Date: Sun, 31 Jul 2016 08:04:23 +0100 (BST)
From: z.blake@tutanota.com
Subject: Smell This 22

SMELL THIS 22
By Brad, Mark, Jon & Zachyboy
M/b, b/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

On with the show.

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

Editor's Note: Our newest sniff brother Jon, who joined us in "Smell This
21" with memories of smelling his younger cousin Richie, rejoins us in this
edition with a more detailed narrative on his boy-on-boy adventures,
including some sexy secret sleepytime smelly dick and butt love.

Meanwhile, Brad's in the locker room sniffing some twins' undies, Mark's
out hiking with a woods pooper who gives him a juicy surprise at the end,
someone's eternally in the kitchen with Dinah, and I'm home alone, waiting
for Amazon to deliver that Little League team I ordered. If these guys keep
it up, I may never have to contribute more than 500 words to one of these
anthologies ever again. Thanks, guys.

And before we call it a day, the new guy always pulls double duty, so Jon
comes back to leave us breathless with his sexy, smart and tender-hot essay
on why we might be wired like this in the first place. It's top notch
writing and we're tickled pink and off-colored tan to open and close ST-22
with Jon's vignettes, and to add him to our byline and brotherhood.

Welcome Jon. We're glad to have you with us.

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

SERGEANT: RICHIE

As a 13-year-old boy, I was not yet able to fully understand my developing
attraction to other boys, especially my 8-year-old cousin Richie.

When I first started to notice my young cousin's boyish smell, I couldn't
make sense of my own reaction to it. If I got a whiff of his sweaty little
dicklet or his unwashed boy ass while we were wrestling, the inner voice of
social convention told me I should be disgusted and turn away.

At first, that's what I did; I turned away and complied with my mom's
requests to encourage him to take a bath. Since we were buddies, I guess
she figured he would listen to me and sometimes he did. It's not that he
never took a bath at all, he usually just avoided them for days at a time,
especially when he stayed with us for the summer.

It was during the summer of my 13th year, while Richie was staying with us
for a few weeks, that I finally began to realize that I really liked
smelling his little asshole. That's when I started sniffing his perfectly
boy-stained underwear and jerking off while thinking about smelling and
licking his sweaty asshole and sucking his smooth, bone-hard little cock.

Whenever I had a chance, I'd lock myself in the bathroom with a pair of
undies he carelessly discarded whenever he finally took a shower, and I'd
sniff the tangy skids and pungent sweat and piss stains he almost always
left behind.

As much as I liked sniffing his aromatic little briefs, I became
increasingly determined to inhale his hot, mind-altering scent straight
from the deliciously raunchy source!  That's why I loved wrestling with him
because it gave me plenty of opportunities to get my face near his cute ass
and take a sniff.  Fortunately, he liked wrestling too, usually while
pretending we were Transformers battling each other or Army soldiers in
training. When the game was soldiers, he always liked pretending to be the
officer and he was the cutest little drill sergeant ever.

"Private Questral reporting for duty, sir!" I would say and respond to his
commands with, "Yes sir, Sergeant Richie, sir!" This delighted him, of
course, and he would issue various orders for how many flips I should do on
the trampoline, or for helping him stack firewood for a fort, or for
carrying him here and there on my back. My favorite duty with Sergeant
Richie was personal combat training, which almost always involved a
vigorous tumbling, giggling, tickling, ass and dickie sniffing, wrestling
match!

On one particular Saturday that summer, Richie had been a bit longer than
usual without a bath (maybe 4 or 5 days) and had been running and playing,
riding his bike, jumping on the trampoline, and climbing trees like a
little wild man - all of his favorite, sweaty summertime activities.

I had been watching him all afternoon while we played miniature golf at the
park in our neighborhood - his mop of sweaty hair, his bright and happy
face, his sparkling brown eyes - and I kept thinking about how ripe and
sticky his asshole was getting to be and how bad I wanted to smell it and
taste it.

