Date: Thu, 7 May 2015 07:33:26 +0200
From: Zachary Blake <z.blake@mail.com>
Subject: Smell This 5 (Revised)

SMELL THIS 5
By Brad, Mark & Zachyboy
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 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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WIDER: WYATT

I saw a picture of Wyatt the other day. He's 12-years-old this year and one
of the most popular boys at summer camp. He was eating a hot dog around the
campfire and somebody took a picture, clear as a bell and lit up perfectly
in camera flash and firelight. Wyatt eating a hot dog, looking seductively
at the camera. His jaw was open as wide as it could possibly go. Obscenely
so. Who took that picture? Which other boy? Whoever did, God bless him.

In my mind, I can imagine he's eating that hot dog because I'm a camp
counselor and Wyatt is only warming himself up with an Oscar Mayer
precursor because he already knows how loose I like his jaw to be while I'm
feeding him my fat, long cock. Sort of like how a singer warms up before a
concert, only in this case, he'll be humming around the head of my dick in
the next half hour when the boys go back to their bunks, lights-out time.

I was thinking today of what it would be like to hear him shyly ask me to
suck on his sweet little boycock, to put my face into his hairless crotch
and smell all those sweet scents of boyhood....the sweat, the faint
tangy-sweet smell of the dried piss on the head of his dick...that pissy
smell that reminds me of those maple flavored candies we always bought at
Sears in the old days...the slightly musky, yeasty smell around his
immature little acorns...the stronger, darker scent rolling up from his
moist crack, filling my nose and causing me to groan with need and lust.

Dear God, I wish I could show you the picture. Wyatt could make a fortune!!
Looking at the way he's opening up to gobble that hot dog, he would have no
problem locking those sweet little lips around my cock. Holy fuck, his
mouth is so hot and wet as he begins to suck. A little too unintentionally
toothy against my wincing cock-shaft (ouch!), but hey, the kid is still
inexperienced and it's worth an occasional scrape of his cute little teeth
to get to slide my dick deeper and deeper into his mouth.

He is looking up at me with a look of embarrassment at the naughty act
he's performing as well as a hint of hunger to suck me in harder and
deeper. Here's one little camper who's going to get a nice, creamy
surprise!!

At twelve, his little bottom will be perfectly pungent, filled with all the
powerful smells of a young boy, just about to leave pre-pubescence behind.
Damp and yeasty, wet and dirty, musky and tangy – he's ready for
me to press my face into that hot, moist valley and lick away all
that's down there. Maybe he's ready for a little game of stink finger
and poke the pooper? Where do I sign up to lead that session in the camp
activity room?

Maybe he wants to be the big boy in control and wants to sit that lovely
ass down on my face, trapping me in that moist, unhiked valley of flesh,
punctuated by the smell of a sweet, stinky 12-year-old boy
who doesn't like to bathe and likes the feeling of being gross when he
tells his friends to smell his finger around the campfire.

Or maybe he wants to fuck himself on my cock after lights out at bunk time,
when he sneaks into my private room in the bunkhouse, all the other boys in
Mountain Lion Cabin fast asleep, stumbling in the dark until he finds me
already waiting, hard cock standing straight up for him, wetting his ass
with his own thick spit, easing himself down on it, controlling what
happens, letting the strange new, good feelings overtake him...both of us
lost in the feeling and carried away by the smell of fuck-ass...that
hot, raw, not-quite-shit smell that drives us both insane.

I mean, just look at him in that picture. Beautiful boy, that Wyatt. Not
model beautiful, just beautiful-real. Those big ears of his make my cock
hard and start me leaking instantly. Oh God, do I love a boy whose ears are
just a little too big for their head, or even ears that just stick out a
bit. It drives me crazy with real-boy fuck-lust. Just the fact that he's
sweet and geeky-sexy looking with his little glasses and his silly-sexy
messy hair makes me want to smell his stinky little bucket even more. Real
boy. Real butt. Real ass stink. Just cock-leakingly real, every bit of him.
I love it. I love him.

I love boys like Wyatt who have that wild, unruly hair or seem to have too
much hair for their heads. It makes them seem all the more natural and
unwashed, not in a sick, roll-in the-cow-shit way, but just in the
way tween boys are. That day-old, skipped the evening bath ripe-ass
stinkiness that we can't get away from. I know it drives my lust
when I see them, and it certainly makes me crazy to think about smelling
those damp, streaky underpants or the hot, musky valley that guards their
little black hole to heaven.

