Date: Thu, 26 Nov 2015 05:28:36 +0100
From: jt.poopinhinder@mail.com
Subject: Draining Drew's Drizzler 2

DRAINING DREW'S DRIZZLER
By J.T. Poopinhinder
M/b, oral, anal, WS

This story is a work of fiction. If it's illegal where you live or
distasteful to you personally, please don't read it. And please support the
Nifty Archive.

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
CHAPTER TWO
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Wednesday morning left me with a serious case of blue balls and a few
maddening days to go before the Saturday comic book show and the Friday
night sleepover with my hot, wet, 12-year-old nephew Drew.

Pissing pants and promises of bedwetting ahead of us, we couldn't even look
at each other the rest of that week without a secret giggle, or a shared,
mutual hard-on in our pants.

"We're gonna do stuff this weekend, aren't we, Uncle Mark?" he whispered to
me in the garage, giggling after school that second day. "We're gonna do
all kinds of nasty piss and dick stuff, right?"

"Right you are, kiddo," I smiled at him, giving his little wiener a secret
squeeze. "Make sure you keep this little boner nice and full for me."

He giggled and slapped my hand away.

"Save some room in your tummy," he said. "I'm gonna pee your whole guts
up."

He ran out of the garage and into the house, wiggling his ass far too
seductively to be accidental.

How very young we learn.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I've always loved piss, as far back as I can remember.

It started when I was 10 years old, and some bigger boys on my block I
really admired made me their mascot one summer, and let me hang out with
them in the woods by their house.

And boys being boys and woods being woods, they constantly peed in front of
me. They were 15 and 16, there were four of them in all, and all of their
dicks were huge compared to mine. I was fascinated by their strong,
piercing streams of piss. Not week and tiny like mine, but strong streams
of piss, like the horses I saw pissing in the Fourth of July parade.

Their meaty cocks came with all sorts of new and good smells the minute
they took them out of their pants, and their piss wasn't light-scented and
sweet like mine, it was musky and acrid, and you could actually smell it
steaming up from the forest floor when they let loose and sprayed the
leaves.

"Hey, check it out, guys," one of them said when my fascination with his
piss stream plumped me up a little more than I wanted it to. "Marky's got a
chubber watching me whiz."

He didn't mean anything by it. He was a nice guy and it was just
good-natured ribbing, but still I blushed, tucked mine back in quickly and
stayed sort of silent and embarrassed the rest of the day.

When it got around dinner time and the other three went home, Brandon, the
guy who teased me, asked me to stay behind and walk down the path another
half mile with him.

"Hey, little man," he said kindly. "I'm sorry I teased you before. That was
really uncool of me."

"S'okay," I shrugged. I didn't want to lose his friendship.

"No, I mean it," he said, looking at me with real sincerity. "It's not cool
to pick on somebody for something like that. That was really dumb of me. I
apologize."

I looked up, kind of amazed. I never had a big kid apologize to me before.

He grinned a little. Rubbed my hair. Seemed to pause and search my eyes for
something. A moment? A risk? A recognition?

His voice sounded hesitant, but he asked the question anyway.

"You kinda like it when we piss in front of you, don't you little man?" he
asked me softly. There was no teasing to his tone this time. Just the
complete, private kindness of a soft, shared secret.

"Uh-huh," I said quietly. I felt my face turn red.

"It's okay," he said, and then admitted, "I kinda like peeing in front of
you like that."

I looked up. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," he smiled. "I kind of like peeing in front of other boys.
You know. Littler boys. It's kind of sexy."

I felt a tingle inside myself. I'd never talked with a bigger boy about the
"p" word before.

"What do you like about our pee?" he asked me. "You know. When we pee in
front of you. What about it makes your wiener hard?"

I blushed deeper. "I don't know," I shrugged. "It just kinda smells really
good."

"Yeah," he smiled. "It does smell good, doesn't it?"

I nodded.

"It's strong," I told him. "And I like it. But it scares me. At the same
time."

"Sometimes good things start out scary," he said cryptically, and I didn't
know what he meant, so I just shrugged.

"Wanna smell some more?" he asked. "You know. Smell some more of my piss?"

When I nodded yes, I could see him already rubbing his cock through his
jeans. I could see his cock was already hard.

That nod of mine, that silent yes, broke open the dam.

Not only did he piss half a bladderful for me before he stopped and pinched
it off, then not only did I piss in front of him, but then he really got
sexy. He really got nasty.

I watched in amazement as he put his whole hand in my piss stream and then
slowly licked it off himself with closed eyes and soft moaning sounds. It
wasn't long, and took very little coaxing, until with just a few words and
motions, he had me down on my knees, nursing on his fat, thick,
strong-smelling cock like the hungry little dick hound I already was.