The camo shorts he was wearing were tight on his cute ass, the fabric
gathering in the seat the way Army fatigue-style pants usually do. I was
jealous of those shorts and the well-worn Hanes briefs I knew he was
wearing underneath. Oh to be a pair of his lucky little tightie-whities!

Back in my room that evening while we were watching TV, he sat in the bean
bag chair with me, between my legs, and leaned against me. I could
immediately smell the pleasantly sour scent of his sweaty hair as he rested
his head against my shoulder.

I put my arms around him, always happy to enjoy his more subdued and
affectionate moments, and breathed in deeply, trying to catch a whiff of
the sharp scent that I knew must be wafting through the back of his pants
and from his sweaty crotch.

I could detect only the faintest hint of something delicious but Richie
couldn't sit still for long, and when he squirmed around and drew up his
knees to sit with his legs apart and his ass more upturned, my sensitive
nose suddenly found what it had been sniffing for.

There was a warm, earthy and cheesy smell like a freshly opened bag of
Cheetos that had been left in the car for a while on a sunny day. Or maybe
it was more like freshly cut, raw potatoes with a hint of feta cheese.

All I know is that my already half hard cock reacted immediately and was
soon straining in the confinement of my jeans and underwear against
Richie's back. He squirmed again, still watching TV and apparently unaware
of my growing arousal. I wondered if he could smell his own awesome scent,
but if he could, he made no indication.

"Hop up, I've gotta pee," I said. I couldn't keep sitting there any longer
with my erection aching in my jeans and I was afraid he would discover
it. I tickled his ribs to hurry him up. He shrieked and giggled as he
wriggled from my grasp and onto the floor to escape me. I got up quickly
and went to pee hoping that this time he wouldn't want to come and pee
along with me as he sometimes liked to do.

Instead, he plopped into the bean bag chair and that is where I found him
when I returned from the bathroom.

"Mom says it's time for bed," I informed him. I had hatched a plan while I
was peeing and trying to get my cock under control.

"I'm not sleepy yet," he announced and kept watching TV.

"You can have the bottom bunk if you get there before I do," I replied. The
bottom bunk was the coveted sleeping spot that I had claimed for myself -
my sleepover guests always slept on the top one. Just as I had hoped, he
scrambled up and jumped onto the lower bunk to claim it.

"Beat you!" he exclaimed defiantly and laughed as he sprawled on my bunk
still fully clothed.

"Nah, you gotta be ready for bed first," I said and quickly started getting
undressed. He jumped up, kicked off his grimy sneakers and raced to strip
his tee shirt and shorts off before I finished. I let him win, of course,
and he climbed back onto the bunk, this time in only his undies.

"Beat you again!" he taunted.

"Yes sir, Sergeant Richie! You get the officer's bunk tonight," I said and
switched off the light. We hadn't been in bed long when Mom came in to say
goodnight. We stayed up talking and laughing about stuff for a while but
soon Richie fell silent and I could tell that he was finally asleep.

I waited as long as I could before I carefully climbed down from the top
bunk and quietly retrieved the small flashlight from the shelf beside the
bed. Without the light, I could see Richie was sleeping on his back with
the cover pulled up to his waist.

"Richie?" I whispered. "Sergeant Richie?"

When there was no response I carefully eased the sheet off of him until he
was completely uncovered, watching and listening closely for any signs of
wakefulness. He didn't stir so I switched on the flashlight so I could see
more clearly.

Despite my nervousness, my cock immediately started growing and stretching
the front of my own underwear as I gazed at his sleeping form. Richie was
stretched out on his back with his legs slightly spread apart in only the
well-worn white briefs he'd had on for the last several days.

His undies hadn't been brand new and stark white to begin with, but now the
front of them was discolored with yummy looking piss stains where he had
dribbled after taking leaks. His tummy was flat, his little chest gently
rising and falling as he breathed deeply and evenly in sleep. I briefly
admired his cute face, his sweet lips slightly parted and his tiny nipples.

As I leaned down to smell the front of his undies, I was nervous and
excited but strangely more calm than when I had first sniffed a discarded
pair of dirty underwear in the privacy of his bathroom a couple of weeks
earlier.

