This story contains extreme raunch - if you're not into scat/puke you may not enjoy!
Benidorm Scally Raunch Pt 1
"What you need to do is wash Kev out of your hair and sleep with as many men as possible!"
When my best mate Trish said that to me over the phone I don't think she had in mind just how dirty things would get. I'd divorced Kev, the papers were through, it was all official. Funny isn't it, we fought so hard for the right to get married, nobody seems to remember that leads to the right to fuck things up and get divorced too. Trish was off work sick and was off to Benidorm for the week to ease her aching bones and insisted I go with her.
Being the usual control freak I am I booked everything myself. The hotel, the flights... and she laughed when I told her I'd booked the Palm Beach Grand. I assumed it was going to be classy until she informed me it was stag do central. It was too late to change it, I was flying out that weekend and everywhere else was booked. As if that wasn't a bad omen enough, when I got on the flight I found myself surrounded by gangs of lads tanked up on beer and it was only eight in the morning. There were twenty of them and they dominated the entire flight. I was furious with them for the rude awakening of hearing football chants so early in the morning but it didn't take long for me to spot him.
Picture a young Danny Dyer only a bit nerdy and a little bit out of place with the rest of the meatheads on the flight. But he was definitely one of them. The bigger guys seemed to target him for any crude jokes or horseplay, and at one point I watched him get dragged into a headlock by a six feet brick shit-house with dirty blonde hair, arms like lumps of stilton and terrible tattoos. As he pulled the lad in he shouted "Little brother's first trip away with the lads! We're gonna get you so much fanny you'll stink for a week!" I'm not going to lie. Hearing this made things stir in my jeans as I watched young Danny (we'll call him that) get ribbed by his big burly brother. Wrong I know. And only a taste of things to come. At one point Danny caught me watching, our eyes met and he shrunk into his chair, almost painfully shy. I averted my gaze before I got accused of being a dirty old man. I mean I'm only 48. But I must admit I've never felt dirtier or older.
Not until I got to Benidorm anyway. I've always gone for the young scally type. I've been known to crack out the baby oil and work my shaft watching Jeremy Kyle on more than one occasion. I'll admit that my tastes are not what most would call pedestrian. If he looks a bit hopeless, a bit stupid, and you get the impression he probably doesn't wipe his arse properly, then I'm in love. That's probably what led to my undoing with Kev – well that and a lot of other things I won't bore you with. But Kev was always very vanilla. And yes we'd have great sex most the time, but I found myself scouring public toilets for a young scally arse to eat and sniff and play with whenever he'd be away on business. And when he found me face down in the neighbour's son one Sunday afternoon that was the end of it. Not only did I lose my marriage I lost my home – I was told in no uncertain terms to vacate and never come near the area again. It's not like Sam next door was illegal – he was 17! But try telling that to his burly black boxer dad Jonno – who I'd on more than one occasion pictured fucking the shit out of his son...
So here I was on a crowded flight amidst the stink of cheap deodorant and testosterone and the annoyance was passing as the lads tapped into the dirty fucker lurking beneath my exterior. And the more I looked at Danny the more I found myself becoming a tad obsessed. He was wearing jeans and trainers and a every time he reached up to the overhead I got a hint of Calvin Klein boxers against smooth skin. The only thing more erotic than that was when one of the other lads came crashing out of the toilet laughing and spouting "I'd give that an hour guys, had to break that shit's back it was that big." Throb-material.
Landing in Benidorm was like stepping out into a very cheap tacky furnace. The heat was incredible, and as the lads charged down the steps and into customs, Danny was at the back, his jeans sliding down over a very pert behind that I imagined would smell pretty damn bad after a few hours in this heat.
