Disclaimer:
The following story deals with subject matter that some readers may find objectionable. Therefore, if raunchy sex between men involving scat is offensive to you or if you are under the age of eighteen, STOP HERE!
Smelling Stink - Part 1 by Rim4you
Chapter 1
"Whew!" Jason, my roomate exclaimed, lifting one of his arms high in the air and taking a whiff. "I reek!"
"Enjoy you're run?" I asked.
"Always. Gotta keep in shape you know. You oughtta try it sometime, Steven."
"I'll pass, Jason. I've got better ways to work up a sweat rather than running around the neighborhood in one hundred degree heat."
"I'll bet you do. Like all that heat from beatin' your meat!"
"What?"
"I'm outta here, Steven." Jason replied, laughing and heading down the hallway towards the bathroom. "I'm in the shower if anyone calls."
I put down the book I was reading and watched as Jason sauntered down the hall. We had met the previous year in Professor Weinhardt's psyche class and hit it off, as friends, from the start both looking to get out of the dorm and into an apartment. So we pulled our resources together and found this apartment. Its only saving grace is a spectacular view of the ocean.
Jason is your typical California surfer type of guy. Sun bleached hair. Golden tan. Sparkling blue eyes. He's not overly muscular. He may hit the gym three times a week but a bodybuilder he's not. Rather, his physique has a natural tone and symetry wrought from his love for swimming and surfing. As far as I could tell, beneath those baggy swim trunks of his was a definite set of firm, round, ample buns. Buns that I longed for in every possible way I could imagine.
I was still trying to figure him out. His messages came across mixed at times. He'd gloat over a woman one minute and then the next, he'd comment about how great some guy's body looked. Perhaps he buttered his bread on both sides?
Early on I had told him that I was gay. Not that it's obvious. It didn't seem to bother him in the least bit. He told me once that the true strength of a real man was in his character and that what a man did behind closed doors was his own business.
I couldn't help feeling attracted to Jason. He had everything going for him: good looks, intelligence, wit and charm. But I wasn't about to do anything to jeopardize our friendship.
And lying beneath the surface was a part of me, dark and secret.
Chapter 2
I could hear the shower running and Jason belting out 'Livin' La Vida Loca,' in spanish no less. I tossed my book aside. I was restless. Hell. I was horny. Seeing Jason in his jogging shorts, barechested, his quarter sized nipples popping out at me, beads of sweat trickling from his armpits and that all familiar scent, that musk which cried out 'Jason,' had aroused me to no end.
My cock stirred in my jeans. I could feel the heat rising from it as I dropped my hand upon the mound between my legs and squeezed. Perhaps Jason was right in saying that I could create my own heat by beating my meat, which sounded like a good idea. I needed a break from the books. Cramming for exams could wait!
I headed down the hallway towards my room, Jason's singing ringing in my ears and the thought of his being naked at the moment, etched in my mind.
Upon reaching the bathroom I noticed that the door was partially open. Glancing in, I could see through the steamed up glass of the shower door, the shillouette of Jason's nude body, his hands gliding over his chest and descending towards his crotch. My heart skipped a beat as a short gasp escaped my lips and my dick gave a slight jerk in my jeans.
Looking down on the floor I could see his well worn, beat up sneakers atop his t-shirt that looked to be soaked with sweat. By the toilet lay his jogging shorts and in contrast to the dark colored material of the shorts, Jason's jockstrap stood out along with his sweatsocks.
The jockstrap and socks caught my attention. Their whitness had long since disappeared through frequent wear, most noticably, Jason's jockstrap. I fixed my eyes upon the strap's pouch which appeared heavily stained. Hues of yellowish-brown seemed to be encrusted, embeded within the material. It looked as if no amount of Clorox II could ever whiten and brighten that pouch again!
I thought about how that grundgy looking pouch had craddled Jason's cock and balls. How each droplet of his crotch sweat with its rich, musky aroma had penetrated and been absorbed, time and time again, into every fiber.
I crinkled my forehead, a feeling of lust swept over me as I drew in a deep breath as if, from that distance I could detect the pouch's aroma and delight in it. As the tide of wanton yearning knawed away at me, I popped open the buttons of my 501's. Reaching in I curled my fingers around the clamy shaft of my hard, pulsing dick and drew it out. With gentle strokes I stared at what I knew to be, the ripe pouch of Jason's jockstrap and my nostrils quivered. I wanted its fragrant, tangy sweetness. I wanted Jason!
Chapter 3
Torn between rationale and lust, I weighed my options. Should I go to my room and take care of business in private or dare giving into my desire right here with Jason just a few feet away? Jason was too wrapped up in his rowdy singing to give me notice, right?
I took a deep breath and gave my aching dick a firm squeeze. Amid the billowing clouds of steam, coming from the shower, I slipped into the bathroom and leaned against the wall. With my heart pounding in my chest I glanced first at Jason's figure behind the steamy glass to the dirty jockstrap lying on the bathroom floor. From one to the other, my rising lust mounted.
