From: jock stench <jocksniffer@hotmail.com>
Subject: Janitorial duties (dirty-jockstrap worship)
Date: Wed, 06 May 1998 00:43:18 -0700

THIS TEXT FILE CONTAINS MATERIAL THAT IS OF A HIGHLY-GRAPHICAL
SEXUAL NATURE. YOU HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO FIND SUCH MATERIAL NOT
TO YOUR TASTE, IN WHICH CASE, YOU MUST DESTROY THIS FILE
IMMEDIATELY. 

Comments to: jocksniffer@hotmail.com

DEMANDING JANITORIAL DUTIES

Engineering school agreed to defer my entry for a year, and I 
headed off to Europe to bum around. I am ambitious, but I guess 
I had a few things to get straight in my head before getting
serious about the career thing. Anyway, the money ran out
quicker than I expected, and I had to return to Colorado. I 
needed a fill-in job to keep me going until the fall.

The janitorial profession is not exactly everyone's idea of a 
promising career, and I had no problem landing a temporary job
at the local college gym.

First day on the job, and I had a permanent hardon. Mentally, I
was all over the place, not the least because the guys at the 
gym were all indisputably men. Puberty was finally history. 

Back in high school, I had always been somewhat perfunctory when
changing and showering in the locker room. Looking back, I
understand that my "in and out as quickly as possible" approach
was really my way of dealing -- or, more accurately, not dealing
-- with my attraction to other boys. But, now, my duties called
for me to spend almost all my time in and around the locker
room.

I quickly learned the ropes of being a discreet gawker -- more
an attitude of mind, actually. And, more importantly, I got the
schedule down pat. Duties that called for me to be away from the
locker room were always performed during downtime, that is, when
there wasn't much going on in the locker room. I never -- repeat
never -- failed to be in attendance when the swim team or 
wrestling team had their practices.

At first, I got off on simply being around all this masculinity.
The smell of male sweat, the heavy scent of jock body-waste in
the john. Even the odor of foul sneakers. It's all a turnon for
me. 

I have a definite preference for the darker-haired guys,
especially if they have hairy legs and butt. Out of all the
sights I have come to relish, my favorite is that of a dark-
haired guy bending over, displaying a verdant forest of hair
down his butt crack and around his hole. I inevitably feel this
craving -- which, of course, I do not indulge -- to nuzzle my
face in his crack and then tonge him, deeply. Shit smears or 
not.

Another favorite body area is that intimate space between a 
guy's balls and his asshole. After all, that's where the highest
concentration of crotch sweat and odor resides. Oh, to have one
of these dudes just sit on face and have my nose nestled in that
space. The riper his crotch, the better.

Not that I don't get off on cock and balls, especially when I 
pass by the urinals. I love seeing piss spew out of a dangling
cock. I want it to gush all over me. And then I want to drain 
every drop.

However, I'm not ready to turn these fantasies into reality.

No, I need to be more surreptitious. Since starting this job,
lost sportswear has been the answer, especially those items I've
found in the wresling team's area.

When I get home after work, I inspect the goods for the day, and
perhaps revisit a few older favorites. It's become an essential
part of my evening's activities.

With the singlets, I focus on the armpit area. I'll lay down on
my bed with the top wrapped around my face, always taking care
to have the armpits directly over my nose. And, then I breathe,
very deeply. In my mind, my nose is wedged in the jock's armpit.
He's just finished a good workout and his pits are pretty moist, 
although not necessarily that fresh, especially if he's been 
wearing the same top for several workouts. However, stale or
fresh, it's a nasal treat either way. 

And then to the sox. I especially like those that I've found 
before the sweat has completely evaporated. I rub them around my
hands and bring my fingers to my nose. The odor lasts a long 
time. And whenever I need a hit of jock-foot, my fingers
are always there at the ready. Sometimes, I'll use foot odor to
calm myself down for a while when I'm into an intense jerkoff
scene that threatens to tip me over the edge too soon. In my 
experience, guy-feet smell is an odor you can "float with" until
you're ready to resume intensity.