I even envision that lucky day, smelling his underpants. He'll go down to
the lake to swim, and I'll be the lucky one, staying behind in the cabin to
gather up the boys' dirty laundry. His undies will be on his bunk, casually
tossed-aside. His perfect faint, skid-tracked undies will be right there on
the bunk. I'll snatch them up seconds after he changes, and huff his ass
print right off his stinky little dreamcatchers. And oh, mother of pearl,
what a cock-dripping little butt treasure that'll be.

It'll be fresh 100% boy-ass perfume...the powerful, pungent smell of
Wyatt's ass. No soaps, powders or body washes to interfere. He's here at
camp, and clean clothes don't matter. He's had them on for three days now,
and as I stand there huffing, all I can smell is the raw, pure stink of a
boy's sweet dream factory, his most secret intimate place. And that smell is
fucking my brain. And know what it would make me do. It would make me say,
fuck common sense.

I'd just stand there in the empty bunk room, riking discovery, smelling
him. I'd take my cock out. I'd jack off uncontrollably. Fuck. What I
wouldn't give to be standing side by side with you smelling Wyatt's rainbow
streaked panties while we jacked off together and told each other how good
this was...smelling the piss, the musk, the magic huff-streak of
Wyatt's greasy-clear ass tracks, the 1-day-old, 2-day-old transformed poop
that turned into pure magic.

Here are your instructions, Wyatt, and they're easy as can be. Just take
your next poop, don't wipe good, and just add time. That's all it takes,
baby boy, to turn your poop into magic.

Wyatt's not even the cutest boy in the camp. Definitely not photo bucket
model boy material. But just the fact that he is a real boy and I dream of
sniffing his real, hot, steaming fresh asshole through his grubby Fruit
of the Loom 3-day-old pussy panties, makes him incredibly hot to me. HOT
beyond model hot, because he moves right to the top of my must-do list:
real boy, real ass, really-wanna-smell-it, fuck-cock-drip-leak REAL. I love
that kid.

I want to strip off all his clothes, except for his dirty camp briefs, not
changed for three days now, and sniff him all over. Those moist boy pits
that have just the right level of stink from his hike today. His feet, God,
they have that "sweaty been on the trail in my sneakers all day" smell with
just a hint of blue cheese.

His crotch is redolent with the fumes of musk and yeast and piss. He
doesn't ever shake that little wiener when he finishes peeing in the
woods. He lets that pretty babycock drip dry in his undies. The last salty
drops you'd love to have on your tongue, he saves them for you in his undie
cloth instead. You can't sip them from his straw, but you can mix them with
your spit and suck them clean later. That crotch fabric will be clean as
whistle again by the time you get through gnawing and sucking on it.

Wyatt's 12-year-old ass is ripe and rich, much more sour than sweet, with
a nice brown streak you can see right through the cloth. With this boy you
peel down those shorts and bury your face in the suffocating stink and eat
his hairless pussy until there is no more stickiness left, and he's
moaning and groaning for you to suck his cock. Who am I to deny his
whimpering? So, I roll him over to suck that four-inch spike until
he squeezes out a couple of drops of clear boy honey from his nuts; sweet
and just a bit nutty. I swallow it in one grateful gulp.

Or maybe he's sitting in my lap, and God, look at that hair. I want to bury
my face in that hair and huff the smell of sweaty camper boy, with just a
hint of his Axe shampoo. He giggles when I smell his hair, a giggle that
turns into a hissing intake of breath when I start kissing and nuzzling the
sweaty, salty skin of his neck.

He presses his back in against my chest and turns his head and looks up at
me, his lips parting, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he get more
and more excited. I lean down and kiss those sweet lips, pressing my tongue
into his little mouth, tasting the watermelon gum he's just been
chewing. He's moaning and grunting through the kiss as I slip my hand down
into his shorts and begin to masturbate his moist, hot little tween cock.

I mean, just look at him in that picture eating a hot dog. Jaw open
wide. Eyes tilted toward the camera, knowing how hot he looks and not even
giving a shit. He's almost daring us to throw him down on the bed and
ravage him. He wants it, but he's trying to put on an "I could care less if
you fuck me" face.

After we strip him down, we'll work his ass from both directions. You can
start and the top of this crack, and I'll start at his taint, so
deliciously salty and sour. We'll meet in the middle and fight over who
gets to stick their tongue into that greasy-tight 12-year-old boy
pucker first. Being ever the gentleman, go ahead, you start. There's
plenty of sticky, earthy, bitter magic left for me as I push my tongue
past his guard gate and deep-sweet-deep into that copper-tang furnace.