Sniffing quietly, I inhaled one of the most intoxicating scents I had ever
encountered. There was a combination of the sharp almond/maple smell of
dried piss along with a cheesier yeasty smell of his sweaty little dick and
balls.

The boyish aroma arose in waves with the warmth radiating from his crotch
and I grew weak in the knees as I breathed it in, shining the light so I
could see the stains I was sniffing. Overcome with lust, I mouthed his
little pecker through the cloth of his smelly briefs until he stirred a
little bit and I withdrew.

I waited quietly holding my breath and formulating and instant plan for
what I might say if he awakened. He kept sleeping, peacefully oblivious as
I leaned down and mouthed his little wiener through his undies again. To my
surprise his cocklet boned up quickly and stood erect in his shorts, ready
for sucking.

I hadn't really planned for such a result and my main objective had really
been to smell his asshole. I still intended to do so if I could, but now I
carefully lifted the waistband of his briefs and pulled down the front of
them so I could see and smell his cock in the flesh.

His 3-inch bone was hard but quickly softening again as it lay against his
smooth pubis. More of his awesome little boy dick smell wafted from his
hairless little nut-sack and a deeper, cheesier, earthier scent from his
butthole sent shock waves through my brain.

Unbelievably emboldened by lust and excitement, I took his mostly soft cock
into my mouth and sucked on it until it was fully boned up again.

"Mmm, Richie," I thought to myself, "I'm finally sucking your little cock!"

I gave it a few quick sucks before my sense of caution took over and I
withdrew, letting his undies slip gently back into place. I could see his
little bone was still erect under the piss stained fly of his briefs but I
was too afraid he would awaken if I kept on sucking it.

"Richie?" I tested the soundness of his sleep again by calling his name
softly a couple of times before attempting to roll him over.

He stirred and made a few whimpering sounds of complaint as I temporarily
disturbed him, but I was able to roll him over part of the way and he did
the rest. Still fast asleep, he was now stretched out on his belly with one
knee up and totally unaware that he had been receiving his first blow job
just a few moments earlier. I pushed his legs further apart before he
became too settled again.

"Oh my God, boy," I whispered to myself as I shined the flashlight on his
ass.

I could see a perfect set of sketchy little racing stripes showing through
the seat of his underwear where days of ripened boybutter had been
liquefied with sweat and soaked into his undies while he was riding his
bike.

A hot smell, like a freshly opened bag of warm Cheetos, arose from his
crack and I immediately leaned down for a deep sniff where the hot skids
showed through the most. I almost passed out from the delicious richness of
the smell.

"Mmm, Richie. Richie Rich. Sergeant Richie!"

With my nose nestled against the seat of his skid stained undies right
where his hot little hole would be, I inhaled more than warm Cheetos. From
here I could smell the bright tang of honey mustard like sweet, spicy
vinegar along with a more ferocious scent like blue cheese and steamed
broccoli.

I was now in boy butt-sniffing heaven and I never wanted to stop smelling
Richie's hot little ass. I could hardly believe my good fortune up to this
point but there was one thing left to accomplish. More than anything in the
world, I wanted to see and smell and lick Richie's funky little asshole.

Afraid of waking him, I sniffed a while and then withdrew and waited as I
tried to get my courage up. At last, I decided to go for it before he
rolled over again and woke up or I came in my briefs and lost my nerve.

I grabbed his left ankle and pulled his leg down so he was lying flat on
his belly and then, holding the flashlight in my mouth, I carefully grasped
the waistband of his undies on both sides and ever so gently pulled them
down.

I has intended to just pull down the back of them but, once I started and
he seemed to remain in a deep sleep, I pulled them all the way down and
off.

I was trembling again like I had been the first time I sniffed his dirty
undies or the first time I borrowed a pair from his room to bring home with
me. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself as I watched to make sure he
hadn't awakened, and I could still smell him.

My whole room probably smelled like Richie's ass and that was just fine
with me! I gently pushed his legs apart and shined the light on his cute,
bare ass. I admired the shape of his legs and the way the light coppery
tone of his tanned skin gave way to the creamy white of his upper thighs
and perfect, bubble butt. Placing the light on the bed aimed at his ass, I
used my fingers to open his cheeks.

