Date: Thu, 5 May 2016 15:01:14 -0500
From: Vlad <vampyrered@gmail.com>
Subject: REAL MEN shit and Piss

A Real Man Pisses and Shits
By Daddy
vampyrered@gmail.com

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Just and authors note: I have had this story running in my head of about a
week.  As with many of my other works it came on suddenly and would not
leave until I had it down on paper.  I hope you enjoy this fictional
rendering.  Any resemblance to living or deceased persons is coincidental
at best.  Now on to our taleÉ..


Dad was a big man.  I mean one of those imposing creatures that just
demanded respect and awe when you met him.  He was also strong, manly, no
nonsense, and at times sentimental.  He grew up on farming, and so that was
the life he chose for us.  It wasn't a huge spread, but it gave us what we
needed, and some luxuries as well.  Living on the farm is where my whole
adventure began.  Where the words, "Real Men piss and shit", became more
than just a way of being, but became my sexual desires.

As you might suspect it was my Dad who uttered that phrase.  I heard it
when I was very young, and it would crop up into standing every so often
when Dad was explaining the simplicity of something.  First time I recall
him uttering those words I was about 5 or 6.  I was assisting Dad out in
the barn cleaning things up and making way for more hay up in the loft.
Dad, as usual, had his shirt off, and his jeans were riding low on his
hips. His body showed the hard work he put into maintaining the farm, and
his ass was big and muscled.  Squatting, lifting, and other kinds of manual
labor helped build that ass, and I never seemed to tire of watching it.
This idea never seemed foreign to me at the time, and I did not know much
about being gay, just knew I enjoyed see a real man work.

It was during this time, that I recall needing to go to the bathroom, and
as young kids do they explain this by saying, "I need to go potty".
Nothing wrong with it, and for the stage of experience of most kids, it is
the correct and polite way of making your needs known.  Dad on the other
hand always put it more plainly.  He laughed actually, and said, "that good
Kevin, make sure not to track dirt in the house".  He continued by saying,
"you know when you grow up to be a Real Man, you won't say things like,
"potty", cause you see kid, REAL MEN PISS AND SHIT".

This almost foul language took me by surprise, and my look must have shown
it.  Dad just went on to explain that men are real, and that a man just
says things like, "I need to take a piss", or "I need to shit, where's the
head".  The term "potty" is for little boys, not men.  When I grow up like
him, I will know the difference.  I just smiled, and nodded in agreement,
but truly didn't make the connection.  Not until a bit later.

You see on our farm we still had a working outhouse, as well as indoor
plumbing.  Generally the only person who used it was my Dad, as many Summer
days he just got so dirty, he didn't want to mess up the house by tracking
in all the muck.  That is where the words made sense that day.  I had to
pass the outhouse on the way to the main house, and as I really had to go,
decided I would use it.  As I opened the door, the stifled heat from inside
hit me first, then the smell hit my nose.  The pungent odor or piss and
shit mixed, plus the lingering smell of man sweat, and cum. Since my Dad
was usually the only occupant, this became the smell I associated with him
most.  I stepped in, and dropped my pants and sat on the hole.  Next to the
hole was toilet paper, and a stack of "dirty" magazines, my Mom called
them.  She didn't allow them in the house, so Dad jacked off in here.

As I sat there "shitting" as Dad so aptly put it, I started to check out
those magazines.  It was the usual fare of big tits, big asses, shaved
pussies, and to my surprise, some actual penetration pics.  The girls would
be posed seductively as the man, with what seemed like a monster cock to
this little boy, would be about to shove it in.  I studied the man
intently, and noticed that he was not as big as my Dad physically, but he
had a nice body, a hairy chest, great cock, and a nice round ass.  That is
the first time I wondered what he smelled like.  What did that man's ass
and cock smell like?  Did they smell like my Dad's stink in the out house,
or would it be more like my little boy smell?  That thought got my little
boy cock hard.

