Date: Sat, 25 Aug 2001 13:35:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: Marc <Rim4you@webtv.net>
Subject: Lockeroom Stink - Part 4 (Raunch, Scat)

Disclaimer:

Some readers may find the following story objectionable as it deals with
raunch and scat.  Therefore, if you are easily offended by such topics
or under the age of eighteen, STOP HERE!

Lockeroom Stink - Part 4
by Rim4you

Chapter 1

I couldn't sleep.  I kept tossing and turning, trying to recapture every
minute of what had happened in the lockeroom between Coach, Jared and I.
Was it all just a fantasy that I had conjured up as I lay awake at
two-'o-clock in the morning with a hardon in my hand?

No.  It had been all to real alright.  Although the three of us had
cleaned up and showered at the gym, pressing my hands to my face now, I
could still smell traces of dirty asshole and upon closer inspection, I
could see brown residue, the remnants of turd, embedded under my
fingernails.

Too, before the three of us parted, Coach tossed to Jared and I, a kind
of trophy I suppose.  With a grin, Coach gave each of us one of his
crusty, smelly socks.  I tucked the filthy gift down the front of my
pants so that it nestled snugly against my
cock and balls.

Now, in bed, with my mind replaying every raunchy scene as if I were
watching a video, I drapped Coach's sweatsock over my face and took a
deep whiff.  He must have worn the sock for days.  Maybe even weeks.  It
reeked of his foot stink.  It's pungent aroma assaulted my nostrils
which in turn, made my cock jerk and throb.

I delighted in the way Coach's sock had seemingly turned, I gatherd,
from 'Downey' fresh and soft to crusty stiff and stink.  The latter I
much more preferred because it held me spellbound and submerged in
things erotic and sensual.

As I curled my fingers around my rigid shaft and began stroking, I
decided to taste the stink that my nose found so appealing.  Sucking the
filthy sweatsock into my mouth I perceived, at first, its crustiness
which, as I drenched it with my saliva, it yielded a robust tang,  A
flavor of salty, sweaty funk.  It was the taste of stink.  Though more
subtle than that of asshole.  Nevertheless, the combination of scent and
taste, combined in Coach's sweatsock, sent a wave of goose bumps
rippling over my flesh.

My cock throbbed its approbation and I totally surrendered to the
pleasure my hand was giving it and to the ecstacy my nose and mouth were
enjoying.

This sequence seemed to bring back, more vividly, that which I
experienced with Coach and Jared just hours beforehand.  What I was
doing now reawakened all the aromas, touches and feelings of our raunchy
encounter in the lockeroom.

It also made me think back, to before Jared and I entered the lockeroom,
how he had taken me into his arms and kissed me deeply.  I was amazed at
Jared's tenderness one minute and his fiery raunch the next when I had
knelt behind him and fucked the shit out of him.

Yet at the same time I wondered if Jared's affectionate kiss and warm
embrace was indeed a reflection of his inner feelings towards me?  And
my feelings towards him?  Did that kiss signify what we held locked away
within us?  Was it just a moment of passion?  Or was it something more?

My hand was flying up and down my cock. I loved the way my dick oozed
pre-cum which I smeared up and down the length of my shaft.  Its almost
sticky, slickness was better than any other manufactured lubricant.  And
afterwards, when left unwashed on my cock, it would add its own aroma to
my dick.

Absorbed in my lustful thoughts and self stimulation I gave in to
another feeling, which, at the momemt, was more urgent than the need to
ejaculate and would add to my sensual pleasure.

At first I thought to leave my bed.  But then decided that to break the
spell, that wonderful feeling of hand to cock; the taste and smell of
Coach's sweatsock would end everything, even my desire, I relaxed.
Slowing down the rythym of my stroking I yielded to my imminent need to
piss.