Richie's tiny, hairless little pucker was surrounded by a halo of tan
boybutter, surely destined to become skids in his underwear like what had
already been artfully, yet randomly, deposited there to make way for the
next batch to be produced.

If the ripe, cheese and honey mustard smell had been ferocious before while
sniffing through his undies, now it nearly brought tears to my eyes. It was
almost enough to make me abort the mission at first glance but I was
intoxicated by his scent and there was no shitty smell.

This wasn't poop, it was the magical concentration of the essence of an
active little boy and, even in my lack of experience, I knew this would be
a special treat for me. Nothing was going to stop me from licking his
asshole now.

He stirred a bit, tucked his arms under his chest and cooed quietly in his
sleep as I climbed onto the bed behind him. I leaned down, pulling his
cheeks apart once more and licked his tight little asshole clean for him.

I lapped up the pungent boybutter smeared around his pucker and even the
drier residue in his crack. His hole flexed in response to my flickering
tongue as I licked it carefully tasting his slightly bitter flavor and
inhaling the powerful scent as I worked. The licking all happened in less
than two minutes but I began to feel that I was pushing my luck.

I withdrew and covered him and not a moment too soon. He raised up and
looked around at me standing beside his bed with my cock tenting the front
of my briefs where there was also a large wet spot, but he didn't seem to
register what he saw.

He blinked sleepily a couple of times and put his head down again. He was
asleep again in an instant if he'd ever truly been awake.

I switched off the light and climbed onto my bunk with his dirty little
briefs.

There's more to tell, but we'll save it for later.

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

NATUREBOY: BRANDON

This boy's name is Brandon, and Brandon is a very strong nature boy.

He loves to hike trails and walk in the woods. He spends a lot of his free
time doing that. He would rather do that than play video games or watch
television. He just loves being outside and he's a very free-spirited boy.

He dresses very casual when he hikes, and when he needs to go to the
bathroom, he just goes to the bathroom. He has no qualms at all about
taking a leak in the woods, or when it's time to do a number two, just
squatting down and taking a shit in the woods. That's just who this boy is.

And so Brandon and I have hiked together on a number of occasions, and on
this particular day, we're about two-thirds the way through our hike, it's
a warm day and he is absolutely glistening. He is wet with sweat. His hair
is damp and lank and laying against his head and he just has a sheen on his
upper body.

And those damn pants he's wearing won't hardly stay up. He keeps pulling
them back up because they keep trying to fall down.

And like I said, we're about two-thirds of the way through the hike, and he
needs to go. He needs to take a dump. Like I said, he's not shy, he doesn't
have any hang-ups about doing it, so he pushes his pants down and pushes
his undies down and squats right down, sort of leaning back against a tree
to keep his balance, and just squats and begins to go.

Now, Brandon's a pretty boy. And he's still nice and hairless. He doesn't
have anything but the softest downy fuzz on his little pubic mound. And his
pecker, while he's not in puberty yet, his pecker has started to plump up a
bit. It's got some thickness to it. It's a little bit bigger around than my
thumb in terms of diameter. Now, it's still not very long, it's barely
pinky length, but it's got some thickness to it, it's kind of stubby when
he's not erect.

So, he just squats right down next to the pine cones and green leaves, and
away he goes. I love to watch him when he does this. He doesn't care. In
fact, he finds it kind of kinky and funny that I like to watch him do his
business.

And I like to just lay down right on the ground next to him so that I can
see that hole of his. And he will grunt and push down and that thing will
just bloom out almost like a rose. You can see every little flesh fold
bloom outward and then that hole begins to expand and you can see it coming
out. The smell is, well...heady. And the amount is not for the faint of
heart. Not to point out the obvious, but Brandon's a healthy boy. He knows
how to take a healthy shit.

On this particular day I'm feeling very horny, so I stand back up and I
take my shorts and my underwear off and I lean back against the tree that's
just directly in front of him. Not the one that he's leaning back against,
but the one a few feet away, and I just begin to slowly stroke my cock as
he finishes up his shit.

