Date: Tue, 21 Apr 2015 03:35:01 +0200
From: Zachary Blake <z.blake@mail.com>
Subject: Smell This 12 (Revised)

SMELL THIS 12
By Brad
With a tiny little foreword by Zachboy
M/b, oral, anal, sniffing, buttplay

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

Here high atop the shining twin globes of the World Sniff Tower in
beautiful bustling downtown Dubuque, Iowa (or was it Boise, Idaho? I
forget), I'm lucky enough to pen "Smell This" with Brad and Mark, two of
the most marvelous, sniff-centric Nifty writers it's ever been my pleasure
to bump noses with.

We're an odd brotherhood. We're not exactly scat writers and not exactly
raunch writers, although our work certainly dances around the edges of both
of those sometimes. We're sniff writers, plain and simple, and therefore, a
lot of times, we're not really sure where our work should go. It's a bit
too ripe for regular "Adult-Youth" because it grosses guys out, but here in
the catch-all "Urination" category, a lot of guys get frustrated with us
because nobody's, you know, cracking out a turd in anybody's mouth. Guys
read us here and go, "Geez, dudes. Is that the only trick you've got?"

What can I say? Brad and Mark and I do what we can with the weird wiring we
were stuck with. "If you disapprove, I can only shrug my shoulders," wrote
a way-too-famous author. "It's what I have." So, here we are with another
installment, quite likely sticking our noses where they don't belong. But
that's what sniff writers do. We make hay while the sun shines. We gather
ye rosebuds while we may.

This amazing standalone piece was written entirely by Brad. Normally we all
contribute to "Smell This." We each write a vignette or two and I sew them
together for another sticky serving. But this time out, Brad picked up his
pen and cranked out something longer for us, so I present it here
unfettered by the rest of our nonsense. It's a really good story and I
think you'll find it entirely logical in the grand scheme of sniffing. I
know it makes complete scents to me.

Cheers, mates. Come to Poland with us.

Dziekuje, Brad, you smelly little angel-maker.

Love,
Zachyboy

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POLAND
By Brad

"We've got nobody else who can go," said Jerry, the haulage manager.
"Everyone else is married...got kids. They can't take the time away from
their families for an international run like you can."

"Poland's not a problem," I told him. "I've told you that before."

"Can you fly out tomorrow and pick up the truck at Wroclaw?" If your flight
runs on schedule, you can get a few hundred miles in before the sun goes
down.

"I can do that," I said willingly.

"If you make good time, we can fly you back from Poznan on Sunday."

Truth is, I'd been hungry for the opportunity to do a run in Poland for
almost two years. A fellow trucker and boylover, Bob H, had told me
incredible stories of the boys he had picked up at various truck stops
along the way.

I had heard stories of boys loitering at truck stops in Poland before, but
Bob had confirmed it for me and I was desperate to go.

# # # # # # # # # #

My flight arrived at Wroclaw Airport about thirty minutes ahead of
schedule. I was able to pick up the truck and get on the road by midday and
my GPS told me I'd make the truck stop just before sundown.

I was so fucking excited. I was consumed with lust just speculating on the
types of boys that might be hanging around at the truck stop and asking
myself what type of boy I would choose and what I'd want to do with him.

I rolled into the truck stop slowly just as the sun was going down over the
horizon.

My eyes were peeled, my heart was racing and my balls were already tingling
in my jeans. I pulled my 18 wheeler into a space and killed the engine. The
airbrakes hissed loudly and then everything went quiet.

I could hear my heart beating.

I took a deep breath and jumped out of the truck with my shower bag.  At
the rear of the truck was an open area of grassland with several tree
stumps and branches scattered around. The embers of an old fire smoldered a
few feet away. Somebody had left a red-handled, mini logging axe in the
middle of it.  I heard it can get cold at night, so at least I could make
me a fire and drink some beer if I couldn't find me a boy.

Flinging my shower bag over my shoulder, I headed to where the florescent
lights appeared to be coming from. A sort of gas station/grocery store
combo. There was a pungent aroma of some kind of meat in the process of
being cooked. It made me feel hungry. It was a clear evening. It had been a
warm day but was cooling down as the sun disappeared.

