This is a true story. Everything I describe here really happened, no exaggerations, no omissions, this is what happened. The names have not been changed to protect the innocent, because no one was innocent or guilty, and because I never even knew the other guy's name. This is a true story.
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On the Appalachian Trail
BY ROBERT GLYNN
It was summer, 2019, the summer before the pandemic. The summer when you could still do what you wanted.
It was a beautiful day. I had been working overtime for days on end, weeks on end, doing research for a law firm in Washington, DC that had enslaved me. Oh, woe is me, the tragic life of a wage slave.
Then the project was done. I had pleased my legal wage masters. It was over. I met, hell, I went way over, fuck, I vastly exceeded, my goals. Everyone was happy and I was exhausted.
I decided I needed a day off. I deserved a day off. I went home, changed clothes, pack up a few of joints, and drove to the Italian Store in Arlington, Virginia and made up a wonderful picnic that consisted of a huge Muffuletta sandwich, a big bag of Route 66 potato chips, a couple of bottles of the best Chianti wine, and a clam-shell box of cannoli for desert, and headed toward the Skyline Drive and the Appalachian Trail.
The sun was shining. The Eternal Blue Sky, as the Mongol hoards called it, was above me, as I crossed the Shenandoah River and drove through Front Royal, Virginia.
I thanked the Water Spirit for this beautiful land. I felt tiredness and stress fade away under the presence of green land, blue skies, and flowing waters.
I drove up on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Climbing in altitude, and cruising in peace, I drove in quite a few miles, till I came to a parking entrance that felt right and led to the Appalachian Trail.
I parked, got out, picked up my day pack, and started hiking.
Birds were singing, cicadas buzzing, frogs praying for rain, everything said relax, be at peace. I obeyed.
I was at the crest of a slight hill, walking down toward the low point before the next upward slope of another hill rose, when I saw another hiker trudging toward me.
A young man, half naked, wearing only boots, a pair of very short, shorts, a wide brim hiking hat, and carrying a big heavy backpack. Even from this distance I could see he had long red hair, a red beard, and a smooth, athletic body.
We walked toward each other. He looked beautiful to me.
When we came together at the low point between the two hills, he said, "Hey there."
"Hey, to you," I responded.
The young man, about eighteen years old I guessed, who could just as accurately be described as a boy, took off his backpack and set it at his feet. "Do you know how far it is to Elks Wallow on the trail?"
The first thing I noticed, being close up to the boy, was the powerful aroma that arose from his body. This was a boy who hadn't bathed in a good long while.
"Well," I said, "I don't know by the trail, but driving on the Blue Ridge Parkway, which is pretty close to parallel the trail, it's about fifteen, maybe twenty miles from here."
"Damm," the boy said, "I am sorry to hear that, Elks Wallow is the next spot on the trail where they have showers, and I was sure hoping to get there before dark. I haven't had a shower in a couple of weeks, and I can't tell you how much I was looking forward to a hot bath."
I grinned and said, "I'm not really surprised to hear you say that."
The boy grinned back at me, and said, "Do I really smell that bad."
"Well, all I can say is if you'er going to try to sneak up on someone, just make sure your approach is from down wind."
"Sorry," the boy chuckled and said, "hiking on the Appalachian Trail is as much going back in time, before modern plumbing, as hiking a long distance."
"No need to apologize," I said, "I don't mind. I always kind of liked the way a man smells."
The boy looked at me with a bit of a curious look on his handsome face, and stepping a little closer toward me he said, "Well, I'm not making fifteen or twenty miles before dark, so I guess I'm just going to marinate in my own stink for another night."
"Look," I said, "It's only a couple of miles or so, back to my car why don't you let me give you a lift to Elk Wallow"
"Oh, no," the boy said, "I'm walking the Trail, all 2,200 miles of it. What would I say to folks back home, I walked all of the Appalachian Trail, except for a fifteen mile section cause I really wanted a hot shower? No, I can't do it."
"No, no of course not," I said, then, looking at this beautiful near naked boy out in the wilds of the mountains of Virginia, I decided to let my freak flag fly and try something crazy. "Well, then, maybe there is another way I could help you out."
The boy sort of cocked his head and looked at me with a skeptical eye, and said, "Yeah, how's that?"