As the teenage years came on, I spent more and more time in that out house.
I preferred to do my business out there most times, and it fueled my
teenage desires for man smells, and jerking off.  I had figured out a
little earlier that I was gay.  Just made sense that if I was fantasizing
about other men's asses and dicks and how they tasted and smelled, gay was
probably what I was.  I hadn't really connected it all to my Dad, but it
was essential that all my jack off times were sniffing the foul stench of
his piss, shit, cum, and sweat that fueled my dick.  I still looked at his
dirty magazines, but then I was thinking of how it would feel to have that
man fuck my dirty ass. I wanted so much to feel a REAL MAN penetrate me.

It wasn't until I joined the football team at school that things really got
interesting.  Being from the South sports are everything to boys and men.
I was stocky built, and with working on the farm with my Dad, I was gaining
some muscle, my ass was filling out, and I had nice shoulders.  I also knew
that playing sports would get me more stink than I could handle.  Locker
rooms were the bastion of man smell.  I also was getting to the point that
I needed more than just jerking off.

I needed more experiences, more sensations.  I didn't want to be found out,
but who knew what other gay boys may be on the team.  It was in the locker
room that I first heard the term "fag".  Any one who was not a jock, or who
did not quite fit in was a "fag", sexual orientation not withstanding.  So
the smart kid was a fag, and the art student was a fag, and anyone they
didn't like was a fag.  But in the locker room the term took on a whole new
meaning.  The first time I heard it was when Jonny Packer referred to
someone as a cock sucking fag.  Jonny was our defensive lineman, and was
huge.  Very much like my Dad in size and build.  He was joking around, I
guess, and said some kid was a cock sucker.  That he bet the kid would beg
to down his hog, and take his load.

I just stood there listening.  The thought that I might be a fag had never
occurred to me.  The longer I thought about it the more I owned it.  I was
a fag.  I was probably more of a fag than the kid Jonny was talking about.
I was a fag for not only cock, but ass, and piss and shit, and cum.  I
wanted to do nothing more than to service a REAL MAN.  That's when I over
heard Jonny say those words.  Yeah, bet that fag would love to take my piss
and shit, cause you know that's what REAL MEN do.  Instantly my cock got
hard.  I ran to the showers, turned toward the wall and let the cold water
wash it away.

That night, as I was lying in bed I came up with a plan.  I wanted to know
exactly how Jonny tasted and smelled.  I knew that most of the guys on the
team, just dropped their underwear of jocks on the floor, some hung them on
the locker doors.  If I could plan it our right I might be able to sneak
over to his locker when he was in the shower, and get a quick sniff.  It
was a dangerous undertaking, as if I got caught all hell would break loose.
No one suspected I was gay, and at this point I liked it that way.  I
wasn't anywhere near wanting to come out.

So for the next week or so I paid real close attention to the flow of
bodies in the locker room. Who tended to go in first, who lingered, how
much time they took, and how busy each section of lockers was.  I estimated
that if once Jonny stripped down, I would have about 3 minutes clear before
anyone walked past those back lockers.  I was scared, but very excited to
see if this would work.  I jerked off the night before I was to do this
simply by the thought of smelling his dirty, funked up jock.

The next day at practice I steadied myself to do this.  I made my way back
to the back lockers and waited for Jonny to leave.  I watched him undress,
and paid close attention to where he put his jock.  Luckily for me he hung
it on the door, so even if I casually passed by I would not bring too much
attention to myself.  Had it been on the floor or something I would have to
make up an excuse for being down there.  As soon as he headed to the
showers I moved. I wanted as much time with that jock as I could get.  I
was scared shitless.  I moved to his locker, looked around quickly to make
sure I was alone, and then lifted it off the door.  I examined the jock to
see where the best scents would be.  Obviously the pouch, but were there
more piss stains, was there more sweat, or even cum.  I lifted it to my
nose and inhaled deeply.

The pungent crotch smells hit me like a ton of bricks.  There were deep
notes of piss, and sweat, and lucky for me, the sweeter notes of cum.
Apparently, Jonny liked cumming in his jock.  Not sure if he used it to
jack off with, or if he just shot whole playing.  I hurried to the junction
stitch.  You know that spot that hits your hole.  The one that no matter
how you walk, or run, the straps come into your crack and that spot gets
covered in hair, and shit.  I lifted that to my nose and inhaled, and then
stuck it in my mouth and tasted it.  The flavor was a combination of tangy,
sweet, and earthy.  I took just a second to record this moment in my brain,
and put the jock back.  I then ran to the showers to clean up.

