Date: Sat, 8 Apr 2017 08:25:08 +0200 (CEST)
From: z.blake@tutanota.com
Subject: Smell This 29

SMELL THIS 29
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

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

Well, the spring flowers are in full bloom here in beautiful downtown
Crackswhiff's Corners, Idaho, including a few pink and tan rosebuds we'll
get to in just a minute.

Here at Smell This World Headquarters, Brad just came in with the morning
classifieds. The gents and I like to keep up on any of the laundry openings
at boys boarding schools, near and far.

Christ. Listen to some of these delicious boarding school laundry
department descriptions. They're enough to make a fella want to switch
careers on the spot. Here's one we liked:

"Laundry. The School provides a laundry service and each bedroom has a
collection bag that is taken in weekly. Laundry bags are collected on
either Monday or Tuesday and clothes returned fully laundered by Friday of
the same week."

Can you imagine your old pals, the Brothers Huff, let loose on a whole
collection bag of 7-13-year-old undergarments. All dirty? All packed with
fresh scent stripes? Change that policy to "Laundry bags are collected on
either Monday or Tuesday and clothes returned fully laundered when hell
freezes over, fuckers."

"For this system to work," the description continues, "it is important that
all clothes are clearly labelled. Bedding is collected fortnightly and
students are expected to strip their beds and put their clean bedding onto
beds themselves."

And pay no attention to all the saliva tracks, boys. Get back to your
homework. Never mind the spit on your sheets where your crotches are
nestled. That'll dry by the time you get back from rugby practice.

We also found an online job description for laundry assistant at Eton
College. 1,240 boys, age 13-18, living in 24 boarding houses. The laundry
department consists of 24 full-time staff members responsible for washing
every single pair of underwear every week. And each boy wears, what, 3 or 4
fresh pair a week? (You know they're not changing them every day). Let's
say 3.5 a week average. That's 4,340 pair of dirty boys undies to sniff
every single week.

Laundry assistant at Eton College? Dream job, my friends. Dream job. If
this series suddenly stops with no explanation, you'll know we all got
hired. Come and visit us. We'll show you the school grounds. We'll scoot
over the bridge and tour Windsor Castle. (Spectacular). And at nightfall,
we'll sip a sherry, smoke cigars, and sniff your choice of 4,340 boys'
buttholes. All tangy, all rich. All steamy hot like the boys below in
ST-29. Happy huffing!

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

WOLVERINE: OWEN

Owen was a cute little dude who was the youngest child of a single mom who
was struggling with prescription drug abuse. She was intermittently
employed, had an endless stream of unsavory boyfriends and was often
consumed with the legal and academic problems of her teenage daughter.

The home life was chaotic and Owen was suffering from the effects. He had
been diagnosed with ADHD and was acting out in school when he was referred
to the volunteer mentoring program. I was the lucky mentor who took his
case.

He was somewhat younger than the other boys I was mentoring at the time. I
had never been referred a third grader before – a hyperactive 9 year old
- so I was reluctant to get involved when I read his file. He had been
yelling at his teachers, getting in fights with other kids, getting bad
grades and stealing things.

It's not that I hadn't worked with other boys who had similar problems,
it's just that I didn't have much experience in mentoring kids his age. I
decided to at least meet with him and complete my initial assessment before
making a final decision.

Within minutes of meeting him, I decided I would definitely take the
case. Owen was a bubbly, vibrant and friendly little boy with captivating
blue eyes, an unruly mop of blond hair and a wide baby tooth smile.

He was wearing cargo shorts, a Sponge Bob tee shirt and sandals on the day
we met and I immediately noticed his shapely little legs and cute feet. I
knew I was seeing him on his best behavior but there was an instant rapport
between us and I could feel his need for genuine love and attention.

I completed my official assessment on paper but my mental assessment went
something like this: "Damn, boy – you are a one hot little AOA buster! I
wanna smell your sweet little third grade asshole and I bet there is a good
chance I can get my hands on some of your dirty undies if I become your
mentor. You're probably wearing a stinky pair of cartoon briefs right now."

