Date: Wed, 22 Apr 2015 07:50:59 +0200
From: Zachary Blake <z.blake@mail.com>
Subject: Smell This 11 (Revised)

SMELL THIS 11
By Mark & Brad
with a tiny little foreword by Zachyboy
M/b, oral, anal, sniffing, buttplay

Complete fantasy. Never happened and we don't encourage it. Read, sniff,
enjoy, then go home and keep your hands and your noses to yourself.

What's that you say? You've never donated to Nifty? Here's your chance to
correct that oversight.

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

Mark and Brad take center stage in this edition of "Smell This." Mark's got
your first two lined-up with boners straight from nephew Neverland,
then Brad offers up a cotton-covered counseling session before turning
the tables on all you happy dads out there with a surprisingly maternal
gender switch. Whew! Kick back, relax, take a very deep breath, and enjoy
the sweet steam of their always-fragrant masterworks. The two of them,
masters of their craft, and I'm proud to showcase them here.
xoxoxo, Zachyboy.

On with the show.

# # # # # # # # # #
# # # # # # # # # #

GATEWAY: SHAWN

"Ewwwww...that's gross, man" Joey said, smirking and turning seven shades
of red.

Two of the other boys dropped their jaws in disbelief, while the rest
were scrunching up their noses and looking at me like I was insane.

Only Shawn was silent. He had that shy, knowing look on his face. He was my
dirty co-conspirator and had helped convince the four other boys to
join me upstairs in his bedroom.

I had just asked all five boys if they would let me sniff their buttholes,
which had set off the disbelief. Adults didn't say gross things like
that to kids, and they were convinced I was just shitting them, no pun
intended.

"I'm serious guys. I really want to sniff your asses" I said in as
serious a tone as I could muster. Their embarrassed, nervous laughter was
infectious and it was hard not to grin myself.

"Didn't Shawn tell you that I would give you each fifty bucks cash if you
let me smell your stinky backsides?"

"Yeah, but that's where we shit," said Henry, 10 years old and the youngest
member of the group. "Who wants to smell that?"

I raised my hand and smiled patiently. They'd get it soon enough.

"Dude, are you serious about this?" asked Joey, a real hottie with olive skin
and a head full of dark curly hair. "You're just fuckin' with us, right?"

"Nope guys, I promise...fifty bucks if you let me sniff your holes. No
tricks. Honest. And it'll be our little secret."

Brent looked mortified.

"Why do you want to smell the place where I crap from?"  He was a stocky
kid, but not fat. 11-years-old with brown hair and lovely, imperfect teeth
that made him all the more fuel for the fire.

"I like the smell of boy's asses," I shrugged honestly, eliciting
another round of eye rolls and embarrassed looks from the boys. "I mean,
come on, tell the truth, haven't you ever sniffed your finger after you
scratched your ass? Smells good, doesn't it?"

The weird looks and laughing tapered off quickly. Bingo! They didn't know
that practically all boys do the scratch-and-sniff and they were shocked a
grown-up would know such pervy, private boy pervue.

"That's sick, man. No way." said Sammy, shaking his blond head, but the
pink flush creeping up from his neck was broadcasting that fact that he was
a first class finger-sniffer. Of course I already knew this...it's what all
guys do, especially tween boys.

"Look guys...I'm not gonna tell anybody you sniff your stink fingers, okay?
Who gives a shit. It's our secret, right?"

I could see the wheels turning in their pre-teen heads, but they still
weren't convinced I wasn't playing a big joke on them. They were afraid
it might backfire. Like Shawn would spread it around or something.

"Okay, look. Here are two twenties and a ten for each of you. That's fifty
dollars each. I'm putting them right here on Shawn's dresser, one pile for
each boy. And just to prove I'm serious, Shawn will help me show you what I
mean.

The boys were silent and fascinated, and they all immediately looked at my
nephew...their friend.

Without any further prompting, Shawn came over to where I was sitting on
his bed and looked up at me with an dirty grin on his face. I winked at
him and unsnapped his jeans and pulled down both his pants and his
briefs, leaving his naked, hot little buttcrack exposed to the other 8
eyeballs in the room.

I could hear a surprised intake of breath and comments of "whoa" and
"Shawn" mixed-in with more snickering at the sight of their friend's butt
hanging out for all to see. Not me. I'd seen it plenty of times.

I leaned in to Shawn and whispered in his ear..."Let's give them something
to really shock them shitless, okay?" His response was a breathless, eager
"yeah," because, believe me, Shawn and I had already played our "sniff the
rosebud" game many times before.

I quickly got to my knees and eased Shawn down over the side of the bed,
allowing his cheeks to spread just a bit, revealing his dusky crack. I
wasted no time in pressing my face down into that moist valley and smelling
the familiar scent of his unwashed boy hole. It was fragrant to say the
least....pungent with the scent of salty sweat, sour cheesiness and wet
earth, like the perfect sweaty boy burrow it was.

The musky, ripe smell of his 12-year-old anus was glazed over with a
thin layer of sticky shit smears. Dirty and strong, the smell exploded into
my brain and caused my cock to leak precum into my shorts. I'm sure I
groaned audibly at the intoxicating stink assaulting my nostrils.

It was so easy for me to lose myself in the sexy, hot scent of a boy's most
private parts that I almost forgot that I had a room full of spectators.

I could hear the whispers of amazement, shock and disbelief at what they
were seeing. I heard Henry say "Ewwwww" and Joey croak out "Whoa, that is
so nasty." Reluctantly I pulled my face out of Shawn's sticky backside and
turned to look at the boys. Their eyes were as big as saucers. Their tween
brains were having trouble processing that fact that an adult wanted to
smell their stinkholes. A couple of them had boners. No doubt about it.

Breaking into their wide-eyed wonderment, I said "Okay, who's next?"

I saw several heads shaking half-hearted no's. Henry, in his sincere
11-year-old voice asked quietly, "Shawn...did it feel gross?"