I scouted the area. People were coming and going, mainly truck drivers and
a few families.  I saw one boy, cute as hell, around 13 years old,
coming out of the store. My heart skipped a beat as the boy smiled
up at a woman and took her hand as they both walked back to a car
together. Just a regular kid and his mom.

Geez, I would've sniffed that boy's cute little ass in a heartbeat.

Fuck, where were all the boys Bob had promised me? I couldn't see any.  I
went into the store and walked around a little. There were huge mountains
of meat everywhere. A woman in an apron turned skewers the size of John
Holmes' cock on a coal fired grill while sausages hung from a trellis
above. Pork chops skewered into a gargantuan, huge slabs of bacon, ham
hocks, humongous grilled chicken legs and great heaping sections of grilled
Polish kielbasa and blood sausage.  It was a carnivorous feast of dead
animal wherever you looked.

I cruised the isles, picking things up, putting them back down and
observing other customers before finally pouring myself a coffee from the
self serve area and heading to the counter.

"You got showers here?" I asked the male assistant.

"You want shower?" he attempted to confirm in broken English.

"Yes."

"Take key. Shower #8," he said pointing to the number on the fob.

"Where are they?"

He shrugged his shoulders at me.

"The showers. Where are the showers?"

"Shower here," he said, making a circle with his hand and then pointing to
the rear of the store.

I headed out of the store and worked my way around the back. There was less
light the further I went and I began to feel a little nervous - exposed.

As I turned the corner, the backside of the store, which ran about a
hundred feet, was lined with mini dumpsters, boxes and trash. Damn, it was
rough back there.  Light flickered from a rusty, white metal florescent
light bank about half way down the back of the store and reflected off
several metal single garage doors along the wall, casting eerie orange
shadows on the oily asphalt in front of them.  In the distance, toward the
very end of the wall, I could see shapes - and then I heard laughter.

And my balls tingled.

No mistaking, it was boy laughter.

I squinted my eyes and tried to use the available light to focus on the
shapes in the distance. It appeared to be a group of boys, young teens,
13-15 probably, one of whom was sitting on a bike, rocking backwards
and forwards and wearing a blue zip top which was the most prevalent of
colors I could see in the distance and which pierced the otherwise orange
tint that covered the back of the store and its surrounding area.

I checked over my shoulder, took a deep breath, pulled my shower bag tight
over my shoulder and walked towards the laughter, hugging close to the wall
and trying to refocus every few steps.  As I focused on them, more laughter
came and as I got closer, I could make out their features.

There were six of them in total, one standing up, glasses, around fifteen,
and one on a bike, the boy in blue. He looked about thirteen, and
then four other boys were huddled together sitting on a step in front of
one of the metal doors. They all looked around thirteen or fourteen years
old.

I was now about fifteen feet away from them and the boy with glasses
noticed me approaching.  When the other boys saw that he had noticed
something, they all looked in my direction and locked eyes on me.

I stood still, practically frozen. They smiled, but stayed quiet.
An apprehensive moment all round and the boys were as much checking
me out as I was them.

"Hey boys," I said, in as pleasant a tone as I could muster under my
anxiety. I became conscious of my heavy pulse and my mouth began to feel
dry.

All the boys looked at each other for a moment like they were practicing
some sort of telepathic bond - and then they smiled back at me.

I Robocopped their looks and sexually triaged them:

Left to right.

Boy #1. Fourteen, maybe fifteen. Curly hair. Nice smile. Definitely
fuckable and yes I would.

Boy #2: Thirteen, maybe fourteen. Much cuter than Boy #1. Skinny, cool
looking. Probably humps like a rabbit and I would pay him to bone me like
one.

Boy #3: Pretty sure he's fourteen. Looks like a dirty little guy. I bet
he sucks cock really well and has a small penis but plenty of first hairs.

Boy #4: Triage result? He's just weird.

Boy #5? (out of frame): Boy #5 was hot. The boy in blue. He had short,
dirty blonde hair and was all boy to me. He looked hot rocking back and
forth on his bike seat and chewing the zip on his blue zip up top.