My cock was hard just thinking about sniffing that hyperactive ass he kept
squirming around in the chair. What a little chatterbox he was, telling me
all about five different things in five minutes. I wasn't sure I could keep
up with him but I was willing to give it a shot just for a chance to smell
his hot little ass from his underwear. I signed up to become Owen's mentor
and the quest was on.

I took my job seriously, though, and I made sure the mentoring got done. I
used proper mentoring (parenting) skills to redirect his behavior and used
my training to help him settle down and focus enough to improve his
academic performance. But within days I was locked in the bathroom at his
house sniffing a skidded-up pair of his Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith
undies.

The ratty little briefs looked like they might have come from the thrift
shop down the street with the shadowy stains of some other little boy's
skids already in place. Owen's cute saddle-brown streaks smelled sweet and
savory like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and potato chips. It was the
scent of a cute, hyperactive third-grader's dirty little asshole and it was
just what I had expected his ass to smell like, only better.

I developed a close relationship with Owen over the next several weeks and
I gained the trust of his mom. Soon, I was spending time with him most
every day; far more time than I spent one-on-one with my other mentees.

He was with me so much, people thought I had adopted him, especially after
his mom started taking advantage of the situation and having me pick Owen
up from school and babysit him at her house or keep him at my house when
she had to work late – or whatever it was she was doing after hours.

Predictably, it wasn't long before Owen was left to stay overnight at my
house one night when his mom texted to say she wouldn't be able to come get
him. Needless to say, I was excited about the prospect of him sleeping
over. Owen and I had been buddies for a couple of months by then and I was
aching for a chance to sniff him while he was sleeping.

That night we stayed up late and then I insisted it was bedtime. I asked
him if he wanted to sleep with me or in the guest room.

"With you!" he replied at once and jumped up and down excitedly as though I
had just invited him to a party.

"Alright, but there are some rules," I said as he raced into my bedroom
ahead of me. He jumped onto the bed, stretched out with his head on my
pillow and pretended to be asleep.

I sat down on the edge of the bed beside him and tickled his ribs. Owen
shrieked and giggled as he flounced and tried to shield his ribs from my
fingers.

"Rule number one is I get to tickle you as much as I want!" I announced.

"Ok!" he shouted gleefully and I stopped tickling him for the
moment. "What's rule number two?"

"Rule number two is I get as many boykisses as I want."

Owen grinned and scrambled up to kneel on the bed next to me and gave me a
big wet smack on the lips. It was quick and playful but it wasn't the first
little kiss we'd shared.

"Is that all the rules?" he asked, his face still close to mine. His breath
smelled like pickle juice and apple slices.

"Well that one is probably my favorite, but the last rule is we only sleep
in our undies," I explained.

"That's an easy rule too," he approved and held his arms up over his head,
inviting me to pull off his shirt. I stood beside the bed in front of him
and carefully stripped off his t-shirt. He stood up on the bed and let me
unbutton and unzip his shorts, allowing me to undress him, I thought, as a
sign of bonding and trust. I pushed his shorts down and let them drop to
his ankles so he was standing on the bed in front of me in only a dingy
pair of red-trimmed X-Men briefs as he held on to my shoulder for balance
while he stepped out of his shorts.

I barely had time to register that he was wearing Wolverine undies before
he was bouncing and dancing on the bed with hyperactive exuberance. He was
in high gear that night and I wondered if I would ever be able to get him
to sleep.

"Alright, settle down, Wolverine," I said as I began undressing. Giggling
with delight, Owen grabbed a pillow and hit me with it as I was pulling off
my jeans.

Once I was only in my blue boxer-briefs, I kicked my jeans aside and
playfully pounced onto the bed, grabbing Owen and wrestling him down. He
laughed and shrieked as I tickled his ribs and his belly. As we tumbled I
got a preview whiff of his funky little asshole and a glimpse of the fine,
third-grade boybutter faintly showing through the seat of his undies. I
knew I was in for a treat if I could ever get him to sleep. I allowed him
to escape my grasp and attack me in return.

