AND I DIDN'T GET CAUGHT
Comments to jocksniffer@hotmail.com
I'm sitting here with a jockstrap in my lap. And it ain't mine! My hands are still trembling with excitement. I can't believe I did it. But I did....
Got through playing racquetball a couple of hours ago and headed to the locker room, nothing much on my mind. I was just going about my business, but I couldn't help notice this really hot guy, fixing to hit the showers. Heavy-duty swimmer's build. Kinda hairy legs and butt. Hair at the top of his chest, tapering into a line to his belly-button. I'd say about 25.
He's as casual as they come, nonchalantly stripping down, kicking his gear into a pile on the floor. Finally, he bends over to step out of his jock and I get a bird's eye view of his butt, dark hair running the length of his crack. As always, I'm unable to suppress the fantasy of dropping to my knees on the spot and tonguing his hole for all I'm worth. Of course, I do nothing. And he heads off for the showers. Exhausted though I am, I can't stop myself from transfixing on his pile of sweaty work-out clothes which must surely be wreaking of his body odors. The black singlet with heavy-duty moisture from his pits. The gray shorts with a skid mark or two from him scratching his sweaty asshole. And, then, right on top of the pile, his jockstrap. It's far from virgin white, having that dark look that only comes from heavy use. It's really frayed, especially where the straps join the pouch. And that really gets me going mentally.
That jock has been cradling that guy's cock and balls for the whole workout. Just imagine the fermentation of man-crotch-sweat concentrated in that small patch of cotton.
And who knows when he last laundered it-some of these jocks can be less-than-religious about such things.
I stealthily look around and see that I'm alone.
The air in the locker room is really ripe. Pretty strong guy-feet smell. And more than a faint odor of piss wafting in from the head. And that's what probably drove me over the edge.
I double-check that no-one's entering the locker room and I walk over, grab the jock and stuff it into my workout bag. Hands and body trembling, I beat a hasty exit.
All kinds of thoughts flood my mind as I leave the club. What's he going to think when he gets back from the shower? Will he even notice the missing jock as puts his stuff away into his bag? Fortunately, for my sake, he'd had his back toward me when he was stripping down. I know I won't get "caught", but I can't shake a certain guilty feeling. But, I also can't shake the realization that I'm incredibly excited. Back home, I head straight to the bedroom to inspect the goods. I reach into my bag and, yes, it really is there. I hold the jockstrap in my hand and just stare. It is really moist and pretty dirty, much more so than I had originally thought. On the pouch are the unmistakable blotches of piss stains. And there's pretty heavy-duty browning near where the two straps meet the pouch. The straps had obviously ridden up some into his crack.
Given the age of the jockstrap, it was presumably no longer a tight fit. My cock is rock hard, but uncomfortably constrained. I drop my pants and shorts in an instant, my eyes continually fixed on his jock. In the same movement, I'm horizontal on my bed, pants and shorts around my ankles. A very-short moment of hesitation and I lay the jock on my face, centered on my nose. Eyes closed, I inhale deeply. Now, this is man smell. His crotch odor is similar to mine after skipping a shower for a day and then working out. Pretty rich.
But, it's no longer a jock-strap on my face. He's there right now, squatting on my face, facing my feet. My nose is nestled behind his balls. His balls are resting on my lips.
And, if I could see, his hairy butthole is in line with my eyes. On both sides of my face are his hairy inner thighs. I am a human bike saddle. I discipline myself to go slow with the hand-job on my cock.
Now, I really press the jock to my nose. First, the pouch.
Stale piss never smelled this good before. To avoid coming, I have to completely stop masturbating. And then I start nibbling on the pouch. Before long, I'm devouring the thing. The whole pouch is in my mouth, and I'm chewing away, savoring in my saliva the transferred tastes of his piss and crotch-sweat. The straps are over my nose and I smell his shit. I start beating off again and prepare for the finale. I take the shitstained straps and very firmly press them up against my nose, almost all the way into my nostrils. My nose is now fully planted up his shit-hole and my tongue is lapping that crease between his balls and ass. I can hardly breathe.
And then I plunge the shitstained straps into my mouth. I am finally eating his hole.
I'm pounding my dick at the speed of light. The pouch is back over my nose. I'm eating his shit while inhaling his stale piss and fresh, ripe crotch odor.
And I come. And, boy, do I come. Goop all over my stomach.
I'm too exhausted to clean up, and fall asleep, pants still dangling around my ankles.
My mind totally and absolutely cleansed.
Woke up about 15 minutes ago, fixed some coffee, and then sat down to write to y'all. My fun for the evening is not over yet!!