As soon as he stands up, before he can do anything else, I reach forward
and grab him with one hand under each damp pit and just pull him right into
me.

His sticky, moist, naked flesh melts against mine. I hold him against me
tight. I want as much contact as I can get. His crotch against my
crotch. His still-little boy dick against mine. His chest against my chest.

And I just lean in and inhale the smell of this boy. He smells sweaty and
he smells stale and I can get just the hint of the stronger odors coming up
from his crotch and from his backside. He smells like dirty, unwashed boy.

And I pull him up against me and I lean down and I start licking the sweat
and the dried salt of his neck, and he just throws his head back and bares
his neck to me as if I were going to go in like a vampire and drink his
blood. And I just lick the sides and the front of his neck right up across
his goosle.

Brandon just grunts and moans as I do that. And at the same time he's
beginning to slowly grind his crotch into mine, and as I'm licking his
neck, I lick up to his ear and whisper in his ear, "I'm gonna finger fuck
your shit hole, Brandon. I'm gonna finger fuck your shitty hole."

And he just groans and literally just pushes his ass back against my hands.

I've slid them down to his ass and I let two fingers of my right hand just
slide down into the top of his crack. It's a little bit greasy because he
hasn't washed since yesterday, and I push all the way down until they touch
his hole. It's surprisingly clean considering what he's just done.

I slide my middle finger right up into his slick little canal. There's a
little grunt and he pushes against me momentarily. There's a little bit of
sharp pain at the initial intrusion and then he relaxes back into it and
then just pushes back against my hand and lets my finger slide all the way
up as deep as it will go, lubricated by residual good fortune, not
overdone, but enough to get the job done.

And I just begin to finger fuck him in and out, almost dragging my finger
against the top of his anal canal, pushing against his little fuck nut.

And after about 20 or 30 strokes in and out with that finger, I add my
index finger to my middle finger and push it in and just stretch him a
little bit and begin to finger fuck his boy hole, his magic place of
entrance and exit.

And as I'm fucking him and pressing on his little fuck nut, I say, "Now,
Brandon. Now."

And he knows what I want. And he lets loose and begins to piss into my
crotch, pissing on my dick and balls, pissing on my lower stomach, piss
splashing back on him, running down both of our legs, and I can smell it.

This is strong boy piss from a boy who's been sweating. That piss is
concentrated.

And I push hard against that fuck nut, making him squirt that piss out
between us. And I let him finish. And as soon as he's finished pissing, I
drop down on my knees and I engulf his cock and balls; his sweaty, stinky,
cock and balls in my mouth, and I suck that boy to a shuddering climax
while I'm fucking his beautiful little asshole with my fingers.

I pull them out of his ass, still relatively clean, aI have absolutely no
idea how that's possible.

All of nature's a miracle, I guess. It sure was when I finger fucked nature
boy Brandon.

Clean as a whistle when I pulled my fingers out, but you never would have
guessed it from the pile of evidence on the crackling pine cones of the
green forest floor.

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

WISHLIST: BASEBALL

Jesus Fucking Christ. It's like the coaches in that picture actually said
out loud, "Okay, boys. Now, a lot of peds are going to be studying this
picture, so everybody sit down and let's see if you can each spread your
legs ELEVEN different ways."

"Billy, you give them one of your patented squat-spreads. Red, you cup your
nuts like you always do. Jay-Jay, spread wide like Daddy's smelling your
nuts like we all know he does, the lucky fuck.

Doody, kinda lean back like you're about to get your ass wet-wiped before
you go home tonight, which you damn-sure are, and Goober, put a knee up and
look hard-to-get. Perfect. Ready, boys? On three. One, two, three." CLICK.

Whoof, the combined smell at that end-of-the-baseball-season slumber party
sleepover must be incredible, huh? Now there's a boy's bedroom you'd have
to fumigate four times, not that you'd ever want to.

