Date: Sun, 10 May 2015 06:59:58 +0200
From: Zachary Blake <z.blake@mail.com>
Subject: Smell This 3 (Revised)

SMELL THIS 3
By Brad, Mark & Zachyboy
M/b, t/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 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.

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FLOOR: JAX

"Hey, Mickey Mouse. Whatcha watching on TV?"

You turned 15 the summer you started babysitting 8-year-old Jackson next door.

He was silly and fun and you liked im in a special way.

"I'm watchin' Beyblade, Tommy," Jax grins up. He's eating Fruit Loops dry,
out of the box.

"Cool. I'm just gonna come up behind you while you watch it and smell your
booty a little, okay?"

"Kay. Want me to move it up in the air and stick it out more?"

"Nah. You're good. Just lay like that on your tummy. I'll come down to
you."

He wiggles a little, waiting. You put your face down on his butt, your nose
right between his cheeks. And fuck. The stink-hot puff of boy beaver wafts
up so powerfully sweet and sour you almost weep.

You smell Fruit Loops and Jax Ass.

He giggles.

"Why you always smell my booty like that?"

"Because I like the way your booty smells. It smells stinky and sweet."

"You nasty. You funny."

"And you," you say, taking another long hit, "have the sexiest, stinkiest
sweet booty I have ever, ever smelled. I wanna marry your pretty booty. I
wanna marry it and make babies with it, what do you think of that, Jax?"

He giggles.

"I think you nasty."

You get your face down in there and you smell him good while he watches his
show. You take hit after hit of that sweet, stinky grease crack. Fuck, he's
fragrant.

"Some day I'm gonna put my thingie up there, Jax. What do you think of that?"

He giggles.

"Seriously," you tell him. "When you're a little bit older? Little bit
bigger? My thingie can go right up inside there."

"Nuh-uh," he laughs. "That's dumb."

You feel his butt cheeks clench together, like he's already considered
it. Already squeezing tight to keep you out, five years in the future.

13 sounds like a good age to teach Jax the birds and the bees.

You might have to come home from college for that lesson.

"I'm just gonna put my finger up inside you now, okay, Jax?"

You already wet it in your mouth and it's headed his way.

"Nuh-uh," he says, and you feel him clench again. "Not up my hole. No way."

"Okay, okay," you say, shrugging your shoulders, worth a try. "I won't put
it in, I'll just rub it around the outside a little. Okay, Jax? Just a
little on the outside to get it all sticky?"

"Why you like that so much?" he asks.

"Because it's stinky and it smells good and it smells like you and I like
it."

"You weird," he giggles. "But you still give me ten dollars, right?"

"Absolutely," I tell him. "Two fives or ten ones. You pick."

"Ten ones," he says, because ten ones is more.

You tug his shorts and his ass comes into view. Oh, man.

This is what you started babysitting for. The money is secondary.

Why is it that some boys just HAVE it?

It's impossible to truly describe - a mix of many, many things that just
all align to create an "oh-fuckity-fuck" moment. When you look at Jax, he
has it all. His age, his looks, his hair, and the fact that he's a little
boy. Mmm!

And that position! So blissfully unaware of his own butt beauty and yet
everything about his pose says, "Just look at my cute little bottom, would
ya? Smell it. Sniff it. Put your nose in it. Finger it. See what it stinks
like. It stinks like me!"

And just look how little it is. It's so smooth. Little and round and
peachy-dark creamy. Like peanut butter. Like perfection. Soft like silk and
wild like midnight. You just want to lay on the floor with your head on his
ass like a pillow, your hands on his upper thighs, gently pulling his
little round bottom into your licking, sniffing, grateful face. He makes
you so happy you have tears in your eyes being down there that close to
him.

You should be down in the kitchen studying for your Freshman algebra
test right now, but nope. You're down here on the living room floor,
curtains pulled, sniffing Jax.

You wet your finger again and rub it around his hole, just on the outside,
just like you promised. You bring it to your nose and it smells so
heavenly. You smear it underneath your nostrils like Vicks. Like
balm. Euphoria hits you like a hammer in the face. You light up like neon
and you moan out loud while your thin teen cock starts to leak. He smells
so good. French dressing and vinegar and sugar and everything good about a
boy. Everything in his pants just waiting for you. Pants and promise,
Jax. Pants and promise.

You smell your finger again. Moan again. So good. So fucking sweet and hot
and good.

