Date: Mon, 29 Dec 2014 10:48:32 +0000 (UTC)
From: Robert Furlong <robert.furlong@rocketmail.com>
Subject: Mudchute Services

MUDCHUTE SERVICES
by Robert Furlong
robert.furlong@rocketmail.com
robertfurlong.tumblr.com

===

Warning: this story includes scat!

===

If you're driving along the motorway and feel like a break, I would
strongly recommend Mudchute Services.  They're fairly easy to find, right
next to Brown Wood, and you'll find the toilet facilities make a very
worthy detour.

I'd paid little attention to gents' toilets all the years I'd been married,
but these days I love finding out what different amenities have to offer.
Most of the women I've dated have found it impossible to keep up with my
sex-drive so it was almost inevitable that I would discover what pleasures
can be had behind the locked cubicle doors of certain public toilets.
Since then, I have – without any serious difficulty I have to say –
broadened my sexual interests considerably.

The toilets in these particular services had seemed promising as soon as
I'd walked in.  Several men at the urinals turned to look me up and down
and one or two even smiled at how slick I looked in my well-fitting
business suit.  I'd smiled back at them but hadn't lingered – standing
alongside a row of strangers groping each other's members through our flies
has never really appealed to me – and instead headed through to the WCs
at the rear.

This part of the toilet was much less busy but the gaps underneath the
cubicles doors revealed a multitude of boots and shoes shuffling around –
something that's always a very good sign.  Better still, a rusting fan unit
was whirring noisily in the ceiling, obscuring whatever intimate sounds
were going on between the occupants.

I took a moment to choose the most encouraging venue from several possible
contenders and in the end plumped for a vacant stall next to a cubicle door
under which I was sure I could make out two pairs of feet.  Once inside, I
was pleased to find that the toilet roll dispenser had been obligingly
removed, exposing four screw holes and offering an opportunity for a
private viewing of the adjoining cubicle.

I sat myself down on the toilet and spent a few enjoyable minutes watching
a man in a suit a couple of shades lighter than mine standing having his
hugely engorged manhood sucked by some lad in a high-vis jacket.  The kid
was clearly loving feasting on the hefty-looking cock that was poking,
along with a nice fat set of nuts, out of the guy's straining zipper.  The
boy took as much of it as he could into his eager mouth, soaking the
thickened shaft with a copious froth of spit as he swept his lips up and
down its veiny girth.  At times he would withdraw and spend a few moments
lapping at the bloated purple head, teasing the precum from its gaping slit
and gratefully gulping down the trickle of salty liquid.

I knew full well that the two of them were aware of my presence and were no
doubt enjoying performing for their unseen observer.  I can't deny that I
grew a hard-on of my own from watching the lad so ardently devour the
impressive rod of meat in front of him, but I'd come in here hoping for a
lot more than just a peep show.

So it wasn't long before I was quietly tapping on their door, smiling to
myself at how my ex-wife would react if she could see what now I got up to
in places such as this.  To my delight the catch was quickly clicked open
so I could push my way inside, my own cock throbbing in my trousers at the
prospect of meeting two of its more sociable brothers.

I found that the suited bloke was middle-aged like me and looked as if he
was maybe an accountant or solicitor from how formally he was dressed.  The
lad in front of him was in his early twenties and seemed like he might be a
builder or part of a highway maintenance crew.

I didn't pay much attention to the kid, though, to be honest.  He was quite
happy to be on his knees, tossing off the laughably small prick that was
poking out from his dirty tracksuit bottoms while he slavered away in at
the older man's much bulkier offering.

No, my interest was on the suited guy, whose thickly veined shaft was being
so hungrily serviced, and in particular the lovely round arse which was
pressed firmly against the back of his dark grey trousers.  He'd hitched
his jacket up as if to flaunt how amazing his big, chunky buttocks looked
inside the tightly stretched material and how inviting was the deep,
alluring valley nestling between them.

I should probably point out that in the last couple of years the huge
variety in the sizes and shapes of other men's backsides have become quite
my thing.  I used to be a tit-man when it came to women – and still am
given the chance – but these days I'm very much a butt-man: especially
when the said butt has a nice hairy cleft and comes with a heavy pair of
knackers swinging around underneath it.

I have to admit that this guy's arse was of the sort that had emerged as my
out-and-out favourite of all the many types of male bums I'd encountered.
His cheeks were hard and muscular, pressing outwards against his trousers
as if struggling to be contained, and their shape was wonderfully
masculine: squat and solid with a striking symmetry to their curvature.

Better still, I knew that between a firm pair of buttocks like his – two
big manly cheeks that had spent the day cooped up underneath trousers and
underwear – there'd likely be a deep dank crack that had grown
wonderfully sweaty and pungent.

You see, that's become my thing too, I'm afraid: the smells and tastes
lurking between men's butt cheeks.  It might sound unlikely but that's the
direction my sexual interests have recently taken: getting my nose and
tongue into the trench between a guy's haunches has turned out to be the
match that lights the gay end of my sparkler.  While I still appreciate the
sensual aromas of my occasional female lovers, these days I more usually
revel in the crude anal stink of the men I seek out for sex.

After I'd locked the cubicle door behind me, the guy in the suit turned in
my direction and grinned as the lad's mouth slurped away at his large
erection.  I marvelled at how big his bollocks were, being pushed outwards
from his gaping zipper.  They were plump and full, just like mine get if I
go a few days without release, and his stretched, hairy scrotum kept
tickling the boy's chin as he bobbed his face back and forth to pleasure
the swollen shaft.

I smiled back at him, unzipping myself, and manoeuvred my own stiffened
organ out through my fly.  I'm pretty well-hung and the accountant or
solicitor or whatever he was looked down at it with undisguised approval.
I grinned more broadly and jerked my foreskin back and forth a few times to
show my over-sized phallus off at its most impressive.

