Warts; Anal warts specifically. That is what this post is about. If you can’t deal with it, this might be more to your liking.
That I even have to have a disclaimer to lead into this is why we need an article talking about this topic. Of late, television commercial breaks have been replete with ads for Guardisil and inoffensive women moaning on and on about how HPV can be prevented with this miracle vaccine; HPV, something that causes cervical cancer.
If you don’t want cancer in your cervix, have it removed. Like you need it; men don’t even know where it is to begin with. Or is that the clitoris? See, I don't even know the difference.
So now that the world thinks that HPV- the virus that causes WARTS is found only in straight women, let us dash that absurd notion against the rocks.
If women are getting STD’s in their vaginas (shudder), then they are probably getting put there by men (the dyke community will forgive me for ignoring their std plight). Men; wash your dicks. Well in this case you might need a few trips to the doctor to do it, but lets not get bogged down.
Shall we go skipping along to the anal wart epidemic in American gay men? Lovely.
According to the King County Health Department, 70-90% of people will get some form of HPV. But there are 70 forms of the virus, some of which are way worse than others. A much more reliable figure regarding genital warts comes from the CDC. 50% of sexually active adults (WoW basement virgins are healthier in this regard) will get genital warts- which is what we are talking about. If they are in your ass, on your poon, or have given Mr Happy acne, they are all HPV.
They fly through the scene of sexually active folk like fruit cake through the mail at Christmas time- but why?
BECAUSE CONDOMS DON’T PREVENT HPV TRANSMISSSION!!!!!!
Skin to skin contact- which usually happens at the base of the penis (the part not covered by a condom) and the entrance of the vagina (shudder) or anus (mmmm).
I sound like a High School sex counselor- lets get into my story of the scourge of anal warts:
I met him at the gay campgrounds. Dozens of randy gay men of all sorts of ages cavorting; usually nude- in the woods of the Northwest. It was complete with a wood fired giant cast iron hot tub and attached sauna. The hot tub was well known to feature a full inch thick layer of “scum” every morning. There was also a standing rule that if you leave your panties (gay for briefs/speedoes) they get stapled to the wall the next morning as a trophy. The regular bawling of some hairless twink trying to negotiate with the nasty old queen with AIDS face to get his 2xist briefs yanked off the wall was a constant source of entertainment. I don't blame the twink, those fuckers are EXPENSIVE.
Every camping lot in the area was made to look like a gay bar with out walls. More huge glitter balls were hung from limbs than the Christmas tree at a Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence holiday party. If you missed your wood-fired bathhouse orgy that goes all night, there is always the individual tents, the river bed, the river, the sand bars, the trees: there is homosexual intercourse going on all over the God damned place.
His name was Maddox. I remember it well, as in the years since I have cursed his name to the heavens. He was pretty cute and all the boys (they would spell it bois and I would shun them for it) in my group were sniffing around him like wild dogs. Maddox had a slight twitch that made him seem even hotter. What a cute, nice, young, in shape guy. I should have KNOWN he was a huge whore crawling with infectious diseases. I only go for old over weight skeezy guys- they appreciate it more and don’t tend to be plague carriers.
Maddox and I figured that our personal connection transcended some random hook up at a campground. Well that’s what he told me- he was likely in the middle of a roaring herpes out break.
We traded numbers and scheduled a date; for valentines day. We went to the Kingfish Cafe. At the time they didn’t accept cards or checks- cash only. If you open a restaurant with exotic cuisine, come up with some farkakte way of making the diners experience their dinner. If its not “no credit cards” then serve the food by running out of the kitchen screaming “LET THEM EAT CAKE!!” and just throw the food at the customers. Alternatively, paint bathroom doors on the wall so the customers have to shit in the alley. But I digress.
The date was fine, but it was one of those “this isn’t going anywhere but the sack” sorta experiences. We had a fun and flirty waitress who, after dessert was over, gave us a to-go bag of whipped cream and strawberries. She handed it to us with a wink.