He smeared his pre-cum on my lips and asked me if I wanted to drink the
rest of his piss right from the tap. I didn't know. It was all happening
really fast.

"Come on, little man, open up. I saved the rest for your pretty mouth."

He smiled at me and his smile made it okay, so I did what he asked me. I
opened wide and a fiery hot splatter of piss sprayed instantly all over my
mouth and into the back of my throat.

I choked, coughed, jumped back startled, but he grabbed my head and pulled
me forward to his stream again. My mouth was open. It was shooting into me.
I swallowed as much as I could, trying to keep up. It was strong. Salty.
Nutty and bitter. And there was so much of it. I grimaced and I drank it,
but there was so much.

I found it hot, tangy and overwhelming. But it made me feel good. It made
my dick hard. It made me feel like sex was happening to me. And oh God, I
wanted sex to happen to me.

I couldn't drink it all, there was just way too much, but I got most of the
biggest gulps before he sprayed the rest of it on my face and my t-shirt.
It felt so good on my face. So hot. I wanted him to keep spraying me and
spraying me.

"Oh fuck, little man, I gotta cum," he whispered hoarsely. "Open wide for
me and eat my big load, okay? Be a good boy, huh?"

I wasn't sure what was going on and tried to back up a little, but once
again he grabbed my head, brought it back to his cock and with his thumb
and forefinger, impatiently coaxing me into open-mouthed obedience, he
jacked his dick about ten fast strokes up and down right in front of my
mouth – I could smell his strong pubes – and with a grunt and a
shiver, he let loose with a thick volley of bleachy white semen.

It shot all over my tongue and my nose and landed like hot glue on my upper
eyelid. He scooped it off my face and started feeding it to me immediately.

"Eat it up, little man," he whispered with a sexy, deep growl in his
voice. "Show me that you like it."

I ate it up. I swallowed it all.

"You like it, little man?"

I nodded and smiled nervously. I didn't really like it at first, but I did
my best for him. I wanted him to be my friend forever. I wanted to do more
sex with him.

"So fucking hot," he whispered.

And scared as I was, a piss-lover, cum-lover was born.

That day in the woods, I got piss-born.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

As much as it aroused me imagining slurping the piss out of my nephew
Drew's skinny little straw like a tube full of hot lemonade that weekend, I
probably would have left his little tight butthole entirely alone if it
wasn't for something my sister told me.

Teasing aside, anal sex was a big step, and I wasn't sure I was ready to
take Drew to that level yet. I know it sure made me yelp the first time
Brandon did it to me. Drinking Drew's piss would have been enough. Other
than a little fingertip or two, I was actually thinking of leaving Drew's
virgin butt off limits as far as the cocksmanship went.

But then my sister shared some news with me Wednesday night when we were
doing the dishes, and as far as me restraining myself from butt fucking
Drew, all bets were off.

"I caught Drew doing some gay stuff with Danny from his soccer team," she
announced suddenly and unexpectedly between the washing and the drying.

Danny was a cute little dark-haired boy with the kind of super-tight shorts
and dazzling smile that always warmed the cockles of my heart and the heart
of my cockles every time I saw him.

And the way his dad rubbed his shoulders at soccer practice, well fuck. I
just knew there was something going on there. Knew it in my heart. Danny
looked broken-in. Pre-ridden. And no worse for the wear.

I always imagined how nice it would be to take a deep, long hit of the ass
smell between Danny's two perky little globes after a 90 minute match on
the soccer pitch, wipe a little of his shit on my pants for a souvenir
after I fingered his fuckbox, and then drink his hot piss, pungent and
yellow, right after the game.

"What do you mean `gay stuff,'?" I asked her.

"You know," she said, embarrassed. "Boy stuff. Gay stuff." She rolled her
eyes. "Like you don't know what gay stuff is? You were the gayest boy in
middle school."

I laughed. "Well, narrow it down for me. What were they doing? Playing with
each other's dicks?"

She shook her head no. My eyes got wider.

"Sucking each other off? Playing taste the snake?"

She rolled eyes but shook her head once more. Now she really had my
interest.

My voice was hushed. Almost respectful.

"Not the big B.F.?" I whispered incredulously. "They weren't butt-fucking,
were they?"

"Not quite," she said quickly, "but almost."

"How do you almost butt-fuck?" I asked her. "That's a straight-up yes or
no, sis. You're either up the guy's butt or you're not. No grey area."

She smiled sheepishly.

"I came around the corner upstairs," she said.  "I was putting laundry
away. And from the hallway, I could see through the door to Drew's room,
and Drew was bent over his bed with his pants pulled down, and Danny was
down on his knees, poking his finger up Drew's butt, and smelling it and
kissing it and stuff. I almost screamed."