"Nice set of junk," he observed in a voice that sounded quite loud from
where I was standing but which would fail to carry beyond the confines of
our cubicle because of the noise from the fan unit.  I had never been so
grateful for a piece of malfunctioning equipment: one is so often reduced
to barely-audible whispers and even arm-waving mimes in such places to
avoid rousing the attentions of one's defecating neighbours.

With the lad nibbling and lapping at his dribbling bell-end, the guy wanked
his shaft a few times to keep his precum flowing.  As I admired his
technique, working a trickle of his hot sticky ooze onto the boy's tongue,
I noticed he was wearing a wedding ring.  Its design was quite fussy, with
small diamonds studded along its golden circumference, and seemed like it
would have been chosen to match an even fussier feminine version.  I
wondered if his wife had any idea of the sort of things her big, brawny
husband got up to in the toilet cubicles of motorway services.

The man threw me a thumbs-up and I realised he thought I was waiting my
turn: giving him time to discharge his load between the kid's eager lips so
I could take up his position and have my own larger manhood similarly
serviced by the youngster.

Perhaps that's how it usually works in these toilets.  Maybe blokes on the
way home from work would regularly tap on cubicle doors in the hope of
having their knobs sucked by whoever was willing to do the honours.  I
wondered whether, once this guy had finished and I was having my own
throbbing organ dutifully sucked, I was supposed to let the next fella
sneak in so he could stand alongside with his chubby dick poking out from
his fly, only to shuffle over to take my place once I'd climaxed.

If that was how it was supposed to work then I'm afraid I had rather
different ideas.

I moved around behind the guy in the suit and, before he could object for
fear I might want to jerk off onto his bum (a fate that had once befallen
the back of my trousers in a different toilet cubicle), I knelt down and
pressed my face towards the dark grey material that was stretched tight
across his voluminous buttocks.  Even at first sniff, I could tell this was
a bloke with a wonderfully whiffy arse: well before my nose had closed in
on the fabric it was obvious that what was lurking between his cheeks had
infused deeply it with its strong, distinctive scent.

At first the man pulled away, unsure of my motives, and glanced around to
see my face level with his backside and my nose directed towards his
flavoursome furrow.  Realising where my interests lay, he grinned and
pushed himself back towards me, chuckling when my nose plunged slap-bang
between his butt-cheeks.

I moved my face up and down against his arse, following the stitched hem
which ran down the middle of the seat of his trousers.  The material which
had nestled between his buttocks smelt strong and ripe, even high up where
his big, brawny posterior pressed outwards at its roundest.  I worked my
nose lower down, pushing it deeper into his effluvious gorge, sniffing
eagerly at his most secretive scents and feeling my cock swelling upwards
at how harsh and musky they were.

This guy might look clean-cut and well-turned-out, I mused, but the back of
his trousers revealed he was concealing an especially raunchy arse.  That's
usually how it turns out in my experience: rough-looking grubsters too
often have backsides that smell only of soap and shower gel; it's always
the posh fellas with well-coiffed hair and crisply-ironed shirts that have
butt odours that make you wince even through their trousers and underwear.

I heard him chuckle, "Oh, nice one, mate!  Yeah, go on!  Sniff my arse!"
and he grabbed the back of my head and pushed my face further into his
large rump.

I inhaled his darkest and least decorous scent as deeply as I could, my
mouth watering at the sheer crudeness that was clinging to the material of
his trousers.  It was Friday night: he must have been wearing these
trousers all week at work, having the murky hemline that my nose was
pressing against working up into his odorous ditch as he sat at his desk.
I sniffed further between his legs and deeper into his pungent ravine and
gasped as I found a small patch of material that must have been rubbed by
his fingers against his hot, moist hole when he'd discreetly worked them
into his crack to scratch a persistent itch.

I was in veritable heaven: what a find this was!  This was the smell I
loved to savour: that which I craved and had hardly dared to hope I would
find here when I'd pulled off the motorway.  It was making the large, ripe
helmet of my cock swell and glisten, and the hardened shaft behind it
thicken expectantly at what it signified.

I heard the guy hastily unclip his belt, and then he yanked his trousers
down to the tops of his thighs.  Underneath he was wearing tight white
briefs and, before he could hook a thumb into each side of these and pull
them down too, I pressed my face into the damp bitter gusset that had
worked up between his flexing cheeks.

The smell of the back of his underpants was much riper and more powerful,
and to some noses, no doubt, would have been deemed vulgar and offensive.
It was the brash and earthy pungence of a man's muscular arse after a day
of being constrained in the back of his trousers, made all the better by
being untainted by deodorant and soapy perfumes.

"Ah, yeah!" he called down to me, grabbing my head again and directing my
face towards his butthole.  "Sniff my stink!"

The boy must have tried to pull away from him, eager to see what I was
doing round the back of his companion, because the guy took his hand away
from my head and returned his lad's mouth back to his cock.

"Come on, keep sucking!" he commanded the younger man.  "Use your tongue!"

The rhythm of the lad's mouth quickly resumed and I seized my own swollen
manhood to match his pace with the tight masturbatory grip of my fist.

Satisfied that his cock was being properly attended, the guy reached round
again and pushed my face further into his strong-smelling arse crack.  He
leant forwards to splay his cleft more widely and give me better access to
the fascinating flavours that were lurking inside.

His scent was exquisite – except that it was far too powerful to be
accurately called a scent.  Low down in his deep fissure, right where his
dirty rosebud would be lurking just beneath the white material, was the
fierce reek of this big bloke's most unseemly stink.  I inhaled at it
hungrily, well aware of what I was sniffing and suspecting that the inner
side of his underwear was probably heavily stained with a row of
lewd-looking skid-marks.

