Date: Mon, 26 Nov 2001 12:28:22 +0000
From: steve kafe <kafe35@hotmail.com>
Subject: WANTING MORE RAUNCH, Part 1

Disclaimer:

The following story contains graphic sexual situations between consenting
gay males involving raunch and scat.  If this type of subject matter
offends you or you are under 18 years of old, STOP HERE.  Otherwise get off
on it guys.

This story is a continuation of ROADSIDE RAUNCH


WANTING MORE RAUNCH, PART 1
By Steve

After Mark and I said our goodbyes I got back into my rented pickup truck
and drove on toward my ultimate destination, the 'Spindle Creek Ranch'.  I
knew I ought to be thinking about the project that awaited me there, but
all I could focus on was the hot, dirty scene I just had with a hot, dirty
stranger in a middle-of-nowhere roadside shithouse.  And believe me, it
wasn't just my thoughts that still held me to that scene.  The stink that
was coming off my entire body and filling the truck was an even stronger
reminder of what Mark and I had just gotten up to.  Fuck did I smell like a
raunch pig!  My pits and chest hair were matted; I could feel my hairy ass
dripping with sweat; but most of all, I smelt of shit.  Mark's shit.  My
bushy crotch and hooded cock still had traces of his shit and butt slop
stuck to them.  When Mark 'cleaned' my cock with his tee-shirt I knew he
purposely avoided wiping all his stink off me.  That dude had my fucking
number!  Driving in that scorching truck I thought, fuck it, and just undid
the buttons of my 501's, pulled apart the flaps and gave my rank jockstrap
some room to breathe.  Inside my filthy pouch I still had Mark's stinking,
damp sock nestled up close to my shit streaked dickmeat.  I knew a
fermentation process was taking place inside my jock that would produce the
ripest headcheese for me to play with later that night. But to keep me
going until bedtime, I lifted my left arm over my head, licked my sweaty,
pumped bicep and inched my tongue into my dripping, stinking manpit.  Now I
was flying.

After getting lost a couple of times on roads I didn't know, I finally
pulled up at dusk to the gates of the 'Spindle Creek Ranch'.  It was a
huge, impressive spread. I'd been sent out to Arizona by the security
company I work for, to survey the place and estimate the cost to convert a
former cattle ranch into a 'Fort-Knox-style winter retreat' for a couple of
multi- millionaire New York stockbrokers.  They insisted on having the
latest hi-tech electronic security that money could buy.  What the fuck.
It was their money and I was here to do a job.

I had been given the keys to the main house and all the out-buildings on
the ranch.  The plan was for me to live on the ranch and spend a week doing
what I was sent out to do.  I unloaded my gear from the truck along with
the food and drink provisions I bought along the way after leaving Mark
some hours previous.  I settled into the large spacious house and
thankfully my assistant back in New York had done her job and arranged for
all the utilities in the house to be reconnected for the length of my stay.
With enormous reluctance I decided to take a shower - which meant losing
Mark's stink from my body - but not before I dug my finger under my slimy
foreskin and coated it with my rank headcheese. I shoved some crud up my
snot-hole, took a deep breath through my nose and felt my head reel from
the powerful man-stink my hooded dick produced.  The rest I traced across
my tongue, swirled in my mouth and played with, before running the ripe,
heady taste across my gums.  What I knew I wouldn't do was wash my jock or
Mark's sock during my week in Arizona.  These two raunch items were going
to provide me with the stink fodder I needed for my bedtime jackoff
sessions.

By my third day on the ranch I felt I had broken the back of the work I was
there to do.  The bulk of my time was spent outdoors taking measurements,
and drawing up plans while wearing just a grungy jockstrap.  I guess you
could say I have a major jock strap fetish.  I fucking love them - they're
manly and erotic - especially after they've been worn continuously for a
few days and the pouch has absorbed a man's crotch stink and straps at the
back have been darkened with butt raunch. I worked up a real manstink in
the blazing heat but resolved not to shower again while I was there.  I
even took a couple of dumps outside in an open field.  Just squatted down
and let my turds splatter on the ground beneath me.  Took in some very deep
breaths and let my stink circle my nostrils. Instead of wiping my hairy,
dirty trench I just pulled my straps into the stinking crack of my ass. I
could feel them soaking up my ass slop.