"You think you got the claws to take me?" he said, standing over me on the
bed with his fists clenched and doing his best Wolverine impression. I
looked up at him, my gaze falling from his face to his sweet little dickie
bulge and back to his face, and pausing for an instant to note how tiny his
nipples were.

"No, Wolverine! Don't tickle me," I pleaded in mock defeat but he jumped on
me and began tickling my ribs. There was no point in trying to hide the
growing hard-on in my underwear but he didn't seem to notice it right away
and I figured it would be best to move things along before I ended up
having to try and explain to him why my cock was hard.

"My cock likes you because you're a hot little boy, Owen, and your ass
smells delicious!" I thought, but I actually said, "Alright, that's
enough. Let's get tucked in."

"Okay," he agreed obediently.

I rolled over, sat up on the edge of the bed and fiddled with stuff on the
nightstand to give myself time to get my cock under control. Owen climbed
off the bed on the other side and went to the bathroom, leaving the door
open. I couldn't see him from where I sat, but I heard him release a short,
powerful burst of boypiss into the toilet. When he had flushed and
returned, I had the bed turned down and ready for him to hop in.

He climbed into bed sporting a dime-sized pee spot in the front of his
undies and allowed me to tuck him in. I leaned down and kissed him on the
forehead and then on the lips again. He smiled and I ruffled his hair.

"Goodnight, love you," he said.

"I love you too, Owen. Goodnight," I replied and shut off the lamp on his
side of the bed. He was quiet as I climbed into bed on my side and he
snuggled closer to me when I turned off the light.

"Can I have another boykiss?" I asked quietly after several seconds of
silence. He raised up and kissed me on the lips, easily finding his mark
since my room was still dimly lit by the soft glow of street lamps and
moonlight coming through the windows.

"Want a slow motion one?" he asked mischievously. He had been giving me
slow motion kisses since I had playfully asked him for one a couple of
weeks earlier when we had been watching funny slow motion videos on You
Tube. They were mostly playful and innocent to Owen but he seemed to know
there was also something especially naughty and exciting about them too.

"Yeah, gimme a slo-mo," I said and chuckled.

Moving slowly he pressed his lips against mine and let them linger there as
he slowly moved his head back and forth, imitating the "movie kisses" he
liked to laugh about. It was an unexpected twist for him when I let my
tongue brush his lips. He withdrew and giggled.

"That was a lickie one," he said as if naming a new phenomenon he had
discovered.

"Yeah, gimme a slo-mo lickie kiss," I suggested and we laughed.

He did it, though. Owen slowly put his lips against mine again and touched
my tongue with his. I extended mine a little further, parting my lips more
and hoping he would do the same as I tried to taste his mouth. He pushed
his tongue against mine in more of a lick than a kiss but, after all, he
was giving me a lickie-kiss. It only lasted a few seconds and I wanted
another one, but I figured I should quit while I was ahead.

Owen laid down, apparently calmed and comforted by the closeness and
affection we shared and I lay awake and waited for him to drift into
sleep. He remained quiet but kept moving and fidgeting until he rolled over
onto his belly and I gently rubbed his back, slowly caressing his smooth
skin with one open hand. He slowly relaxed and went to sleep much quicker
than I had expected.

Still, I waited awhile to be sure that he had fallen into a deep sleep,
testing the security of his slumber by moving around a bit and touching his
back again to see if he would be easily awakened. Owen seemed to be in a
deep, peaceful sleep, so I slowly eased the cover down and got into
position to sniff his ass.

My heart was thumping in my chest and I was breathing heavily like I had
never sniffed a sleeping boy's ass before but, every time I did it, it was
like the very first time. I was nervous and shaky, not so much because I
was worried about getting caught, but from sheer anticipation of smelling
the hot little dude's secret boyscent. I hadn't smelled a boy Owen's age
since I sniffed my sleeping nephew's ass a few years earlier.

So, I took a deep breath to prepare myself and leaned toward Owen's
briefs-clad bottom for a sniff. His scent didn't radiate as far from his
little asshole as an older boy's might but I could smell the sweet earthy
scent coming from his crack before my nose got there. I inhaled deeply once
my nose was nearly touching the back of his skid-stained undies.