I wanked myself faster, thankful that what had at first seemed like such a
formally-attired backside had yielded so sumptuous a sensory feast.  This
was full-on male butt odour at its absolute finest.  Since I'd discovered I
had this unlikely fascination, I'd had my face buried into a rich and
varied assortment of other men's rears in places such as these.  However,
this well-dressed guy's hot, dank valley stands out as one of the best and
the way he was holding my head to grind my face against the rank-smelling
gusset of his dirty briefs only served to compound my pleasure.

I sniffed deeper, pushing my nose right up against the carnal stink of this
man's unsavoury arsehole.  Years earlier I would have been appalled by the
mere thought of wedging my face into somewhere so vulgar, be it on a
woman's body but especially on a man's.  But now I was well aware that the
smell I was so keen to experience had a sexual component: it was that which
was making my head spin and my hand beat faster.

You see, this wasn't just the stink of some stranger's dirty arse: for me
the smell held far more pleasurable and intimate associations as the
delicious aroma of same-sex intercourse.  It was a mere foreshadowing of
the strong, biting odour the two of us men would revel in if we were
panting and gasping together with my manhood pummelling his behind.

I had grown to love this smell in spite of, or perhaps because of, its more
obvious associations with filth and squalor.  I had come to find it deeply
erotic as a reminder of how intensely erotic it was to have sex with my own
kind: the stronger the smell of butt, the harder my cock would throb at the
memory of how it had felt thrust and buck against another man's rear; how
hard and fast I'd had to slam against his buttocks to produce such a
wonderfully powerful odour.

"Lick it," the guy commanded me and I pulled out from his bracingly odorous
crack.  I looked up at him and found him grinning mischievously: he'd
probably never had anyone who'd been so eager to get their face into his
butt-crack; probably not at home and definitely not in a public toilet.

He hitched his briefs down around his thighs, which slightly disappointed
me as I'd been enjoying sniffing the back of them.  But when I saw his bare
arse in all its big, muscular glory, my cock throbbed excitedly at how
incredible it looked.  His crack had coarse wiry hair spilling out from it
and low down, where his flavoursome hole would be nestled, whole clumps of
it were matted together, making my mouth water at what I knew was awaiting
me.

"Eat me out," he whispered, encouraged by the sight of me licking my lips.
"Shove your tongue right in there, really deep."

I grinned back up at him: he had my sexual peculiarities pretty well
figured out.

The boy pulled off his cock and peered around at me quizzically.  In spite
of the clothes he was wearing, he had a lovely sweet face – light blue
eyes and pink, full lips – and seemed oddly boyish to be a builder or
labourer or whatever physical job he held.

"Yer not gonna lick his arse out, are ya?" he inquired in a surprisingly
deep voice which was laden with a combination of amazement and disgust.  I
figured it mustn't be something he'd ever done himself.

I smirked and nodded.

"But won't it be, like... you know... proper shitty?" he asked, glancing at
the skid-marks which were indeed coursing along the inside gusset of the
pulled down briefs.

I shrugged.  "I prefer to think of it as lube!"

The guy chuckled from above us and I hoped his amusement meant he might be
up for a butt-fuck.  My cock was aching in anticipation from the smell of
his arse and had got me into just the right mood to bend him over the
toilet bowl and roughly rut with his big, hairy rump.

That was the main reason I came to places like this, you see: to find men
who would let me unload my seed up their bowels.  Sometimes I'd allow my
fleeting companions to discharge themselves into me, but more often, in the
absence of a woman in my life, I would seek men willing for me to use their
hot, hairy rears as a very enjoyable alternative outlet.

And even if they didn't, I was more than happy just to take in the scenery
– sniffing and licking the part of the male body I had so recently
discovered to be a powerful aphrodisiac.  In some ways it was more erotic
to probe a man's orifice with one's tongue: it was vastly more intense and
incredibly sensual.  I greatly enjoyed masturbating in that position:
tasting and smelling a fellow male's most intimate of flavours and
imagining what it would be like for our bodies to be connected in
copulation.

The lad watched me intently as I leaned forwards and pushed my face between
the two hefty buttocks that were gaping open in front of me.  After pausing
to savour his intoxicating stink straight from his companion's bare
arse-crack, I extended my tongue and, with a few exploratory sweeps through
the dense, pungent thicket spilling out from his trench, quickly found his
hot, moist opening.

I heard him and the boy gasp in unison.  I was sure the guy had never been
rimmed and that the boy had also never seen it done.

I tickled the suited man's hole with the outstretched tip of my tongue,
first working around the puffy circumference and then pushing more firmly
into the swollen ring to enjoy the thick, acrid bite of his most sordid
taste.

I pulled back from his big, hairy arse and peered up at the guy's face.  He
was grinning down at me over his shoulder, his smile broad and full of
surprised delight.

"Go on, mate, lick me out properly," he urged.  "Stick your tongue right up
my fucking hole!"

I smiled back up at him, hoping it would indeed turn out to be a 'fucking
hole': a hole for fucking.

Again I wondered if he really would be up for that.  In spite of how keen
he was to be rimmed and how he'd chuckled at my quip about lube, my
instincts told me not.  He no doubt regularly stopped off here on his drive
home from work and enjoyed having his cock sucked by whichever random bloke
was willing to get on his knees in front of him.  He would probably even be
partial to working his knob up some stranger's arse if he was in the right
mood, but bitter experience had taught me that guys like this – married
and no doubt classing themselves as totally straight – were almost
invariably unwilling to have anything more than a tongue slid up their
backsides.

"Come on," he demanded, pulling his cheeks apart with one hand to tempt me
with the furry hole inside.  "Get your tongue up my arse!  Right in deep!"