We have to fuck this boy, so we take happy turns long-dicking that tight
pussy, making him whimper from the deep, necessary itch we're scratching
inside him, looking down at the need on his face – the need to be fucked
and possessed. He didn't know he needed it until we put it inside him. And
now he can't get enough of it. Who will cum on his face and who will cum in
his ass?

Let's feed him two more hot dogs and find out.

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TRANSFORMATION: SAMMY

Your Sammy is ten, and you watch him shoot baskets from a bench with a
book, your eyes and your smile dart up steadily, locked-on and loving,
following his sweaty lithe form as he darts and shoots with the other
kids he found today; the sweet, instant friendships of childhood on the
court. You take him all in: his mop of brown hair, his piercing eyes so
brown they're almost black, his smile and his braces (brand new this
month), his long, dirty fingers from cement dribbling, they long ago lost
their pudgy baby fat, his slender, pencil scarecrow arms, creamy testaments
to the perfect, ab-tight skinniness of boyhood which is an effortless
endeavor. He's wearing his red Black Guard pullover shirt with the thick
black piping on the sleeves and non-matching shorts that show off his dick.

At ten, Sammy is all boy, doing the things and making the smells that all
boys do. He's gone from boyhood to tweenhood in one fell swoop this year.
His underwear smells fragrant and rich as you stand gratefully at
his hamper in the morning, your senses dancing in the variety of nose candy
-- the maple-fresh breeze of nostalgic, day-old piss drops in the front,
sometimes with accompanying yellow handiwork, sometimes not, but always
with a pungent-honey-urine smell that would make Mrs. Butterworth herself
come to life in the bottle, putting her hands to her mouth in the sweetest
surprise, saying, "Oh, Sammy! Oh!"

You watch him on the basketball court, knowing he's wearing the red boxer
briefs you'll sniff in the morning -- because, that's what Sammy always
does, much to your delight -- he runs all day, sleeps in them at night
under his clean pj's, then sheds them the next morning in favor of a fresh
pair when he changes for school. By then, the undies he's wearing now on
the court will be at their very-best fragrance, his topmost effort -
the swipes and stripes and gentle brown rainbows in the seat smelling like
earth and musk and ass and boyplay -- a dance of young flavors -- a hip-hop
of rhymes and rhythm that bring to mind a whole menu of comparisons and
compositions -- sour things like citrus and fruit, like white wine and
vinegar, creamy french dressing, and the puff of stale salty air when you
open a new bag of potato chips -- but then also sweet and heavy scents
underneath like cheddar cheese and eggnog, stinky things like feta and
parmesan, a myriad of marvels you press to your nose after he leaves in the
morning, eyes closed, standing at the hamper, inhaling deeply, grateful
long hits of magical Sammy-stink, every day stunned he can do this so well
and so deeply.

How amazing that Sammy can take such a common and plentiful resource -- his
own stinky, stupid kid poop -- and with one angelic, non-caring,
perfunctory swipe of his anus after he's done with a crap, his magic Easy
Bake Oven will turn it into a greasy paste so sublime and delicious by the
time you sniff it on his undies 12 hours later, it's almost as if he's
pulled off a tiny miracle, a stinky little fairy tale; like Rumpelstiltskin
helping the miller's daughter spin straw into gold. When the miller's
daughter guesses his name, Rumpelstiltskin gets so incensed, he stomps his
right foot into the ground up to his waist, grabs his left foot, and
shaking and steaming, tears himself in two. And you almost understand his
level of agitation as you stand there sniffing Sammy's soiled underwear.
When that first whiff of virgin-sweet boy-ass hits your nose in
the morning, you shake and you quiver like a fairy tale imp, your heart
misses beats, and you're filled with the same agitation Rumpelstiltskin
must have felt, only yours is not anger, yours is steam and tingles and
huff-happy fireflies of the highest order, the most profound kind, as you
stand their quivering, inhaling his boy stink.

You pull down your pants as you stand there smelling his undies with the
tiny stripe in the back. So much scent from such a little stripe. You pull
down your undies, and free your hard cock and you start to masturbate. You
inhale to the point where your eyes almost water. Maybe from the pungency
of the smell, maybe from tears of gratitude. Maybe both. God, it's
confusing. It's not quite sexual, what you feel for your son. It's
definitely in some sexual subcategory you don't quite understand yet, but
it's not the same as penetrative desire. As hard as your dick is while you
stand there and stroke it, moaning from the smell of him (and you know this
will make you cum; it does all the time), you still know for a fact you
have no desire to put your dick up your son's 10-year-old ass. That's not what
this is at all. Do you want to smell him? Directly from the source? Just
put your nose in his naked ass and smell him and smell him and smell him
and smell him, directly from his anus? Of course you do. But you never
will.