Shawn just grinned and said, "Yeah, but gross good! Come on guys, don't
be such pussies. Uncle Eric really likes smelling ass. Who do you think
paid for all these games?"

The boys took a look at Shawn's impressive stack of game disks and you
could almost seeing them doing the math in their heads.

Joey, 13, the oldest of the group, spoke up first.

"And you'll really give us fifty bucks just for sniffing us? Nothing
else. No weird stuff or trying to fuck us or anything?"

"I promise," I said. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

At that point, I knew I was on the verge of landing a starfish
buffet...four more stinky delights, each one unique in its pungency
and its eye-watering character.

"Shawn...you promise this is on the level?" Joey double-checked.

"It's cool," Shawn nodded. "It kinda tickles and feels good at the same
time. It makes my ass tingle and my cock get a boner. It's good."

Joey looked over at the fifty dollar bills and back at Shawn who nodded his
head. I could see him weighing fifty dollars against the weirdness of
having me smell his asshole. His most intimate private place. Ultimately
curiosity and the thought of cash-in-pocket ruled the day, and won out
over inhibitions. Shrugging, he walked over to me.

He was tentative and embarrassed, but I assured him it wouldn't hurt at all
as I eased his pants and undies down and bent him over the bed. His muscled
olive cheeks spread apart beautifully, revealing a tan little wrinkle and
the immediate, heavenly, spicy-sweet ass-steam of a freshly-minted teen.

I leaned in to get a deeper sniff of his swampy crack, loving the sharp
bitterness of his scent as compared to Shawn. I caved into my lust and
buried my face deep in between his cheeks, pressing my nose against his
puffy brown balloon knot, feeling the sticky paste of his nearly hairless
anus, coating the end of my nose and filling my nostrils with his
magnificent, musky essence. His asshole was so perfect and so tight. And
God, there was so much stink.

My cock was throbbing my shorts and I knew that only a few strokes would
cause me to blast my nut juice. I wanted to prolong the ache in my balls
and enjoy the sensory delights of boy ass for as long as I could.

As I lost myself fully in a fog of fuckhole hotness, I shivered in
anticipation, knowing that peer pressure and cold hard cash would ensure me
at least three more dives into the cornucopia of crack stink that was
quickly spreading out before me.

Boys fumbled with buttons, jeans slid down and I smiled, closed my eyes,
huffed Joey's perfect ass, and thanked the stars above my nephew had such
daring and adventurous friends.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

CAVERN: SHAWN, CONTINUED

The bedroom reeked of sweaty boy and the sharp pungency of dirty boy
ass. It was the only tangible evidence left of the four hot school friends
of Shawn who had offered up their musky cracks to my nose for fifty dollars
each.

Well...perhaps not the only evidence. I still had Henry and Brent's boxers
in my hand. I had convinced them to leave them behind and go back home
commando.  It is amazing what an extra ten bucks can convince a kid to do.

These raunchy treasures would provide me many more jack off session over the
next several days as the seat of both pairs of undies were covered with
beautiful creamy tweeny smears of tan goo and goodness. The smell alone of
those fragrant streaks reawakened the shiver-happy memory of both boy's
sweaty, dirty backsides, sniffed just an hour before.

Now it was just Shawn and I resting on the floor, his head resting on my
stomach while I idly scratched his back.

"Do you think your friends had a good time? I asked him, looking for an
12-year-old's perspective on what just happened.

"Oh yeah, Uncle Eric. They were weirded-out a little at first, but everybody
but Sammy's played butt games before, so I knew they'd let you do it."

I grinned at his response, knowing he and I had played more than a few butt
games together.

"Well, tell them we can do it again sometime...and maybe they'll let me put
a few things up their asses other than my nose."

Shawn rolled his eyes, but gave me a coy smile that said those boys would
not be hard to convince to play along.

I was tired from all the sexual tension of the afternoon...sniffing the
rank crack slots of five boys in a row had given me a sexual buzz not
unlike being high on drugs. But now that the boys were gone, the high was
waning and I was ready to rest. Besides, Shawn had school in the morning so
I crawled up on the bed and motioned for him to come and snuggle up with
me. He moved up beside me, pressed his cloth covered crotch against my
right hip and lay his head on my chest.

I eased my hand down inside his briefs, slipping a finger down into his
moist crack to gently tease the puffy folds of his ring. It was just enough
to elicit a contented sigh out of him and cause him to press himself more
tightly against me, his tween cock half hard and poking me in the side.

We soon drifted off to sleep, the warmth of Shawn up against me and the
smell of boy ass in my nose.

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Shawn was stirring next to me and
I felt hot wetness against my upper thigh. He obviously needed to piss and
was just about to wet me and the bed with his hard nightbone. While I'm
not opposed to having a hot boy piss on me, I was not in the mood for a
soaked bed and a change of sheets at five in the morning.

"Shawn wake up? Wake up, dude...you're about to piss yourself."

"Mmmm......huh......sleeping" was the slurred response I got. He was
still worn out from our shared adventure with his friends the day
before. Knowing time was money, or in this case piss, I picked him up
under the armpits and half-carried, half-dragged him to the adjacent
bathroom.

Holding him up, I marveled again at how much I loved and desired
this hot little man. I could smell that stale sleep smell wafting up
from his half-asleep body, mixed with the stronger scent of his hot
tight asshole, sticky and glazed from the previous day's activities.

"Shawn, baby. You need to pee, man." I said as I stood him in the
bathroom and kneeled down beside him. He was slowing waking up, but still
leaning against me for support. I pulled down his damp briefs and let his
hot little 4.5 inch piss hard-on spring free.

"Uncle Eric, hold it for me," he yawned, then he mumbled something else that
was unintelligible. But I understood enough to grab his tween bone
between my fingers and give it a gentle squeeze, like milking a cow.