"She'll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain ..." Jason sang, reverting to the english lyrics.
The thought of it: dancing naked in the rain with Jason, sent shivers up and down my spine. My knees began to shake as I slid down and rested on my haunches, legs spread wide, my dick jutting up, rock hard.
Gathering my wits, I leaned forward and onto my knees, bracing myself against the toilet, panting. Reaching out, I grabbed Jason's jockstrap and felt its sweaty dampness in the palm of my hand. I stared at it taking in every grundgy stain before pressing it to my face and taking a deep breath.
I had to restrain the moan I perceived throttling in my throat as the heady aroma of Jason's funk wafted up my nose. At last I had made contact with his scent. The robust odor contained in the pouch sent me reeling with lust. The tangy aroma registered with my cock which began to jerk and spit a copious thread of pre-cum which I rubbed over the head of my dick.
My eyes glistened with desire for Jason so near, yet so far, obviously oblivious to my intrusion upon his privacy. With each stroke of my cock, every whiff from the pungent pouch, my eyelids fluttered, my body convulsed with lust. I was smelling stink. Jason's stink. At last!
I was too far gone into my solitary pleasure to think of what to do next. My cock, it seemed, dictated my every move. Each stroke, up and down upon my rigid shaft sent a wave of lust coursing through my veins. Each whiff I took of Jason's jockstrap caused my body to heave and sway. Grabbing hold of the toilet, lest I should lose my balance and tumble over, I rested my head upon the toilet seat.
I felt something wet on the cushioned, vynyl seat against my cheek. Raising my head slightly, I could see the impression, the indentation of where this seat had been recently sat upon and a glistening sheen, like residue, upon it. Sweat. Sweat from the mounds of Jason's ass.
Grovelling, hovering inches above the seat, I lowered my lips and dragged them back and forth upon the warm vynyl. Darting my tongue out I savored the subtle traces of sweat. Jason's sweat. I swirled the faint residue into my mouth as my glassy eyes stared into the waters of the bowl.
A light froth was spread over the surface of the the yellowish water. Bubbles of various shapes and sizes seemed to snap, crackle and pop and rising from the bowl, an odor that was tart and ripe.
Gazing into the bowl, floating amidst the foamy froth like a rigid cock, was a long, thick, knarly turd that seemed to curl with the contour of the bowl like a cobra in wait to strike. It's steamy vapors, like toxic venom, rose into my flared nostrils. Its foul stench swirled up my nose intoxicating me like a headrush from poppers. I moaned. Herein lay Jason's most private, personal stink. The abscence of toilet paper in the bowl told me that Jason had stepped into the shower with an unwiped, ripe, dirty hole. Did it bear a hint to his hygine as witnessed by his grundgy jockstrap? I wondered and relished the thought of burying my face into the steamy, smelly trench of this surfer boy to find out for myself.
Chapter 4
As cock snot oozed from my dick unto the bathroom floor and I pulled on my meat while breathing the stench from the toilet bowl, so lost was I in my depraved lust that I didn't hear the shower being turned off nor the sound of the shower door being drawn back.
"What the fuck?" Jason gasped, more surprised, initially, I gathered from the tone in his voice upon discovering me than the fact of my head in the toilet, inches away from his stinking turd.
"Jason!" I exclaimed, in a flash heaving myself upwards, on my knees before him, my raging, dripping dick in one hand and Jason's jockstrap in the other. "I ... uh ..."
"Fuck, man!" Jason blurted, standing there before me, naked. Beads of water, like sweat, trickling over every contour of his body.
I was embarassed. Humiliated, yet aroused. In one glance I absorbed Jason's manly beauty. From his blue eyes searching mine to his broad shoulders and muscular chest rising and falling with his breaths. down over his firm, washboard stomach to the swirls of dark hair surrounding his rather thick, flacid dick, that I knew could swell into a mouthful, to the hefty balls that swung between his muscular legs. I took it all in, every exposed inch of him.
"Jeez! Steven!" Jason gasped, stepping out of the shower and moving towards me, reaching for a towel, his dangling cock and balls just inches from my mouth. "What were you doing, man? Hell! I can understand beatin' your meat and all. Even I ..."
Before Jason could utter another word, another sound, I wrapped my lips around his cock and drew it into my mouth.
"Aw, fuck! Fuck!" the surfer boy sighed, dropping his towel, curling his fingers through my hair and drawing my mouth onto his cock.
"Suck, Steven! Suck my dick!"
With his rank jockstrap in my hand, I slowly ran my hand over the back of his calf, upward over his thigh to the warm, fleshy mounds of his ass.
The buns I had so lusted for, were now within my grasp.
I welcome your comments. Write to me at Rim4you@webtv.net