The lad kept gaping at me poised with my face in front of this guy's large,
solid buttocks.  I grinned at him naughtily: I loved being seen like this,
poised in front of a bloke's big brawny backside, salivating at the
prospect of working my tongue up the hot, slimy chute.  This wasn't what
strangers normally do during furtive encounters in public toilets: I was
fully aware of that.  They normally wank each other off, maybe suck each
other's cocks – and occasionally one might offer his puckered hole for
the other to quickly and quietly fuck – but rimming was seen as far too
personal and intimate to be traded in a toilet cubicle.

But that's why I like it: it never ceases to astonish men when I duck down
behind them and apply my face between their buttocks.  Even when they've
got their underpants pulled up and I just nuzzle my nose into the whiffy
material riding up between their cheeks, they are quick to express both
their surprise and gratitude.

With the young builder looking on, I extended my tongue and pushed it back
into the suited guy's arse crack.  He grinned as I lapped between the big
round cheeks like a cat taking milk, enjoying the feel and taste of where
the hair was clumped together.  I made an 'mmm' sound to show how much I
was loving tonguing such a odorous bum and then pulled back away to see his
reaction.

He was smirking at me wide-eyed and said, "Fuck yeah!" to encourage me to
go in for another taste.

I chuckled back at him, pleased to show him that butts aren't just for
shitting and fucking, and he looked down at my cock to see with amazement
how horny I was from where my face had just been.

I yanked my foreskin right back for him, flourishing my large, ripe
bell-end and he grinned more broadly and said, "Fuckin' eat his hole out,
mate!"

I lunged back in and feasted on the guy's arse, driving my tongue forwards
and pressing it firmly into his slippery, puckered entrance.  I was
surprised at how readily it opened to my advances: perhaps I'd been wrong
about this guy and he wasn't as averse as I'd assumed to having the
occasional horny bloke like me work a prick up between his butt cheeks.

I rimmed him deeply, grabbing my cock again and masturbating it quickly, as
I tasted the rough, pungent slime inside his yielding hole.

I was feeling so glad that I'd called into these toilets on the off-chance.
I hadn't actually needed the loo and had wandered in purely on spec.

"Bend over the loo," the suited guy instructed the kid.  "I wanna fuck you
while he licks my tush."

I pulled away from rimming his arse, keen to see the lad getting his
builder's bum fucked.  While such sights aren't exactly rare when you're
lucky enough to be let into a cubicle with a couple of guys, they're
uncommon enough not to be taken for granted.

The builder and I both got up and the youngster smiled nervously at the
suited guy.  Then he said, in that curiously deep voice, "I dunno,
mate... I weren't really expectin' owt like that..."

"Come on," the other man retorted, his wet cock curving upwards and looking
large and expectant.  "I promise I'll cum really quickly..."

The lad looked uncomfortable and said, with a cute-looking blush, "Thing
is, right... I came in here for a dump and –"

"I couldn't give a fuck about that," the suited guy snapped at him.  "Just
turn around and bend over!"

"Yeah, but what I'm sayin' is..." he went on and then blushed a deeper
shade of red.  "Basically, what it is, right... me arse is prob'ly full o'
shit!"

"Isn't that how arses usually work or am I missing something...?"

The lad shrugged.  "I just mean, ya know... I don't mind ya shaggin' me wi'
me arse full o' crud, but I reckon it'll make an 'ell of a stink once ya
get started!"

"I couldn't care how bad it stinks, son.  I just wanna nice, proper fuck
while he crouches behind me with his tongue licking up my back door!"

"What if yer knob ends up covered in shit...?"

The bloke shrugged.  "It'll make it more... interesting..."

The lad threw him a small smile, obviously warming to the idea.  "Ya
reckon...?"

The suited guy reached down and pulled a condom from his trouser pocket.
He must keep it within easy reach at times he was pursuing his hobby.

He gestured towards me and suggested, "Like he said, it'll act as lube,
won't it?"

The lad grinned more broadly.  "Felt like it were gonna be a sloppy one, so
it prob'ly will!"

The older bloke chuckled, unfurling the sheath down his large erection.
"Good job in a way, 'cause I forgot to bring any KY."

The lad chortled at that and made to take his high-res jacket off, but the
suited guy quickly objected.

"No, leave it on," he muttered.  "I want to screw you with you wearing it!"

The lad yanked his trousers down and turned around to bend over the toilet.
His bum was pale and almost entirely hairless: only a few short, wispy
hairs were visible emerging from his arse-crack.  There was a peppering of
small pink blemishes around the crease where his buttocks met his thighs.
He must get quite sweaty down there when he was lugging masonry around or
whatever it was he did during the day.

The older man shuffled up behind him and parted his cheeks with his finger
and thumb.  Slap bang between them we could both see the lad's prominently
puckered arsehole: the distended raised ring of someone who was in the
regular habit of receiving other men's cocks.

While in most cases one might expect such a well-ploughed hole to be
inflamed red or purple, in this lad's case it was a deep, dirty brown.

The suited bloke laughed, "Fucking hell!  I think you might have been
touching cloth when you pulled in here, mate!"

The builder glanced back at us.  "What d'ya mean?"

The guy extended his middle finger into the murky trench, drew a small
circle around the lad's bloated ringpiece and then thrust the unsanitary
digit towards him, putting it so close to his face that he could probably
smell the stink on it.

On seeing how discoloured it was, the boy laughed heartily, "I told it were
gonna be shitty!"

I found it refreshing that he was so unconcerned about the mess his
arsehole was in even with two strangers staring at it.

The guy turned to me a grinned.  "Fancy sticking your face into that?"

I shook my head with a smirk, "I'll let you do the honours..."

That was too much even for me.