Owen's unique redolence against a background of the familiar scent of hot
boyass flooded my senses. There was a slight sweaty tang but a prevailing
scent like warm peanut butter and Cheetos registered in my brain. I exhaled
and huffed deeply again before sniffing his ass with a series of shorter,
quicker huffs, entranced by the salty, cheesy scent coming from his sticky
little butthole.

In the dimness, I could no longer see his hyperactive little ass tracks
showing through, but I could see the menacing figure of Wolverine on the
back of his underwear. It occurred to me that I liked that nickname for him
and I wondered if it would stick. Either way, this was the scent of a
ferociously active little boy and the refined boycheese that had been aging
in his steamy little crack for a couple of days.

"Mmm," I hummed involuntarily and carefully maneuvered my hard cock out of
the fly of my boxer-briefs so I could stroke it while I sniffed and tried
to visualize his moist little pucker – tiny, sticky with boybutter and
perfectly tight. Yeah, I wanted to lick it but I couldn't risk that daring
feat tonight. In a perfect world, I could wake my little boyfriend, give
his asshole a long, hot lickie-kiss and his pissy little cocklet a slow,
tender blowjob.

Instead, I continued to sniff his aromatic boyhole through the back of his
shorts and slowly stroked my cock. I took my time, withdrawing for frequent
breaks before returning for another sniff. I even got up to pee and came
back to bed.

He rolled over onto his side facing me, snuggling into a fetal position
against me, perhaps chilled from being uncovered. I pulled the sheet and
blanket up to his shoulders and embraced him. He whimpered contentedly in
his sleep and his eyes fluttered open briefly but soon he was sleeping
quietly again.

I held him for a long time, gazing at his cute face and moving close enough
to feel the breath from his slightly parted lips on my own mouth. Later,
when he was sleeping on his back, I sniffed his little cock and balls
through the front of his undies, inhaling the prominent nutty smell of
yummy piss stains and the subtle, yeasty smell of his unwashed dickie.

I stayed up most of the night huffing and jacking and then resting awhile
before returning for a new round of sniffs. Wolverine slept through it all,
even when I was no longer able to delay my orgasm and finally shot my
copious load onto the bed between us, too overcome with the powerful
gratification of a boyass induced climax to worry about my aim. I sniffed
heavily, puffing my breath against the seat of his undies as I came.

"AHHHHHHH! Smelling your dirty little asshole, Owen! AHHHHHHH! UHHHNNN!
AHHH!" I breathed quietly but cried out mentally. Some of my load
splattered across him and I shivered uncontrollably as I came. Thick ropes
of cum thumped across the mattress beside him.

Afterwards, I pulled the cover over both of us and lay there trembling and
pleasantly exhausted from the experience. Owen rolled over onto his back
and snorted quietly. It was about four-thirty in the morning when I finally
slept for a while. I awoke around seven when Owen stirred and sat up in
bed. He was yawning and stretching when I opened my eyes.

"Morning, Wolverine," I said.

"Morning," he said and grinned. He looked refreshed and ready for another
day of high energy boyhood.

"I dreamed you were giving me lickie-kisses," he reported happily.

"Maybe I was," I said in a playfully mysterious voice.

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

BLASTOFF: JAKE

Meet Jake, everyone.

This is Jake on his first day of third grade in his brand new school. He's
all excited (and a bit nervous at the same time). His mom feels the same
way. She loves her lil' Jakey so much and she just wants him to have a good
first day - especially as she has to go away overnight on business. What
shitty luck.

It's such an innocent and special time in a little boy's life, isn't it?
The day he goes to a new school? Right after moving? New friends? New
excitement? New changes?

What Jake nor his mom knew, was that by the time this photo was taken, I
knew what Jake's little nine year old boybottom smelled like. In the guest
room where I stayed the night before, I was sniffing a pair of his little
stinky underpants which I had taken from the bottom of his laundry basket
in his closet.

His little bottom smelled so incredible in them, I couldn't take my nose
out of his underpants. I was just pressing my nostrils against that little
oval imprint inside them and sniffing through them, trying to get every
possible hit from the smell of his sticky, tight, little balloon-knot
anushole.