Boy #6: The oldest of all the boys. The one standing up wearing
glasses. Definitely fuckable.

"You want buy sex, mister?" Boy #2 asked, looking right at me.

Triage process over.

"Yeah," I said through my cotton mouth and sounding way more confident than
I felt, "I wanna buy sex from him," and I pointed to the boy on the bike.

The other boys all looked at him and he froze. The boys started to laugh
and say things to him in Polish. The boy on the bike shouted something back
and some sort of debate ensued.

Boy #2 looked back at me, put his thumb up to his mouth and started miming
a blow job and then pointing at the boy in blue.  The boy in blue shouted
something back at him that didn't exactly seem to express a keen interest
in sucking my cock.

"He no like sex," said Boy #2 and all the other boys laughed.  Boy #2 was
getting cuter all the time to me and I was already wondering what his
sticky little butthole smelled like and whether or not he would let me
at least finger him a little.  He was my back up boy if the boy in blue
was a no go. But I wanted little boy blue. I liked that he was shy and had
less experience than the rest.

"You want sex with Miguel?" The oldest boy asked. "He good boy...need money
but no do sex at time."

"At time, what?" I didn't understand.

"At time. He no do sex at time."

I shrugged my shoulders.  The boys muttered something to each other and
then Boy #3 spoke up.

"Miguel never sex. He not have practice."

I looked at Miguel. He looked at me and blushed, and when he caught my
eyes, he sunk his chin into his chest and looked down past his bike
seat. My heart melted. I was looking at a virgin boy.

"Tell him I won't hurt him and we won't do sex," I said, not taking my eyes
off Miguel.

Confused, the boys muttered to each other again, trying to translate.

"What you want Miguel?" Boy #2 asked me, flicking his chin up at me.

"What do I want to do with Miguel?"

"Yes, what you want Miguel?" he repeated.

I looked at Miguel, looking him up and down. What did I want 'Miguel?' I
let my lust answer.

"I just want to sniff his ass and suck his cock in my truck."

The boys muttered again.  Boy #2 looked back at me and the other boys
stopped talking.

"You want sniff?" Boy #2 asked, followed by two short sniffs and a facial
contortion.

"Yes, sniff," I said, repeating the double sniff action.

Boy #2 looked at the other boys and said something in Polish before rising
to his feet.  He took his right hand and put his first finger on the cheek
of his ass.

"Sniff, sniff? Miguel?"

"Yes. Sniff Miguel," I confirmed, "I wanna smell his ass."

The boys started cracking up. All except Miguel. A conversation ensued and
I have never wished I could speak Polish any more in my life.

Boy #2 turned back to me.

"Seven...five zloty," he said, showing seven of his fingers, then five.

"Seventy-five zloty?"

"Yes," Boy #2 confirmed. "Seventy five. For Miguel sniff sniff." He
followed with two sniffs as he'd done before while pointing at his ass
again and all the boys cracked up. Once again, except for Miguel. He
definitely didn't know what I had been saying in English and I don't think
his friends had explained it to him in his native language either. He had
no real clue what was going on but he was smiling shyly anyway.

"Okay," I said and the boys all started talking to Miguel at once,
jockeying for airspace. Boy #2 stood up again, putting his hands on the
shoulders of the boys on either side of him, keeping them down. He was
giving Miguel instructions.

"W jednej chwili," Boy #2 said to me, which, indicated by his actions, I
guessed meant, "give me a second here, dude."  He walked over to Miguel and
started talking quietly with him. I observed them both. It was an intense
few moments. All the other boys had gone quiet and I was just stood there
feeling like a spare prick at a wedding.

Miguel looked at me, then looked back at Boy #2 who by now had his arm
around Miguel's shoulder like some kind of bro mentor and then Miguel
nodded his head.  He shrugged and said in English, "OK."

"Okay...is good," Boy #2 said to me with a smile, giving Miguel a push.
The bike wheels started to turn and Miguel put his feet on
the pedals and started moving slowly, stopping right in front of me.