"Well, I said, I like the way a man smells, and I meant it." I paused just a moment, and continued, "What if I offered to give you a tongue bath?"
The boy's eyes opened wide in surprise, "What?" is all he said.
"Look," I explained, "here we are in the middle of the wilderness, you're carrying a couple of weeks of male funk and desperately want a bath. I'm a kinky gay man and my cock is already getting chubbed up at the thought of licking every square inch of your body, eating all of your man funk."
"But, I'm not gay, I don't play for your team."
"I understand," I said, "I'm the gay one, all you'd have to do is let me give you a bath, a tongue bath. I'll lick out your pits, wash your balls with my mouth, lick your legs, arms, belly, everywhere, especially lick out your ass crack and shit hole, and your cock. You don't have to do anything, not even cum if you don't want to, no kind of reciprocity expected. What do you think?"
"I don't know," the boy said, "that's pretty weird."
"Sure it is," I said, "but it's just a mutually beneficial agreement. You get what you want, a much cleaner body, and I get what I want, the chance to eat the funk off the nastiest man I have ever smelled."
"Let me sweeten the deal. In my pack I have the best Italian sandwich you have ever eaten, enough for two, and potato chips and cannoli for desert and a couple of bottles of the best Italian red wine on earth. I also have enough marijuana to make the idea of a great tongue bath sound positively delightful. What do you say?"
The boy looks at me for a moment, obviously thinking it over, and then said, "You've got pot, huh? Okay, why not?"
"Cool," I said, "let's get off the trail, but before we do, why don't you take off those shorts?" I suggested.
"You want me naked," the boy asked?
"I sure do," I responded. "Come on, get naked."
The boy smiled at me and unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts, and stepped out of them, revealing himself, totally naked, except for his boots and hat.
He was beautiful. Bright green eyes, pale white skin, splashed with freckles across his shoulders and arms. His body completely hairless, excepting only the patch of bright red hair above his cock, and a red tuff of hair under each arm. His cock was soft, but long, and it hung down over his balls, which hung low in his sack. "Fuck," I said, "your beautiful. I can't wait to lick every part of you."
He stuffed his shorts in his backpack, hoisted it, and said, "Well, come on, let's get off the trail before someone comes along." He led the way plunging into the forest. I followed, unable to look at anything except his beautiful naked ass.
He led the way for several minutes, pushing in through the wild woods. I was so turned on by what was happening, and the naked boy in front of me, that I unzipped my own pants and took out my cock and balls. My cock immediately grew hard and thrust out before me. At last we emerged into an open, well sheltered glade.
The boy turned to face me and, seeing my hard cock said, "Well, you look ready to go."
"Fuck yes, I'm ready," I said, "I'll do anything you want, absolutely anything."
"Well, this ought to do, nobody is going to see us here," the boy said, gesturing to our hidden glade.
"Cool," I said, "is it all right with you if I get naked to?"
"Sure," he answered, "if we're going to get down and nasty, you might as well be naked."
As I set my daypack down, he took his back pack off and proceeded to take out a fairly large, metallic space blanket which he spread out in our secret glade.
As he sat down on the blanket, I opened my pack and took out my joints, wine and the picnic lunch. I sat down beside him, very close, lit up a joint and said, "Let's get high."
For the next few minutes we sat side by side passing the dope back and forth, until he said, "Fuck, this is really good shit."
"Yeah," I said, "really good," as I found the cork screw in my pack, and opened the wine.
We passed the bottle back and forth, taking deep drinks of the most delicious Chianti, and I set out the Muffuletta sandwich, the chips, and the cannoli.
For those of you unfamiliar with Muffuletta, which is probably most folks who don't live in either New Orleans, or near a Little Italy somewhere, it is a huge sandwich on a round sesame loaf, laden with Italian deli meats and cheeses, and the most wonderful olive based sauce. It is the best sandwich ever created, in my humble opinion, and when your stoned with the munchies, it is nearly heaven.
We kept drinking wine, and started on our festive repast.
Two naked boys, smoking dope, drinking wine, and eating a wonderful picnic in the wilds, off the Appalachian Trail, this was a dream come true.
When we finished lunch, I cleaned up, stuffing everything back in my day pack, and, said, "Would you lay down on your back and let me get close, so I can smell your body?"