That night I took a pair of my own underwear and sniffed the back side.  I
wanted to remember what Jonny smelled and tasted like.  I shot the biggest
load I had in a long time that night.  I continued my little covert raids
on other guys in the gym.  I got to a point that I could take a few minutes
with each specimen and enjoy it before someone came by.  By mid-season I
had everyone on the team, except for the Coach.  That would be impossible
to do, but it was a goal.  Little did I realize that goal would be reached
totally out of the blue. You see, I was not as covert as I thought I was.
Just because no one says anything, doesn't mean you got away with it.

A few weeks later I was being punished at practice by Coach, and had to run
additional laps, and do some more push ups before going home.  I had been
distracted that day, and played poorly.  I was alone in the locker room, as
everyone else had left an hour ago, and I thought what a perfect time to go
searching.  I assumed Coach was either outside or in his office and he
seldom came back there. I started just going to those guys I really had the
hots for.  Guys whose scent was rich, and deep and manly.  Johnny's locker
was always left for last, as I enjoyed his smells and tastes most of all.
I was going down the back row, when I spotted an open locker.  Inside was a
pair of well used tighty whities, and a jock.  Strange that they did not
look familiar, and I could not place which of my team mates could have left
them.

Dismissing that I just couldn't recall, I thought what a great find.  So
the tighty whities were first in my mind.  They seemed well worn, and well
stained.  The pouch was yellowed, and almost brown with stain.  That meant
that whoever wore these really enjoyed his own stink.  I put the pouch to
my nose and inhaled deep.  Damn!  This was some foul stink.  The piss and
cum had hardened, and it was like a urinal in a park bathroom that never
gets flushed.  I got hard immediately.  I licked at the hard pieces, and
wanted to see if I could get some flavor out.  What little pierced my
senses was delicious.  I then inspected that ass of those underwear and
there was a deep trench of brown lining what was the man's crack.  I
couldn't hold back and licked from the taint to the hills on that piece of
cloth.  The shit was spicy, and rich.  It was mixed with sweat, and that
flavor just excited me.



I was trying to envision which of the men this could be.  I was just to
find out.  I noticed a motion out of the corner of my eye.  I slowly turned
to face my Coach. "Figured it was you Kevin" he said.  I just stared into
those deep blue, piercing eyes.  "Some of the guys started noticing that
their jocks, and shorts were not exactly where they remembered leaving
them, so I started watching".  I couldn't say a word, I still had the
Coach's underwear I my mouth, and I was just staring.  "After about a week,
I figured it was you. You always hang back, always just a little late to
the showers."  "Now, I have the evidence in you mouth!"

I immediately pulled the underwear out of my mouth, and started to speak.
Unfortunately, I just couldn't think of what to say.  Here I had been
caught, sucking shit out of my Coach's shorts.  I wanted to hide, I wanted
to run, but there was no where to go.

"So, you are a stink fag, huh"? "Heard about FAGS like you, just never
figured one of my boys would be one, but then again, why not? Seems to me
you spend enough time around guys sweat, piss, shit, and stink and you
become used to it."  "Maybe, you start jerking your fag cock in the
shitter, and it becomes a fetish for ya."  "Is that how it started fag?"
He was quiet now, waiting for me to answer.  "I don't know", I stammered.
"It just sort of evolved from being on the farm, smelling my Dad, jerking
off to his smell in the Outhouse."  "I see", said Coach.  "So you only get
turned on by REAL MEN's piss, shit and stink."  "Well then I think you need
to show me exactly how much you want this REAL MAN's stink!"

