take it in a more neutral manner.  So let’s talk a little about why and how I play bare.  This is what I decided.  It won’t work for everyone.

·         Knowledge is power.

When I was still a ‘condom every time’ kind of guy, I read everything I could find on HIV and other sexual transmitted diseases.  I talked to men who I knew were playing bare.  I was so close to doing it, but I did not take the Magnum off until two things happened.  The first was the death of my partner (which had nothing to do with HIV.)  The opening of our relationship had included the caveat that I would not play bare so I wouldn’t be bringing stuff home to him.  I played with many, many men when he was too sick to have sex anymore—I could have removed the condom with them and he’d never have known.  But I didn’t.  I waited until it was just me—for that’s what I’d promised. 

The second thing that really decided me was the 2007 AIDS conference where they asserted that the safest bare sex you could have was a circumcised negative top fucking an undetectable bottom. I still wasn’t sure I could remove the latex.  And I didn’t, until I had a three way with a known undetectable bottom bud and a top friend of mine.  The top fucked him bare—and that top was a nurse.

·         If you play bare often enough, you’ll get something.

When I started playing bare, I knew this and accepted it.  The things I felt I was most likely to pick up are curable or manageable. I came of age playing bare.  A trip to the public health clinic was a given.  After all, back in my condom only days, I still got gonorrhea from a blow job .

·         Know the symptoms.

Know what to look for and how long after sex the symptoms might appear.  And know that many times there are no symptoms.  Which leads right to the next point…

·         Test regularly.

For me, with the guidance of the county nurse, as a man who takes nothing but a tongue up his ass, she thought once a year for HIV and every three months for everything else would be good.  It’s worked very well for me.  Many of my ‘busiest’ undetectable partners have the whole battery of tests each time they are doing their regular check-ups.

·         Set your limits.

Only you know what you are comfortable to do.  If I still had my foreskin (Damn, I would love to know the amount of skin it would take to cover me…) would I bareback?  I don’t know.  I likely wouldn't have until the advent of PrEP.  I do know that if I bottomed, I would be on PrEP in a heartbeat.  I have also stopped sex in it’s tracks when I have seen suspect things—like the man oozing sores around his anus who I had just hunkered down to rim.

·         Contact your partners.

It’s not easy, but I believe that if you end up with something, you must tell the men you’ve played with that they might have been exposed.  Text, call, email, take them to coffee.  I don’t care how, but let them know.  We’re supposed to be a band of brothers taking care and watching out for each other.  I didn’t want the news of the text in one sense—but I sure did want it and needed to figure out who I’d seen since the man who exposed me.

·         Your county health department is your friend.

I occasionally get a raised eyebrow that I’m back again.  Well, fuck them.  In the long run, they know that I am behaving responsibly and are glad of it.  If you can’t face that, get a gay doctor.  But tell whoever it is the truth about what you do sexually.  If they don’t check your ass for you only admit to cocksucking, you aren’t helping anyone.

*****

Back to me.  I gave up my blood before lunch.   I pissed in a cup.  And it didn’t feel hot—it’s amazing how ‘unclean’ you feel once you know there if a possibility you’ve been exposed. Since my partner had tested positive for syphilis, they gave me treatment on the spot. 

I went home and started to do rough drafts of the email I would send to my fuck buds.  I did want to wait to make sure I tested positive syphilis, too, before I sent them out.

A week later we got the tests back.  Just as I was finishing up the pills.  The nurse told me the news by phone.  I never had it.  I tested negative for everything.

The emails were sent only to the trash.