"Sure, turn yourself on buddy," the boy answered.
I lay down beside him, my face at his crotch. The fumes that rose from his body filled my senses and captured my mind. My head was reeling from the marijuana, my eyes filled with this beautiful naked boy, and I kept huffing man funk. My cock was as hard as it has ever been. I said, "Can you roll over so I can smell your ass?"
"Oh man, I don't think you even want to go there," the boy said.
"Sure I do," I said, "why not?"
"Dude, I just took a dump not long ago, and I haven't been wiping my ass much lately. My shit hole is filthy."
"Fuck, that makes my cock so hard," I answered.
"I want to clean your shit hole with my mouth, dude, I want to eat your shit. Let me smell it, please."
"All right, buddy, whatever turns you on, but don't say I didn't warn you."
The boy turned over on his left side, his butt toward me, his right knee bent, his ass hole exposed and opened to me.
"Can I touch you?" I asked politely.
"Well, I don't see how you could give me a tongue bath without touching me," he joked, "so go ahead."
I reached out and took a hold of his right butt cheek, lifted it, and spread his ass crack, revealing his shit smeared ass hole. I bent down close, my nose almost touching the boy's shit hole. I dramatically huffed, loudly sniffing his dirty boy bung.
"Well," he asked, "how does it smell?"
In my best impression of a pretentious wine connoisseur, I answered, "Ahh, molto bene, a rich bouquet of earthy aromas, opening with a strong, triumph of fresh boy shit, with undertones of mellow, aged, boy dung and dried dingleberries. Ending with delicious notes of youthful hormones, and boy sweat, with hints of urine and semen. A magnificent aromatic masterpiece, a work of art, a fragrant perfume, redolent of pure boy funk."
The boy laughed out loud. "Damm, I'd almost like to smell some of that my damm self."
"No," I said, "oh, no, no, no, your shit hole is mine and mine alone. But, I don't want to start here, this is for the grand finale. I want to start with your feet."
"Well, come and get `em, buddy, I'm all yours."
For the next two hours I ate boy funk.
I can't fully describe what it was like. This boy was dirty in a way few people get dirty any more.
There are gay guys who like man smells, of course, I'm in that camp.
I know a lot of gay guys who want their partners scrubbed and smelling fresh, and I respect that.
This experience was no where near either of those preferences. This boy was certainly not fresh and scrubbed, but he also was not any where near the range of man smells I had previously experienced. He was not a boy who, after a shower, had gone out on a five mile run and worked up a sweat.
This boy smelled like a wild animal. An unbathed beast, who, there is no other word for it, stank, to high heaven, and he made my cock hard.
Two weeks on the trail in hot summer weather, not bathing or even washing up a little, not wiping his butt, not brushing his teeth, not changing his clothes, his socks or boots, left the boy smelling closer to a randy old goat than a man, and I was just the man to take care of him.
I got him to roll over on his back, and I started on his foul smelling feet. I have never smelt anything like them. I was glad I was fucked up on some really heavy ganja, because, I am here to tell you, those were some maximum funky and rank feet. Being really stoned allowed me to get into his disgusting, stinking feet without puking.
I sucked each nasty toe, licking out the grunge between them, and licking, and sucking, and swallowing the dirt off both his feet completely. I don't know if it is possible to cum just from smell, but I came close to it.
After a long time of oral foot washing this super-grody boy, I moved up the front side of his right leg. I would spit on him, smearing my spit on his skin with my tongue, picking up dirt, sweat, dry skin flakes, and god only knows what other filth, and sucking all that ripe, malodorous, reek back into my mouth and then into my stomach. Man was it hot.
I repeated the same scene on his left leg, ankle to near crotch. I noticed his lower legs had lot's more flaky dry skin than his thighs. I wondered if eating all that made me a cannibal, technically speaking?
I got him to turn over, and repeated the same process on the back of his right leg, and then his left, ankle to butt.
As I got close to his butt crack the fumes rising off of him made my head spin. My cock was oozing, dripping pre-cum.
I had him turn back over, and sitting beside him, I started working on his hands and arms. His right hand and arm was grimy and dirty, but not after I was finished licking and sucking it. Ditto his left.