Despite being in a partial fog of sleep, Shawn responded with a shiver and
gave me a coy smile, looking for all the world like an embarrassed
12-year-old. Of course, I knew better. Coy he might be, but he was not
embarrassed. He love to be touched and fondled. He loved to be milked.

"Come on Shawn, man, piss so we can go back to bed."

In reality I was in no real hurry.

Watching Shawn piss is a beautiful thing, and I knew from experience
that the piss dribbles in his undies were often sweet and tangy.

"You get a funny look on your face when I piss," he said,
giving me a sleepy grin. Damn, kids are so perceptive. I guess I had
the eager, hungry look on my face...he'd seen that look before.

"Okay, okay. So I look funny. Piss."

"Whatever you say, dude. You're the boss," he said and thrust his hips
forward and let loose. Fucking hell, I never cease to be amazed at
Shawn. He pisses with the speed, volume and ferocity of a hydrant hose at a
5-alarm fire.

He was in full alpha-male mode, pissing hard and enjoying the hot
shiver of emptying his bladder. His stream was knifing down into the bowl
where I was directing his rubbery spear, creating a nest of piss
bubbles. Gawd, it smelled good. Hot. Like boy power.

His stream was a rich amber color and I could smell the strength of a
nighttime bladderful...a strong tang, almost acrid with puffs of ammonia. I
could feel the heat and moisture rising from the stream as the odor filled
my nostrils and quickly aroused me, despite the early morning hour.

I must have closed my eyes briefly and taken a deep sniff because I felt
him tap my shoulder.

"You want the last drops?" he grunted casually.

"Oh, I think we both know the answer to that."

I quickly moved my mouth over the end of his half-stiff little tween bone,
locked lips and sucked up the last couple of drops, smelling the warm
fragrance of sweaty, yeasty boy V, where pubes would land any day now.

Fuck, his piss was strong this morning. There was nothing subtle about the
acrid, almost bitter bite to his morning offering. But despite the
strength, it was so freaking hot sucking those final drops of fluid out of
his hard little spike that I could endure a little extra kick in the
flavor.

Without warning, I felt Shawn flex his dick and shoot a final insult of
piss into my mouth, almost filling it to capacity. Not being prepared for
this, I coughed and spit piss all over his crotch. He was laughing like
crazy, knowing he had gotten the better of me for once.

"Guess I don't know my own strength," he grinned.

My initial instinct was anger, but the playful, dirty look on his face
quickly extinguished any hard feelings and I laughed with him. I mean,
damn, here I was with my mouth suctioning the piss drops out of the hard,
stinky dick of a 12-year-old. Take what you can get, right? And be grateful.
So I just pinched the end of his piss-wet boy dick to let him know
who was boss, picked him up, threw him over my shoulder and carried him
back to the bedroom. He actually gasped and squealed when I did that.

It was time get down to serious business if I was going to have any more
nasty fun with Shawn before it was time for him to get up for
school. I think he could sense that things were going to get more
serious because he got quiet and had a knowing look on his face as I lay him
down on his back and pulled his sodden boy briefs down and off his legs.

I couldn't let the moment pass without looking at the creamy tan smears of
boy butter in the seat of those undies, pressing them to my face and
inhaling pure Shawn ass, unwashed and raw.

"Baby boy...Uncle Eric is going to make you feel so good this morning. You
ready?

In an almost whisper, in the sexy little boy voice he knew turned me on so
much, he said "Please Uncle Eric.....give me my shivers."

"Oh yes sweet boy...I'm going to give you lots of shivers this morning, I
said as I looked down on this achingly beautiful naked boy...legs splayed
wide and still-hairless boy parts already hard and throbbing ever so slightly
with each beat of his heart.

I moved down quickly, pressing my face against his bald pubic mound, just
smelling his skin, still damp from the piss I spit out earlier. I could
smell the sharp tang of piss and the soft sweat from the night's sleep. I
pulled back just a bit and let his little mushroom head rest against my
nostril, huffing up the stink of boy dick...FUCK...a sour-sweet smell...a
slightly cheesy smell as if he had rubbed the head of his dick on a block
of Velveeta hours ago. I just wanted to cram his dick up in my nose so I
could smell him even harder.

I nuzzled his smooth, pink nut sack, noticing his balls were getting bigger
now. Bigger, firmer. They dangled more. Smelling the stronger scent of boy
sweat and the yeastiness of bread dough right underneath his sack, right at
the juncture of his sack and his smooth, round taint.

He was already softly moaning from the stimulation of my nose and face
touching and rubbing his sensitive bits, but he needed more.

"Uuunnnggghhh...please Uncle Eric...make me cum...please," he pleaded
with me, already addicted to the good feelings his rock hard boy dick
could give him.

Who can resist such a plaintive request from a naked, aroused boy?
Certainly not me, so I moved up from under his acorn satchel and slid my
lips down to the base of his 4.5 inches and began to suck, laving the
head of his cock with my tongue, especially at the sensitive spot right at
the top of his slender shaft.

"Mmmm...uuuuuuuunnnnnggggghh...feels good...mmmm...good Uncle Eric," he
hissed out in a whisper. He was breathing rapidly and there was a gentle
grunting in his throat.

I eased my finger up under his taint and slipped it between his cheeks to
his sticky, puffy pussy hole. I began to slowly rub my finger around that
tight ring, teasing his anal nerve endings and sending little sparks of
electricity all the way up his skinny boy dick.  He was no longer still,
but moving around, instinctively pushing his crotch up toward my face,
trying to increase the contact of his dick with my mouth.

His breathing was accelerating and I knew he was starting the climb toward
an intense, watery boy cum, so I pushed steadily with my finger,
feeling his anal lips stretch open, allowing my finger to slide up into his
hot, pasty insides.

"Ahhh....fuck," he groaned. "Uh...uh...puh...please more."

"Feel my finger, Shawn...feel me finger your tight little hole, baby."