I sniffed slowly. And deep. And took a break. And sniffed slowly again. I
wanted to take my time with the smell of his bottom. I didn't want to
frantically sniff and cum. I didn't know when I would get the chance to
smell his bottom again so I was going to take my time.

Practically every breath I took for three-and-a-half hours I did while
smelling his bottom from his underpants. That's three-and-a-half hours with
the smell of a little nine year old boy's bottom under your nose.

I was so high on the smell of his anus while knowing that he was fast
asleep in the room next to me.

It was too much to bear.

By 2am, after I had been sniffing the smell of his ass from his undies
since 10.30pm, I needed the restroom anyway. I needed to pee. The guest
room was separated from Jake's room with a Jack and Jill bathroom. I didn't
want to turn on any lights so I used my iPhone screen to light the way.

I don't know whether I really intended to do what I did next, or whether
temptation just got the better of me once I went into the Jack and Jill and
realized that the door on Jake's side was slightly open.

"I'll just take a quick peek," I remember thinking to myself, Jake's little
stinky underpants still in my hand.

But it wasn't a quick peek.

I went into his room, my heart racing, in awe of simply being in the same
room as a cute nine year old boy. I walked up to the side of his bed. He
was sleeping on his right side, with his knees slightly up toward his
chest. I used the subdued light of my cellphone screen to pop some light
onto his face so I could see him better. His mouth was side open and he was
breathing heavily, almost cooing.

"Ohhh, Jakey," I whispered to myself as I lifted his stinky underpants up
to my face. I sniffed the smell of his bottom from them as I looked at him
sleeping and I whispered out, "Ohhh Jake, I'm smelling your stinky little
bum, dude."

Seconds later I was on my knees, his sheets pulled back and I was gently
smelling him though his pajama pants. His little ass had an earthy, raw and
pungent smell about it. Closing my eyes and gently breathing, there was no
mistaking that I was smelling little boy ass. Jake's ass smelled like ass.

I couldn't help but pull his pajama pants down and, once I had them under
his cheeks, given that he was laying on his right side, I used the thumb of
my left hand to part his cheeks around his asshole and my cellphone to
light it up so I could stare closely at it.

It was so beautiful, like a reddish pink and brown flower - reddish around
the perimeter of his anus but caramel brown in the middle where it was most
wrinkled.

As I pulled his left cheek away a little more, a moist sticky sheen
separated from within his little poopyslit like school adhesive does when
it's between your fingers and you pull them apart.

I gently pressed my nose onto it and immediately, he drew a sharp breath,
his anus contracted and his bottom cheeks clenched - for a second - and
then relaxed again... and so did I. My nose was now on his sticky little
bottom hole. I gently wiped my nose on it, feeling the stickiness from his
shitslit all over my nostrils. He smelled so good. Just like ass. Just like
nine-year-old, not-had-his-first-day-at-his-new-school-yet, ass.

I began to sniff his little anus and I just couldn't fathom that I was
doing it. I couldn't believe I had found myself the opportunity to sniff
Jake's nine year old bottom hole.

I didn't sniff it frantically. I sniffed it just like I had been sniffing
his underpants - over the course of about three and a half hours. Again,
every breath I took, smelled of his stinky little bottom because my
nostrils never came off his sticky little anus.

By 5:30am, I couldn't take any more. I was high on Jake. My head was like
cotton candy and I felt a rise as I sniffed and sniffed him. I checked my
cellphone. 5:32am. That was the time I'd cum in my pants for the third
time, hands free, after smelling Jake's little 9 year old ass for 7 hours -
half the time from his underpants and the other half for real.

"BRADDDDD, shit! Help me out!" shouted Jake's mom, waking me up from less
than 2 hours sleep. "I overslept. Damn alarm clock, I knew
I...anyway...could you...blah, blah, blah..." her words becoming less
coherent as she flew down the stairs spouting some gibberish.

I quickly got dressed and ran downstairs. Jake was standing there, half
asleep as his mom gave him his school uniform and urged him to dress
frantically.

"First day at school and I didn't even get time to give him a shower. What
kind of mom am I?" she said, shaking her head at herself.