You don't want to hurt him. You never want to "weird him out" by all
this. No, this is not sexual in a way that ever needs to involve him
directly. This is just the deep appreciation of his scent and his
essence. You're inhaling his boyhood and meeting the time-backwards needs
of your own perplexing wiring. Reliving the same little-boy ass smell you
shared with neighborhood kids when you were his age, or not much older,
playing in secret and discovering what other boys smelled like for the
very first time. Their asses, their fuck scent, the honey-sour anus-smell
that became your focal point when you think back to the raunchy-wild games
of such a happy childhood.

This is special, this secret sniffing of Sammy's undies. It is sexual in
your past but not in your present. Does that make sense? His are the undies
of your prevy 4th grade friends. They take you back. They fill your life
with lust and lungpower, in a secret, private way that doesn't alarm him,
doesn't affect Sammy in the least, and doesn't interfere with the pure,
growing beauty of his boyhood. For you, this is arousing, enticing,
erecting and maddening -- a sweet indulgence and a cum-exploding taboo --
but when all is said and done, it doesn't harm Sammy in the least. He is
blissfully unaware of all this as you watch him make another free throw, a
satisfied part of your mind is thinking, "Oh sweet, beautiful boy, I
already know what your hot little asshole smells like," I'll never-ever
tell you, but thank you for this private, most intimate knowledge of
you. Just one more way to know you better in all your blissful, imperfect
perfection."

As you stand there sniffing Sammy's ass tracks and shooting your semen, the
secret, taboo delight of knowing this very-most private part of him is what
makes it so arousing and so magically fulfilling.

"Rumple...stiltskin..." you grunt quietly, as your semen shoots out and you
catch it in his rainbow stripe, mixing it up with the magic mingle of him,
man and boy, turning cream into tan.

What will happen when Sammy grows older? When that cute, stinky purity of
10-year-old boy-ass is replaced by the bleachy new-cum-scent of hot hormonal
boy sweat? Of pubes and cock and unwashed teen-boy-ass of an entirely
different level? When sweet little Sammy becomes a pubescent boy of 13 and
14 and Jesus-God sweating, playing baseball and soccer and football and
trapping that cotton-wet undie fabric in the stinky-hot jam of his dirty
wet big-boy crack, running hot, sweaty cross-country races or riding
ass-buzzing motocross, or jamming a bike seat up his ass for 10K, or mowing
the lawn until sweat drips into his crotch like a sponge?

Until his boy-fashion boxer briefs are almost pure liquid when he takes
them off? When you're faced with a new supply of those reeking, dripping
sweaty undies and jock straps? When he's no longer filling his undies with
tiny little 5th grade rainbows, but tearing them to shreds with Freshman
pheromones? What then, when Sammy is Sam? Will it all be so innocent? Or
will your cock be leaking for him in different ways?

Not many years to think about that really. It's coming fast. But today on the
basketball court, he shoots, he scores, he smiles and he waves. And you smile
and you wave back. And you watch his stinky as as it jumps up for the
rebound, already appreciating what it'll create for you by the morning:
those secret sniffs of Sammy, precious and eternal, secret and exciting,
wrong but harmless, knowing they're something you need and you won't let go
of tomorrow, as you close your eyes and you think of your son and you
inhale the sweet stinky pucker-place that makes him a boy. Thank you,
Sammy. Thank you for all of this.

Sammy's a good boy, everybody.

Everybody meet Sammy.

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THEATRICAL: HARRISON

One of the things that I love about being part of a theater company is the
theater kids. I love getting to act on stage with them and seeing the
excitement and enthusiasm that they bring to every performance...and I
love watching them grow, learn and mature as little actors every time we
take the stage.

You can see them watching your every move...learning from you from the
moment you enter the building to put on your makeup, up until the last bit
of dialogue is spoken or note is sung. You want to be a good role model and
help them learn in a nurturing environment, but the dirty little secret is
that I am watching them too...caught between those two worlds of love
and lust.