"Please....please make me cum Uncle Eric...please!" he pleaded
as my finger began a steady slide in and out of his stink furnace, brushing
up against his hot little fuck nut and causing him to whimper each
time.

I increased the tempo of my fuck into his squishy guts and let my tongue
rapidly rub the underside of his cocklet. Shawn was starting to whimper and
moan, one flowing into the other as the feeling in his pelvis increased and
threatened to overwhelm him. I could feel how rigid his spike was and I
knew he was about to bust a water load.

"It's doing it Uncle Eric...aaahhhhhh...fuck, ah fuck! he was crying out,
almost unintelligible, but I could feel his piss pole throbbing in my mouth,
and suddenly I was flooded with two honey-sweet little squirts of boy jizz.
His grasping little shit tube squeezed my finger as he passed through
his quivery, shaky, wild, beautiful boygasm.

He gave one last exhale of breath and went limp on the bed, the sexual
tension beginning to flow out of his body. I gave his perfect boydick
one final suck and enjoyed those sweet drops of cum as I let it slip
from my mouth.

I moved up to hold Shawn in my arms and let him recover from his cum. I
gently kissed his mouth, savoring the taste of boy and morning on his
breath. Despite having just cum, he was an eager kisser and we tongue
wrestled for a couple of minutes until my need to eat out this boy's honey
hole and fuck him for real became paramount.

I moved down his smooth, tween body and pushed his legs up toward
his head. His bottom rolled up and opened like the petals of a flower in
the morning sun...his dusky crack with that tight pink starfish buried at
the bottom. Well, pink was probably an overstatement...it was more tan than
pink with a healthy glaze of leftover boyhood smeared across each fold. I
could smell him even before I pushed my nose into his crack.

You have heard of morning breath, well this was definitely morning
ass...the result of sweat, shit and ass grease baking on his balloon knot
all night long, trapped in his hot, moist crack...and bursting forth in the
morning with a sharp, acrid pungency that is unwashed boy ass at its
finest. And it was like pure aphrodisiac to me.

I pressed my face right down into that ripe stink and huffed up every scent
molecule of boy crack that I could. He was sour and earthy like beets
soaked in vinegar...he was musky and sweaty...perfume at its peak. I could
feel my cock leaking and soaking the front of my underwear as I pulled in
every lungful of the smoky fumes rising off of his most intimate place.

It was warm and moist as I pushed all the way down, pressing my lips to his
fudge wrapper and feeling the stickiness that was spread across his hole. I
moaned out loud as I sucked on his cum trench, letting his pungent glaze
melt onto my tongue and stun me with its bitterness and coppery tang. Shawn
was whimpering above me as I tortured his button with my lips and tongue
and lost myself in the moist, dense fog of his rectal perfection.

I ate his hole like a desperate man finding his first meal in a
week...sucking and gnawing on his fleshy folds and pushing my tongue at the
puckered up entrance to his cunt...trying without success to fuck my tongue
up into his hot, wet insides and taste this boy from the inside-out.

My cock was screaming for release and I knew I was not going to last very
long. I had to penetrate this hot boy before I came.

I pulled back from his steamy ass and lined my cock up with his tight
wet rosebud. We'd been down this road before, Shawn and I, but it
felt like a new experience each time. This boy got me so insanely
hot. Combined with the long sniff buffet from the day before I was on the
edge of busting a nut.

"You know what to do Shawn"

"Yeah...push out like I have to shit...just don't go too fast,"
he grunted out, already pushing down and out with his muscles, causing his
anus to distend a bit and the pinkness of his inner walls to peek out.

Oh fuck...to look down and see a boy willingly opening himself to
you...willingly offering up his most private place for you to breed...it's
enough to make a man weep. My cock was certainly weeping and I smeared
those precum tears around the ring of his shitter and leaned into him ever
so slightly.

God, he was hot and wet and so softly unyielding. There was resistance, but
I kept slowly pressing until his ring began to spread and slide itself
around my cockhead...enveloping me in that moist, sweet chute of a boy
hole.

"Oh fuck...Uncle Eric...I can feel you stretching me out...Uncle
Eric...your cock...your cock is going up my ass! Oh fuck yeah!"

Words of truth spoken by a 12-year-old getting fucked. Indeed, my cock
was steadily burrowing its way up into Shawn's fuckhole, those tight lips
stretching around the shaft as I pushed deeper into his guts. I could
already smell our fuck...the sharp, strong bile of his insides escaping
around my cock.

The smell of Shawn's ripe and pungent ass and the whimpering and keening
noises he was making triggered my lust to break free of my control and I
pushed all the way up inside his tailpipe...my fudge-nudger buried deep in
his slimy, hot cavern.

"Aaahhhhhhhhh...it's deep Uncle Eric...so deep. I can feel it...f-fuck
me....p-please!!"

That was it...those three words, "fuck me please," uttered by Shawn in that
needy, whimpering voice was all I could stand. I pulled back once, seeing
the smears of his paste streaking my cock, smelled the scent of his
wide-open hole, the vinegar-sweat of my steel-hard man cock and all the
other mingled smells of our two bodies. I thrust up hard into his grasping
cunt and I came like never before, blasting his insides with a thick wad of
my babies.

"NNNNNNGGGGH" I grunted, as I blew his colon full of my semen.

He shivered and shook and wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me to
him. Kissing, whimpering, hugging. I collapsed on top of Shawn and kissed
his sweet mouth again and murmured how much I loved him.

It wasn't a pretty fuck...it wasn't what I had intended when I carried him
back to the bed, but it was done. I'd wanted to slowly fuck this sweet boy
until he shivered and shivered time and again. But he was just too hot to
slow down. The school day would soon be beckoning, and our time for a
slower one would have to come later, on another day.

Now as my satisfied and deflating cock, smeared with his perfect, shiny
butt slime, softened and slipped out of his red and swollen hole, I kissed
him one final time and sent him off to the shower...my cum oozing out of
his crack and down his legs...evidence of my love and lust for the boy.