He looked so cute up close. His super short, dirty blonde hair hugged his
sweet little head beautifully under his white, aerated baseball cap. His
steely blue eyes were simply to die for and he had the cutest nose. His
eyelashes practically fluttered every time he blinked and his thin,
purplish lips were simply divine.

Underneath his blue zip top, I could just make out the smooth skin of his
upper chest. A mock silver necklace rested around his neck.

He was reasonably tall for his age - long, coltish legs - but very slender
and petite. He must've weighed all of 90 lbs, if that. His hands were small
and his fingers long as he held onto the handgrips on his rusty old
BMX. His dirty faded jeans hugged him beautifully. His little bottom rocked
on the bike seat. It was so round and cute. The thick, black waistband of
his Euro boxer briefs protruded above the waist of his jeans and had the
word "WILD" in bold yellow letters around them.

He was adorable.

I put out my hand.

"I'm Brad," I said smiling at him.

Miguel lifted his skinny arm and extended his long, grubby fingers.

"Miguel," he said in an unbroken, beautiful toned if not slightly croaky
voice.

His grip was suprisingly strong, but a little damp. I slid my hand out
of his, wanting to get the smell of it on my hand. I rubbed my thumb along
the end of my fingers and they felt sticky. "I hope his bumhole is like
this," I thought to myself as we walked off together, Miguel zig-zagging
his bike side-to-side to maintain a walking speed with me.

"How old are you?" I asked him as we walked.

He looked at me. It was clear he had no idea what I had just asked him.

"Your age?  Trzyna?cie (thirteen)?" I said in my best Polish accent.

"Tak, Trzyna?cie," he said nodding his head.

I felt my heart skip a beat. I was on my way back to my truck with a
cute teen boy. A  beautiful teen boy. A boy who barely a teenager. A
boy with grubby hands. A boy who I don't think his friends had told him
that I was going to sniff his bottom.

I dropped back behind him slightly so I could watch him pedal his bike in
front of me. He was sitting on the seat and his cute little ass was
wriggling side-to-side in his blue jeans. As he rode his bike, his jeans
would ride up his crack and then come back out.

Occasionally, he stood up on the pedals and I could have a good look at
him. I convinced myself he was teasing me. Whether he was or he wasn't, I
was being teased regardless.  I couldn't take my eyes off his bottom in his
boy jeans and I kept reminding myself that he was only 13. I was
getting excited looking at his cute, young boy ass and thinking to myself
that I was probably only ten or fifteen minutes away from finding out what
it smells like.

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When we got back to the truck, we tracked down the left side of it. There
was another truck either side of me, so we were pretty closed in. Miguel
rolled his bike towards the back of the truck, put it down on the grass and
turned to face me.

I walked slowly towards him. He was sweating under his baseball cap; beads
of sweat had formed across his nose and I knew what that meant. Sweaty boy,
sweaty ass. A tingle of sexual energy flooded my central nervous system.

"You hot?" I asked him. "Hot...like phawww," I said pulling back and forth
on my tee-shirt.

Miguel almost broke a smile and then nodded.

"Yes...hot," he said, copying me by pulling on the front of his blue zip
top.

"You can take it off," I suggested, pointing to his top.

He held the zip between his grubby thumb and finger and looked up at me.

"Yes?" he asked, undoing the zip by about an inch.

"Yes."

I watched in awe as Miguel undid the zip on his top and peeled his arms out
of it. They looked longer and skinnier in the flesh. The top of them were
hugged by the sleeves of his tight, grubby off-white teeshirt.

"This too," I said to him pinching his teeshirt at his chest and shaking it
side-to-side a little.  I watched in overwhelming lust as he lifted his
teeshirt over his head, revealing his smooth, thin, hairless, young, sweaty
boy body. He looked unwashed and greasy. His skin moist from his own sweat.
I swore I caught a draft of his boy stink. Just for a fleeting moment.

Feeling a little awkward I guess, Miguel started to look
around him and noticed the axe in the embers of the old fire.

"Topor, tapor!" he smiled excitedly, running over to grab the axe.  I just
stood there observing him. In awe.