His name was Harrison and he was one of our theater kids. I had been in
several shows with him and he was definitely a handful. As is so often the
case, his parents used the theater as their babysitter, dumping him at
rehearsal or at the theater on performance nights...glad to be free of him
for another evening. I will never understand why people want to be parents
and then pretend as if their kids don't exist as little human beings that
need love and attention.

Harrison wasn't a bad kid, just desperately in need of attention. And the
only way he knew how to express it was to be a hurricane of
energy...always loud and buzzing around the adults like a pesky mosquito.
Most of the other actors just tolerated his presence and would brush him
off at the first opportunity, but being the softie that I am, I couldn't
ignore the boy.

So despite having my own tasks to focus on (like getting into makeup and
costume or reviewing my lines) I always tried to be nice to him and chat
with him whenever I could spare a minute. Naturally, he was drawn to that
little bit of attention that I directed his way and he became my little
shadow whenever we were together.

He was about 11 and a half years old and looked like your typical boy. He
was always dressed a little poorly because mom was obviously not really
interested or concerned with what he looked like when he left the house.

I am sure to many boylovers, he would not have garnered a second look
because he was not some model of perfection, but I was captivated. He was
about 5' 5" and would not have been considered skinny. Now, by no means was
Harrison chubby, I just mean that he still had just a bit of baby fat on
his frame...just enough to make him healthy looking and cuddly.

But the thing that most captured my attention were his hair and eyes. He
had very light brown hair with just a hint of reddish highlights and it was
coarse and bushy. The kid had a lot of hair on his head, but it was that
hair that made him seem so much more wild and exciting to me. And his
eyes...they were hazel in color and when you were talking with him (or
he was talking with you) those eyes would never leave your eyes...he
would lock eyes with you and I swear he could see into your soul. So yeah,
I was smitten with this wild child.

He would sit in my dressing room and chatter away like a little magpie
while I would put on my makeup every evening before the show. He had tons
of questions about why I used a particular color, or why I was putting
powder on top of the foundation. I found it sort of charming because he
really did want to learn. Two or three shows into the run of this
particular musical, Harrison decided he wanted me to do his makeup (I swear
on a stack of bibles this is true). He was playing a street urchin and
wanted to have a dirty face and bad teeth. How could I refuse him...on
the one hand, I wanted to help him learn his craft, but on the other, it
was a chance to touch that sweet little face.

And so I began to apply the makeup to his face...oh god, it was like
electricity when I touched his skin...using my fingertips to apply the
smears and smudges to his cheeks, chin and forehead...with him looking
up at me with those hazel eyes the entire time. He wanted to have me turn
his teeth yellow and blackout two or three...so he opened his mouth and
let me put my fingers into that warm, moist cavity to wipe away the saliva
so that the tooth-black would adhere and dry.

I shiver now to think how it felt to run my fingers across his
teeth. brushing up against his lips...and his breath...oh God...that
sweet boy breath. My face was only inches from his and I could feel that
hot, moist air from him mouth filling my nostrils. It was as if I was
breathing in all the air he was exhaling. It smelled like sour apple jolly
rancher candy, which is what he was always eating.

It was all I could do not to just lean in and kiss those lips and suck
every morsel of flavor out of his oral cavity. He was so
trusting...giggling every now and then when my fingers tickled his
lips...just looking up into my eyes while I practically raped his mouth
with my fingers and my mind...I applied the makeup as slowly as I
could...prolonging the time I had to touch and caress his face and
lips. But alas, all too soon I was done and told him to look in the mirror.

You could see the thrill in his eyes when he saw that little urchin face
looking back at him from the mirror...and he threw his arms around my
waist and gave me a hug, burying his head in my chest. Almost without
thinking, I lowered my face down into that unruly mop of hair and breathed
in his scent. I could smell heat...I could smell sweat...I could smell
the dirty wildness at the root of every hair...I was unable to pull my
nose from this boy's hair and my body was responding uncontrollably.

I was sporting a boner almost from the moment that wildness reached my
nose...thank god for tight underwear that evening or otherwise I would
have poked a hole in his tummy with my hard dick. I don't know how he could
not have noticed, but if he did, he didn't react. He continue to hug me
tightly until I pulled away and told him he needed to go and get his body
mike and transmitter.

He rushed off to the sound room and I quickly tried to catch my breath and
rearrange my throbbing, leaking cock so it wouldn't be so obvious. Harrison
came running back with his mike and transmitter and begged me to show him
how to wear it. I wasn't going to refuse this boy any request, so I put the
mike up in his hairline and secured it with the elastic headband.