And, then, of course, we get to underwear. And I'll state my
opinion up front: Guys were meant to wear white cotton. The
sweat in nylon underwear and the like evaporates too fast, and,
if they're colored, it's too difficult to see the stains. But,
most importantly, artificial fibers just don't provide the right
ambience for a guy's crotch juices to ripen to maturity.

Yes. Stains and crotch-juice are exactly what underwear is all
about, especially if you can associate the wearer with the 
article.

I'm always on the lookout for a jock forgetting to put away his
dirty shorts. I'll be there as fast as prudence allows and will
store the article for "safekeeping", just in case he returns for
it.

Yesterday was about as good as it gets. Rod, the captain of the
wrestling team, was clearly in a rush to get somewhere (probably
to fuck one of his girlfriends, the horny bastard). While he was
packing his stuff, he simply didn't notice his jockstrap under
the bench, and neither did any of his team mates. When they
left, I swooped down and grabbed it, desperately hoping that Rod
wouldn't foolishly return in search of this trophy. 

I could tell immediately, from its look and feel that I was in 
for a real treat. Dripping with dampness, it was about as soiled
as you can get away with in the wrestling-team area.

I carefully wrapped the jock in a moist towel, making every
endeavor to retain the dampness of Rod's crotch juices. Before 
leaving work, I transferred it to an airtight plastic bag.

I got home at record speed.

Now, you need to know that Rod is about as jock as is possible.
Just being near him gives me an instant erection. And when he
wanders to and from the shower -- always stark naked -- I swear
that I mentally ejaculate. It's not just his finely-tuned body,
with hair in all the right places. It's not the fact that he has
the smoothest tube of a cock this side of the Mississippi, with
mouth-filling pendulous balls dangling beneath, all surrounded 
by a thick, luxurious mat of dark pubic hair that tapers up to 
his belly-button. No, it's simply him. He exudes maleness 
through every pore of his body. If you're really into masculine
guys, you're into Rod.

Recently, I saw him taking a dump (our stalls have no doors) 
and, well, that's the subject of another story.

Back home, I notice with relief that Jim, my roommate, is still
out. We get on pretty well, but he doesn't know (yet) about this
all-consuming hobby of mine.

Opening the bag, I pull out Rod's jockstrap and immediately take
a good whiff. Geez, there's a bit of everything. This is going 
to be very good. And it hasn't lost an ounce of moisture. Not 
wanting to rush things, I take a closer look. Although I could
definitely smell piss, cum and shit as scents in the background
of his powerful crotch odor, I'm hard-pressed to identify
any stains. The shit smell is right at the back of the pouch,
where it joins the straps. I guess he's been scratching his ass
a lot or perhaps he was a little less-than-careful wiping his 
butt after taking a crap. Actually, on closer inspection, I am
able to detect tinges of brown. But, how do you explain the cum?
It's not as if the locker room or the wrestling-team's practice
area has any nooks for private jerking off. Well, whatever, 
I'll take it.

My only concern right now is how I'm gonna get off. I think 
about putting his jock strap on and jerking off through the 
fabric. But, I'm not ready to mix my juices with his. That can
come later. So, I choose the fuck feast. I'm gonna get fucked 
while I make love to Rod's crotch.

And Dan, Rod's best buddy, is going to do the fucking. Not that
I like Dan. I do not. He's as arrogant and selfish as a jock can
get. Which means he's completely unbearable. But, he has a great
cock. And his personal body odors are almost as sublime as those
of Rod. He will fuck me, without mercy, only for the pleasure it
gives him. And that suits me just fine.

Hurriedly, I retrieve his jock, which I was lucky enough to 
purloin a few weeks back. A couple of really-great piss
stains but as dry as the Arizona desert. This will not do. I 
take the spray bottle I use for my indoor plants and squirt a 
fine water-mist over his jock. A quick zap in the microwave
and I smell the beginning of a return to its original ripeness.