I felt a surge of adrenaline and two quarts of blood instantly race to my
dick shaft.

"His finger was brown, Marcus! He had it so far up Drew's butt, it actually
had poop on it!"

"Wow," I whistled. "Yep. That's pretty much a butt-fuck by proxy alright.
Holy shit. At that point, all it takes is a little less conversation, a
little more action."

"Do you think Drew is gay?" she asked me.

Lord, let's hope so, I wanted to say, but instantly thought better of it.

"Nah," I shrugged. "I think he's 12. I think like any 12-year-old boy, he's
figuring out which parts of his body feel the best when they get touched,
and he happens to have a friend who'll help him with the map. Er, brown as
the map may be."

"Ugh," she said skeptically. "You should have seen them, Mark. Danny was
poking him pretty far up in there," she said. "It looked like he was
looking for his lost wedding ring down the sink drain. And the drain wasn't
very clean, which is usually the case with Drew."

We both giggled, awkwardness broken.

"So, do I say anything to him?" she asked. "Do I ask Drew if he has any
questions about his you know? His sexuality?" She physically shuddered when
she said the word "sexuality." "God," she said. "I can't believe I just
said that word talking about my 12-year-old son. God, that gives me the
shivers."

I laughed a little.

"Nah, don't say anything," I said, my own ulterior motives already swirling
around in my mind. I sure didn't want her to scare Drew away from a good
potentially shitty butt fuck, especially with our sleepover coming up on
Friday night. "You'll only embarrass him if you make a big deal about
it. Boys will be boys. By the time I was Drew's age, I'd already had my
butt poked by half the boys in the neighborhood. And not all of them clean,
I might add."

She laughed. "You were a dirty little gaybee baby, that's for sure."

I shrugged. We both knew it was true. She used to beat up the boys who
wanted to love me and leave me, smears or no smears.

"Oh well," she sighed. "It was no big deal. I just wanted to run it by you
and see what you thought. I know kids are gonna mess around. I did some
touchy-feely stuff with some of my girlfriends growing up, too. It didn't
really mean anything."

"Yep." I said. "No big deal."

"Kinda gross though," she giggled.

"No grosser than you eating out Jaycee Hatcher's vaj. Now that was hideous
of you."

She blushed.

"Well, whatever. I'll just leave it alone then. I don't want to embarrass
him," she said with finality.

"Good," I told her. "You're a good mom."

She paused. Nodded.

"I sure as hell made Danny wash his hands before dinner, though," she said,
completely serious. "I wanted to send the little fucker out for a
manicure."

A beat. A pause.

And we burst out laughing.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Brandon fucked me, of course – the boy in the woods who fed me his piss
and grabbed my little head so he could cum in my mouth.

It was two, maybe three visits later when once again the other boys went
home, and once again, Brandon led me farther down the path, first to piss
and cum in my mouth again, then to have me suck him off directly, then to
eat my ass, and finger my little hole, and then finally, three visits
later, to fuck me.

"Ow," I said, laying on my side on the forest floor on a blanket he
brought, smelling leaves and summer birch trees and my own open asshole.

"Sorry, little man," he whispered shakily, clearly excited. "I'll go
slower. I promise. I'll go slower."

I could smell my own shit and it made me embarassed.

"Don't," I whispered. "I'm not clean down there."

"Shhhh," he said and pulled me tighter. "I like it that way."

His Vaseline-smeared cock slowly broke through the dual ring of my
sphincters and he went up inside me. I wanted to cry and laugh and sing
hallelujahs all at the same time. It hurt so much, but I felt so proud.

The whole woods smelled like my poop.

"You feel so good, Marky. You're such a big boy for doing this."

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth and let him push up inside me.

"So hot," he said. "So fucking brown. I wish you could see it."

I closed my eyes and winced at the embarassment of the smell, more than the
pain of the fuck.

"So good," he whispered. "Such a dirty boy. So good, Marky."

It only hurt for a a few seconds more. Then suddenly it got better. My
places inside relaxed and suddenly it felt different and good. It didn't
even matter that I could still smell me, strongly. I felt grown-up and very
proud, letting him to this to me. He was 16 and I was only 10, but look
what we were doing. Look what I was able to do.

It hurt, but I've never been prouder. The smell of my own poop in the air
made me feel strong. Grown-up. Needed.

He pumped me really hard and really fast at the end. He kept pushing up
against something inside me. It made me shiver. It made me tingle all over
inside.

It made me lose control of my bladder and piss all over the blanket on the
forest floor when he fucked me.

"That's it, little man," he whispered fiercely, pumping and grunting and
finally cumming inside my wet little chamber. "Piss for me when I cum in
you. Oh fuck. Oh FUCK! NNNGGGH!"