The transmitter needed to be clipped inside the waistband of his pants (how
perfectly opportune is that) so I told him to turn around so I could clip
it inside his pants. With my hands trembling I eased my hands down into the
elastic waistband of his pants and pretended to fumble with the transmitter
clip...all the while using my free hand to rub up and down the
cloth-covered cheeks of his little ass, dragging my index finger up the
valley between his two cheeks. I could feel the heat that was pouring out
of his crack...I was quickly losing my mind and wanted nothing more than
to rip down his pant and underwear and slam my face into that unmolested
crevice of boyass.

I was jerked back to reality by Harrison twitching just a little and
giggling. "Hey...that tickles" he said but didn't pull away in the least.
Rather he just turned around and gave me another hug, thanking me for
helping him out. I swear I felt just the hint of a little boner pressing
against my left leg as he hugged me.

Somehow...some way, I made it through that performance, but every time I
saw Harrison on stage, it was all I could do not to pop a boner thinking
about that sweet little ass on stage in front of God and country. Of
course, I could not wait to get to the theater the next evening,
anticipating seeing Harrison again, but also a little worried that he might
pull back from me after my touching of his ass. To my surprise and delight,
as soon as he saw me in my dressing room, he ran up and threw his arms
around my waist and chirped out a happy "Hello Mark"...so I hugged him
back just as enthusiastically letting my hands slide down his back to cup
and squeeze his butt cheeks.

This time there was a distinct reaction from Harrison...he pushed his
backside ever so slightly back into my hands and then pushed his immature
groin up against my leg. There was no mistaking the feel of his little
boner pressing into me and so I leaned down and told him to go and get his
microphone and transmitter so I could put it on him.  He dashed off and
returned almost immediately, seeming so eager to have a repeat of the
previous evenings routine.

Out of a sense of precaution, I closed and locked the dressing room door
and moved around behind him. This time while I was attaching the
transmitter clip to the waistband of his pant, I was more deliberate and
brazen about running my free hand across the outside of his briefs and
dragging my index finger repeatedly up and down his crack.

Again, he giggled a bit, but pushed back against my hand, wanting more
contact. In for a penny, in for a pound, I gave up all pretense of
adjusting the transmitter and eased my right hand down past the waistband
of his FOTL undies and cupped that smooth, tight asscheek, letting my index
finger begin to penetrate between the cheeks and search out his sweet
little pucker. I buried my face in his hair so I could huff the smell of
Harrison...that wild, sweaty smell while my finger moved deeper into that
moist valley of boy flesh.

I could feel the slick stickiness of the boy butter that lined his
crack...you know what I am talking about....that mysterious mixture of
sweat, the faint leftover smear of peanut butter tan over his hole and the
natural secretions of his ass crack...all combined to make this slick,
greasy smear that lined his crack. When my finger tip touched his most
intimate place, that tight little wrinkle buried in between hot ass cheeks,
he squeaked and jumped just a little, but did not pull away. He just buried
his face tighter against my chest, as if giving me the green light to
continue. And continue I did...I began to slowly rub my finger across
those wrinkly folds of flesh, stimulating all the nerve ending is his
little pussy...nerve ending he didn't even know were there prior to this
night.

By now I could hear the faintest little whimpers coming from Harrison and
instinct was taking over as he began to rub his pant-covered boner against
my leg. There was no stopping at this point and I began to apply the
pressure of my fingertip against his opening...there was no need for
additional lubrication...that greasy, sticky boy butter from his ass made
my finger slippery enough to ease into his furnace of a pussy, millimeter
by millimeter.

Oh God...he was so incredibly tight that I had to go so very slowly. I
wanted nothing more that to shove my finger all the way up into him and
bust that virgin hole open, but I still had one or two brain cells
functioning rationally and was able to restrain my lust, at least a bit.

With agonizing slowness, my finger began to slip up into this boy's most
private and intimate parts...I could feel the heat pouring off his hole
and feel the smooth slickness of his sphincter as I continued to penetrate
his ass with my finger. He was very still at this point, almost holding his
breath...unsure of exactly what was going to happen next, but unable or
unwilling to tell me to stop.

The only sound was a soft grunt...a little bit of an exhale of breath when
my finger finally pushed past his muscle ring and touched the smooth, slick
walls of the inside of his pussy pit. Once past the gates, I began to
slowly finger his ass, pushing up into him past the second knuckle causing
him to raise up a bit onto his toes as he tried to process these new
feelings coursing through his body and little boy dick. He was now totally
focused on the feeling pulsing through his ass and his cock and as I
increased the speed with which I moved the length of my finger in and out
of his hole...finger fucking his tight little boy pussy for the very
first time.