Looking at him feeling so proud holding his 'first day of third grade sign'
at the front door and seeing the pride on his mom's face and the beaming
smile on his own, was a beautiful moment - but it was made more beautiful
by me knowing that in that very moment, cute little Jake had a smelly
bottom. Sure, he looked cute and innocent enough, but I'd spent
three-and-a-half hours with my nostrils pressed on his asshole only a
couple of hours ago.

"Ohhhh, good boy," I thought to myself. "You're going to school with a
smelly bottom Jake."

"I'll pick him up after school," his mom explained, "but I need to head out
around seven. I'll be back in time to pick him up from school again
tomorrow."

"That's fine... we'll be fine, won't we Jakey?" I said rubbing the top of
his head.

"Just make sure he has a shower tonight, will you?"

"I won't" I thought to myself as I nodded at her, already feeling the
excitement of knowing I had another full night alone with him.

And there was no way his little body was seeing a shower until tomorrow
morning.

No way.

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

RESTING: CREW

Meet Adam, Ayden, Marcus and Miles, four 9ish to 10ish soccer mates, who
are resting on the pitch after practice. It's a little chilly today, so
Adam and Miles already got redressed into long pants and jackets because
they had sweat-and-wind goosebumps. Ayden and Marcus don't give a shit
about sweat-and-wind goosebumps.

Adam is perhaps the prettiest boy of the quartet, at least in the classical
"pretty" sense. He has wind-matted brown hair which is now redolent with
dried practice-sweat. His long-length athletic pants are a bit too baggy
the middle, which is a shame, because he already has an impressive little
cock for a lil shaver.

I'm not saying it's going to impress or satisfy a 16-year-old high school
cheerleader girl in heat, but it's enough of tool that you'd certainly give
it a second glance if you stood next to him at a urinal someday, which
someday I hope you get to do.

Adam is uncircumcised with a fully-intact penis. The foreskin has not yet
separated from the glans. His penis smells a bit like molasses, with a
noticeable undertone of Greek yogurt.

Further down, if you were to bend his legs toward his chest to sniff his
anus, you'd definitely catch a strong whiff of cheese, likely something
imported from France, probably fairly close to a Fourme d'Ambert from the
Auvergne region, with an odd undertone of petrol, since Adam and his older
cousin like to ride motorbikes, and his infrequently-changed undies usually
smell like an Esso station.

Adam's favorite team is Arsenal. His hobbies include chess, collecting
Pokemon cards, and standing up and pissing on his little brother Harry's
hair in the shower when the two have baths together. They both think it's
great fun, and not surprisingly, it'll continue for many years with a sudsy
cream finish at the end until Adam goes off to university.

On to boy number two. Ayden.

Ayden is the smallest and smelliest boy of the lot. You wouldn't think so
by looking at him, because he honestly looks so tiny and delicate. You'd
expect him to smell of clean sheets and rosewater. Blond hair, pretty red
lips, creamy skin. He looks like he's been scrubbed clean by mother and
sent off glowing and pure to freshen the world. Lord, is that misleading.

Ayden's asshole smells like the devil himself slapped it with a coat of
stink paint and unleashed it on an unsuspecting populace. Jesus, that thing
is rancid. It smells like the toilets at the Stratford Tube station when
the plumbing backs up.

We're talking about an eye-watering combination of raw sewage, Walker's
prawn cocktail crisps, dirty old sweat socks, and, I don't know, rebellion
maybe? It's like the stink has its own poor attitude. Like it refuses to
follow suit and be a sweet boy like Ayden. Almost like it's telling Ayden,
"I'll get the better of you, cupcake, no matter how many times you wash
your arse."

Oddly, not a shit stain to be found in his underpants. Not a skid mark,
racing track, or streak of poo to be seen. It's really remarkable how
something can stink that wretchedly, yet remain visually clean as a
whistle. It challenges what we know about anal physics and absolutely
decimates the laws of probability.