Mark was on my mind a lot of the time and I was hoping we might connect
again before I returned back East. I didn't want to wash away the sweat and
stink I knew he got off on.  On Tuesday I phoned Mark and luckily he was
home.  We chewed the fat a bit, then finally I asked him,

'Hey buddy, whadda ya think about hooking up again before I leave?'

'Fuck pal, I was hoping you'd phone', was his reply.  'If you stink as good
now as you did when we met, you better believe I wanna hook up again.'

I gave Mark the name of the town nearest to the ranch and he said he knew
where it was.  About 60 miles south of where he lived.  After we agreed he
would drive over the day after next, the conversation gradually turned to
sex; at first, in a general kind of way.  Mark wanted to know whether the
raunch scene we had in the shithouse was something I was into or whether I
had just got carried away in the heat of the moment.

I told him I was into men.  Real men.  The type who sweat and stink and
shit and aren't embarrassed by what their bodies produce by way of odours.
I told him I didn't have any problems with vanilla, but what really made me
hot was mansex that involved raunch and stink.

We then started talking more specifically about what each of us meant by
'raunch'. Mark said he sensed from our last scene that I was partial to
scat.  I explained to him that I had a 'mild scat fetish'.

'What the fuck does that mean?' he asked.

'Well buddy, I guess it means I don't eat shit. At least not yet. I get off
smelling it, licking a dirty manhole or a shit smeared cock and even
fucking a shitty, messy ass, like I did in the shithouse with you, but I
draw the line there.'

I explained that I wasn't into scat as a form of degradation or
humiliation.
  That's not my scene at all.  I'm not interested in being used as
someone's toilet. And I'm not interested in using another man's mouth as my
toilet.  I know some guys eat shit to demonstrate how worthless they feel
about themselves.  But fuck man, I got too much self-regard to be used or
abused by anyone.  My fetish for scat is purely about the stink and texture
of it and knowing that a man's asshole pushed out that shit.  Watching a
hot, hairy man take a dump in front of me drives me fucking wild.  I guess
it's the ultimate in intimacy. Breathing in his manstink and watching him
do what comes naturally is what really turns me on.  Mark replied that he
had similar limitations on scat himself.

'I've never eaten a turd either' he said, 'but hey, what's a bit of shit on
a cock between two hot raunch buddies'.

'Fucking right', I said.

Since Mark seemed open to my scat fetish, I did confess to him, that
sometimes with the right guy - when I'm rimming his butthole - I will
fantasise about what's up his ass, and how in a rush of raunch lust, I will
imagine him shitting on my hairy pumped up pecs and rubbing his stinking
manlogs into my balls and over my hooded, cheesey cock.

I got the sense that Mark was getting off on my fetish descriptions and
fantasies so he started telling me about his.  He told me how much he liked
it when a man didn't use deodorant or colognes but just smelled natural.
In fact Mark was a real stink dude.  He fucking loved every manstink from
headcheese to toe jam to butt raunch to pit slime.  My kinda guy I thought.
He also had some fucking hot piss and scat scenes he enjoyed doing when the
opportunity occasionally presented itself.

'Hard to find guys who are into those scenes around here,' he told me.

I was getting fucking stiff listening to Mark describe his turn-ons to me
and started fingering my sweaty, dirty shithole while he talked about piss
enemas. I asked Mark if he was hard too.

He replied, 'Pal I sprung wood within a minute of picking up the phone and
talking to you.'

'What ya doing about it?' I asked.

'Waiting for you to take the lead', he replied.

'Ok buddy, whatever you want.'

The thought of having phone sex with Mark was so fucking hot, especially
after we had just described in graphic detail to one another the various
kinds of manstink scenes we were into.

'Hey pal, tell me what your ass smells like now?  I asked.

'Well bud, I'll have to shove my finger up there first and coat it real
good. Here goes.  Oh yeah, my fuckhole feels so tight and sweaty.  I can
feel some shit stuck to my ass hairs too.  Didn't wipe too good this
morning. I'm rubbing my hand inside my trench now and covering it in my
stink.  Wanna sniff it, pal?'