I hadn't pissed in my bed since I was a kid and to do so now,
consciencely and deliberately, excited me.  I gave no thought to
consequence as the first spurts of warm piss, trickled from my pisshole
and ran down my cock and over my balls onto the mattress beneath me.  My
golden nectar felt so good as I masturbated with pissing cock.  The warm
trickle shortly became a gushing fountain, arching into the air and
splashing onto my chest, which, with my free hand, I rubbed all over.
Even into my armpits.

I could feel the warm piss pooling under my asscheeks and I delighted in
sloshing my butt in it, feeling too, its nasty warmth seeping into my
asscrack and wetting my already warm, moist manhole.

I placed my hand into the gushing geyser so that piss rained onto my
crotch, soaking my pubic hairs.  Bringing my hand above my face I let
the piss drip off my fingers onto my face and into my open mouth
immediately aftherwhich, I swirled my hand over my face, washing it with
the somewhat rancid cock nectar.

Lifting my head slightly and leaning forward, I took careful aim and
shot my piss, in full stream, at my face.  I loved the way my piss hit
my face.  Splashing and trickling, piss ran from my forehead, over my
eyes, over my cheeks and dripped from my chin onto my chest.

It thoroughly soaked Coach's funky sweatsock which I still clenched in
my mouth and pursing my lips, like a ringer, I wrung every drop of my
precious nectar down my throat and sent rivulets of piss seeping out of
the corners of my mouth in a steady stream.

It tasted good.  It smelled good.  It all felt so good and nasty at the
same time.  The years of careful toilet training and hygine, taught to
me by my parents, was now, in this moment overturned and brought with it
wave after wave of pleasure.  Never before had taking a much needed piss
felt so good and so erotic at the same time.

My mind wandered to other fantasies of pissing pleasures.  To how it
would feel to piss up a man's ass or have a man piss up mine?  To what
it would be like to save jars of piss, until it had fermented to a ripe
stink and then empty my stash into the bathtub and bathe myself?

Perhaps Coach and Jared would encourage, indulge and join me in this
erotic adventure adding their warm butt fudge to the pissy bath water?

My lewd fantasies and wet action was bringing me closer and closer to
the precipice.  As the last spurts of piss shot out of my dick, I
quickened the tempo of my hand on my cock.  Thrashing about on the piss
soaked mattress, I wanked with a fury, sucking hard on Coach's sweatsock
in my mouth.  I tensed my legs pointing my toes.  My back arched as I
felt my balls tighten.  The sound of wet sloshing rung in my ears.  My
breaths became rapid as I moaned into the stinky, piss drenched
sweatsock.  I tightened my grip on my throbbing cock and pumped hard and
fast.  The head of my dick engourged and flared.  With a yelping sigh I
let loose my pent up tension.  Rope after rope of creamy cum flew into
the air and splattered in thick pools upon my heaving, piss soaked
chest.  Each wave of cum sent spasms of sensual pleasure jolting
throughout my entire body.

Scooping the creamy spooge into the palm of my hand, I rubbed it over my
face, down my neck, over my chest and into my armpits.  There I would
leave it to ripen and ferment, along with my piss as, my pleasure spent,
I drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter 2

I awoke the next morning with a grin on my face and a certain funky
smell in my nostrils.  The mattress beneath me was soaked with piss from
my ... wet dream?

As reality sunk in I realised I had had no wet dream at all.  With
reality came the consequences.  A wet mattress needed to be flipped and
the soiled linens tossed into the washer before Mom suspected anything.
A quick change of the sheets and none would be the wiser.  Mentally, I
devised a plan as to how I'd have to begin this Saturday morning.  No
time to take care of my morning boner with a quick jack off.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I raised my arm and bringing my face
towards my hairy pit, I took a deep whiff.  It was nice and ripe alright
and just sniffing it would have to do for now.  As I stripped the bed I
decided I'd relish my funk by not jumping into the shower.  Just as I
was about to head out of my bedroom, down to the basement to wash my
sheets, the phone rang.  Springing back into my room I answered it
before either one of my parents did, which, being a Saturday morning,
they were bound to let ring as it was their usual day, time and hour to
fuck.  As I picked up the phone I cracked a smile thinking how on
schedule their sex was and how they thought I was too naive to figure
out their Saturday morning routine.