The suited guy chuckled and pushed forwards so he could start pushing his
rubbered organ against the lad's muddy pucker.  His swollen muscle relaxed
obligingly and the lad murmured at the feel of having his anal ring cleaved
open.  In spite of his roughness, he was obviously no stranger to bending
over to take another fella's big cock into his rear passage!

"Ah yeah... shove it right up!" he called back to the suited guy.  "I wanna
feel yer bollocks pressin' between my legs!"

"Like having it up you, don't you!" the older man chuckled and eased his
thick cock further into the flagrantly-soiled hole that was being so
eagerly offered.

I peered over so I could take a good look at what I once would have
regarded as an unpleasantly crude variant of sex but which I now found
utterly compelling.  Male penetrating male: the combining of two masculine
anatomies never ceased to enthral me even if, in this case, it was somewhat
tarnished by the unsightly state of the builder's arse.

"Aah!" the boy suddenly gasped with a wince.  "Take it a bit slower, will
ya?"

The bloke grabbed him by the hips and held his cock steady.  The top half
of it was plugged inside the lad's straining ring, the thickened shaft
seeming to swell and stretch it further.

"You okay?" he asked his young companion.

"It's like I told ya... my arse is well full!" the builder retorted.
"Can't you feel it around yer cock?"

The guy laughed.  "No complaints from my side!  It just feels hot and
slippery!"

He pushed in another inch and the lad gasped again.  "Jesus – talk about
packin' fudge!"

The bloke kept chuckling and continued to work himself into the widening
arsehole.  He seemed to find it funny that he was for all intents and
purposes sliding his cock deeper and deeper into a big steaming dollop of
the young builder's shit.

"Oh God!" the boy panted.  "I feel like I'm gonna burst!"

The guy laughed again.  "Bet you wish you'd taken that dump!"

"Too fuckin' right I do!"

The lad repositioned himself, opening his legs as much as he could and
bending further down to open his arse up wider, trying to give his
short-lived lover more room inside him.  He farted loudly which sounded
utterly disgusting and the suited guy guffawed at the effect his cock was
having on the over-filled rectum he was slowly pushing into.

"I once had two fellas bum me at the same time," the builder muttered
breathlessly.  "My arse feels even fuller than it did then!"

The suited guy kept grinning and pushed his cock the last few inches up
into the gaping crack of the builder's spread arse.

"Aah!  Jesus!" the younger man gasped.

Finally the suited guy's huge bollocks were pressing into the backs of the
builder's legs and the lad let out another fart which sounded and smelled
even ranker than the first.

The bloke turned to me and asked, "Have you ever done a guy like this?"

Thinking that, perhaps in my boring work suit I looked like a novice to the
pleasures of male anal penetration, I chuckled at the question.

"Of course I have!" I retorted.  "Loads of times!  I'll bang you while you
bang him, if you want me to prove it!  I've got a condom in my wallet."

He smiled back but shook his head.

"I only give, I don't take," he informed me before going to clarify: "I
didn't just mean have you fucked a guy's arse, but have you fucked one like
his – one that's chock-full of turds...?"

"Oh I see," I replied.  "No – not that I know of.  How's it feel?"

"Surprisingly sexy," he grinned.  "All wet and squelchy around my prong.
Warm and yielding... soft and thick."

He glanced down at my erection, which hadn't lost any of its earlier
stiffness, and added, "You like the sound of that?"

"Perhaps," I nodded.  I wouldn't have thought something so repulsive could
possible titillate me but now that I was faced with the reality of it, I
found it distinctly intriguing.

The guy slowly withdrew his cock from the boy's arse and the two of us
gasped in astonishment at the thick layer of crud that was covering it.  I
winced at the stink from it – it really was atrocious – but the bloke
just laughed and said, "Who's for a choc ice?"

The boy peered around and over his shoulder at our dumbstruck faces.

"What's up?" he asked.  "Is somethin' wrong?"

"Your mate's cock looks a lot thicker now it's on the way out!" I told him,
trying not to gag at the stench.

"Thicker?" he asked.  "How?"

"It's... er... extremely well-lubed!"

He looked at us stupidly, failing to get the joke, and then sniffed the air
a few times before realising what we were referring to.

"Oh right!" he chuckled back.  "I told you I were desperate for a crap!"

"Oh Jesus Christ!  The smell of it!" muttered the suited guy with his cock
still plugged up the dirty arse.  "It stinks like... I dunno... like..."

"Shit?" I asked.

"Yeah!" he chortled.  "This is gonna be the stinkiest fuck I've ever had,
and believe me I've had quite a few!"

He reached up to grab the builder by the shoulders and started sliding his
cock slowly in and out of the filthy hole.  Some of the lad's shit
squelched out every time he pushed in and the smell of it grew even
stronger in the confines of the cubicle.

The guy turned to me and grinned, obviously enjoying how sordid this
butt-fuck was becoming.  The skid-marks on the back of his own briefs paled
into insignificance compared to the mess that his cock was now making as it
penetrated this younger man's arse.  There were soon sloppy brown gobs
sticking to his pubes and two thick stinking stripes smeared on the inner
sides of the boy's pale, splayed buttocks.

The boy also found it amusing that he was delivering such inelegant
intercourse and smirked up at me from where he was bent over the toilet
bowl.  He seemed as eager to see my reaction on seeing this extreme
caricature of anal sex, as I had been his when I'd shown him what rimming
looks like.  His face was full of expectation, as if he was hoping to
surprise me: like he wanted to show me something new and unsuspected in the
same way I had when I'd licked the guy's arse.

I just smiled back at him.  What I was watching was graphic and perhaps a
little grotesque, but I certainly wasn't shocked by it.  After all, I'd
enjoyed enough anal liaisons with other men to recognise that such sex can
bring with it exposure to faecal matter.