I've never been one for believing in fate but on arriving at the tack-o-rama hotel I had an experience that made me start to doubt myself... There, in reception, checking in in front of me... was Danny and his brother and their stag-do mates. Standing back I got a great look at them. Every shape and size of young scally beef on offer – the skinny one, the fat one, the gym bunnies, the TOWIE crowd with plucked eyebrows and probably bald shaved genitalia, the older ones let off the leash and probably soon to be elbow deep in pussy knowing their wives were hundreds of miles away... and then Danny. Awkward, shifting about, glued to his phone, scratching his balls every few minutes. I imagined heaven resided somewhere under his fingernails after a good deep scratch under his scrotum in the Spanish heat.
Just shy of licking my lips I managed to check in and was gutted to find my room nowhere near theirs. I must admit the minute I got to my room my pants were dropped and I sat spread-eagled on the sofa, my nine inches in hand pumping away. Danny was on my mind. Simply bent over in front of me spreading his cheeks. I imagined a tiny bit of hair around his hole. Tinged brown where he hadn't long taken a dump. And I was asking him to pucker it up for me. He was laughing, amused by this strange old queer who liked the way his shitter looked. And as it puckered in, out, in, out, a fart ripped out in my face and bingo. Torrents of seed covered my chest. But Danny was no longer there. Just a tacky two euro painting hung askew on the lounge wall.
I showered, stepped into my shorts and tank, lathered my skin in oil and hit the pool as fast as humanly possible. The place was quite busy, thankfully low on families although there did appear to be a German husband and wife with their teenage daughter who was bored rigid stuck with the parents and no friends to speak of. She was plugged into her iPhone humming away to something or other as I took the next lounger and spread out, ordering a drink and promptly passing out for a good twenty minutes or so. I was awoken by laughter. Deep, monotone male voices erupting into guffaws and sending the pigeons of my sleep scattering to the skies. I woke to find the stag lads had followed me down to the pool and were causing all manner of mess in and out of the pool.
Beers were flowing, jeers were booming out and the shorts were... short. I don't know which z-list reality `star' we have to thank for the tiny shorts straight guys are now wearing on holiday but I'd like to personally thank him. Legs spread on loungers, balls almost on show, the lads were soaking up the rays and quite frankly soaking up the inner lining of my shorts. They won't have showered before coming out in the sun so the smell of their undercarriages, arses, balls, feet, dicks, pits, were at the forefront of my mind. I'd had a few beers, it was sunny and hot. I was soon to be rampant. And I wasn't the only one.
Two of the lads were eying up the German teenager next to me. They were whispering to each other as they letched on her. She can't have been more than 16 but they had her staked out, spread-eagled and ready to be inhabited in their dirty minds. And as the blond guy whispered to the brawny ginger I could see tenting. Blondie was actually talking dirty to his mate about the girl next to me, turning him on. My semi chub was about to stand to attention when I was distracted. Danny was coming to join them.
In his own little yellow shorts, Danny's body was on full view and it was quite something. Smooth, pink-nippled and glistening in the sun, it gave the impression of a young lad who's only recently started to attempt the gym and emulate his big brother. He was enveloped in his bro's arms again and dragged on to a lounger for more horseplay. The brother was twice the size of him with a fat arse hanging off the back of a chunky rugby frame. I couldn't help but wonder if they'd shared a bedroom back home – and if hands had ever wandered. If underwear was left balled and stinking at the foot of twin beds as big bro took out his daily frustrations on Danny's pert arse, pulled out dripping, covered in Danny's boyshit which was then wiped nonchalantly on the duvet cover. Or better still slide into Danny's mouth for cleaning, held past the tonsils until Danny stopped gagging.
The picture in my mind sent seepage down my shorts and under the gaze of the German family next to me I thought best to turn over, not look at the lads anymore, avert my disgusting mind. I plugged in my iPod and lost myself to Abba for a good half hour. Yes, you can be camp and be an utter pervert too!