He grabbed the axe out of the fire, turned around and held it up like he'd
just found a lost treasure."

"Tapor!" he said, a smile beaming over his face.  "Make fire!"

With that, Miguel turned around and, finding the first broken tree branch
he could, started logging with the axe.

I sighed an audible sigh. Look at my boy find. Here I was in a foreign
country with a 13-year-old boy I had just picked up and he was now totally
preoccupied with cutting wood - and I wasn't going to stop him. He was
shirtless and bent over right in front of me like his ass was a feature
presentation and I couldn't take my eyes off it.

"Am I REALLY gonna get to smell that?" I thought to myself as I stared at
his cute teen boy bottom knowing that not a single person other than himself
had smelled his virgin asshole before. Never sniffed, never fingered, never
fucked. Unadulterated.

I kept staring at his ass while he attempted to cut wood with his "tapor,"
and just kept thinking to myself, "I hope it really stinks." I hoped he
hadn't showered in days and that the smell between his slick, slippery
tacky-sweet buttcheeks was a pungent mix of copper-tinged tang, sweat and
boyhood. I was high on him already and I needed his bum to stink.

# # # # # # # # # #

Once inside the truck, he smiled at me, but he looked a little nervous.

I stroked his shoulders to reassure him he was going to be okay and I
wasn't going to hurt him.

"I just wanna smell your ass and suck you off, that's all," I told him, but
he had no idea what I was saying.

I put his cap on my head and made a funny face and he smiled at me, even
laughing a little. I removed his cap and just looked at him, lovingly.

"I'm not going to do this," I told him, pushing my finger in and out of a
hole I made with my thumb and finger on my other hand, shaking my head at
the same time.  His steel blue eyes kept darting between my eyes, my lips
and my hands.

He looked relieved. I laughed a little as I saw him sigh, "Whew."

"But I AM going to get myself off smelling your ass...and I AM gonna make
you cum like crazy by sucking your dick."

His eyes darted up. "Yes?" the seemed to ask.

I reached forward and unbuttoned his jeans.

With his knees up as he had them, I was able to use the end of my finger to
tease around his boycock under his jeans while I talked to him.

"Oh, Miguel. Good boy. You got a little one, huh?" He felt little, actually. I
could barely feel anything through the thick denim fabric of his jeans.

He couldn't take his eyes off me.

I leaned closer to him, allowing my face to get near his smooth chest.

I extended my tongue and started to lick his nipple round and around,
making it supple and soaking wet. As I licked him, I put my hand on his
left knee and pushed it away from his right to open his legs up a bit, his
knees still up.  He soon acquiesced and I heard him sigh as I began
lovingly sucking on his nipple.

"Do you like that?" I whispered to him.

I'm sure he couldn't understand me, but he nodded at the tone of my voice.

I licked his nipple again, this time within the context of full blown
erotica. I was sighing and moaning and salivating all over him, licking his
nipple and sucking it into my mouth and letting it "raspberry-noise" its
way out again.

"Ohhh, I fucking love your little nipples, dude," I declared, knowing he
had no idea what I was saying to him.

I pulled away from his nipple and put my face right in front of his. Our
eyes locked for a moment until he blushed, turned his head to
the side and looked away.  I took his chin in my hand and turned his face
back to me.

"Miguel," I said. He locked eyes on me. I inspected his young face. He
was one-hundred-percent teen boy. His face was baby soft, his eyes
bright, a cute little nose and thin, pinky purple lips.  His freckles
looked like they had be painted on - splashed onto the bridge of his nose,
spilling over his young cheeks.

"You're fucking stunning, dude," I told him as I held his chin gently in my
hand. "I bet you smell so good right now and you don't even know it."

It was time to get this boy naked.

I looked deep into his eyes one more time. The moment was alive with lust
and passion. I could think of nothing else, only him. A massive high was
rising from deep inside me knowing that thirty minutes ago, I had never
seen this boy before and now I was minutes from finding out what his
sixth-grade equivalent little Euroboy asshole smelled like - and he didn't
even know it.

Pure innocence.