Oh well. Ayden's a very good boy anyway. You just don't want to be around
him when he takes his underwear off. Seriously. I'm not kidding. Even if
you like the smell of boy butt, this is one anus you want to avoid like the
plague. When Ayden takes his underwear off, it's a wonder the neighbors
don't call 999 to send in a bomb disposal unit.

Ayden's favorite team is West Ham United (Ha! Poor sap). His hobbies
include sleeping, not showering very often, and some sort of exploratory
pre-masturbation thing he's starting to learn by rubbing his middle fuck
finger under his penis tip. He knows it feels good, he just hasn't figured
out yet if he'd simply adjust his grip and keep going, he'd get a really,
REALLY nice surprise at the end. Don't worry folks. He'll get there.

Like Adam and his other mates, Ayden also has an uncircumcised,
fully-intact penis. His foreskin has not yet separated from the glans. His
penis smells like his ass, which means, trust me, you don't want to smell
his penis either.

Let's see. Who do we have next? Marcus? Yes. Marcus, I believe.

Hoo-boy, where do we even start with Marcus?. First of all, out of the four
boys, Marcus is the only one who has actually been anally penetrated so
far, although he luckily has no clue it's been done to him. Why mess up a
boy's mind, right?

It was done by his 37-year-old uncle during an impromptu sleepover. Marcus
was dropped off at his uncle's for the weekend when his mum and dad won a
free trip to Cotswolds on the radio.

Marcus's uncle let Marcus drink an Old Speckled Hen and half a Tetley's
Draught, the latter laced with half a tablet of some store brand nighttime
sleep aid, then when Marcus was conked-out and snoring lightly with a smile
on his face, his uncle tugged down his sleep pants, effortlessly removed
his underwear, and with just the tiniest dab of petroleum jelly for luck
and his own saliva for the most part, easily inserted his fuck finger all
the way to the third knuckle into Marcus's relaxed and spongy-soft rectum.

Marcus sighed deeply, smiled and clenched his rectal muscles a single time
in his sleep, but otherwise didn't even stir. Didn't even twitch when his
immature prostate got touched enthusiastically a few dozen times.

His uncle finger-fucked him slowly with one hand while masturbating with
the other and cumming all over the new plush carpet, which he cleaned up in
the morning with club soda and kitchen roll. Marcus was none the wiser and
they went out for tea and a full English, his uncle occasionally still
sniffing his fuck-finger at the table to catch any remaining vestiges of
the magnificent insides of Marcus.

As Marcus's uncle will happily tell you, Marcus's smelly lil bumhole is a
pleasing mixture of scents and flavors, because believe me, his uncle
SEVERAL times stopped to lick, suck his finger clean, and then re-insert
into Marcus for some more magic coating. Whew, did he ever want some more
magic coating.

Marcus is a British Boy, tried and true, God save our gracious Queen. So,
as far as aroma goes, his anus is reminiscent of traditional British
semi-soft, perhaps a Beacon Fell from Lancashire or a Chevington out of
Northumberland. You know, something cow's-milk mild, but also just a tiny
bit mould-ripened. Whatever it is, it smells fantastic.

And the flavor is downright jelly-jam sweet, inside and out. Marcus's uncle
thought it tasted mostly like raspberry jam with the seeds strained out,
with an additional artificial sweetener thrown in. Not Splenda or
Canderel. Those are a touch TOO sweet.

More like Hermesetas mini sweeteners from saccharine, because it does have
a little kick at the end. Just the slightest bitter aftertaste. Absolutely
perfect though, and bitterly British. Two years later when puberty kicks
in, Marcus's asshole flavor will switch to more of an orange marmalade and
stevia flavor. His first girlfriend will eat him out because she's a truly
trashy dirty bird, and Marcus will taste his own ass on her lips as they
kiss while he powerfucks her and cums inside her way too quickly.

Marcus the younger hasn't really picked a favorite team yet. He sort of
waffles back and forth between Sunderland, because he lives nearby, and
Manchester United, because well, they're Manchester United and he comes
from a long line of misguided cretins cheering for that show-off lot.

Marcus (you guessed it) also has an uncircumcised, fully-intact penis. The
foreskin has not yet separated from the glans. His penis smells like yeasty
dinner rolls, lightly breaded fish and chips, and Eton mess sans
strawberries with whipped heavy cream.