I've never yet managed to get through Little League World Series season on
ESPN without excusing myself to go into the bathroom to lock the door,
touch my own anus and pretend it's one of theirs, stand in the dark, close
my eyes, tilt my head back as I sniff myself pretending I'm sniffing a
boy's ass. A boys' BASEBALL team ass. I tiptoe up, clench my butt cheeks
and cum in the sink, dreaming of the day.

It's on my bucket list to smell the anuses of an entire boys Little League
team before I die. Local, regional or national, I don't give a shit. Line
'em up bare-bottomed and just sniff every single one of them from left to
right. Shower room wall. Bench in the locker room. You pick. Just make sure
they're stinky, please. Make sure they're sweaty with assholes
a-glistenin'.

Honestly, then I could just die. Game over for me, brothers.

"Whatever happened to Zachy," they'd ask at the Nifty Old Folks Home.

"Oh, he's done it all" the duty nurse would answer. "Sniffed that boys
baseball team back in 2016 and he went straight to Jesus. He smelled their
sweet asses and he's gone home to Glory."

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

SHOWER: GIGGLERS

We see them arrive. They look like twins. Not 100% sure. One might be nine
months younger than his brother, but no more. They ARE brothers, no
mistaking.

They're cute as hell. We're guessing 11 and almost 11, if not 11
already. Blonde. Blue eyed. Perfect physique; slender, smooth but with
curves, rises and falls all in the right places. Milky white, thin velvety
kiddyskin.

And they look sweaty as fuck in the heat of the summer sun.

And that makes us want them.

We know we can't actually have them. But their stinky underpants are
perhaps a different story.  Maybe. And boy, they must be stinky. Sweaty for
the most part.

Even if they were clean on this morning, judging by an outdoor temp of 95,
and humidity close to 90%, red faces, beads of sweat, damp noses and matted
hair, their undies are going to smell like their sweaty bottoms. Their
smelly little bumholes. Marinating between their hot, sticky bum cheeks. A
hotbed of child ass-sweat.

And we need those undies.

We follow them into the changing area. And we keep an eye on their
bags. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Epic fail.  They share a locker and they actually
lock it. Time to call it a bust, and look for some more cuties. Epic fail.

But wait, 4 hours later, they're headed back to the shower block and
changing area. Let's follow them.

And we do, watching their tender, lean backs as they walk, and marveling at
the sight of their wet swim shorts and how they hold their firm, peachy
buns in them as they walk, the park's "Rapid River" water dripping from
their cracks.

We're in the locker rooms. And they're pulling out their bags. Fuck, they
going to get changed in front of us and we're going to get to see their
little dicks and their cute lil butts! At least that's something.

But wait.

In fits of giggles and excitement, they're rummaging through their bags and
pulling out towels. Oh fuck, they're going to shower. They undress. In
front of us.

Ohhhhhhhhhh fuckinghell! Have you EVER seen smoother, more appealing
11-year-old boy's bottom?  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Absent-mindedly, they grab their towels, leaving their bags out of the
locker on the bench. And unattended. We're in a fluster. What to do? What
to do?

We follow them to the shower - we simply MUST see those little bottoms for
a minute or two longer.  And we do. It takes all we have not to just fall
to our knees, bury our faces into their slick, wet little asses and suck on
their tight little cracks.

But we don't, of course.

As loud as they're being, their unbroken voices echoing throughout the
shower block, we'll know when they've finished. We'll know when they're
coming back to their bags.

So, in the meantime, we head back to the locker room. And to their bags.

With their cherubic little voices still echoing throughout the showers, we
dive into their bags looking for their stinky, sweaty lil' underpants with
the same urgency as a bomb disposal expert.

Oh fuck, look at these lil' stinkers, man.

And we sniff them.

Dank, earthy, ripe, sweaty, yet sweet, like fig jelly on room temperature
Camembert cheese.

Oh fuck, smell the little sweaty bums of the little, preteen boys we can
hear playing and giggling in the showers! Boys we had never seen before
today. Boys whose names we do not know.

Can you believe THAT cute little round unassuming bottom in the shower made
that ripe, raunchy, sexually intoxicating smell in his little underpants?
His bottom must've been soooooo sweaty when he arrived! Sweatier than we
had imagined. Because all we can smell when we sniff his undies is sweat.