Dissatisfied by my muted response, he asked, "Does it look really
'orrible... seein' me gettin' a bum-job wi' me arse full o' shit?"

I shrugged.  "Maybe not 'horrible'... but as anal copulation goes, yours
doesn't leave much to the imagination!"

He didn't understand what I meant because he persisted, "Does it
look... you know.... proper nasty?  Seein' me gettin' bummed up me dirty,
stinkin' arse?"

He seemed determined that I should concede that the sight of him being
butt-fucked was offensive.

I smiled.  "Well, your arse is oozing shit around his cock as he's fucking
you.  I wouldn't call it 'nasty' but I admit it's not the sort of thing
one's likely to see on a Valentine card."

Again he didn't appreciate my humour and instead said defiantly, "Well I'm
fuckin' lovin' it me!  I'm fuckin' well into it!"

He grabbed his erection and, pushing it back between his thighs so I could
see it underneath the older man's roughly jabbing organ.  He jerked his
foreskin back and forth as if to show me how aroused he was from being so
lewdly and indecorously penetrated.

His cock really was remarkably small: it had a nice, curved shaft and a
lovely moist pink head, but it was thin and short and he had to wank it
between a single finger and his thumb.  Not that I'm being critical of it:
cocks are always fun to play with it and, while it might not make the most
fulfilling fuck were he and I ever to find ourselves in that position,
there were many other things the two of us could no doubt enjoy doing with
it.

He sneered up at me while he wanked himself, again trying to elicit a
reaction from me.  He paused to sniff at the cloying stink of his own
excrement, and then grinned at me more broadly to show his pride at how
strong and overpowering his odour was growing.

"From now on I'm gonna make sure I hold me dump in before I get me arse
bummed!" he informed me.  "Make it stink somethin' rotten!  Get the other
bloke's dick all brown and shitty!"

Again it seemed important to him to instil shock in me.

I said, "Thank you for that information."

This time he just gawped up at me and I turned to watch the cock sliding in
and out of his rear become progressively more layered with the thick sticky
mess that was still exuding from his anus.  It was splattering all around
the suited guy's pubes and sticking in moist chunks to his huge bobbing
nut-sack.  Even the lad's arse was coated with it: it was filling up his
arse crack and was smeared in a sloppy circle on his buttocks around the
relentlessly pumping shaft.  When this was finished his bum would look like
he'd had the mother of explosive diarrhoeas.

The older bloke turned to me and said with an eager smirk, "Jesus, mate,
look at all his shit going everywhere!  All over my knackers and right
across his arse!"

I grinned back at him and he went on, growing still more excited, "This is
as rough as fuck!  It's proper shit-stabbing!  I swear to God I've never
fucked a bloke half as dirty as this!"

I was surprised at how much it was turning me on too: my hard-on was
throbbing upright at the sheer squalidness of what I was witnessing.

He looked down at the growing ring of excrement encircling his cock and how
thickly matted his pubic hair was with wet solid chunks.  His bollocks were
now completely brown and were making an obscene-looking smudge every time
they slammed into the back of the lad's thighs.

"This is what it must be like when blokes do it in prison!" he panted.
"This is how it looks when they're shagging each other in their cells!"

I wasn't sure why he thought that, but the picture in his head cranked his
tempo up a notch.

I wondered if he was right and this was indeed what prison sex looked like;
spontaneity and a lack of lube encrusting every liaison in a brown-coloured
hue.  No wonder the men so often chose to do it in the showers.

"This is how it stinks!" he went on, struggling for breath.  "This is how
it reeks when all the blokes go at each other's arses... the whole fucking
prison.... stinking of all the fucking butt sex going on!"

He started thrusting even more powerfully into the builder's slurping
arsehole, grunting and gasping while sniffing hungrily at the disgusting
pong from the mess that was spreading outwards from his exertions.

"Lick my arse!" he panted with an urgency that suggested his orgasm was
drawing close.  "Lick my arse while I... while I... sodomise this boy's
dirty shitty hole!"

The relish with which he said he was sodomising the lad suggested that
there was more to this for him than just a raunchy fuck in a seedy motorway
toilet.  Maybe he hadn't been aware of it until he'd started fucking the
lad's over-stocked backside, but this most vulgar and abhorrent form of
buggery was clearly something that turned him on immensely.

Perhaps the gritty squalor of prison sex was something that had always
fascinated him, or perhaps he liked his encounters with other males to be
far more crude and sleazy than the more sensual lovemaking he must enjoy
with his wife.

Whatever the reason, having another man's effluent spattering all over his
genitals while he so enthusiastically pounded his rear proved to be
something that – perhaps unexpectedly – he found utterly compelling.

"Come on – lick my arse!" he insisted and I saw that beads of sweat were
forming on his forehead.  I moved around behind him again pleased to be
able to finish off the job I'd started earlier.

I knelt down behind him and noticed that his buttocks were also growing wet
as they flexed back and forth to slam his hips against the builder's bum.
His sweat was trickling down from his back, soaking his shirt as it did so,
and coursing between his cheeks to make his butt hair glisten.

I leaned forwards and extended my tongue into his crack, enjoying how the
new saltiness from his sweat mixed with the deeper and richer tastes
lurking within.  He grunted more strenuously when he felt me lick his
arsehole and I tasted again the pungent bite of the tunnel inside it.

However, compared to the all-consuming stink of the lad getting fucked, the
guy's taste back here now seemed woefully inadequate.  I wanted so much
more than what he was offering me here: I wasn't sure what, but I had to
try to find out.

"Squat down a bit!" I commanded him.  "I want to get my tongue between your
legs!"