When I turned back around the lads were more sedate, soaking up some serious rays. Danny's nipples were hard in the sun as he held up his phone, taking selfies. Normally I'd judge anyone harshly for that but he could do no wrong in my eyes. And then the best thing happened. As Danny took selfie after selfie, his brother climbed off his lounger and crept around to behind Danny's head. Silently egged on by his mates, he dipped his hand into his shorts and flopped out a massive pink cock which he flopped on to his little brother's forehead for the selfie. Danny cried out in horror and amusement as the lads cheered. I had to get up and go. I didn't like the pervert this was turning me into! A jaunt to the local shops would chill me out, cool me down, and ease my throb.
But the whole time I was stood in the local supermarket all I could think was "I wonder if Danny enjoyed the smell of his brother's genitals wafting across his face..."
Trish was due to arrive at six so when there was no sign I was worried. Then my fears were confirmed at seven when I had a Skype call from her – mascara streaming down her face as she declared she'd been rumbled by her boss and fired. She was no longer in the mood to come and meet me. Flighty Trish was always doing things like this and I knew I shouldn't be angry but I was. I'd uprooted and dragged myself to this Godforsaken dump for her and now she was letting me down. A war of words ensued and I hung up.
Furious, I necked a gin and hit the town. There is something terrifying and liberating about being alone in a foreign country. And that goes double for being alone on a foreign gay scene! Accosted by drag queens, bears and leery hen parties, I found I was in no mood to swing my handbag to Kylie tonight. Trish had pissed me off too much – and when I get on the gin in a bad mood it never ends well. So I decided to do the sensible thing and get back to the hotel and get my head down. But as I headed along the strip, eyeing up straight lad after straight lad in short shorts, tank tops, perma-tans, bad tattoos... I found the throb returning. But I wasn't going to get what I wanted in the bars I'd just been to.
A wank it was. I headed on down the road until lo and behold, the stag do from my hotel – and indeed my wet dreams – were fighting with a bouncer who was throwing Danny out for being too young and too drunk. I stood back to watch as his big bro defended him. Paralytic Danny slurred "It's ok bro I'll just go back." But Big Bro was having none of it and insisted he would at least get him back to the hotel in one piece. He arranged to meet the others in some terrible sports bar and escorted a slurring staggering Danny – in white shorts and a blue t-shirt, almost like a sailor boy from a Pierre et Gilles piece – back to safety. I decided to hang back and watch as he comforted Danny. His strong arms gripped his waist, and next to each other their arses were like two ends of the spectrum. One big round and chunky, the other pert, tight and small. I found myself imagining how they would smell as I followed them back up the hill and into the hotel.
I'm not particularly proud of what I did next but even thinking about it now has made my cock hard. I followed them to see which room they were in. Room 205. I was in 403 on a totally different floor. Watching them go inside, I stood out of sight until Big Bro came back out, calling to Danny to ring him if he needed anything. My heart pounded in my chest, I was sweating profusely. I couldn't really be about to do this... but even as my hand reached for the knocker on the door I found I couldn't stop myself.
After a moment Danny opened the door, blurry-eyed, completely out of it. I cleared my throat and played the grumpy neighbour.
"Sorry to be a moaner mate but can you guys keep it down, I'm trying to get some sleep."
Danny giggled, held his fingers to his lips to shush himself. "Sorry yeah I'm... I'm fucking wrecked..." He laughed and I smirked.
"Well," I replied, "At least one of us is having a good night I guess."
"Can you just... wait... sorry I... I..." His smile faded. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
I leapt into action. Grabbing Danny I guided him back into his room and found the bathroom. I was genuinely more concerned for his safety than anything else and I have proof of this. It was only afterwards, as I left, that I noticed filthy stained boxers on the bathroom floor. If I'd gone in there just to fuck him the pants would have been the first thing I spotted!
As Danny fell to his knees on the floor, his back arched, his pert arse in those white shorts sticking up in the air, he started to cough and splutter. His eyes, piercing blue, streamed with tears as his specs fell off and down the side of the toilet. I noticed how full and pink his lips were as saliva trailed from them in a string.
"Fuck, I'm gonna puke!" he cried out.