I didn't know what was happening, but it felt like seeing fireworks in my
head. My piss was flowing freely out of my little hard cock while he came
in me. My piss was squirting and I could smell my own shit everywhere.

"Piss for me, Marky," he said with a shudder. "Piss on the ground while I
fuck my hot cum up your hole. Oh fuck. So messy. So nasty. So good."

And with a giant shake and a shudder, he was done.

He wrapped his arms around me. Spooned me. Held me while my crotch was wet
in a puddle of my own piss. The blanket was smeared with his cum, my shit,
my piss. It was everywhere.

I felt safe.

And dirty.

And stinky and wet.

But mostly just loved.

Loved by a big boy.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

So. Danny from the soccer team was poking his finger up Drew's shitty
little butt. That certainly threw the situation into a whole new light.

I mean, at first, I hadn't really considered butt fucking Drew. It seemed
penetratively off limits.

I mean, sure...I'd considered tasting him down there at least. I'd be crazy
not to try that, right? I had no idea what he had cooking down there on his
back burner, but I sure as shit wanted to get him in bed with his legs up
in the air, kiss his little casserole and find out.

But actual anal penetration seemed out of the question until my sister told
me about Drew and Danny playing poke the brown butterfinger up in Drew's
sexy bedroom. The same bedroom I'd jacked off in countless times smelling
his piss-thick Good Nites. Now fucking my nephew seemed completely within
the realm of possibility.

If that little turd-burglar Danny was already poking his skinny little
puff-diddler up Drew's Hershey highway, well fuck. If the tollways were
open, I was eager to take a trip upstate myself. And if the roads were full
of a little brown sludge, so be it. That never stopped me before.

As luck would have it, the next day was Thursday, and I'd already
volunteered to take Drew to his after-school soccer practice, and then take
him and a few of his teammates out to Pizza Dream afterwards.

The boys played hard as they always do, and twenty minutes into the game,
their tousled hair was already damp with sweat, another strong arousal
factor that rubs me hard in all the right places. There's nothing like the
salty, ripe, wet, puppy-headed sweat of a pubescent boy to make my
ding-dong ring in all the right places.

I can't count how many times after a hard game I'd wrap Drew in a
congratulatory squeeze while I buried my face in his dripping head, saying
"Way to go, Champ, nice job out there," while I huffed the magic,
cock-hardening, stinky wetness of his sweathead.

And now knowing what I knew about Danny and Drew, it was all I could do to
stop myself from running out on the field to chase both their little
bottoms from net to net with two lube-smeared forefingers of my own, one
for my nephew, one for his buddy, seeing which boy was carrying more fudge
in his test tube.

Danny looked absolutely stunning. Every time I looked at his hands, I
couldn't help fixating on the fact that one of those slender little digits
had already been playing ring-around-the-prostate with my nephew's greasy
little stink-snatch. "What goes up clean and comes out brown?" the Cock
Riddler asked in my head. "Danny's finger and Uncle Mark's cock," answered
Nasty-Ass Batman.

Between Drew and Danny's tight shorts, sweaty boy bodies, and competitive
grunts, shouts and body movement in all the right places, by the time the
game was over, I was about to jump on top of both of them and shit fuck
their holes right in front of everybody, including the refs.

"Good game, guys," I said with a grin as they packed up their gear and
eagerly drank up some after-practice Gatorade.

"Drink up, boys," I thought to myself. "Drink it all up and piss it all
over me."

The thought of the two of them, Danny and Drew, standing over me naked in
the bathtub, pissing all over me? I actually had to pause and sit down.

I wound up with Danny and Drew and three other boys in my SUV – Zachary,
Michael and Scotty.

With the windows rolled up and the air-conditioner blowing all those
deliciously new-musky body scents all over the interior of the car, there
were times I thought I'd actually drive into the ditch, the smell of
unwashed boy pits and Saturday soccer stinkmusk was so strong and fuck
lusty in the air.

There are the moments an uncle lives for. Laughing, chattering, giggly-hot
monkey boys, stinky and sweet, completely unaware how much I wanted to bend
each and every one of them over the hood of the car, tug down their little
soccer shorts and tongue my way from their smudgy little ass cracks to
their sweaty little piss-cocks, enjoying every little atom of flavor from
balls to base and stem to stern.

I even had the urge to say out loud at one point, "I'm buying the pizza,
guys, but in return, shuck off your undies and leave them in a nice pile on
the passenger seat, because you better believe they're going to be wrapped
around my nose like a surgical mask while I blow a few wads smelling your
boyhot shit and piss stains at bedtime tonight."

Pizza Dream was a ménage of minxes as it always is. The boys ate like
ravenous monsters and drank way too much Sprite, but for a piss-lover like
me, that's just future ammunition.