I ran my the ends of my fingers all over his smooth chest, starting at the
top and working my way down his under-developed young body. As I reached
the top of his jeans, I began to fumble with his top button.

The button of his jeans popped open. In my high, the pop was so loud, I
thought everybody within a mile radius may have heard it. I suddenly became
conscious of where I was and what I was doing. I had a little paranoia hit
me.

Bob said it would be okay, I reminded myself. He's done this many times.

Before I could contemplate a reality check any further, I had popped open
his remaining buttons as though my hands were on autopilot. One by one,
they had popped open, each as loud as the previous until his flies were
open.

"Good boy. Good Miguel," I said soothingly, tugging on his jeans.  Miguel
put his knees down, straightening his legs and lifted his bottom up,
allowing me to peel his jeans off him. As I did so, everything looked and
felt hyperreal to me. I wasn't sure of anything anymore. At this point, I
could've been dreaming. I was peeling the jeans off a 13 year old boy!
I was doing it to get to his bottom and because I desperately wanted to
know what it looked and smelled like. Waves of everything washed over me;
nerves... excitement... apprehension and panic, flooded my insides as
Miguel's smooth, milky white thighs appeared from under his jeans,
contrasting the black of his micro-thin, Euro boxer briefs which concealed
the smallest boybulge I had ever seen on a boy of his age.

Miguel pulled his knees back up so that I could pull his jeans over them
and finally off his feet. I pulled them up to my face and sniffed them
slowly as Miguel went back into full-frown mode. They smelled of him. His
unique smell. I wanted to keep them.

With his knees back up again, I pushed them apart, exposing his crotch. I
could now see a defined shape of his boy balls which seemed to have
contracted into a tight scrotum. Nerves perhaps. On top of his ballsack
pillow was the shape of his little boycock. It was kinda...triangular -
thicker at the base and pointed at the tip which seemed to flatten onto his
balls.

I repeated the tugging process on his boxerbriefs that I had used on his
jeans. He blushed again, averted his eyes. Miguel's heart was beating
fast, although not quite as fast as mine.

As his warm, slightly damp, sweaty little undies peeled away from his skin,
a boygod was revealed right before my eyes. That moment, when you peel a
boy's underpants down and you get to the bump and you know the base of it
is about to appear and you're wondering, when he's this age, "am I gonna
see any hairs?"  Well, he looked old enough to have some. He could've had a
full pubic woodland, in fact.

But nothing. Zip. Nada. Kojak had more hair than this kid. He was all
boy sans the effect of the onset of puberty and I marveled at the
thought of sniffing his sweaty, prepubescent boy balls and asshole.

Fuck, my heart was about to come out of my chest. The teaser trailer of the
shape of his boy package through his boxer briefs was now replaced by a
full on HD/3D movie. That triangular shape of his little cocklet was so
beautiful in the flesh. His foreskin hugged his acorn head and closed to a
tip over the end of it like an elephant trunk.  His balls were simply
divine. A spider web of blue veins cascaded just under the surface of his
paper thin ball sack.

I kept peeling his undies down his legs until they slipped of his
feet. A 13 year old boy now naked in front of me. With me. For me.

My arms went light and so did my head. I couldn't control the shaking of my
hands and I had limited motor movement in my fingers. They just kept
twitching.

I lifted Miguel's legs back up and parted his knees again. His right hand
rested just inside his right thigh and he looked so stunningly beautiful in
that moment.

"Open your legs a little more, dude, I need to see that stinky little
asshole of yours," I instructed him.

Cupping both of my hands on the underside of his knees to take control of
his legs and his position, I began leaning into him, staring at his little
cock until it went out of focus, at which point I closed my eyes and
exhaled. I wanted empty lungs.

Using my nose on the right hand side of his little teen pricklet, I
nudged it to the left so that my nose could get underneath and into the
epicenter of his scrotum. It sank into it like a stuntman falling into an
inflated fallbed. It collapsed under the weight of my nose at the point of
impact but puffed up around it until it was practically sucking my nose.