"Please God," you pray, "I just want my nose in this boy all day long. ALL
day long. Do not ever let him change his stinky little undies. Do not ever
let him bathe again. Make bathtime go away tonight. Just build a chair on
my shoulders with poles sticking out and put an open back on it so his ass
is directly in my face ALL day long. Let me take him to school with me.
Let me sniff him in Mrs. Calibri's class to make it through that algebra
test."

"I will walk to class sniffing his ass in my face. I will walk to fucking
study hall with Jax strapped to my face, and people will say, "Hey,
Tommy, what's up with that," and I will answer, "Oh, no biggie, just
sniffing some Jax-ass. He's attached to my face for the next, oh,
four years until his pubes come in."

You're 15 that summer and this one is just perfect. Perfect size, perfect
angle, perfect ass. God, you just want to put your nose in, and never come
out, never, ever again. Just strap yourself to his ass with duct tape. Let
him be your new oxygen mask. If you ever have surgery, put THAT over your
nose and mouth. You'll pass out just as euphorically, with a smile
on your face and a hard cock in your pants.

You're 15 that summer, and it is bliss to sniff this. Bliss to be trapped
in that hot, wild babyfragrance.

Fuck, you want a hit of that. A long, sweet hit. Believe me, you do.
With all the dreams in your 15-year-old heart.

Jax is a good boy, everybody.

Everybody meet Jax.

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PAINTER: PETER

Peter Piper paints the wall, and Peter's only five feet tall. He rolls
his roller, does his dance, and makes me bulge inside my pants.

Peter's bedroom's turning blue, but Peter's bumhole's colored too, with
lots of creamy pasty tan, to satisfy this happy man.

His mother helped him pick the paint, while I just watched him scratch
his taint. And now he's painting unaware, while I just stop to
stare and stare.

I'd like to pull his blue jeans down, and let my sniffer go to town,
and rub my nose on Peter's crack. Don't stop painting! Don't look back!

His tweeny starfish opens wide, to let my nose go deep inside to where
his shiny stinkers are, oh twinkle, twinkle little star.

I'd rub my nostrils on his crack, and lick his danglers in his sack. His
slender stick will turn to steel and I'll munch on my favorite meal.

Jack my dickie, shoot my cum, and lube a drop right up his bum, and
maybe if he wants a ride, he'll let me poke the tip inside.

And if he won't, then that's okay, I'm pleased to sniff him anyway. If
he's too young to take my seed, his sticky star is all I need.

So, Peter Piper paints the wall, and Peter's only five feet tall, and
helping paint is lots of fun when Peter's twelve and he's your son.

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SOCCER: COLE

All hail the hamper gods! They have delivered more than a few moments of
fragrance heaven and some sweet sticky relief to my nether regions!

It would be lovely to have a steady supply of those musky little undies
streaked with boy pucker residue, but I only get to sample them rarely,
so I make due with my moments of accidental nirvana.

My nephew Colton (we call him Cole), is my pride and joy...a feew months
past his 10th birthday. He loves to play soccer. I've gone to several of
his games and he's quite the good little player. He's on the skinny side,
but not what you would call bony or scrawny...just lean from the soccer.

He has light brown hair and the loveliest scattering of freckles across the
bridge of his nose. He also has big teeth for a kid, not freakishly big,
but just a little too large for his mouth and they add to his cuteness. I'd
love to run my tongue across those teeth someday. Repeatedly.

He's all boy so you can imagine that whenever he has to answer the call of
nature and poop like most boys, he doesn't spend much time wiping away the
remnants of the musk around that little wishing well.

So all through his soccer matches, those cotton fibers get wedged into that
sweaty little crack and rubbed back and forth across his sweet puckeroo,
picking up all those wonderful smells. I can only imagine what it would be
like to be those fibers trapped between his cute little ass cheeks,
suffocating on all of the heady aroma of unwashed, moist boy crack.

I had the good fortune to be over at his house one evening when he got home
from soccer practice and was able to get to his hamper not long after he
passed by, dropping his soiled undies into a pile of dirty clothes.

The gods were smiling that day because everyone else was at the other end
of the house watching some program on TV so I was able to grab his
underwear and head into the spare bathroom.

Oh my goodness...they were plenty moist with the sweat from his 90 minute
soccer practice.

I jammed them up to my nose and just huffed his sweet stink.

The front of his undies had just the faintest yellow stain from stray drops
of piss that I am sure he didn't shake off his wiener...thank goodness.