'Fuck yeah, Mark. I wanna sniff the fingers that just plugged your shitter
while I suck on that cheesy sock you gave me.  You know buddy, I jacked off
into your sock a couple of times since last Saturday and even wiped my
shithole with it a couple times.  It's stiff with my dried spunk and
shitstains and stinks real good from your foot raunch.'

'Smell that manstink, fucker', Mark growled at me. ' Smells good don't it.
Getting' off on that cheesy sock, huh?  Talk to me, pig!  Fuckin' tell me
how much you love sniffin' my sock and trench stink!'

'Oh yeah', I groaned, 'I'm so fucking hot for your stink, man, wipe
whatever manslop you got over my fucking hot body. Spread your ripe pit
juice across my lips and bounce those musky, hairy balls over my nose.
Pull my face into your stinking crotch and force your slimy nuts into my
mouth '

As I talked dirty to Mark, I looked down at my 8'' hard, cheesy dickmeat.
It was sticking out the side of my rank jock pouch with the hood peeled
back and a thin translucent thread of pre-cum made its way out of my
pisshole.  I rubbed it onto my fingertip and sucked it into my mouth.  I
spread my hairy thighs real wide to get a whiff of the sweat and butt stink
wafting up from my trench.

'Hey buddy', I said to Mark, 'there's enough cheese covering my cockhead to
make a fucking sandwich.  You hungry?'

'Fuck yeah', was Mark's reply.

'Then run your pig nose along my uncut tool and sniff that ripe headcheese.
Lick my fresh cock stink and dig your tongue under my hood and lap out my
cock crud,' I ordered in a dirty voice.

I could hear Mark breathing more heavily now. I knew he was stroking his
thick, fat dick and getting close to shooting.

'Oh yeah, Steve.  Gonna sniff and nibble that rank hood of yours and wipe
your dickcheese across my 'stache.  I've got 2 fingers up my shithole now
pal, wishing it was your tongue instead.  I can almost feel you spreading
my asscrack and pushing your nose inside my slimy hole as you breathe in my
butt raunch.  Yeah fucker, I know how much you love eating my shithole.
Know how much you want me to shit over your big hairy pecs and grind my
dump into your chest.  Know how much you like it up close and
personal. Spreading my hole with my hands now, fucker.  Take a close look
raunchbuddy, and watch this hot, dark stud shit for you. My ass lips are
opening real wide, pal. Here it comes fucker, here comes my stinking
manlogs for you. Fuck yeah man, my big, firm turds land on your
chest. Right between your pumped up mantits.  Now I'm sitting down on your
chest man, and rubbing my ass across your sweaty pecs and smearing my shit
into your chest fur. Fucking awesome stink, buddy.  Aghhhhhhhhhhhhh.  I'm
coming, pal. I'm fucking cumiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing'

Mark had precisely sensed my private, filthy thoughts, like a fucking
mind-reader.  It was true, just listening to him talk dirty about his
shithole got me fantasising about what his manturds might smell like.
Fucking hot man, I thought.  Uninhibited raunch-bud.  With my eyes closed
and the dirty movie running inside my head, I heard Mark's filthy words as
I beat my cheesy dickmeat into his sock.  His filthy talk and explosive
orgasm took me over the edge, too.  I blew my wad into his smelly sock.

'Oh buddy, you're so fucking hot.  You were reading my dirty mind, Mark.  I
fucking owe you one for that, bud.'

'My pleasure, man', Mark replied.  'Now clean your fingers, cause I know
they're real sticky'

Taking Mark's order, I shoved my cum-rich fingers into my mouth and licked
off all my creamy jism.  I also stuck my tongue into Mark's cheesy sock and
lapped at the spunk I had just deposited inside it .  Next I stuffed my
still semi-hard, dripping dickmeat back into my pouch and told Mark I was
looking forward to seeing him on Thursday.  Mark said that he planned to
bring a few 'surprises' with him.  On that intriguing note we said
'goodbye' and I set about fixing up a few surprises myself.

To be continued..