"Hot, Uncle Eric," he grunted as he shook his perfect bottom at me.
"Fucking hot," before disappearing into the bathroom.

Shawn's a good boy, everybody. Oh fuck, he's a good boy.

I can smell him on my dick right now.

Believe me, he's good.

Everybody meet Shawn.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

ANYTHING: JACKSON

12-year-old Jackson didn't want to be in therapy but he knew he had no
choice if he wanted to stay at Middleton.

He hadn't meant what he said to the other boy - about him being from bad
sperm. He knew it was insensitive given the boy was a foster kid, but he
meant it at the time. He had made Jackson so mad.

The other kid's parents were insisting that Jackson be removed from the
school. Jackson was an otherwise star student and the principal didn't want
to lose him and so he had negotiated with the other kids parents. He would
keep Jackson out of school and make him take therapy under the school's
supervison. When the therapist cleared him, Jackson would apologize to
other boy and he could go back to school.

Trouble is, Jackson hated therapy and his troubled upbringing and current
situation at home were now under scrutiny.

Jackson's mom's boyfriend of 2 years had been regularly creeping into
Jackson's bedroom in the early hours of the morning and, thinking Jackson
was asleep, he would suck Jackson's little cock and make him orgasm.
Jackson would pretend to be asleep but he would always wake up when he felt
his dick being sucked.

He knew if he showed that he was really awake, he would scare the guy and
that would make his blow job over. So, he kept quiet and still. He would
sometimes droop his jaw open to make it look like he was in a deep sleep
and occasionally he would force a snore. This was pretty much an open
signal to mom's boyfriend to suck away on Jackson's little cock to his
heart's content.

I was a terrible therapist.

I would be literally getting off in my pants listening to the boy tell me
his tales of woe. Other times, I would go on a mission to get him to sell
me his underpants so I could sniff them. Other times, I felt I had a good
shot at offering him a blow job or convincing him to let me smell his
stinky asshole.

Jackson was no different.

It didn't take longer than 15 minutes for Jackson to start opening up to me
and explaining what his mom's boyfriend had been doing for the last two
years. I thought, "Oh my gawd, this kid's been having his little cock
sucked since he was ten. I could be next to suck it!"

"How many times has this happened to you, Jackson?" I asked, getting horny
just at the prospect of his answer.

"I dunno...lots," he said, his eyes making contact with me and then darting
away again. He told me he was embarrassed and felt guilty that he always
had an orgasm when it happened.

"Is that the point where he stops sucking you?" I asked him.

"Sometimes he keeps sucking me, even after...y'know?"

"And what happens when he keeps sucking you?"

"It can happen again."

"You cum again?"

"Yes."

"So, Jackson, on a scale of 1 to 10 where 1 is "not at all" and 10 is "I
enjoy it very much," how would you rate how you feel when you orgasm when
this man sucks you?"

Jackson frowned. His eyes scouted the room, bouncing off the cream-painted
cinderblock walls in my office as he pondered.

"I guess a 9...10," he said shrugging his shoulders.

"So, this man, who obviously loves sucking your penis and believes you're
asleep while he's doing it, makes you feel 9 or 10 on a scale of 1 to 10,
right?"

"...right," Jackson said, a little unsure of himself.

"Well, I'd say nothing, and hope it continues for years to come."

Jackson looked at me. He was still frowning.

"Look, Jackson, a lot of boys don't get a blow job until they are much,
much older than you. Think of yourself as ahead of them. By years in some
cases. Lucky you."

"Yeah," he said a little taken aback. Lucky me, I guess."

Jackson looked around the room, down at the floor and the popped his head
back up.

"How long do I have to do this for?"

"Twelve weeks."

Twelve weeks!?"

"Yeah, school orders, or until I say I think you're fit to go back to
school."

"Well, can't you just say that I am?"

"I could, but I'm not sure it's true."

"Please," Jackson begged. "Don't make me do this for twelve weeks. I'll do
anything."

I paused for thought.

"You'll do...anything, you say?"

"Yeah. Whatever it takes."

"Would you...sing a song for me?"

"What?"

"Sing a song."

"You want me to sing a song for you?"

"You said you'd do anything."

Jackson thinks for a moment.

"Okay, what do you want me to sing?"

"I don't."

"What?"

"I'm just trying to work out what you will do and what you won't."

"I told ya, I'll do anything."

"Yeah, I heard you."

"What do I have to do?"

"Okay, here's something for you to think about.  I will sign you out of
therapy. Today. Finished. Complete. No more, if you'll let me..."

He looked up quizically.

"...if you let me suck your dick like you let your mom's boyfriend."

The room went dead quiet.

I could hear room tone echo from the cold, cream cinder block walls in my
office.

Jackson just stared at me, trying to process what I had just said and then
trying to work out if I meant it.

My face confirmed that I did.

Jackson gulped.

"Okay," he said. "If you sign me out today, I'll let you...but on one other
condition."

"Okay, what's that?"

"Mom's boyfriend sucks me in the dark, so, well, you gotta turn the lights
off."

I looked around the room. Jackson's eyes followed me to the window.

"It's daylight, Jackson. Even with the light off it's not going to be that
dark."

Jackson's mind was ticking over...and over, and over.

"Okay," I said. "Well, twelve weeks it is then."

"No, no, no...wait," Jackson said fearing he was going to lose all
leverage. "What if....what if you...like...suck me through my underpants?"

Jackson adorned his face with a, "I must look so stupid suggesting that,"
look. It made him look so adorable. He hung on my reply. He looked liked
he'd seen a ghost.

I smiled, slowly, which broke his look a little.

"Okay, I said, let's do that then."

---

Jackson was close to trembling with nerves when I had him standing in the
corner of my office against the wall.

"Slip off your t-shirt and jeans," I told him as I stood there watching
him.