I noticed his finger nails were black with dirt, and I used my teeth to clean under each one. I could get most of the smutty crud from beneath his nails but not all of it, so I started biting his nails, and swallowing them. When he saw what I was doing he said, "Fuck dude, you are one sick puppy," but he didn't try to stop me.
When I finished biting, eating, and cleaning underneath his dirty, black, finger nails with my teeth. I moved back down, and did the same thing to his toe nails. The raunch factor was like, times ten. My cock was leaking copious pre-cum all the while.
Now, I don't suppose many of you guys have ever eaten a dirty boy's toenails. Maybe no one but me, ever on earth, has done that, but I got to say, if you want to get down and dirty, give it a try, I loved it, and if your as perverted as me, you might, too.
When I finished his feet, I moved up and bent down over him and said, "Can I clean your face?"
"Fuck buddy, we've gone this far, we might as well go all the way," he said.
"Can I clean your mouth?" I asked.
"Do what ever you want, man," he answered.
I started licking his neck and throat, then his chin, cheeks, lips and sweaty, oily, forehead.
I went down on his nose. Sucking it like a cock, eating the oily, nastiness that filled the crease between his nose and cheeks. I pushed out my tongue, folding it into a narrow point, and thrusting it into first one nostril, then the other. I tasted his, sweet snot and boogers, and wanted more.
I set a finger on the side of his nose and blocked off one nostril, "Blow out real hard," I said, "let me clean out your snot." He blew till snot bubbled out of his nose, and I went back down on his nose with my mouth and cleaned it up nice and tidy, eating and swallowing his snotty nasal mucus. We repeated the process with the other nostril. When I had suck cleaned his nose, I said, "You need a deep cleaning, I'm going to pick your nose and eat your boogers, okay?"
"Sure, why not," he answered, "but before you do, can we smoke some more weed?"
"Great idea," I agreed, "and some wine to, this is thirsty work." The boy sat up and we passed another joint and opened the second bottle of wine. When we were both absolutely high, I said, "We better get back to it. I was just about to pick your nose."
"That's right, and eat my boogers," the boy said as he stretched out on his back on the blanket.
I had never picked another boys nose before, I wonder how many of you, my readers, have, but I had picked my own plenty of times so I proceeded, following my usual nose picking protocol.
I put my right index finger into my mouth to lubricate it, up to the second knuckle. Then, I inserted my moisten finger into the boys nostril, wiggling it around in search of my elusive game, the ephemeral, stranger's booger. I found a few, not as many as I had hoped, no doubt due to my vigorous snot suck job.
Each booger I found, I pulled out, as the boy watched with wide eyes, and put in my mouth and swallowed, only to return for more. When the first nostril was harvested, the same process was repeated on the other.
The boy had a pleasant half smile on his beautiful face and seemed to be enjoying the process so I decided to go further. "I think I need to go deeper," I announced, "I'm going to use my little finger."
Taking the lack of response as an active invitation, I wet my little finger and went in deeper into the boys head. I sought, and found only a few more morsels to eat, but greatly enjoyed the seeking. I repeated the process in his other nostril, and then said, "I'm going to finger fuck your nose, just a little, okay?"
The boy said, "Okay," and I did, fucking my finger in and out of each nostril in turn. I took the boy's nasal virginity on the Blue Ridge that day.
Next it was his mouth. He had already agreed to let me clean his mouth, which had surprised me, because mouth to mouth, mouth cleaning, sure sounded a lot like two boys kissing, but I guess technically it wasn't, kind of.
At any rate I tried to carry on, by adopting a business like demeanor, which seemed to work, or the boy just didn't mind making out with another naked boy.
I got down on my knees and elbows, with my face not far above his. "Open your mouth, please," he did, "stick out your tongue," he did, "as far as you can," and when he did that, I thought, "what a pretty picture."
His breath might be described as fragrant, but rancid, rank, or foul might be more accurate. I'm am, however, a man-washing man, completely up to the task.
His tongue was coated with a whiteish slime from not brushing his teeth, and cleaning his mouth, in who knows how many days. That seemed to be a sensible starting point, so I went down on his tongue like I might go down on a little boy's cock, if given the opportunity. I sucked his tongue trying to use my lips to clean its upper, ventral surface, with little effect except for causing my cock to leak even more pre-cum.