My eyes, not my mouth, gave me away.  There was a heat, a desire there,
that he knew all too well.  "Follow me", he demanded.  I walked behind the
man that just caught me licking the skid marks in his shorts, and jerking
off to that.  I now watched that ass move, and wiggle in front of me.  The
Coach led me to the shower area.  There, he demanded I get undress, as he
himself started to strip.  I watched as he stretched his arms up to remove
his shirt, and noticed the moist hair at his pits.  He had a nice blanket
of hair on his chest as well.  As he started to take off his shorts, he
directed me to my knees in front of him.  He made his strip tease slow, and
mesmerizing.

I stared into those blue eyes, and he knew he had me heart and soul.
Probably more soul, as this act that we were attempting was deep in my
soul.  "You really want my cock don't you fag?"  "Yes,sir!"  "You want all
my piss, all my stink, you want my shit covered hole?"  "Yes, Sir!"  Then
get that filthy fag mouth on my cock and start swallowing my piss!  I
immediately engulfed his mushroomed head cock, and waited for the golden
flow to start.  It started at a trickle, and then full stream.  It was
earthy, and warm, and tasted tangy.  I swallowed fast and kept my throat
open for all that he could give.  "That's a good pig, take my piss boy!"
Coach was enjoying the site of me swallowing his fluids.  "I have a full
bladder boy, and its all for you fag!"


The flow was coming at such a fast rate, that some of the piss was coming
out of the corners of my mouth.  Coach slid his cock out of my mouth and
started to piss all over me.  The warm liquid covered my head, by back, and
my cock. He made sure I was soaked with his piss.  I was in heaven.  I no
longer had to imagine what it would be like to be dominated in this way by
a REAL MAN.  "Open your eyes, fag, and come suck on my dick!"  I did as
instructed and began to swallow as much of my Coach's cock as I could.  He
was not massively long, but damn it was thick.  His shaft stretched my
mouth to its limits, but I kept going as far down as I could.  I finally
hit my nose to his pubes, and I could smell is sweat.  I inhaled as I
sucked, and that got him even more excited.

"That man stink turns you on, doesn't Fag?"  "Yeah, you are loving that
pube scent!" I inhaled more that stink, and want to get under his balls.  I
moved my mouth off his cock, and went right for his ball sac.  It stuck,
and was moist from sweat.  His balls tasted salty, and tangy.  I sucked on
his sac, and licked behind his balls.  With each swipe of my tongue Coach
moaned.  I wanted more of his smell.  I wanted his shit smell.  I move
further down under his legs, until he got the hint.  He then turned around,
and bent over.  "You want that REAL MAN shit, go for it fag".  I spread his
hairy ass cheeks and stuck my nose in.  I sniffed deeply.  He had not
cleaned real well and there was a deep shit smell to his crack.  I
instinctively took my tongue, and started to lick his crack.

"Fuck!" Coach yelled as I hit his hole, and made him jerk.  I took that as
a good sign, and dove into my own head space.  I loved the way he smelled,
and tasted.  It was what I always wanted from a man.  I went int with
abandon and licked, and sucked at his shit hole.  I cleaned his hairy ass
crack and swallowed whatever pieces of shit still clung to his moist ass
hairs.  I stuck my tongue deep into his shit hole and cleaned that out.  He
pushed back into my tongue, and wanted more of me deep in him.  "Fag, you
really love a REAL MAN's shit, and stink.  I could get used to you cleaning
my shit hole."

I knew what I was doing was turning him on, and it was what I wanted.  I
never considered just how deeply satisfying it would be to be deep into a
man's ass.  I smelled of urine, and shit, and stink.  I was covered in
stuff most people would run away from, and I was running to.  Coach was
jerking his cock as I was eating his ass, but I could tell he was about
close.  He turned around and shoved his cock back into my mouth.  I sucked
ever so slowly on the head, and he grabbed my head and shoved his cock
deep.  I felt him cum lobs and lobs of salty sperm into my throat.  I
swallowed eagerly and keep moving slowly on his shaft.  Coach screamed in
utter pleasure.

I lay on the floor of that shower exhausted.  The Coach was satisfied.
This was a beginning for me.  I would spend my high school years not only
taking his piss, and shit, but those of many of my team mates.  REAL MEAN
shit and piss, and I wanted it all.  There is more to this story.  Stay
tuned for the next chapter.