During the meal, Danny and Drew giggled and whispered to each other a few
times out of sight of the other boys, and I couldn't help wondering if they
were planning their next illicit tryst-and-twist. They kept looking
directly at me, which confused me, but aroused me at the same time, because
clearly they were discussing...what? My fate? It seemed that way almost.

Danny locked eyes with me at one point, big and broad and wide and
smiling. And grinning back at him, I wondered how long it would be before
that cute little sweat factory with pizza sauce on his chin buried
something other than his finger up my nephew's dirty little shit chute. You
wanna get it brown, baby? I thought with a self-knowing flashback. Try
putting your dick in there.

Maybe if I got lucky enough, I'd beat him to the punch.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

After Brandon shit and piss-fucked me when I was 10, my love for dirtiness
continued.

After several more piss sips and deep fucks out in the woods, most of them
way too smeary and messy for my liking, first to my shame and my horror and
embarrassment, but then seeing that Brandon liked me messy, front or back,
I got hotter and hotter the shittier it got.

But Brandon moved away at the end of that summer, and I hit a bit of a
clean dry spell, no pun intended.

But I thought about piss and shit all the time. Drank my own piss at
home. Tried to suck my own cock and pissed on my own face in the bathtub. I
got more daring with the mess in my butt. Poked fingers inside myself. Shit
on the floor. Cleaned it all up before mom came home, but really got off on
it. Smelled me. Smeared me. Jacked off rubbing it on myself. By the time I
hit middle school, the messy journey continued in earnest.

Every once in a while I could coax a friend into playing around, or at
least peeing in the woods with me, where sword crossing was met with happy
challenge, but my subtle hints at tasting or spraying were usually met with
weirded-out horror, so I learned to be discreet and drink my nectar on the
down-low. Poop play with other boys was virtually shunned, total freak
style, so I doubt I even tried.

I wormed my way into a solid friendship with Carter David, a sixth-grader I
knew to be a bed-wetter, because his mom told my mom one day at the grocery
store when she saw her buying Good Nites, and from that moment on, I was
determined to make Carter my best bud, knowing I'd eventually be invited
over for sleepovers, which I was.

We slept together in his big queen-size bed, and the happiest nights of my
life were when Carter didn't realize he was wetting the bed and as he
spooned me in his sleep, I got to feel his hot piss through his white
Fruit-of-the-Loom underwear.

He was a good sound sleeper and never wore Good Nites in front of me, and
in the morning, we both pretended his nocturnal mattress-soaking never
happened.

Meanwhile, the minute he threw his drenched piss pajamas in the hamper, I
was all over them like a little pee vampire, smelling, sucking and tasting
them the minute he left the room to go downstairs.

"I like your pee," I told him once, taking the direct route.

"My pee?" he said, totally confused.

"Pee's fun," I shrugged. "You do a lot of it. So you're funner."

He looked at me like I was crazy, but he stayed my friend.

Once I saw one of his turds floating in the toilet after he was done in
there. He wiped only once, with just three squares of toilet paper, and in
a rush, he forgot to flush. As I went in after him and locked the door, I
poked it gingerly with my finger. Then pinched a piece of it off. It was
soft and creamy.

I smelled my fingers. They smelled like poop. My cock was hard. I had this
sick thought. I wanted to squish it in my hand. Rub my cock with it. Make
it smell like it did in the woods when Brandon fucked me and we made a
mess. But I got scared somebody might knock, so I cleaned up my hands,
washed in the sink and flushed his turd into Neverland.

"Carter, I want to fuck your hot turd ass," I whispered, rubbing my hard
cock as I watched it go down. "Fuck your hot turd ass so slippery and
deep."

Carter's family made him start going to church again and he got less and
less interested in having a friend that talked about poop and pee too much,
and how much he peed at night, and did he still wet the bed, and
pee-pee-pee, poop-poop-poop, that guy's a weirdo, and eventually our
friendship fell by the wayside. It happens. You move on.

In eighth grade, I was so turned on by Blake Martin, star basketball player
and a kid in my gym class, I actually stole a pair of his underwear out of
gym locker, and when nobody was looking, I put a red Solo cup in the far
left urinal, the one he always peed in after gym and before seventh period
study hall, just to see if he'd pee in it.

And sure enough, seeing the cup at the bottom of his usual pee spot and
considering it a challenge or a stroke of curious good fortune, I watched
him shrug, and kids being kids, he filled it to the top with his golden
yellow bladder flow and kept on going until it completely
overflowed. Instant au jus.

As soon as he left the locker room and the bell rang – I took that cup
of tangy hot boypiss, still piping and fresh from the source, and gave it a
deep, satisfying whiff, tasted a little on my lips and my tongue, and then
drank it down completely, shocked at the strong taste, but even more
shocked that I was drinking it so quickly and not even gagging.