It was like I was about to give him his school medical. He just did what he
was told and underneath his 12-year-old boy's black sweat pants, were the
cutest, skimpy little pair of tighty-whitie boy briefs. I didn't even know
boys wore white ones anymore.

"And your socks," I told him. I loved barefoot boys.

I was trying to process what was happening and what must be going through
Jackson's little preteen mind. He had had his boy cock sucked by his
mom's boyfriend more times than he could remember and now he was peeling
his clothes off in front of me knowing he had just agreed to let me suck
his hot little spike through his underpants.

"You're beautiful, Jackson," I declared, "and although I'm going to miss
out on eleven weeks of you, it looks like it's going to be worth it."

Jackson stood there, rolling his eyes, in full "get it over with" mode,
He looked imminently edible in just his little skimpy briefs.

Then I gently rested my hands on Jackson's slight of a waist, pulled him to
me and sucked down on his 12-year-old boy bulge through his underpants.

As I sucked his little boynub into my mouth, Jackson gasped and I felt him
go up on his tiptoes putting his hands down on top of my head to balance
himself.

I just kept sucking and sucking and sucking like I was gasping for air,
each suck making his skimpy little white briefs a little wetter until
they were soaked, and I could see the full shape of his little boyhood. I
just wanted to blow this boy so good and hard.  I sucked and sucked and
sucked on his little preteen prick until we were both gasping for air,
but neither of us came up for any.

Jackson stabilized himself using my head as a balancing post, his
pink toes gripping the tiled floor in my office like gun metal magnets. His
heels were half an inch off the floor, but as I sucked, they got further
away from it until his posture was akin to that of a whore in high heeled
shoes - his heels as far away from the tile as he could get them. He
was practically leaning over me in order to stay upright, his knees
buckling underneath him as I sucked and sucked and sucked and sucked on his
hard little tween dick through his white briefs.

Jackson's breathing became erratic. Air being pulled through his teeth and
then pushed hard out of his prefect flared nostrils. His fingers were splayed
out across my head and he was gripping my hair and pressing the base of his
palms against my head, breathing more and more heavily.

I sucked faster on Jackson's fierce little boybone as his breathing got
heavier. He knew he was on his way and so did I. Sucking him through his
underpants would not have been my first choice but there was something
kinky about it - pervy, naughty, fun - and it was his idea which made it
even more exciting.

"Ohhh, I'm gonna cum," Jackson suddenly blurted out followed by a rush of
air out of his nose. He pushed down one final time on my head with his
hands - hard. He lifted himself off the floor and practically levitated
throughout his boygasm. I tasted something different then. Watery, salty,
bleachy, honey-sweet. I sucked it as hard as I could through the wet fabric,
my one and only taste of Jackson's watery boy cum.

I floated through it, loving every moment of every moment.

I just made an 12-year-old boy I just met, cum, by sucking his little
fuckstick through his tighty-whities.

I pulled back. Jackson's size mediums were soaked. There was no mistaking
he'd had his cock sucked.

He got dressed hastily.

"So, you'll sign me off, right?

"I need you to come back for one more session so that it doesn't look
suspect to the school, okay?"

Jackson's face dropped.

I smiled at him.

"Don't worry. We won't be doing much taking."

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

MATERNAL: VINNY

Vincent had just started at Highland Elementary in the fifth grade.
He just turned 11 in July. Four days after the Fourth of July. His
family had moved from Burbank, California to Alpharetta, Georgia, in
pursuit of his father's opportunities to further his career in
pharmaceutical sales.

It was a big move for an 11-year-old Cali boy. Different climate,
different culture and a different set of friends.

At his school in Burbank, Ralph Emerson Elementary, Vincent had been quite
the popular kid. He was a first rate little-leaguer, a Select-class soccer
player and had appeared in several national TV commercials as well as
having enjoyed small roles in some big movies. He was also quickly emerging
as a talented young kick boxer and had already bagged a few junior trophies
to prove it.

On the surface, an almost tactile atmosphere of cuteness surrounded Vincent
whatever he did and wherever he went. It followed him like his shadow and
you could practically feel it between your fingers. The way he walked, the
clothes he wore, his smile, his hair, everything about him exuded a
"can't-quite-put-your-finger-on-it" emanation of boyhood and an
incalculable angelic beauty.

Vincent had a fine physique. Some might say he was little and skinny but
that would be parochialism at its best. If you took the time to inspect his
preteen body more closely, he wasn't skinny at all. His body was tight. He
was ripped. He had a body fat percentage close to zero and the outline of
his little six pack rested proudly on the V cut into his groin.

His small, slender back had the most distinctive curvature; a curl under
his shoulder blades down to his lower back - but before it could kiss his
twenty-two inch waist, it had to contend with the cutest, little round
bottom you ever saw in your life. His body was a teaser trailer and his
bottom the main feature presentation. Without his little bottom, Vincent
may have gone unnoticed by many of the adoring little girls and their
mothers who got woozy just looking at him. Whether they wanted to admit it
or not, it should've been obvious to anybody that his little bottom was
Vincent's most appealing feature.

Vincent's body was as much a work of art as his perfect face. He was a
stunningly good looking boy. He wasn't exactly pretty, but he had
the cutest facial features and short, dirty blond hair. When he was kick
boxing, beads of sweat would develop on his flawless nose and create a
salty droplet that would eventually dangle from the tip of it.

Make no mistake, Vincent was all boy.

"He's gorgeous," the moms would say at school pickup time and "my daughter
thinks your son is just the cutest boy ever." Vincent's mom, Kathy, would
smile politely. She heard it constantly and she also knew it was true. She
knew she was responsible for bringing one of the most physically attractive
and adorable creatures into this world.  The attention Vincent got from
girls (and their moms who all wanted their daughters to be his friend) was
something Kathy had gotten used to since he was around five or six years
old.

But Vincent's mom had a secret.