He began to alternate between pushing himself back onto my finger and
pressing his crotch into my leg...breathing faster and faster, whimpering
and moaning every time the good feelings overwhelmed him. I just hugged him
tighter to my chest and continued my assault on his hole until I felt him
shudder and his cunt muscles reflexively squeeze my finger in a death
grip. My little Harrison has just cum from my finger fucking his hole.

Knowing he was going to be in a post-orgasmic stupor for just a bit, I
pulled my finger from his ass and did the only reasonable thing...I
brought that greasy, sticky dirty finger up to my nose and breathed in the
essence of boy. Sweet fucking hell...I shuddered when those scents
penetrated my nose...the smell of boy ass; sweaty, raw, musky..the natural
smell of an unwashed boy hole, not polluted by body washes or perfumed
soaps...this was the smell of his secret flesh pit. I think I blacked out
for a moment, huffing my tacky finger...lost in the sweet stink from his
ass....rubbing that boy butter up against my nose and upper lip so that I
could smell him forever.

"Mark"..."Mark"...through my fog of hotness, I hear Harrison saying
something. He was looking up at me, a look of confusion and fear on his
face and tears were leaking out of the corners of his eyes. " Am I in
trouble"..."Are you going to tell on me"...he said. Oh God, the innocence
of boys. I was the one who should be in trouble!!

I dropped to my knees and looked him in the eyes and told him that
everything would be okay...that if he liked what we did and it felt good,
there was no need to worry...that I loved him and wouldn't do anything he
didn't want me to do. He seemed to accept that I was being truthful with
him and the tears quickly dried up. At this point I was madly in lust and
needed to possess this boy. I told him that we were going to have a bit
more fun and that if he wanted me to stop at any point to just tell me to
stop and I would. I figured that if I got him worked up enough I could have
my way with him.

I quickly pulled off his sweater and pants and left him standing there in
his FOTL undies and socks. His undies were well worn, with a bit of fraying
around the waist band and obviously at least one size too small...they
hugged his little crotch perfectly.

His little cock was still half hard and poking out the slightly yellowed
front of this underwear. He had just the most perfect layer of baby fat
around his tummy that just set off rockets in my brain. I was unable to
stop myself from burying my face into this crotch and inhaling the
cock-stiffening scent of boy crotch...all trapped so beautifully in
the cotton fibers...the first thing that hit me was the smell of dried
piss and sweat filling up my head...causing me to breathe more rapidly.

Lust was driving me at this point and I quickly pulled down his undies and
pressed my face up against that sweet little cock and balls. He was as
normal as you would expect...a lovely pink boy nail, only a little
thicker than my thumb and between 3 and 4 hard inches...a smooth, hairless
little nut sack tucked up tight against his bod with acorns that looked
like they might be ready to drop from the tree any day...so yes, he was
normal, but to me he was beauty personified.

Up against that moist, smooth skin the smells were stronger...the maple
and vinegar of dried piss...the yeastiness of rising bread dough and just a
little bit of that muskiness that will only grow more powerful when he hits
puberty.  I could have died happy with my face flush against that smooth
little pubis, but I could smell the darker and richer scents of his
backside teasing me as I nuzzled his nuts and taint.

Getting no resistance from Harrison who seemed to be lost in his own haze,
taking in all the new sensations his body was experiencing, I picked him up
and laid him down on the dressing room table and pulled his undies off
completely and pushed his little legs up causing his cheeks to spread apart
and exposing that tan-smeared wrinkle to my eyes.

This is that moment of truth...that moment just before you press your face
into a boy's ass...that moment just before you kiss his most secret and
intimate place...that moment before you eat his pussy and taste what
makes him a boy...that moment when he begs for more and you know that you
possess him...that moment that seems frozen in time. I was in that
moment...looking down at Harrison's trusting eyes, eyes that were a little
glazed over with sexual fogginess...looking between his legs beneath that
sweet little cock and balls to the ultimate prize...that pucker of
slightly moist flesh...the place where you will claim him as your own.

I could smell the heat and scent rising from that pit of flesh...the
tang of boy pussy in its purest form. I breathed in and shivered...letting
the odor penetrate my brain and block out everything else. My cock was in a
painful state at this point, leaking precum and soaking my
underwear...balls aching from the need for release...but all that was
secondary to joining my mouth to his ass and eating the essence of
Harrison. I pressed my face into that crack...oh God...it was so hot and
moist...my own breath mixed with the stink of his ass and intensified the
assault on my nose.