You ever have sex involving FOOD? Unless you have plastic sheets, I recommend confining your foodie impulses to the bathtub. We went back to his place and realized he was out of condoms. WE ACTUALLY STOPPED, he ran to the store to buy another box, and I waited patiently for my randy knight to return to storm my fortifications.
He did. We did. Twice. It was one of the top 5 sexual experiences of my life. Thank God too, cause if it wasn’t I would have killed myself after what happened next.
Figuring out you have an STD is an emotionally crippling experience. That itching, burning, oozing, bleeding could be caused by ANYTHING. But of course it isn’t ANYTHING. You have been INFECTED because of sex, something you were taught was dirty, rebelled against that notion, and now your dirty sex chickens are home to roost. You rancid tart.
The best case scenario for STD’s in my experience is crabs. They are gross and creepy and itchy, but a shave and a haircut and two pence later and you are free of critters nesting in your nether regions.
Anything curable (gonorrhea for example) is next up the list. After that, the best you can hope for is something you can't transmit and wont kill you. Not many of this last sort on the incurable list.
I knew I had something and RIGHT where it was. Scratching your ass can be done in a nonchalant sort of way, but if its down in there deep and REALLY making you nuts, it's hard to be subtle about getting at it.
I went to the doctor thinking I had a hernia. I was hoping for a hernia; that’s how bad my denial was. The doctor I got was a man. I am constantly back and forth about my preference of the sex of my doctor. If it’s a man, chances are hes gonna be a cute young thing and I'm going to have some skeezy whorish disease that’s gonna ensure the guy won’t go out with me, save me from my miserable existence, and retire in a beach house with me while we live out the rest of our days in sheer bliss. Its having doctor feel good scrapping around your asshole that sort of pops the bubble of this fantasy.
“Does it look like a hernia, Doctor?”
“It looks like warts” he emotionlessly remarked
I was horror struk at the possibility.
“Let me get a second opinion," he mumbled
You ever been left bent over a table greased up with lube with the thought that you have warts all over your ass? I have. And that itching isn’t helped by cold sticky lube evaporating in the arid airflow wafting up your toches.
I never even saw the face of the older physician who came in to witness my sordid past.
“Yea, that’s HPV alright." He said like some greasy mechanic lookin up your Pinto.
"Its progressed past the point we can treat in the clinic, you’re gonna need surgery”
I have WARTS….. they PROGRESSED?!!.... I need SURGERY?!!!
No good time Charlie is worth laser ass surgery. I don’t care HOW MINDLBOWING he was in the sack. I had this opinion in a vague sense before the surgery. It got much more specific afterward.
They went in and burned off what must have been a Woodstock festival of warts in my rectum with a big ol' laser. I was out for the surgery and a bit groggy when I came to. They stuffed a bottle of Perkaset in my hand and set me on my way.
I just laid on my couch for the rest of the day. Until, that is I had to use the potty. The rectum is like the Macy’s parade route. The parade is a comin' and it doesn’t matter HOW many potholes there are in the road. I have never in my life been in so much pain. The intense burning, the aching, the ripping, the sweating, bleeding, and near fainting. It was the closest thing a man can get to having a baby. I had the good sense to flush mine before it became a burden though.
I returned to the couch in a state beyond tears or whimpering. It was an agony that I just couldn’t let erupt out of my broken body. In my state of delusion, I called my mother.
Mom came over and stayed for a bit until I got a little sleepy. Then I heard my pill bottle shake and I knew immediately what was up. Some people can’t be trusted around money, others around children. You don’t necessarily toss them out of your life en masse, you just know the boundaries and keep them away from their temptations. I do like most people now when I’m sick; keep it to myself or call my best friend if I REALLY need it.
I encountered Maddox years later at a party. He introduced me to his new partner.
“How did you two meet?”
“He was my spotter for the train behind me”
“What on earth is that”
“He made sure every guy about to fuck me was wearing a condom.”
And here I’ve been wasting my time trying to date online.
So I got some hot sex, a horrific STD, Laser surgery, and of course this story.
Story of my life.