The combined smell of his sweat, a little bit of crotch musk and dried piss
filled my nose as I inhaled. At this point I was so hard I thought I would
fill my jeans without touching myself. But I was saving the best for
last. As expected, the seat of those white undies had a lovely light brown
smear right in the middle, right where that fabric had been trapped against
his sticky little hole all day.

I brought that fabric up to my nose and inhaled. I thought my head would
explode! I could smell the sweet scent of musky boy crack competing with
the sharper tang of the glaze spread across the fabric. It was sweet
and sour and smelled like Cole hole. Shitty-sweet-perfect.

I don't know how else to describe it. You know what I mean.

It may be poo to you, Scooby Doo, but somehow after being trapped in his
crack all day, it transformed into something sumblime to me. Like art.

And yes, I did stuff those undies in my mouth and chew on the seat. It
was bitter, waxy, sweet and sour. Like vinegar fries at all the fall fairs
and festivals. Like a dirty-sweet night on the midway.

With five or six strokes to my rock hard cock, I ejaculated all over the
bathroom counter, my cum shooting out in white jets and globs. I came so
quickly with those stinky little briefs in my mouth, I hardly had to
jack off. My cock was ready to fire the second I touched it.

I took the saliva-wet briefs and stuffed them back into the hamper
before anyone was the wiser, secretly thanking his soccer coach for
making today an extra hard practice.

Cole's a good boy, everybody.

Soccer-scented with flavor to savor.

Everybody meet Cole.

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SKATEPARK: NICKY

I told my friend about Nicky, my little cousin. I haven't written a story
about him, but I should.

I've sniffed that tiny, pretty, stinky little 10-year-old tween anus many
times via his dirty undies, which can be found high and low. He's never shy
about making a new batch and leaving them scattered around his bedroom
floor.

Nicky's perfect little boy crinkle smells:

Sweet. Candied. Sugary. Tart. Vinegary. Sharp.

But with some earthy or oceanic underscore.

Like hay. Like fish, but light.

Like a mild pussy smell. Like the first time you fucked a girl when you
were a kid, but fainter. He smells like stinky little boy anus mixed with
sweet little girl pussy. Like something you'd want to fuck. Like
pheromones. Girl ones and boy ones, all mixed together. Like a twofer. A
two for one sale.

Muggy. Humid. Sultry.

But sugary, girly and oceanside sweet.

A skaterboy's dream.

His innocence aches through in his smell. Unfucked. Untainted.

He fingers himself. Light greasy streak-lines in his undies. Finger
dots. He scratches himself a lot. Pokes at his own hole.

"Nicky, get your finger out of your pants," his exasperated mother sighs
for the umpteenth time.

"Oh no, Nicky," I think. "Leave it right there, Champ. In fact, dig it in
just a leeeeeedle bit deeper for me."

Nicky likes to take his undies off and freeball it in his bedroom. Even at
10 this year, he's a happy little streaker. He turned 10 in June. Let's
hope he keeps it up until he's turns the corner into teenhood.

A skaterboy would love to fuck that creamy little boy booty. An older boy
of 15 maybe? Fucking that sweet little 10-year-old rump? Oh yeah. Nicky
would be any gay skaterboy's dream.

Sweet and sultry and sour. On one hand his anus smells female. You want to
fuck it. Mate with it. Make it have babies.

On the other hand, it smells like boy. You want to sniff it and moan. And
fuck him in the boy way, too.

Cum in his pretty little boy hole. Watch it bubble back out, and smell your
cum mixed with his raw-hot boystink.

Sexy as hell to think of that. Sexy as hell.

Come on, skaterboys. Get in line.

My friend said, "Oh fuck me sideways with a ten foot pole. What the fuck!"

"Hail, Nicky! The new Prince of Sniffsville!"

"Oh, Nicky. I fucking love you, dude. You're just a little boy and your
cousin has already sniffed your undies!"

"He knows what your bottom smells like!"

And at that point, my friend says he's just full-whack, cock-out and
stroking back and forth like a monkey on crack while he goes into total
perv-talk to Nicky:

"Ohhhh, Nicky, I just want to smell your stinky little anus in your undies!
Oh, fuck!"

That's what you gotta do sometimes. Just pretend you're talking to
them. Praising them.

If he only could have seen him after school yesterday, tummy-down on the
couch, playing games on my phone.

There should be a law against boys posing like that.

The arch of the back.

It literally makes me drool.