It made me miss Brandon. It made me miss him terribly. I used to drink full
cups of Blake Martin's piss, dreaming I was still drinking it straight out
of Brandon's big cock. It made me cry sometimes because I wanted Brandon
back. Imagine that. Me in eighth grade. Drinking another boy's
piss. Thinking of Brandon. And crying because nobody understood me anymore.

Once I spit the last mouthful back out in the cup, then poured it all over
Blake's stolen underwear, the pair I'd stolen out of his locker that day,
the pair he looked all over for before shrugging, zipping up and
freeballing it for the rest of the day.

I tucked those piss-soaked undies into a Ziplock bag, took home in my
backpack, let them fully dry, and then spent the next three nights jacking
off and smelling that stale, dry piss smell, and sucking every salthy-dry
drop of that strong, rich salt out of Blake Martin's soiled tighty
whities. There was an ass track in the back that I also chewed and sucked
on until the cloth was virgin white again. It tasted like dandelions and
caramel. Bitter and very sweet. I wondered what his poop might feel like,
smell like, taste like.

I did this several times with Blake's undies, or with undies of the other
boys I knew. I always captured their piss in a big red cup. Every boy in
the gym class peed in it and filled it up. It was like they didn't even
stop to figure out the trick. Just pissed in the cup when offered something
to break the tedium.

All the boys' piss in my gym class dried to a rich, maple musk scent that
reminded me of balls and sex and Log Cabin syrup. I did that about 50
different times that year. Collected Blake's piss or other kids' piss in a
Solo cup and re-soaked a few pair of underwear from my own drawer at home,
not daring to steal too many real ones from other kids.

The boys in my gym class never once wondered why there was frequently a cup
to fill in the last locker room urinal. Sometimes the obvious is right in
front of you and you don't even see it, I thought to myself. Licking my
lips and standing two urinals away from the next boy as I drained my own
piss tube and watched another unsuspecting donor fill my next night's jack
off material.

"Somebody keeps leaving cups in here," Blake said to me once in the urinal
line as he shrugged casually and continued to do what I needed him to
do. "It's fun to fill `em up."

"Huh." I shrugged. "I never noticed."

He zipped up and walked away, leaving me with yet another cup of his piping
hot piss.

Fuck yeah, I thought to myself. I'll drink your smelly piss, you hot
motherfucking hot jock boy. Fill it all the way to the top for me,
bitch. And walk away. Just walk away.

I drank it all in six fast gulps the minute he left the bathroom, and I
came in my pants without even touching myself.

I was a thirsty little piss boy. And the thirst was so strong it made me
ejaculate. I missed Brandon like crazy. But I found away to make do.

Like a little vampire surviving on mice instead of people, I found a way to
get by. Survive.

But I was starting to need more.

I was getting thirsty and wanted a real man.

My middle school mice weren't good enough anymore.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Drew ate his pizza and smiled up at me.

Danny whispered something in his ear and Drew giggled. He nodded yes.

The other boys weren't paying any attention to them. They were laughing and
joking around.

Danny got up and started toward the bathroom. I watched him.

When he was about halfway there, he turned back toward me, looked me
directly in the eye and motioned his head for me to follow him.

Confused, but seeing the big smile on Drew's face and a quick nod of his
head, as if to say, "Do it, follow him," I slowly stood up, puzzled but
intrigued, and followed Danny into the restaurant bathroom.

It was just a single-seater. Family style restroom. One customer per visit,
everybody else take a number.

Danny went in.

I went in.

Danny grinned at me, reached past me and locked the door.

Now I was REALLY curious.

"Drew says you like boys," he smiled curiously at me.

"I do," I shrugged innocently. "You're all great kids. It's great to spend
time with you."

"No," he shook his head. "Drew says you LIKE boys. You know. You really
LIKE boys."

"Well, that depends, Danny," I nodded slowly. "I do like boys, all boys,
but I only REALLY like boys who don't tell on me."

He smiled slowly. He knew exactly what I meant.

"So, which kind of boy are you?" I asked him. "Are you the telling kind of
boy, or the not-telling kind of boy."

"I'm the not-telling kind of boy," he smiled, and honest to God, he started
rubbing his little boner through his soccer shorts.

We looked each other in the eye and I started rubbing mine back.

"Drew's having me practice with him," he said simply.

"Practice soccer?" I asked him.

"Nope," he said simply. "Practice butts."

"Ahhh," I said. "And why would Drew want you to practice butts with him?"

"In case you butt fuck him," he said simply. "He wants to make sure it'll
go inside."

My dick was so hard I thought I might cum without touching myself.

"You wanna practice butts with me?" Danny asked.

I couldn't breathe. Didn't dare. Double-checked to make sure the door was
locked. Nodded yes.