He did as I'd ordered, crouching down a little so that I could see through
his thighs.  His swollen balls were jiggling around between his legs as his
shit-coated cock was hammering in and out from between the lad's
copiously-daubed buttocks.  The smell of their sex hit me like a blow: with
my face so close to the relentless and thickly-smeared cock, this most
crude and extreme version of anal sex stunk far, far stronger than any
previous sexual encounter I'd had with other men.

To the rational part of my brain the stench was vilely repugnant, but to a
different part – a much deeper part – it proved to be invigorating.
It was like an intense distillation of all the darkest, most secretive
scents I'd come to savour since discovering intimacy with my own gender.
It was like the smell of male-on-male penetration cranked up to the max:
many magnitudes stronger than any experiences of same-sex copulation that
I'd had before.

I started wanking my foreskin roughly and quickly as I saw the builder was
doing the same to his own.  It was almost comical how his cock was
straining to achieve its full hardened size but was only managing to grow
to a mere fraction of what the older man's huge, pummelling organ was
capable of.  The boy's face had frozen into a permanent wince as if he was
in pain while his finger and thumb thumped away at his tiny dick.  His own
climax was nearing; the stink from his own cock-pounded shit only serving
to propel him more quickly towards it.

I pushed my face between the guy's legs and licked the hairy underside of
his heaving bollocks.  He grunted his encouragement, his hips whacking
faster and harder against the lad's splayed buttocks, and I pushed further
forwards, reaching my tongue outwards to taste what was covering his
wobbling nutsack.

"Oh yeah!" I heard him gasp as I experienced a taste far stronger and more
exciting than I ever had during rimming.  I could tell that what was on my
tongue was as base and distasteful as I might have expected, but on a
purely animal, sexual level it proved to be electrifying.  This was in no
way comparable to the subtle and secretive scents I enjoyed during anal sex
with my fellow men: it was the full-on consuming punch of a man's basest
stink at its most primal and intense.

"Lick my bollocks!" I heard him call out.  "Lick his fucking muck off
them!"

I continued lapping at his full and heaving scrotum but I pushed my face
further between his legs as my sights were now set a little higher up.  I
was fascinated by his massive thickly-coated cock, slamming back and forth
as it prepared to unload itself inside the lad's shit-encrusted arse.

I reached my tongue up towards it and he sensed my intention.

"Aah yeah – that's right!  Clean it!" he called down to me.  "Clean his
shit off my cock!"

I pressed my tongue into the battering shaft of it and felt the glutinous
material collect on its tip as it drove back and forth.  The taste was
appalling but nevertheless the sensation of what I was doing made my own
aching erection strain still harder in my rapidly beating hand.

I couldn't believe that I was actually doing this – how utterly depraved
I was behaving to be licking one guy's crud off another's frantically
driving cock – but I was and... oh God!  It felt so exciting!

I reached my tongue further forwards towards the gaping arsehole, with the
builder's stinking mess still squeezing around the huge shaft of the cock.
Before I could lick it, though, I felt my climax kick in.

"Fucking lick it!  Eat it!" the bloke was grunting down to me as the
hammering of his cock became a squalid brown blur.  Suddenly a massive
outpouring of semen frothed out of the builder's arse in a dirty beige
lather, reminding me of a milky cappuccino that had abruptly overflowed.
The sound of his thrusting cock became wetter and more sloppy and the smell
from it, splattering the lad's spunk-moistened shit in an even wider
diameter across his bum, intensified still further.

I pulled out from between his legs and struggled back to my feet behind
him.

He was growling animalistically as he emptied his bollocks into the
builder's well-used arse, holding him firm with both hands as he rammed his
cock home over and over in long deep lunges.  His semen was bubbling out of
the lad in a dirty brown lather, trickling down the backs of his legs and
getting caught in big frothy gobs on the suited guy's pubes.

Only then did it occur to me that the condom must have torn.

I pressed my middle finger between his muscular buttocks as he discharged
the last few squirts of his load into the dirty rectum.  Among the coarse
sweaty hair of his crack, I found his spit-moistened hole spasming and
puckering in time with his diminishing thrusts and worked the top of my
finger into it.  He grunted appreciatively as his hot muscular ring
squeezed tightly around my finger.

Being fingered gave his orgasm a second wind and he let out a series of
carnal grunts as his cock fired off a further surge of his cream up into
his companion's over-filled bowels.  It frothed out from the boy's arse
crack with renewed vigour: a foaming lather of fresh man-seed, sullied and
discoloured by thick brown gobs of semi-solid shit.

That seemed to propel the builder towards his own climax: the sloppy
squelching sounds as well as the strengthening odour from his
semen-loosened rectum driving his tiny kiddy-sized dick to start shooting a
few derisory splashes of jizz across the rim of the toilet bowl.

A movement above me made me glance upwards and I saw that we were being
observed over the cubicle partition from the next stall by a lad who must
be standing on the toilet.  He was young – maybe nineteen or twenty –
and was wearing thick-rimmed specs with his smooth wavy hair flawlessly
gelled into a luxuriant quiff.  He looked like a fashionably nerdy student;
probably just some lad intent on taking a dump whose curiosity had been
diverted by the activities going on through the peep-holes I had used
earlier.

His expression was one of revulsion: he seemed utterly appalled by the
depravity going on below him.  And yet his shoulder was shuddering rapidly
betraying that, however offended his face might appear, his hand and his
hard-on were both enjoying the scatological show.

He glanced over at me – his eyes wide with horror – and I suddenly
wondered if perhaps he was concerned that gay sex might always look like
this.  Whether he'd been secretly fantasizing about getting together with
another guy and was now fearful that the union of their bodies –
something he might have imagined as being meaningful and beautiful –
would end up with them wallowing together in a mess as crude as repulsive
as what he was now seeing.