I decided to violate the first rule of cock sucking, which I had been attempting to apply to tongue sucking, and use my teeth to scrape some of the slime off his tongue, and into my mouth. That worked. I did that a several more times, and then gave his tongue a blow-job-like suck job that left his tongue as clean as I could get it. Just for the record, long accumulated tongue slime has a very powerful and unusual taste. For many, I suspect, it would be an acquired taste, but I took to it like a duck to a June Bug.
I told the boy to put his tongue back in his mouth, and I put my tongue in his mouth as well. I began to lick every surface of his mouth I could reach. His teeth, his gums, below his tongue, the roof of his mouth, and the insides of his lips and cheeks. When I had done all I could, I pulled back and ask him to sit up. When he did, I told him to gather as much of his spit in his mouth as he could, then use his spit to rinse his mouth throughly, and spit that into my mouth.
He complied without hesitation. Three times.
I had him do the same, rinse and spit into my mouth, with a slug of wine, three times.
"How's that," I asked?
He ran his tongue around his mouth, and said, "Much better."
While I had him sitting up, I did his ears. I have always liked nibbling on a boy's ears. Who doesn't like that? This was different, I tongue swabbed his ears both inside and out, and tongue fucked his ear canal as deeply as I could go, eating what bits of ear wax I could reach.
I decided there was more gold to be found in "them thar" ears so, moistening my little finger I went in to hunt. I finger fucked each ear and scraped out ear wax with my nail, which I promptly ate. The boy had lovely ears.
That left only his torso, front and back, to do. Plus I was saving the best for last, my three prizes, his pits, his crotch, and his ass.
I got him to lie down on his back and started to work on his chest, using the same spit, smear, and suck up, technique I had used on his arms and legs.
Spit on him, swab the spit, with my tongue as the mop, suck up the resulting filth, and swallow. Wash, rinse, repeat. Wash, rinse, repeat. Resulting in a brand spanking newly cleaned boy.
I flipped him over on his tummy, and did the same trick on his back.
Now I'm down to the nastiest, most wonderful bits.
His pits first. The smell was intense, unbelievable, potent, sour, rancid, male sweat.
I used my lips first, to groom his armpit hairs, combing and sucking them. I got more than a few hairs in my mouth, which I swallowed down. No doubt, by now I qualify, technically, as a man-eating cannibal.
Next, I just used my mouth to make love to, and eat, the boy's arm pits. It took a really long time to eat the smell out of his armpits. But, I am a patient man, and a diligent worker.
Next, I turn him over and got him to tuck his knees under him, raising his ass up, for better access to his filthy, dirty, shit-smeared ass.
Before I started I said, "I'd really love it, if you could shit in my mouth. I'd love eat your shit."
"I'll try," he said. What a nice, considerate boy he is, I thought to myself.
I started with his ass cheeks, mouth cleaning each one, fully carefully, completely, very tasty meat.
I moved to his ass trench, his nether cleft, that has been the receptacle for two weeks worth of boy sweat, pheromones, and shit. I start with my mouth at the top, near the base of his spine, and lick and suck every inch till I'm only an inch away from his shit hole itself. When I've mouth sucked his upper crack clean, I get him to turn over on his back and raise his legs, bending his knees to his chest, and raising his beautiful boy shit hole to me and the sky.
I see his cock is now rock hard and wet. I start working his taint, balls down to hole. Here the smell is more pheromones, man smell, pure animal and nasty. Mixed with sweat, urine, semen, and the smell of boy shit wafting up from the hole just below. When I've cleaned all that up with my mouth, I go down on his shit smeared boy hole.
Dingelberries clinging to the few hairs round his hole are in my mouth. Big dried gobs of pure boy shit are there for me to eat. I push my tongue past the encrusted shit, into his hole and feel the boy push out.
I feel him press down, pushing out, he is trying to shit in my mouth. I feel his anal ring puff out and open and a small jet of belly gas farts straight into my mouth. I swallow and inhale his fart, my lips locked tightly round his sphincter. I tongue fuck his hole, waiting and encouraging him to shit in my mouth.
But nothing comes. He pushes, he tries. I feel him give up, relax his effort and open himself to my tongue and cleaning mouth.