Danny pulled down his pants and underwear, leaned over the single toilet in
the room, and spread his ass apart. His dirty rosebud was a work of art. It
should have been painted on the Sistine Chapel.

"Go ahead," he whispered. "Practice in it. Practice far. But just your
finger."

Smelling soccer-boy shit-ass in the room, I stepped up confidently and
touched my finger to his starfish.

"Lick it first," he told me. "Make it slippery."

I did. I sucked on it. Got it slippery.

"Now practice it in me. Really far."

Slowly, with even pressure and not even a hiss from Danny, I inserted my
finger steadily and deeply up his ass hole.

"Yeah," he whispered. "That's good."

I could smell overpoweringly strong boy-butt.

"Practice it in and out," he told me.

I pulled it out. It was brown with shit. I didn't even care. I pushed it
back in.

In and out.

Long and deep.

Danny sighed.

"Drew wants you to fuck him like this," he said as I finger-fucked
him. "Really deep. With your whole cock, not just your finger."

I nodded. Took my finger out. Smelled it. Stuck my hand down my pants and
wiped it all over my leaking cock to enjoy later.

"Let me practice on your cock," he said, looking me straight in the
eye. "Let me practice sucking your cock and swallowing your fuck load."

I unzipped my fly, lowered my pants and underwear and stood there, erect
and powerful before him.

"Shit," he said, staring at my cock. "My dad's is like this, too. Really
big. Really hard."

He opened his mouth and he was on me like heaven.

He only practiced on me for two minutes before I was grabbing his head,
pulling him on me, and feeding him something hot as deep in his throat as I
could pump it. I fed him something way more nasty than pitchers of Pepsi
and pepperoni pizza. I came in his mouth and watched him drink every drop.

He gulped and swallowed and grabbed my ass cheeks, pulling me farther into
his hot, sucking mouth.

"Nice," he said. "You gotta give Drew some more of this before you fuck
him. He's really, really hungry for it."

There's something nasty and sexy when a boy gets hungry for a man.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I wanted to know what it would be like, you know? Drinking a man's piss
instead of a boy's piss. I was tired of red Solo cups in the locker room
urinals. I wanted to drink from a man, and do it straight from his
cock. Would it be stronger? More acrid? Different? More bitter? I had to
find out.

I saw a movie where a guy sucked a guy at a rest stop. At a
wayside. Through a hole in the bathroom stall he pushed his dick through. A
glory hole, my friend Stewie told me it was called.

I was 14 and I couldn't drive yet, so I rode my bike to the wayside, eight
miles out of town. I waited in a stall, almost until dusk.

A trucker came into the stall next to me, unbuckled and sighed. I could
hear his buckle clinking. I looked through the hole. I could see him
jacking off.

"I'll suck it," I whispered.

He moaned, and shoved it through the hole. It was super hard.

"Piss in my mouth," I ordered him.

"Jesus, kid, how old are you?"

"I'm 14. Piss in my mouth."

He pulled his cock back out of the hole. I thought he was going to leave,
but he didn't. He opened his stall door and tapped on mine.

I let him in.

I was scared, but he was handsome.

"Sit on the toilet," he told me.

I sat down.

"Open."

I did as he asked and he pushed his cock into my mouth.

He flooded me.

Filled me.

My eyes were watering and my throat was burning from the force and the
flavor of that first, unending man-load of piss.

"Jesus," he whispered. "Look at you go."

I sucked him after he finished. Sucked him until he was super hard and
looking for somewhere else to put it.

"You take it up the ass?" he asked me.

I nodded yes. I did when I was ten, anyway. And I was way more than eager
to do it again.

I nodded yes. Probably way too fast.

What that nod cost me, I can't properly explain.

It hurt like hell, but I left that stall changed forever.

The trucker left that stall with a story to tell and a smile on his face
and my shit on his cock. But I left that stall, wincing, grinning, limping,
a man.

Fuck 14. I was ready for anything.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"Your cum tastes good," Danny said. "Like my dad's, only sweeter."

"Your dad do this with you a lot, Danny?" I asked him.

"Enough to make me good at it," he smiled.

"You like pee?" I asked him.

He nodded. "And poop too."

I smiled. "Why poop?"

He shrugged. I told him, "It always starts somewhere. Let's hear yours."

"In my school, when I was younger, there was Joshy L. and Joshy T.," he
told me. "In fifth grade, I watched Joshy T. poop in the woods. He pooped
his pants a little at recess, by accident, so after school, in the woods,
he pulled them down and pooped the rest on the ground. It was hot. It was
cold outside. It steamed up."

"Yeah?" I asked him, rubbing my cock.

"Yeah. Joshy T's dad fucked him. You know. Like my dad, only messier."

My bladder was full. My cock was half hard. I wanted this kid to drink me.