Boy sweat.

And it's not even general boy sweat. It's boy BOTTOM sweat. And boy ASSHOLE
sweat. And we're sniffing it, and sniffing it, and sniffing it, imagining
the fantasy of sniffing his sweaty butthole for real.

It's as real as we're gonna get today. And that's okay. We had no
expectations. Then we saw these boys.  Then their locker was actually
locked. And now we can smell their asses.

And that's a good fucking day all round.

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

EVOLUTION: VISCERAL

Have you ever wondered what the evolutionary purpose of the attraction and
attachment between a man and boy could be?  Why is it that a young boy's
asshole, penis and sweat are rife with chemical messages called pheromones
and why are there some men who have a mental and biological system designed
to detect and respond to them?

I can imagine a time when the survival of a tribe or clan of early humans
might have depended on it.

To help me answer these questions, I invite you to think about your
favorite boy as you read this article.  Consider the intensity with which
you have enjoyed his scent and the risks you have taken to gain access to
it.

Maybe you sniffed his hot little asshole through his soccer shorts while he
was napping on the couch after a strenuous game.  Maybe you found him
sleeping in only his underwear and you nuzzled his penis through the sweat
and pee stained cloth and inhaled the warm, yeasty smell of his little dick
and balls.

If you are lucky, maybe he knows about the way you like his scent and he
feels special and excited when you pull his underwear down so you can sniff
and lick the delicious sources of the powerful pheromones you are powerless
to resist.  Inspired by the feverish intoxication his scent induces, maybe
you even suck his little cock causing him to whimper and arch his back
until he has a powerful boygasm.

Surely, you have smelled his ass and his little dick by sniffing the dirty
undies you've found laying around on his bedroom floor or in his bathroom;
the concentrated pheromones in his dried piss causing sparkles in your
brain.  At the very least, you have probably given a lot of thought to how
you might accomplish any or all of these ways of exploring his scent and
deepening your connection with him.

After all it isn't just about a one-off sniff and a lick, is it?  You want
the boy to stay in your life, to know him, protect him, love him and watch
him grow.  You'll go to his ball games, watch silly movies, play Pokemon
and eat at McDonald's just to spend time with him and make him happy.  His
cuteness, his boyishness and his energy attract you, but it is his scent
that seals the deal.

Hundreds of thousands of years ago, our ancestors surely relied far more on
their senses of smell for their survival and, without a doubt, their
olfactory systems were much more sensitive and discerning that any human
sense of smell today.  Hunters and warriors must bond with each other and
develop absolute trust.  Some go so far as to say that lovers make the best
warriors because of the strong bonds between them.

There would have been many young warriors that needed to be trained if the
clan of early humans was to survive, and also many boys who had lost their
families and been forced to fend for themselves.  Without protection from
an older, more experienced hunter, how would they survive.  An emotional
and physical bond with an older boy or man would ensure a young boy's
continued survival.  Hence the evolution of boy pheromones and the men who
react to them.

Perhaps only the vestiges of this amazing evolutionary mechanism exist
today in a minority of men who have a visceral response to the appearance
of a cute young boy and the magical pheromones he produces.  All boys have
them but not everyone is equipped to notice and react accordingly.

Granted, there might be pheromones that send signals between other humans,
but I am speaking here of the unique chemical signals between males and,
more specifically, between boys and men.  I am speaking of an ability that
was once so powerful, the ancient warrior could smell his boy's sweat, his
sweet ass and even his piss from half a mile away and distinguish one boy
from another, faultlessly remembering each of their unique pheromone
signatures.

Remember this next time you smell a boy's ass, or his dick, or sniff his
little undies and feel love for him.  Consider that you might have been
reacting to pheromones detected and identified by an ancient and
unconscious process that started the moment you came into contact with him,
even before your muted senses could perceive his actual scent.

There are millions years of evolution that went into bringing that smell to
your nose and giving you the inherent wiring to respond.

A million years of evolution, urging you, commanding you:

"Hey, guys. Smell this."

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