I smiled up at him in encouragement and muttered, "It's not usually like
this!"

He seemed not to understand and instead looked back down at the churning
froth of dirty spunk spewing out from the builder's arse as the cock's
rhythmic release finally began to abate.  In spite of how disgusted he
looked at the vulgarity of what he was seeing, his shoulder was shaking
faster and harder as he whacked himself off as quickly as he could.

He was like me: on one level appalled by the utter filth he was witnessing,
while on another unable to stop himself becoming desperately aroused by it.

The suited guy's big softening cock finally flopped out of the builder's
splayed slimy hole with the condom hanging in tatters from its shaft.  A
thick gunge of shit mixed together with the older man's seed poured down
the backs of the builder's thighs and the horrendous stench of it made us
all wince and pull away like a slap across the face.

"Oh God!  The stink!" the lad peering over the partition said, looking back
at me in outright disgust.

I smiled again: in spite of how roughly he was masturbating himself on his
side of the partition, he seemed genuinely horrified that all of this might
be typical of sex between men.  That the tender gay lovemaking he had
perhaps romanticized about at night in his bed would in the event prove to
be as obscene and explicit as this.

"It doesn't normally smell like this," I told him as he stared at me in
revulsion with his hand pounding at his dick.  He was clearly hugely turned
on by how wild and untamed anal sex between men could appear, but at the
same time revolted that for him and his male lover, this might be the
normal smell of their homosexual intimacy.

I didn't want him to feel reluctant to explore his sexuality on the basis
of what he was experiencing here.  I wanted him to know that this was
something bizarre and extreme and that if he was curious about being gay or
bi, the sex he would enjoy with other guys was likely to be just as
beautiful as he imagined.

Of course I didn't tell him any of that – not there like that – but
instead I pulled my finger out of the suited guy's arsehole and raised it
to the lad's shuddering face.

The finger was streaked with a light brown sludge; a mere fraction of what
was caked around the huge softening cock from which the remains of the
condom were being yanked.

"This is how dirty a dick normally gets after a butt-fuck," I told him.
"And this is about as shitty as gay sex normally smells," I added,
extending my finger towards his nose.

He sniffed at it hungrily, enjoying the earthy pungent odour I knew to be
more typically released during anal sex between men.  This was the smell
that I so adored myself; the smell that had drawn me here and caused to me
to squat down and apply my nose to the suited guy's big brawny butt.

"That's the smell of bum sex," I confided, chuckling at how much he was
loving inhaling the suited guy's bum-stink on my finger and how powerfully
his shoulder was now thumping against the partition.  "This is the smell
you'll get when you fuck some guy up his butt, or when you bend over to let
another lad do it to you!"

His expression turned to one of flinching pain as his cock started
squirting on the other side of the partition wall.  I was amused that it
was the thought of bending to receive a cock that had been the trigger of
his orgasm; perhaps the thought of working his dick up another lad's arse
didn't seem so appealing now that he'd seen what had oozed out of the
builder's.

Once our observer's climax had subsided and he'd clambered down from the
toilet to wipe himself down, the problem in our cubicle became one of
sanitation.  For my part, I'd escaped largely unsoiled – I only needed
to wash my hands and buy a bottle of mouthwash from the shop out in the
foyer – but both the suited guy and the builder found themselves in a
much messier predicament.

"What the fuck am I going to tell my wife?" the suited guy muttered,
looking down at how much wet brown slop had spattered onto his shirt and
trousers.

"Yeah, my mum's gonna go fuckin' ape!" the builder added, seeing the state
of his sodden underwear and how grim the back of his tracksuit bottoms
looked.

I let myself out of their stall feeling like Arnie saying, "I'll be back!"
and went to wet a wodge of paper towels with warm soapy water.  I have no
idea what the other men in the toilet thought I was doing, amassing such a
sopping bundle of wet towels, but it would have seemed inconsiderate for me
to have just left my two companions like that: doing their best to daub off
the worst of the stinking mess with flimsy sheets of toilet paper from the
dispenser in the cubicle.

I'm sure the suited guy must have still been a bit whiffy when he got back
to his wife but no doubt he had an excuse at the ready.  And the young
builder could surely have talked his out of the state his shorts and
tracksuit bottoms were in to his mum: a backfiring portaloo at the building
site, for example, or an unpleasant practical joke thought up by one of his
mates.

On the drive home, I was unable to shake my thoughts from what I'd done in
the cubicle.  I didn't feel disgusted with myself – after all, my part
in our threesome had, for all intents and purposes, been a rim-job which
had taken a somewhat uncouth twist.  I couldn't help being plagued by
recurrent worries, however, about the sort of outcome such an interest
might lead me towards.

I felt a bit like the voyeur student: fascinated by the barbarity of the
sex I'd found myself wrapped up in, but at the same time unnerved by the
implications of it.  Was the excitement I'd felt when I'd licked the man's
shit-covered cock just an aspect of my fascination with bloke's butts and
my fondness for sniffing and rimming them?  More importantly, did I want to
pursue such excremental encounters any further?

I didn't yet have any answers as I knew this would need a good deal of
further thought.

My musings started that very night at bedtime when, with my hand firmly
gripping my organ as it swelled upwards through my pyjama fly, I replayed
the whole experience back in my head for what proved to be the first of
many enjoyable occasions.  Each time I replayed the memory, I took my own
part a little further, exploring different scenarios to see what effect
they would have on my masturbatory pleasures and the rapidity of my
climaxes.

Soon I did have some answers, even if they weren't the ones I might have
been hoping for, and I realised that what I'd done in the cubicle would
likely be merely the first manifestation of a whole new side to my
sexuality.

===

robert.furlong@rocketmail.com
robertfurlong.tumblr.com

===