"Hello!"

"Hey, Denny.  Coach here."

"Hey, Coach!  What's up?"

"After the other night ... mmmmmm!  Alot! Seeing you fuck the shit outta
Jared ... all that stink ... fuck!  I'm still hard!"

"Ditto that, Coach!  That was so hot!"

"I thought I'd get you out here for some extra practice, Denny."

"Hmmmmm!  Sounds good.  Will Jared be there?"

"Nah!  I thought it'd be just you and me doin' a little one on one.
That okay with you?"

The prospect of having a former Miami Dolphin's linebacker all to myself
was a temptation too good to pass up.  I'd be a fool to.  From one jock
to another, if a buddy needed a helping hand or mouth ...

"So, when and where, Coach?"

"You game for right now?  I haven't gone through my morning routine yet.
Just gettin' warmed up.  Thought you'd wanna help me out."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Swing by the gym and pick up your gear from the lockeroom."

"All my gear, Coach?"

"Helmet, pads, cleats.  And don't forget your jock!"

"Cup too, Coach?"

"Oh yeah!"

"So, where do I meet up with you, Coach?"

"At my place.  I'll be in the garage ... waitin'."

"Give me 'bout a half hour, okay?"

"Fine by me, Denny.  Like I said, I'll be waitin' for ya!"

As I hung up the phone, my cock, which had gone soft, sprang to
attention.  I ran to my bathroom and dug through my laundry hamper for a
pair of shorts I'd worn during several practices and finally brought
home to be washed.  I slipped them on, without underwear, along with a
grundgy tank-top I discovered at the bottom of my dirty clothes.

Heading towards the basement with my wet sheets to toss in the washer, I
could smell my own funk rising from my body and damp, sweaty clothes.

Leaving a note for my parents as to where I'd be, I dashed out the front
door.  Hopping on my motorcycle I roared out of the driveway and headed
towards school and the lockeroom.

Chapter 3

As I entered the gymnasium with my gym bag in tote, Joey, Roger and Jeff
were shooting some hoops on the basketball court.

"Hey Denny!"  Roger called out.

"Hey guys!"  I hollered.

"What brings you here on a Saturday morning?"  Jeff asked.

"Oh ... uh ... just gotta clear some things outta my locker.  My Mom's
on my case about not bringing stuff home to be washed."

"Yeah right, Denny!"  Joey yelled.  "Like your stinky gear is really
what's stinking up the lockeroom!"

"Hey guys!"  I said, throwing up my hands. "I know you enjoy my stink
but ..."

"Fuck you, Denny!"  Jeff said.  "You only tease us with your stink.
"You don't ever offer it."

"Three pigs in a poke!"  I laughed.

"Yeah!  And we'll huff ... and we'll huff the stink right outta you too
man!"  Roger chanted.

"Later, dudes!"  I hollered, heading for the lockeroom.

"Oh baby!"  Joey cired.  "Check out that ass of his!"

Running up to me, Joey yanked down the back of my shorts, exposing my
buns to the other guys who shouted their approval.  Swirling his hand
over my butt he slipped a finger into my asscrack.

"Soon, Joey!"  I whispered, to him.  "Real soon."

"Promise?"  Joey asked, withdrawing his finger and passing it under his
nose.

"Yeah.  I promise."

Glancing over my shoulder as I jogged towards the lockeroom, I could see
Joey sniffing his finger as he rejoined Jeff and Roger.  As I made my
way towards my locker, following Joey's lead, I fingered my butt.  I had
to make sure that the smile on Joey's face was due to my stink.  I had
to admit, it was nice and ripe.  Hopefully, Coach would think so too.