And I breathed in. Slowly. A sweet and sour tang of the accumulation of a
13-year-old boy's day hit my sinuses like a sledgehammer. Malodorous but
completely inoffensive, the smell of boy balls rich in teen pheromones
filled my lungs and cycled my blood brain barrier with an intensity I
hadn't experienced in a long time.  I sniffed a second time, this time
holding his teen cock between the fingers of my left hand. Out of
the way so to speak. A second sniff revealed a more granular intensity of
boysweat - like sports gear stored in a middle school locker room tinged
with a more sour, more ammoniacal scent of urine.

Fuck! This boy's perfect hairless balls REEKED and I fucking loved it. Who
knew when he was so innocently rocking back and forth on his bike a short
while ago that he was concealing the most beautiful, hairless, stinky
teen balls inside his jeans?  In this moment, I didn't want to let him
go. I wondered if I would ever be able to pull back from him. I just wanted
to take hit, after hit, on the stink of his balls.

And Miguel was submissive throughout. I could sense that he was looking
down at me and also sensed he was wondering why the fuck anybody would want
to do what I was doing, but it was irrelevant now. I just needed his stinky
balls.

As I circled them with my nose, Miguel began to gyrate a little on his
bottom. He was pushing his hands into the seat either side of him and he
had started to breath heavily - all of this quickly followed by a
noticeable hardening of his little cocklet between my fingers. As I felt it
harden between them, I began to roll it side-to-side and pull back and
forth on it at the same time, encouraging more sensitivity as I sniffed and
sniffed his balls. Within a few seconds, his little softie had become a
rock hard steel boyrod and he was squirming.

I pulled away from him, somewhat reluctantly, but ready to enjoy more of
this boygod. As I pulled away, I cleared my senses of the stink of Miguel's
balls like I was clearing my palette before the next course at a fine
dining restaurant.

I looked at my boy. And he WAS my boy, at least for now. All mine. And I
had his little, less than four-inch bone between my fingers and there's no
way it could've gotten any harder. His chambers were bulging like he was
primed for a Viagra commercial.

I started peeling his foreskin back. He was tight, but it eventually
dropped behind his slick, pink-violet slippery acorn head. All babyteen
boycock and it was flinching under its own momentum when I let go of it
momentarily.

Miguel looked at me, a little unsure at first, but then smiled on the back
of my smile. I wanted to go down on him right now, but I knew when I did, I
wouldn't stop until he was on the other side of his shivery boygasm and
then he'd be less willing in the act of me sniffing his asshole.

So sniffing his asshole was next and blowing his sub-four incher would be
his reward. My gift for having been able to find out what his most
intimate, most private place smells like.

As I looked at Miguel's cute little asshole between his bum cheeks, a shot
of electricity bolted through my balls as I contemplated what it was going
to smell like. It looked so small, so wrinkled and tight.

"Oh, fuck, I hope it stinks like ass," I said to myself as I re-cupped the
underside of his knees in my hands.  This time, I pushed them back further
until Miguel was almost curled back over himself and resting on his
tailbone, his smooth, slick, sweaty boycheeks facing upwards towards me,
encasing his not-a-teenager-yet, sticky little caramelcrack.

Fuck..I need his asshole more than I needed oxygen.

And he didn't disappoint me.

I exhaled, held my breath and leaned into him. Due to his position,
I was able to gently press my nose onto his nose-sized
asscrack and push down on it a little, causing my nose to push up and my
nostrils to straddle his sticky little shitslit as his hairless balls
gently pressed against my forehead.  I was about to pass out from
holding my exhaled breath.

Before my lungs collapsed, I huffed deep and long and within a nanosecond
of executing my first sniff, the stench of raw, ripe, virgin ass smell
filled every extremity of my body, mind and soul.

Oh fuckinghell! It was perfect!

I kept sniffing and then pulling away to look at his anus in some kind of
disbelief, needing a visual reference to validate the smells I was
imbibing.

I sniffed again. Pure, ripe, sweaty, sweet. Exactly how it should
be. Stinky and strong, having marinated between his warm buttocks all day
long.

I pulled back, resting my left hand on his right knee.