"So when he asked me to put my dick in his butt, I did," Danny smiled. "And
we got poop all over my cock."

I nodded, wanting to feed him more and more.

"But I liked it," he shrugged. "When I stuck my dick in him, the poop just
made him slippery. It made me fuck him really good and smooth. I didn't
care if it stunk. It made me fuck him smooth."

"Open," I told him, and he obediently did.

His lips wrapped around me and I gave him a steady, long drink. I pissed in
that kid's mouth like I never pissed before.

"Jesus," I heard the hot memory of my truck driver say. "Look at you go."

Danny finished, smiled, and wiped the back of his hand across his lips.

"Drew wants you to fuck him," he smiled at me. "He wants you to get him all
pissy and shitty and fuck him REAL good."

I nodded and forced another squirt in his mouth.

"Don't be afraid to make it messy." he said. "Drew can take it. Messy is
good for him."

He burped out a whiff of piss breath, squeezed my cock and smiled at me,
and went back out to the other boys eating pizza.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I had a whole lot of shit to think about. Literally.

After the Thursday night soccer game, I took Drew home, promising my sister
I'd pick him up after school tomorrow for the long-awaited sleepover and
the comic book show on Saturday.

Drew smiled. He knew the cover and he knew the score. Secretly, out of my
sister's earshot, he asked me to come upstairs and pee with him.

"Help me with my homework, Uncle Mark," he flirted seductively. "You know,
up in my room."

I followed him upstairs, locked his bathroom door, and we stood together at
the toilet, pants slightly down, crossing streams as usual.

After we were done peeing, I stood behind him, put my hands on his hips and
tugged his pants down further to the floor.

His cock was still sticking out over the top of his undies, so I tugged
those down too, and putting a finger to his lips to be quiet, I nestled my
hard cock into the hot dog bun of his slippery, muscky ass crack.

"Oh man," he whispered quietly. "That feels so good and big, Uncle Mark. I
bet you wanna fuck me with it, don't you? Danny told me you want to fuck
me."

"You make me think really sexy things, Drew," I said simply. "All the
time. I can't wait to fuck you this weekend and do really messy things with
you."

"I do messy things with Danny," he admitted quietly. "Butt and shit and
piss stuff. It gets really messy sometimes."

I took his little cock in my hand, slowly stroked the stalk up and down
which made him shudder, and I whispered, "I want to make a big mess with
you, Drew. As messy as you want it to be."

I heard him hiss an intake of breath as my fingers worked magic on his
now-rigid pole.

"Would you like that, buddy? When you stay overnight tomorrow, would you
like to make a big mess in my bed with me. Real stuff? Not just kid stuff
in the bathroom, but real, nasty grown-up fuck stuff this time? Piss all
over? Shit all over?"

"Uh-huh," he mumbled quietly, pushing his ass back and nestling my boner
between his bare, nasty buns.

I reached down with a finger and slid it into his butt crack. He gasped and
sucked in air again. I pulled it out and it smelled like pure, sweet
boyshit.

"Do you think your cock will fit in me?" he asked breathlessly.

"Does Danny's fit?" I asked him as I fingered him.

"Uh-huh," he said, moaning and melting back into me. "He goes real slow. My
poop makes it slipperier."

"Well, then I'll go slow too. You can poop all over my cock if you have
to."

I fingered him deeply one more time, made him hiss and moan and then
brought my finger to my nose and inhaled the nutty-sweet goodness of him.

The mere act of sniffing his sweet boyshit made my cock leak. I wanted to
stick my cock into him right there. I think he was ready. But we couldn't
be caught.

I gave his penis a squeeze, smeared his own shit on it, and helped him pull
up his pants before my sister could come up with a load of laundry and
catch us in the act.

"My ass wants you in it," he whispered quietly. "You just rubbed my shit on
my cock and my ass wants you in it."

He took my finger in his hand and he brought it to his nose. He breathed in
deeply and smiled. "I love that smell," he whispered. He smelled his own
essence.

He hugged me tight around the waist. Didn't let me go. I could have stayed
there with him, just like that, forever. Romantic. Shit-fierce. Forever.

We broke our embrace. His face was flushed. He was somewhere between "I
love you" and a dream. He hugged me again. Left the bathroom ahead of me.

I watched his ass swivel away and I've never wanted to fuck something so
badly in my life.

I smelled my finger again on the way downstairs. It was tan and
slippery. Ripe and lubricated. It smelled like Drew. It smelled like me and
Brandon, fucking on a blanket...deep, deep in the woods.

God, I needed to fuck him. I needed to fuck my nephew Drew and smell that
hot magic all over again. Magic. Messy. Moonlight. Mating.

Tomorrow night couldn't come soon enough for me.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

TO BE CONTINUED