Fred
If you liked this, you may also enjoy Sperm Bank Saga
That I even have to have a disclaimer to lead into this is why we need an article talking about this topic. Of late, television commercial breaks have been replete with ads for Guardisil and inoffensive women moaning on and on about how HPV can be prevented with this miracle vaccine; HPV, something that causes cervical cancer.
If you don’t want cancer in your cervix, have it removed. Like you need it; men don’t even know where it is to begin with. Or is that the clitoris? See, I don't even know the difference.
So now that the world thinks that HPV- the virus that causes WARTS is found only in straight women, let us dash that absurd notion against the rocks.
If women are getting STD’s in their vaginas (shudder), then they are probably getting put there by men (the dyke community will forgive me for ignoring their std plight). Men; wash your dicks. Well in this case you might need a few trips to the doctor to do it, but lets not get bogged down.
Shall we go skipping along to the anal wart epidemic in American gay men? Lovely.
According to the King County Health Department, 70-90% of people will get some form of HPV. But there are 70 forms of the virus, some of which are way worse than others. A much more reliable figure regarding genital warts comes from the CDC. 50% of sexually active adults (WoW basement virgins are healthier in this regard) will get genital warts- which is what we are talking about. If they are in your ass, on your poon, or have given Mr Happy acne, they are all HPV.
They fly through the scene of sexually active folk like fruit cake through the mail at Christmas time- but why?
BECAUSE CONDOMS DON’T PREVENT HPV TRANSMISSSION!!!!!!
Skin to skin contact- which usually happens at the base of the penis (the part not covered by a condom) and the entrance of the vagina (shudder) or anus (mmmm).
I sound like a High School sex counselor- lets get into my story of the scourge of anal warts:
I met him at the gay campgrounds. Dozens of randy gay men of all sorts of ages cavorting; usually nude- in the woods of the Northwest. It was complete with a wood fired giant cast iron hot tub and attached sauna. The hot tub was well known to feature a full inch thick layer of “scum” every morning. There was also a standing rule that if you leave your panties (gay for briefs/speedoes) they get stapled to the wall the next morning as a trophy. The regular bawling of some hairless twink trying to negotiate with the nasty old queen with AIDS face to get his 2xist briefs yanked off the wall was a constant source of entertainment. I don't blame the twink, those fuckers are EXPENSIVE.
Every camping lot in the area was made to look like a gay bar with out walls. More huge glitter balls were hung from limbs than the Christmas tree at a Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence holiday party. If you missed your wood-fired bathhouse orgy that goes all night, there is always the individual tents, the river bed, the river, the sand bars, the trees: there is homosexual intercourse going on all over the God damned place.
His name was Maddox. I remember it well, as in the years since I have cursed his name to the heavens. He was pretty cute and all the boys (they would spell it bois and I would shun them for it) in my group were sniffing around him like wild dogs. Maddox had a slight twitch that made him seem even hotter. What a cute, nice, young, in shape guy. I should have KNOWN he was a huge whore crawling with infectious diseases. I only go for old over weight skeezy guys- they appreciate it more and don’t tend to be plague carriers.
Maddox and I figured that our personal connection transcended some random hook up at a campground. Well that’s what he told me- he was likely in the middle of a roaring herpes out break.
We traded numbers and scheduled a date; for valentines day. We went to the Kingfish Cafe. At the time they didn’t accept cards or checks- cash only. If you open a restaurant with exotic cuisine, come up with some farkakte way of making the diners experience their dinner. If its not “no credit cards” then serve the food by running out of the kitchen screaming “LET THEM EAT CAKE!!” and just throw the food at the customers. Alternatively, paint bathroom doors on the wall so the customers have to shit in the alley. But I digress.
The date was fine, but it was one of those “this isn’t going anywhere but the sack” sorta experiences. We had a fun and flirty waitress who, after dessert was over, gave us a to-go bag of whipped cream and strawberries. She handed it to us with a wink.