And God help me I almost came as he let go. The barf flew out of him and down the toilet a deep green colour. It was rank, disgusting and I was solid watching this lad totally lose control. As he bawked and cried, I leaned in.
"Better out than in, Danny..."
And I slid my ring finger into his mouth and down his throat. His eyes bulged with shock as I found his gullet and finger fucked his throat until up came more coating my hand. The smell was overpowering as he erupted with more puke. But as it flew I heard his stomach gurgle and my attention moved south.
That arse. That right pert arse in those white shorts. As he moaned and kept retching I slide down. My prize was right there for the taking. And I did what I'd dreamed of all day. Call it the gin, call it the anger at being stood up, or call me a filthy old pervert but I put my face to the shorts and inhaled deep. The smell was intoxicating. Fart, shit and teenage lad balls and ass – the perfect stink storm. As Danny regained some composure he tried to stand so I helped him.
"Fuck that stinks..." he moaned.
"It's okay let's get you to bed," I replied. And sliding my hand around his waist, so tight and slender, I helped him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. The smell of teen sweat was strong in here. His travelling clothes were strewn on the floor, dirty socks, dirty underwear. Those Calvins I'd coveted right there at my feet. As Danny flopped forward on to the bed I stooped down and picked up the Calvins. They were white, with piss stains at the front and a very slight mustard taint at the back where they'd been wedged up his arse all day in the heat. I took one smell of the mustard and I was rigid again. I had his vomit drying on my hands and his shit stain under my nose. And Danny was on the bed face down. His arse beckoned and I couldn't resist. I got on the bed with him, hooked my fingers around the waist band of his shorts and pulled them down.
"Fuck, mate, what you doing..." he whispered.
"Helping you out of your clothes, come on, let's get these off," was all I could offer by way of explanation as I pulled his shorts down and off in one go. He'd gone commando. His arse was perfectly smooth and bubble-like, his legs spread wide in front of me. The smell emanating up from his perineum was like manna from heaven. The perfect mix of sweat and shit. There was no way I could resist.
I dove down, planting my nose between his cheeks and my tongue on the underneath of his smooth balls. The hair I'd imagined on his arsehole was not there. He was totally smooth. His hole was ripe as anything, puckering and opening to my nose as I pushed in, desperate to smell as much of him as I could before he regained his senses. But awake and moaning he was, and he even pushed back, sliding to his knees.
"Mate no I need... I still feel sick..."
And he bawked, face to the pillow, but as he did his hole opened in front of me. As he retched and more sick showered his clean white pillow, his hole erupted in my face. Too many beers and a dodgy kebab rendered Danny open at both ends as he evacuated his guts. Teenage scally gut juice poured out in front of me and I did the only thing I could. I opened my mouth and leaned forward. But I hadn't expected the influx at such a pace, and with that came my own gag reflex. My eyes watered as I found myself heaving and puking back into his hole. I was filling Danny, the most beautiful teenage lad I'd seen in years, with my vomit, deep into his smooth virgin anus. The puke fest continued as he heaved everywhere.
And then suddenly he went limp and passed out in his own vomit. Horrified with myself, I stepped back. I actually had to check if he was breathing. He was. He was face down, he was safe. And in the space of five minutes he'd unloaded his arse and stomach into my mouth. Leaning at his side, I licked the puke from his lips as I took out my nine inch cock. Lathered with his gut juice from each end, I pulled my dick hard and fast until I reached the point of no return, and stood just as my balls exploded. My hot white gunk hit him in his perfect sleeping face, and it only took about two seconds for me to come down off my piggy cum high to see the state he was in.
The smell hit me. It was like an animal house. Shit and puke everywhere. I had to get out. I'd never be able to look myself in the mirror again after this. I was disgusted. But before I left I took his Calvins, rushing back to the safety of my hotel room with the fear... would he remember in the morning? And would he see me across the pool and come charging at me, backed by his stag do mates and big burly brother, to kick the shit out of me?
To Be Continued...