Kathy knew how cute her 11-year-old son was. She could understand without
any degree of maternal bias why any girl would find him cute, but she
wondered if they would still get all dreamy-eyed over him if they knew what
she knew.

Kathy wasn't proud of how her "little kink" had developed over the last
two years but she had come to terms with it. She no longer wrestled with
the good versus evil mentality within which she was once a pawn. It had
become her thing and knowing she was powerless over it, she had learned to
embrace it.

Kathy was in love with the smell of Vincent's bottom. To be honest, she
couldn't get enough of it. She craved it - some days every moment of her
waking hours. With the exception of Vincent himself, for the longest time,
she was the only person in the world who knew what Vincent smelled like in
his most private place and it had all started out by accident.

Kathy was tidying Vincent's bedroom one morning when he was at school two
years ago. Geez, his room was a mess - toys and clothes strewn
everywhere. "Boys" she thought to herself as she started picking up his
clothes from the floor. She built a small pile of his dirty laundry in the
bend of her elbow while trying to discern between what was clean and what
was dirty.

Most of the time, it was easy to tell just by the way it was obvious how
Vincent had stepped out of his underpants or peeled himself out of his
sweaty little Under Armor vests after kick boxing and just left them on the
floor. Less obvious examples would typically require nothing more than a
visual inspection - a quick glance inside them for evidence of little
dribbles or skid marks.

It's a mom thing.

But this particular morning, when it all started, Kathy had picked up a
pair of Vincent's little black underpants from the end of his bed. By the
way they were placed there (as opposed to screwed up and strewn on the
floor), she couldn't tell if he'd worn them just by looking at them. She
opted for the glance test and opened them up in her hand but couldn't see
any evidence of her little boy's pee or bottom stains in them.

Of course, it didn't help that the undies were black but black was a good
choice for a boy of 9 years of age. They were the ones she'd send him to
sleepovers with because he'd often render his white ones unusable again
after a sleepover. She knew that his "poop and wipe" protocol was seriously
breached when he was preoccupied during a sleepover. She sometimes wondered
if he'd skipped the "wipe" completely.

What caused her to do what she did next, she has no idea, but it is the
single most defining footprint in the development of her obsession with the
smell of her son's bottom. She held Vincent's underpants to her nose and
took one quick, short sniff inside them.

She doesn't really know what she expected to smell. She was prepared for
clean or "smell worn" and either would've been okay in her quest to simply
clean up Vincent's untidy room. She was simply executing a mother's
process. However, in doing so, Kathy could have in no way predicted how she
would react to discovering the smell of Vincent's stinky little bottom in
his underpants for the first time.

>From that one quick, shallow sniff inside his dirty little underpants,
Kathy felt a sharp rush of energy across her back. It traveled the length
of her spine and dissipated at her knees as they shook, followed by a
tingle of energy from every nerve center of her body and finally a rush of
goose bumps in places she didn't even know she could get goose bumps.

A well-educated woman of polite society, Kathy rarely cursed. She could be
cut off the road by a jerk driver and shout out in the car, "I hate you,
you idiot," only to follow her outburst with a prayer for forgiveness at
having used the word "hate."

"Ohhhhh fucccck," she screamed out loud in her son's bedroom, his dirty
underpants in her hand and inches from her face. She was experiencing acute
shock. She couldn't fathom what was happening. Confused and bewildered by
her reaction to sniffing her son's dirty underpants, she inspected them
again as if trying to convince herself that whatever it was she just
experienced, it can't be real. Two years later, there are days she wished
she hadn't gone for a second sniff. Her life would perhaps be very
different.

No evidence of having been worn existed inside Vincent's little 9 year
old boy undies and so it seemed only logical in an effort to comprehend
what had just happened to her to sniff them again.  A little more
apprehensive this time, Kathy held up Vincent's dirty underpants and
sniffed them a second time only this time it was a much more premeditated,
controlled sniff - deeper and longer.

As she inhaled the dank, musky scent of her son's ripe little anus, she
felt everything around her float away. It was as if everything else in the
world had lost any and all importance. She felt her nostrils process the
smell of Vincent's raunchy little 9 year old boyhole and shoot sparks of
sexual energy to every extremity in her body. She felt immediately
intoxicated and could feel her central nervous system all awry.

This time, Kathy's knees couldn't contain the sharp rush of energy that
bolted down into them. They buckled underneath her and she fell back with a
bounce onto Vincent's Star Wars bed. As she fell back, she felt the moistness
in the front of her panties dampen against the inside of her groin.

"Ohhhhhhh fuck, Vinny," she moaned out. "My son's little ass...oh fuck...
my god!"  Without a second thought, she fell back onto Vincent's bed until
she was lying across it widthways, her left hand holding her son's dirty
little undies in her face - her right hand down the front of her panties
circling her soaking wet clitoris with her middle finger.  She pulled
Vincent's undies away from her face and lifted them a few inches above her.

She shook her head in some kind of reaction to the contrast of disbelief
and immeasurable pleasure and then, screwing Vincent's undies up tightly in
her hand, she stuffed them back in her face and started to sniff them
hard. As she huffed them in her face, the smell of Vincent's bottom
momentarily disappeared. She frowned, loosened her tight grip on them,
rotated them a little and hunted for the darker, dank smell she had found a
moment ago.

'Sniff' no not there. Adjust. 'Sniff' no not there either. Adjust. 'Sniff'
Ohhhhh fuckkkk, yeah! There it was. Make no mistake, this is exactly the
spot Vincent's cute little anus had been marinating in. It was so dirty to
her but so immeasurably beautiful at the same time.  Like a dog on heat,
Mrs. Polly Polite sniffed and sniffed the stink from her 9 year old son's
anus until she gushed the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced.

>From that day, Kathy was hooked. It was an instant addiction.