I unbuttoned by jeans before I burst out of them. I was precumming in my
boxers and had a wet patch the size of a place mat in the front. I fumbled
out of my jeans followed by ripping my boxers off. My cock thanked me by
standing to attention immediately and I felt the pain of having been
constrained begin to subside.

I started stroking my cock, looking at Miguel and then at his asshole. I
could still smell the pungent blue-cheese tang of it on my upper lip as I
stroked and moaned out a series of, "oh yeahs."

I was panting.

I was overwhelmed with lust and nothing outside of my truck existed any
more. It was just me, Miguel, his boybone and his stinky little virgin
anus. I held his hardon between my fingers again and buried my face into
his bottom and felt my nose dock into the stickiness of his boyhole as I
began an all out sniffing session interspersed with several expletives,
mumbles and moans.

I circled his anus. It was supple and stretched out easily under the
pressure of my nose. I was able to push his left leg further from his right
and then wipe my nose up and down his shitslit causing it to open a little
more. As I pressed and sniffed his stink, his anus twitched, contracted and
then relaxed again, almost as though it was a living, breathing entity in
its own right.

Within minutes, it felt like all that existed in the world was me and
Miguel's asshole. My whole face seemed to stink of it having circled
around it for almost ten minutes straight, sniffing and sniffing and
never wanting it to end.

But all good things come to an end. I suddenly felt a climatic rising and
once it started, as practiced an edger I had become, this time I had no
restraint.

"Ohhhhh, fuckkkkkkyeahhhhhhhh.......smelly ass......smelly ass," I
shouted out as I sniffed deep and hard against his anus while my cock
flexed one last flinch before becoming but a mere vessel for the flow of a
boylust-induced splurge of manjizz.

Everywhere. Fucking soaked.

As I rested with my nose held against Miguel's smelly asshole, I became
aware of my breathing through my mouth which was heavy and erratic.

I had just cum sniffing a teen boy's smelly asshole and it was beyond
incredible. The highest high I had ever experienced.

I gathered my thoughts and transitioned into Miguel's reward, taking his
rock hard bone into my mouth. He pulled his body up using his hands. I
thought I'd hurt him and I pulled away and looked at him. I hadn't caused
him any pain. It was just clear that this was the first time he'd ever had
a mouth over his dicklet. I immediately went back down on him and as the
sweet, vinegary tang of his boy sweat invaded my nostrils, I sucked
Miguel's little babymaker until he collapsed in my face.

He was dry as expected and quiet. I don't think he knew he was "allowed" to
reach a climax, but he had no choice and he realized I was unsurprised by
his orgasm.

I kissed Miguel on his forehead and smiled at him. He smiled back at me.
I let go of his face and a beautiful man boy chemistry was sealed
in that moment.

"I gotta take this shower key back." I told him, "and there's a shit load
of food in that store. Come on," I encouraged him, "you hungry?" I really
wanted to hold a conversation with him now. Alas, it was impossible.

"Seventy-five zloty?" I asked him as I pulled bills out of my jeans pocket
before putting them back on.

Miguel smiled. He seemed to think that it was worth it and he got dressed
and slipped the cash into his jeans pocket.

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Walking towards the grocery store, as Miguel rode his bike, he was never
more than a few feet away from me. It was as though he trusted me now.
Clinging to me perhaps. I hadn't hurt him and he probably felt pretty good
about his first "inter" experience. I felt a togetherness with him as I
walked alongside him. Life had never felt better. I was immediately in love
with him and I contemplated offering to take him back to my truck again
after we'd eaten.

I was on a cloud. I couldn't believe that a 13 year old boy was riding
his bike next to me and people were walking by blissfully unaware that I
had just sucked him off and sniffed his perfect asshole.

"Miguel!" a voice called out in the distance. It was Miguel's friends.
Miguel got up on his bike pedals, looked back at me, smiled and then sped
off to join his friends.

That was fourteen years ago and I would never see Miguel again.

He'd be 27 now but he remains 13 to me. Always was and always
will be and I will never forget the orgasm I had while sniffing his anus,
nor the smell of it.

Bob had promised me the Earth and delivered the Universe.

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