His feet up in the air with his cute white socks. The shape of his bottom
in those cute, black sweat pants. I just desperately want to slip my hand
down the back of them and feel his bottom all over. Just stroke his smooth
cheeks while he plays on his iPhone. Feeling his little bottom. Just that
alone would be unbelievable to do.

I'd lean over and whisper in his ear, "thanks for letting me feel your
bottom, Nicky," and just revel in my good fortune, encased in my capsule of
boylust with random thoughts and feelings about how little he is and how
he's just a little boy and how small he is and his little his bum cheeks
feel in my hand and how smooth they are and how much I'd love to sniff his
underpants right in that moment and how stinky-sweet his little asshole
must be.

Can you imagine leaning over him on the sofa there, gently pulling his
sweat pants down and his undies under his cheeks - the warmth of his little
bottom rising from him like the gentle rise of the sun during the
transition from night into day. So beautiful as you sense it. And then to
look at his milky white cheeks before parting them to see his little
pinky-brown balloon-knot? That fragrant little crack so beautiful. So
accessible. So sniffable. Who's first to sniff Nicky's bum hole, gents? Me
or you?

Say you're the skaterboy I was talking about. You're 15 that summer at
Hermosa Beach, and Nicky's 10, and he's been watching you trick it for an
hour now and he can't take his eyes off you.

So you lead him to the changing room.

"Hey, little dude. Come up here. I wanna show you something."

And Nicky's no stranger to cock. He's a pretty boy. He knows what older
boys want. And you take him into a solo changing room, you shut the stall
door and you push the lock button, and before you know it, you've got your
cock out of your shorts and Nicky's kneeling in front of you with his nose
in your sweaty pubes, and his throat humming around your hard cock so hard
you see buzzing bumblebees in your brain.

But you're not wasting this load in his throat. Oh, fuck no.

"Up you go, Champ," you tell him with a growl, and you bend him over the
bench and you pull those shorts down, and fuck, when that tight boyass
comes into view, you actually salivate. You actually drool, which is good
because you need that spit to lube up your cock. It's all you've got as you
hock it in your hand and smear your cock slippery-and-ready, and you run
two spit-soaked fingers up the crack of his ass, stopping long enough to
smell the raunchy aroma between his sweaty boy cheeks before you line it up
and then you long-dick it straight inside him and take your chances he
won't balk. And motherfucker, win the lottery, he doesn't miss a beat. In
it goes, no complaints.

"Ohhhh, nnnnngggghhhh," Nicky moans as you slip your dick in his shitty
little ass. You can see brown on the stalk and you can certainly smell it
in the air, but that's not slowing you down. You grab his hips and you give
it to him harder.

"Fuck that shitty ass," you whisper to him. "Gonna fuck that shit hole
good, Nicky."

And Nicky, no stranger to the things big boys do, he just grits his teeth
and giggles like a dirty boy and says, "Fuck my stinky hiney, Josh. Fuck my
stinky hiney hole."

You can both smell it now, and it makes you fuck him harder.

"You do it hard, Josh," he giggles as you smell it in the air.

And you've certainly got no reason to call him a liar. You're going from
low to medium to high and he's pushing back against you and pretty much
making a mess in everybody's shorts.

But you're beyond caring. You slide that hot dick of yours in and out of
his shitty chute until finally you grab his hips and pull him to you
tightly and unload a shot of hot baby-makers straight up his creamy little
tunnel.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck!" you grunt as you dick him to the jizz limit.

"I smell poop," he giggles. "TOO much poop!"

"Yeah," I smell it too, you tell him, pulling out and wiping it on his
thigh.

It wasn't pretty, what you did to Nicky in the changing room. But it was
over fast and it sure felt nice. And Nicky didn't complain. When he went
home and wiped himself that night, two parts cum and two parts stink, he
smiled and though of you as he lubed up his sister's hairbrush with
Vaseline and gave himself a repeat performance right there on the bathroom
floor.

And that one, frankly, between you and me, smelled a little bit riper than
the first one.

And boy was his sister pissed in the morning. You should have heard her
when she found that brush, unwashed in the bathtub.

But that's a little brother for you. Always up to something.

But all in all, Nicky's a good boy, everybody. A little bit nice and a
whole lot dirty, but basically a good boy. With plenty to learn, so let's
keep an eye on him.

Nicky's a good boy, everybody.

Everybody meet Nicky.

I wonder who we're going to meet next?

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