For several months, Kathy would secretly take pairs of Vincent's dirty
underpants and sniff them for moments of intense, personal, sexual
gratification.  Sometimes, when her husband was making love to her, she
couldn't orgasm unless she thought about the smell of Vinny's little
bottom. At first, she would think about what his undies would smell like
next time she got the chance to snag a pair but as with most fantasies,
Kathy's grew tentacles.

She began wondering what her son's bottom smelled like at any given
moment. She would look at him standing in front of the refrigerator when
he came back from kickboxing, his sweaty body trying to hold the door open
while he looked for a juice box, and she would find herself staring at his
tight little ass in his little gray Nike shorts and just wonder what it
smelled like right then.  Sometimes, when she was alone with him, there
were moments where it would take all her self-control not to just fall to
her knees, yank his shorts down and bury her face between his stinky little
ass cheeks.

When Vincent's dad was away on business, Kathy would sleep with three pairs
of Vincent's underpants in her bed.  She would use one pair that she would
put a baby carrot inside and gently push up her pussy and then cross her
legs to keep it in. She loved having Vincent's dirty little underpants
inside her and the carrot made it feel like her son was asleep with his
boner in her increasingly boyhungry cunt.

She would use a second pair to rub her breasts with and a third pair,
usually the stinkiest she could find, to sniff. The first time she did this
she thought she was going to cum and die. The intensity of her orgasm was
almost too much to bear without medical supervision.

As she huffed the stinky anus from her sweaty little kickboxer boy's
undies, she felt a climatic rise from the tip of her toes to her scalp
followed by an involuntarily spasmatic lock down of her pussy walls onto
the three inch phallic representation of her son's little boner
that was pressed inside her.

It took her all night to get over it and she was certain she was unlikely
to experience such a sexual high ever again. She loved her husband,
Vincent's dad, but he could never make her orgasm as intensely as she could
just by intoxicating herself with the smell of her son's stinky little
bottom from his underpants.

Over the months that followed that first experience, Kathy found herself
becoming more and more controlled by her obsession with the smell of
Vincent's little bottom. She had been the duteous mother who constantly
checked if Vincent had taken a shower and put on clean underwear. Not any
more. She would let him go days without a shower and purposely not wash his
dirty laundry for a few days so he would be forced to wear his underpants
for three and four days at a time.

Her orgasms were always so intense when she was sniffing Vinny's dirty
little underpants.  She especially liked the smell of his cute little ass
from the undies he wore for kickboxing practice and it's one of the
reasons she agreed to put him in a three-times-a-week training schedule. It
simply became so perverted, so dirty and so exciting to her.

As Vincent reached 10, then 11, more and more people began telling
Kathy how "cute" he was and the fact that she was getting off on the smell
of his dirty little ass became more and more exciting as a result.

"I wonder if you'd think that if you knew what his dirty little crack
smells like..." Kathy thought to herself when her friend, Carla, told her
how Vinny is "so damn cute."

Often being interrupted and cut short on some major sniffs, frustration got
the better of Kathy and she hatched a plan. She told her husband she wanted
to attend a women's conference in Atlanta and she would stay at a downtown
hotel to avoid having to drive back and forth. He husband thought it would
be great for her to get away and agreed that he would take Vinny to his
kickboxing classes and treat him to an afternoon at the shooting club.

T minus fourteen days to the "conference," and Kathy started saving up
Vinny's dirty lil' undies. As he discarded them on his bedroom floor (as
well as the pairs that actually made it to his laundry basket), she took
them and zip-lock bagged them individually.

When the Saturday of the "conference" came, she packed her suitcase. She
packed light. She wouldn't be needing many clothes. She planned to spend
most of the time drinking wine in her room and working her way through her
son's two weeks' worth of stinky little underpants while she poked herself
with a small, 3-inch carrot - she would dream of intensely sniffing her
son's rank, ripe, raw little boyhole and then him fucking her hard with his
little carrot stick.

She had attended every one of his kickboxing practices during the last two
weeks. Everyone was watching Vinny show off his emerging talent as a kick
boxer but Kathy was just staring at her son's bottom, imagining how sweaty
and ripe it was getting and how much it was making his underpants
stink. She would watch him and find herself practically drooling over her
son's little ass wondering what it smelled like.

She video'd every practice on her phone, knowing exactly what underpants he
was wearing so she could look at the video when she sniffed them at the
hotel.

And that's what she did. She would pause the video at the beginning of each
clip, grab the undies from that session, and then sniff them as she watched
him work out his kicks.

Every single pair smelled of Vinny's bottom. Some were sweaty and rank and
raunchy and ripe, others were a little skiddy and strong and some were
acrid and tangy.  It was hard to choose a favorite pair but she had one
nevertheless.

The white pair of Hanes he wore in the video clip at 3.09 where he is
wearing a blue Under Armor shirt and gray and blue shorts. Those
undies she had especially manipulated. They were Sunday's practice and she
had left no clean underwear in Vinny's drawer over the weekend. He hadn't
said anything, he just kept on wearing the pair he had put on for school on
the Friday morning.  It was Sunday now. All day in school in them on
Friday, slept in them Friday night, played in them all day Saturday, slept
in them Saturday night, played in them all day Sunday and THEN went to kick
boxing still wearing them.

Fuck, they were the best pair. They simply smelled like ass. Like boy
ass. Rank and ripe and tangy and strong - a mix of dirty little boy asshole
and sweaty lil' boy cheeks.

Kathy stopped counting her orgasms. Each one was intense and every pair of
undies had instigated at least three orgasms for her. She hardly slept a
wink during the entire conference. She stayed in her room, ate minimally,
drank wine and water and spent fifty five of every sixty minutes with the
smell of her 11-year-old son's stinky lil' bum star under her nose.

Now, all she had to do was find another mom who was into the same thing.

Thank goodness there were more women's conferences on the horizon.

Because Vinny's a good boy, everybody. And Kathy's got the Ziplock in her
briefcase to prove it.

Meet Kathy's son Vinny, ladies.

Everybody meet Vinny.

# # # # # # # # # #
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