You ever have sex involving FOOD? Unless you have plastic sheets, I recommend confining your foodie impulses to the bathtub. We went back to his place and realized he was out of condoms. WE ACTUALLY STOPPED, he ran to the store to buy another box, and I waited patiently for my randy knight to return to storm my fortifications.
He did. We did. Twice. It was one of the top 5 sexual experiences of my life. Thank God too, cause if it wasn’t I would have killed myself after what happened next.
Figuring out you have an STD is an emotionally crippling experience. That itching, burning, oozing, bleeding could be caused by ANYTHING. But of course it isn’t ANYTHING. You have been INFECTED because of sex, something you were taught was dirty, rebelled against that notion, and now your dirty sex chickens are home to roost. You rancid tart.
The best case scenario for STD’s in my experience is crabs. They are gross and creepy and itchy, but a shave and a haircut and two pence later and you are free of critters nesting in your nether regions.
Anything curable (gonorrhea for example) is next up the list. After that, the best you can hope for is something you can't transmit and wont kill you. Not many of this last sort on the incurable list.
I knew I had something and RIGHT where it was. Scratching your ass can be done in a nonchalant sort of way, but if its down in there deep and REALLY making you nuts, it's hard to be subtle about getting at it.
I went to the doctor thinking I had a hernia. I was hoping for a hernia; that’s how bad my denial was. The doctor I got was a man. I am constantly back and forth about my preference of the sex of my doctor. If it’s a man, chances are hes gonna be a cute young thing and I'm going to have some skeezy whorish disease that’s gonna ensure the guy won’t go out with me, save me from my miserable existence, and retire in a beach house with me while we live out the rest of our days in sheer bliss. Its having doctor feel good scrapping around your asshole that sort of pops the bubble of this fantasy.
“Does it look like a hernia, Doctor?”
“It looks like warts” he emotionlessly remarked
I was horror struk at the possibility.
“Let me get a second opinion," he mumbled
You ever been left bent over a table greased up with lube with the thought that you have warts all over your ass? I have. And that itching isn’t helped by cold sticky lube evaporating in the arid airflow wafting up your toches.
I never even saw the face of the older physician who came in to witness my sordid past.
“Yea, that’s HPV alright." He said like some greasy mechanic lookin up your Pinto.
"Its progressed past the point we can treat in the clinic, you’re gonna need surgery”
I have WARTS….. they PROGRESSED?!!.... I need SURGERY?!!!
No good time Charlie is worth laser ass surgery. I don’t care HOW MINDLBOWING he was in the sack. I had this opinion in a vague sense before the surgery. It got much more specific afterward.
They went in and burned off what must have been a Woodstock festival of warts in my rectum with a big ol' laser. I was out for the surgery and a bit groggy when I came to. They stuffed a bottle of Perkaset in my hand and set me on my way.
I just laid on my couch for the rest of the day. Until, that is I had to use the potty. The rectum is like the Macy’s parade route. The parade is a comin' and it doesn’t matter HOW many potholes there are in the road. I have never in my life been in so much pain. The intense burning, the aching, the ripping, the sweating, bleeding, and near fainting. It was the closest thing a man can get to having a baby. I had the good sense to flush mine before it became a burden though.
I returned to the couch in a state beyond tears or whimpering. It was an agony that I just couldn’t let erupt out of my broken body. In my state of delusion, I called my mother.
Mom came over and stayed for a bit until I got a little sleepy. Then I heard my pill bottle shake and I knew immediately what was up. Some people can’t be trusted around money, others around children. You don’t necessarily toss them out of your life en masse, you just know the boundaries and keep them away from their temptations. I do like most people now when I’m sick; keep it to myself or call my best friend if I REALLY need it.
I encountered Maddox years later at a party. He introduced me to his new partner.
“How did you two meet?”
“He was my spotter for the train behind me”
“What on earth is that”
“He made sure every guy about to fuck me was wearing a condom.”
And here I’ve been wasting my time trying to date online.
So I got some hot sex, a horrific STD, Laser surgery, and of course this story.
Story of my life.
Fred
If you liked this, you may also enjoy Sperm Bank Saga
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