I pushed my nose against his pucker...feeling the slickness of that glaze
of boy butter...it was so fucking raw and unwashed...it smelled of
overripe fruit and musk...wet earth and sweat...sharp and tangy and
acidic...I was mad with lust and pressed my lips against that stinky boy
pussy and ran my tongue across those puffy fold of flesh...feeling the
flavor of boy explode across my tongue...it was even stronger than the
scents...it was sour...salty...vinegary...bitter..it was pure
boy ass.

I pushed my tongue against the center of his flesh ring, trying to slide my
tongue into the hot center of his being...pushing my tongue against it
and sucking on that flesh wrinkle as if I were trying to french kiss that
sweet boy pussy. Harrison was not passive during my frantic oral
exploration of his pussy pit...he continue to grunt and moan...occasionally
pushing his ass back against me when I hit a particularly sensitive spot.

I dragged my nose and mouth up and down his crack...from the small of his
back to his little nut sack...snorting in his stink and slobbering over his
hole like a man starving...I had intended to possess him, but I was the
one possessed...possessed by this boy's scent and stink. My jaw and tongue
begin to ache from the assault on his rubbery and resistant little ring,
that did not want to allow my tongue passage inside him...I could stand it
no longer.

I pulled back from his sweet stinkpit and quickly unbuckled and shed my
pant and underwear. My cock was ready and slick with precum...I hoped
that between the ass grease in his hole, my saliva and the pre-cum covering
the head of my cock, it would be enough! I needed to fuck this boy and
wasn't going to stop by CVS for a bottle of lube before I poked him.  I
pushed his legs back up so that his hole was lined up with the head of my
cock...God, I could feel the heat pouring off that little passion
pit...I pressed in against his hole...it looked so small and tight now
that my cockhead was pressed up against it.....I was so worked up I nearly
came just from the physical contact of my dick against his pussy hole. I
kept up a steady pressure against his unyielding ring, but the head would
not penetrate that virgin flesh.

"Harrison...push out like you need to take a poop"...he responded by
pushing down and relaxing his sphincter ever so slightly...oh fuck, the
tip of my dick was starting to penetrate the outer rim of his little boy
cunt. "Harrison...push harder baby...keep pushing out"...he was
grunting a bit, but was a little trooper and never asked me to stop or slow
down, so I continued my assault on his ass.

He kept pushing and ever so slowly my head of my cock slipped past his
sphincter and lodged just inside his ass. We both groaned audibly...him
from that combination of pain and pleasure...me from the same
combination. He was so hot and tight that it was almost painful to be
trapped in his pussy...that pussy that was about to me mine...about to be
filled with my spunk as I bred this boy. I pushed slowly until about half
of my cock was lodged in his ass...I am not a big man...just a normal
sized cock (this not one of those 10" dick stories with a cock as big
around as a beer can) but it was still a lot of meat for Harrison to have
stuffed up his pooper for the first time.

I gave him a few minutes to adjust before I began a slow fuck of this boy
pussy. It was a selfish fuck...I needed to claim this boy and his pussy
as my own and fill him with my seed.

It was hard not to slam-fuck him I was so lost in my own fog, but I managed
to slide my dick in and out of his tight ring a little faster with each
passing stroke...holy fuck...seeing the flesh of his ass cling to my dick
shaft as I pulled out each time...I could smell his insides rolling up
off of our joined flesh...the smell of fucking...the smell of fucking a
boy...it is not the smell of shit, but it is so much richer and darker
that just the smell of his all alone...And that was the trigger for
me...that fuck smell hit my nose like an 18 wheeler and I pushed up
into this little cunt and blasted my spunk against his slick insides.

I came like I had never cum before...I don't mean that I shot buckets of
cum up his ass...but I mean the intensity of the orgasm...knowing that I
was breeding Harrison...possessing his boy cunt...fucking him and
making him mine...It was mind blowing...I collapsed on top of him and
let the aftershocks of the orgasm begin to subside and my cock slowly
slipped out of his pussy as it tried to expel the intruder.

As my breathing began to return to normal I kissed him softly on the
forehead and looked into his eyes...eyes that were filled with wonder,
fear, shame, excitement...all the emotions that follow that first
fuck...and he whispered "please...please don't stop..."

Harrison is a good boy everybody.

Everybody meet Harrison.

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