Shoving my gear into my gym bag, and pausing to sniff the aroma wafting
out of Jared's locker, I headed out the back door of the lockeroom and
raced towards my motorcycle.  As I ran, gym bag in hand, my cock and
balls bounced unrestrained beneath my shorts.  Straddling my bike, my
semi-hard cock snaked its way out of my shorts.  Its fleshy whitness
looked and felt good against the black, leather seat beneath me.  As I
revved up the engine, pre-cum oozed out of my piss slit.

I felt raunchy.  I felt dirty.  I felt nasty.  I felt Coach drawing me
to him.

Chapter 4

I pulled up into Coach's driveway and coaxed my bike to a stop.  I
unhitched my gym bag and, looking around, assuring myself that I could
not be seen, I leaned over and pressing my face to the warm seat of my
bike, where butt sweat and cock snot rested. I licked the residue.
Content that my machine was clean and smacking my lips, I sauntered
towards the door on the side of the garage.

Upon entering the garage I was amazed to see that Coach had transformed
it into a veritable gym, complete with weights and a wide assortment of
other equipment.  He was seated on a workout bench, his beefy legs
spread wide and his feet, shod in cleats, planted firmly on the ground.

As I drew my eyes from his feet, up his legs to his thighs to the
welcome sight of his jockstrap which concealed a hefty bulge, I gasped.
Not only was the pouch between his legs full, but the material of that
pouch was so grundgy and dark in color and its stench so ripe and
powerful that my nostrils quivered as I dropped my gym bag to the cement
floor.

"Fuck!" I sighed, my stiffening dick, poking its head from under my
loose shorts, as if to have a look at the man spreadeagled before me.

"Put on my favorite jock for you, Denny!"  Coach whispered, running his
hand over the filthy pouch, upward over his hairy, washboard stomach to
his chest and under the shoulder pads he had on.  "It's never been
washed and goes back to my pro football days.  Can't imagine how many
loads I, as well as other jocks, have shot on and into the funky cup
underneath!  Wanna smell it?"

Coach cooed, as he raised his muscular arm up and clasped his hand,
fingers outstreatched, atop his helmet, blazed with the insignia of the
Miami Dolphins.

"Put on your gear, Denny!  I want a Mesa Verde jock to meet a Miami
Dolphin!"

Mesmerized, I pulled off my tank top, shorts and sneakers, replacing
them with helmet, shoulder pads, jockstrap and cleated shoes.

"Gonna fuckin' do this, man!"  Coach hissed, "jock to jock.  Fuckin'
stink to stink!"

"Yes sir!"  I sighed, placing my hand on my chest and tweaking an erect
nipple.  "I want your stink, Coach!  All of your stink!"

"We're gonna get off on our jockstink, Denny!"  Coach sighed, glancing
at me.

Looking to his side, my eyes followed his to the pole standing beside
him.  Suspended from it was a bulging enema bag.  The long hose dangled.
The black nozzle, of which, disappeared into the hairy cleft of his
full, muscular ass.

"Wanna add some of your piss to that bag, buddy?"  Coach sighed,
slipping the nozzle deeper until it completely disappeared between his
buttcheeks.

"Fuck!"  I moaned, standing before Coach suited up and rubbing my
crotch.

"Fuck yeah, jockboy!"  Coach whimpered.  "What I spew out of my manhole,
I'm gonna refill this bag with my stink and then I'm gonna fill your ass
and you're gonna fuckin' fart it out of your jock cunt onto me and my
gear!"

"Jesus!"  I groaned, dropping to my knees and sliding across the cement
floor towards Coach.  "I want your stink, Coach!  All of your fuckin'
stink!"

"Oh yeah, motherfucker!"  Coach hissed, drawing up his legs so I could
see his asshole plugged with the nozzle and hearing his moans as he
released the valve sending the contents of the bag up his ass.  "My ass
is packed with stinking shit, Denny!  Let's see what comes outta my man
pussy and refills this bag.  Then we'll fill up your ass with my slop
and play!"

I stepped up beside Coach.  Unhitching the enema bag, I lowered it to
under my cock ... and pissed.

******************************

I welcome your comments.  Write to me at Rim4you@webtv.net