While Dan's jock is cooling off, I dig down into the back of my
closet for the dildo and vaseline.

I completely strip in three seconds flat, taking a good whiff of
my own shorts and sox to encourage the mood. A final whiff of
Dan's jock confirms that he's in the mood to mindlessly fuck
like the animal he is. I put on his jock and, with Dan's cock-
juices mixing with my own, my dick engorges to compete with the
Tower of Babylon. I am definitely ready. 

I turn on a porn video to help relax me while I get the dildo
up my butt. I'm new to this, so I have to take it in stages.
Three attempts and it's way up my shit chute. Then the towel
between my legs, positioned so that one tug causes a plunging,
deep jab from the dildo.

Video off. Lights out.

Gingerly, I rest Rod's jock pouch over my nose. I close my eyes
and Rod lowers his smelly groin to my face. I'm sucking one of 
his hairy balls while my nose presses into his furry crease. 
The hairs of his crotch and inner thighs are tickling my face.

I lose myself in the funkiness of Rod's crotch. There's no way 
he got this ripe from just one workout. He must have skipped his
morning shower. I'm drinking in jock crotch juices that have 
matured overnight, aided by the warm friction of Rod's continual
horny squirming. I can just detect the residue of his rancid
morning leak. And there, not too strong yet, I can almost make
out the shit remains from his morning dump.
 
I press the jock closer to my nose and focus on Rod's stale
piss stains. Rod changes position. With his semi-erect dick
opposite my face, he starts pissing with the force of a water 
cannon. In my eyes, my nose, and finally in my wide-open mouth.
This is the replay of his rich morning piss. And I am the toilet
bowl.

As Rod issues his final squirts of piss, I feel Dan starting up.
I know that, once he starts fucking, he won't stop. It's gonna
hurt like Hell. But, the deep feeling of anal completion 
dominates all sensation of pain. I drain the last of Rod's piss
and start sucking.

At first, I'm able to swallow the whole of his dick, and bury
my nose in his pubic hair. I can smell the remains of
the jerkoff session he had before going to sleep last night. I 
quickly move from his dick to suck the dried cum out of his
pubic hair. And he starts jerking off, his muscular hand 
stroking his dick with movements that become less and less
controlled. Finally, he ejaculates with not a care for where his
jism lands. It's dribbling all over my face. Warm, pungent, 
virile jock sperm. Licking as much cum from around my mouth as
possible, I beg Dan to go deeper and grab his thighs to force 
the whole of his dick up my butt. I'm grunting and groaning like
a lunatic. But, still, I need more. 

Shifting the position of the jockstrap over my nose, Rod returns
to sitting on my face.

I inhale the jock crotch-juice behind his balls and then move my
nose along his hairy crease, lapping with my tongue. The smell
is getting stronger and stronger as I approach his hairy 
asshole. Part of me wants to wretch. But, lost in the power of 
the moment, I plough on regardless. Finally, my nose connects
with his moist, smelly hole. Driven beyond all sanity, I plunge
my nose up his shit canal as far as it will go, barely able to 
breathe through my mouth. I can feel his asshairs scratching my 
cheeks. With amazing force, I grab his hips and thighs and pull
down hard to cement the contact between his ass and my face. 
Finally, forced to breathe, I withdraw my shit-tangy nose and,
in the same instant, insert my tongue. Passionately French-
kissing Rod's butthole, I swallow all the ass-juices I can get.

As I increase the intensity of deepthroating Rod's hole, Dan,
like a crazed maniac, accelerates the pace of fucking my butt,
battering my prostate without mercy. Screaming and thrashing
wildly, we both shoot our wads, exploding in a peak of savage
and brutal, neanderthal desire.

My eyes still rolling, I put the jock aside and gently withdraw
the dildo from my butt, sighing "Thanks guys".

The sleep that followed was the deepest and most peaceful I have
ever had.