And who does that leave us with? Who's our last stinky boy on the
after-practice soccer pitch? (We only call it soccer in this rundown so the
Americans don't get mixed-up. The boys all know it's football).

Last up is Miles, and Jesus Christ, I wish you could see him, because he's
perfect. Blond hair, dry-sweaty mat, a joy-giving smile, perfect nose and
piercing eyes, a chin so cute and perfectly-formed you'd be tempted to
fellate it.

And here's the kicker. Out of all the boys, Miles is the only one who
smells his own asshole! A true little sniff-baby in bloom!

We are SO relieved to know Miles practically ALWAYS has a finger down his
own crack, touching his own little stink button, rubbing his greasy little
babyhole, and bringing it up to his nose for a smile, a sigh and a deep,
blissful sniff.

He's even conned the other boys into a few gross and giggly games of Bum
Finger this year and last. "Smell my bum, Ayden!" "No, you smell mine,
Miles!" You'd be surprised how quickly boys join in with fragrant
retaliation when butt butter is smeared under their nostrils by a
mate. Revenge has never smelled sweeter to a boy like Miles.

So, yes. Miles is a burgeoning baby butt-sniffer for sure. And that's good
news for all of us here at Smell This World Headquarters, because Brad,
Mark, Jon and yours truly aren't going to live forever, and after we're all
six feet under, it'll be up to hidden gems like Miles out there to carry
the torch for future generations.

Don't be surprised if you come back in here in 20 years and you see "Smell
This Part 565" with Miles on the byline.

Miles loves his own butt smell, and unlike the other three boys, he's fully
learned how to masturbate already, which he does to an extraordinarily
successful and well-timed dry climax in bed at night while sniffing his own
anal stink, pretending it's all the other boys he knows from soccer and
school.

Out of all four soccer boys, Miles is the only one who will perform
analingis on another boy (well, six different boys actually), and will
graduate secondary school with high marks in maths and geography, and the
smell of another boy's bottom on his breath. And I am not speaking
metaphorically.

Miles's own boy bum smells like a Fine Fettle Yorkshire (a sheep's milk
feta) and a semi-soft, off-white Waterloo, made from full-fat,
unpasteurised Guernsey milk originating from the Duke of Wellington's
estate. There's a hint of blueberry in there somewhere as well.

His penis, if you're lucky enough to taste it, (and by the time he
graduates, four boys, two men and one accidental girl will do so), is a
captivating combination of summertime fruits and piss. A high note of
apricot, a bass note of powerfully-musky cantaloupe, and two portions of
strong and healthy boy urine, squirted accidentally in his underpants and
left to mingle, because Miles forgets to shake off after he wees.

It should be noted that out of all the boys, Miles produces the most
perfect racing strips in his underwear. Never dark. Just perfect puffs of
fragrant tan, light and non-scary. The kind that Brad LIVES FOR, when it
comes right down to it. When I first described Mile's light tan caramel
puffs to Brad, the poor man had to excuse himself to the gents, and we
didn't see him again for six-and-a-half minutes.

Miles's favorite team is Chelsea (yawn, you and the rest of the confused
world, kiddo), his penis is uncircumcised and beautifully, dashingly,
award-winningly intact. I've never seen a better one. However, unlike his
three mates, Miles's foreskin HAS already separated from the glans, mostly
through extensive self-practice and general overuse.

On any given day, at any given time, you could reach down and grab Miles's
right hand, bring it up to your nose and smell his forefinger, and it would
smell like boy butt, guaranteed. The scent would most likely be his own,
but don't entirely rule out it's belonging to another mate either. Miles is
usually full of surprises.

Anyway, that's the rundown on Adam, Ayden, Marcus and Miles, four 9ish to
10ish soccer mates, who are resting on the pitch after practice today. All
four are good lads, everybody. And they stink to high heaven.

Everybody meet Adam, Ayden, Marcus and Miles. Wouldn't you like to get your
fingers and noses into this sweet, ripe crew?

I would, gentlemen. And you would too.

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