When I've finished cleaning him, wiping his dirty shit hole and swallowing his filth, I let him down and pull back.
He looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, I really tried to shit in your mouth."
"I know you did, and, as my mother would say, it's the thought that counts."
We both laughed, and I said, "Maybe you can make it up to me, by letting me give you a blow job after I finish cleaning your crotch."
"After that incredible tongue bath, I was hoping you'd give me a blow job, you got me as horny as an old billy goat, even if I no longer smell like one."
There is little left to tell. I sucked and licked and cleaned his balls, lord god in heaven, his balls tasted good, and his crotch. I reveled in the taste of pure nasty boy.
When I finally got to his cock, I pealed back his uncircumcised foreskin to reveal a huge crop of wet, white, smelly cock cheese.
My excited whoop of unabashed delight at his treasure trove of smegma, I love the sound of that word, and the smell of his cock cheese, brought the boy up on his elbows to watch me.
With my forefinger, I gathered a big gob of his smegma, and coated the inside of one of my nostrils with it, and then did the same with the other. My whole world smelled of boy cock cheese, and would for a good, long while.
I took my time cleaning the boy's hard cock, eating all his cock cheese, and eventually settling into a steady deep blow job.
The prolonged foreplay of the tongue bath had aroused the boy so much that he couldn't last long, and he shot a huge cum load in my mouth which I gratefully accepted and swallowed.
Recovering the boy said, "That was incredible, the freakiest thing I've ever done, by a long shot, and I will never forget it. Thank you. I wish there was something I could do for you."
"Well," I said, "you've already given me memories I, too, will never forget, but If you want to do something more, you could piss in my mouth."
"Happy to oblige you, buddy," the boy said.
I got down on my knees in front of him, took his cock in my mouth, and held still, waiting for a bit. I felt, first, a little trickle and the taste of strong hot urine, and then, the boy let go a steady stream of his piss and it was everything I could do to take all he gave me.
When he had finished and I had drunk his urine, he said, "I feel a little weird asking this, but I may never have another chance to do any thing like this again, I've kind of wondered what it would be like to suck a cock, could I try sucking you off?"
"Buddy, there is nothing weird about it, I think every boy should have a chance to suck a cock at least once in his life, and I sure would like to cum after all we've done this afternoon."
He asked me to lay down on the blanket and he got down between my legs. He took hold of my hard cock and checked it out for a long while, feeling it, holding it, smelling it, touching his tongue to it, then licking and kissing it. He put the head in his mouth, running his tongue around the head and then settled into a steady blow job.
For a homo-virgin beginner, he was pretty good, and I was, as you might expect, super hot, in only a couple of minutes, I announced, "I'm close to cumming, if you don't want me to cum in your mouth, you better back off."
He didn't slow down or back off, and having given fair waring I blasted what felt like the largest load of cum I had ever shot, into his no longer virgin mouth. He swallowed it all.
After a few minutes to recover from what was the most remarkable sexual experience for the both of us, we got dressed. Packed our packs and started heading back to the Appalachian Trail. We got to the trail and because of the lateness of the hour I turned to go with him, back toward my car.
We trudged along in silence together for a couple miles. I imagined he was thinking, like I was, about the incredible experience we had shared. After a while the boy said, "Fuck buddy, you got me so horny, my cock is rock hard, would you suck me off again?"
I couldn't help but chuckle, "My pleasure, friend, let's get off the trail."
We slipped off the trail just far enough to ensure privacy, and took off our packs, he dropped his shorts, I got to my knees, and he said, "I got to piss again, you want it?"
Indeed I did.
This was a longer blow job, but not as long as you might think. Ah, how very lovely, the sweet, sweet vigor of youth, I thought.
After I swallowed his second load, he said, "I owe you, I'll suck you again if you want me to."
"Thats all right, buddy, I'm good," I said.
Back on the trail, it was only a short walk till we came to the trail that led to where my car was parked.
We hugged, "Thanks for everything," the boy said, "I'll never forget you."
"I'll never forget you either," I said, "happy trails."
Post Script. If, by some strange chance, the boy in this story happens to read this, my e-mail address is at the top of the story. Drop me a line. I'd like to know if you walked the entire trail, and I'd love to eat your shit.