I'm sitting in my boxers, just got off my IT job, sweat clinging from being packed in the subway like sardines. Thinking, 'Man, lemme hop in the shower and call it a night.' But nah, I didn't. Instead, I open Grindr.
Yeah, I know - it's like a habit. I'm not even chasing much. Just scrolling, checking profiles. That's when he hits me up. 'ScentSeeker'. No profile pic, just some artsy pic of a nose. Ain't gonna lie, my first thought was, 'Bruh, not this again.' See, dudes like him? They been sliding into my DMs talking about smells for years. Sweat, feet, pits - you name it. And lemme tell ya, I've been tempted, but I always chicken out.
"Hey," he messages. Simple. Straight.
I hit him back. "Sup."
Then, boom - straight to the point. "I wanna explore your scent. Every inch."
I laugh out loud like, 'Yo, this dude's bold.' I'm thinking he'll back off if I hit him with some half-assed reply, so I go: "Bet. But I ain't showered yet."
And he goes, "Perfect."
Perfect? We'll see.
We go back and forth for a bit, and next thing you know, I'm giving him my address and flat number. My fingers hovered over the 'send' button for a minute, swear to God. Like, I was playing ping-pong in my head: Do it, don't do it, do it, don't. Then I'm like, 'Screw it.'
Not gonna lie, I was nervous as hell after that. Started thinking maybe I should tidy up or, like, fake an emergency and cancel. But nah, he wasn't giving me time to rethink. Dude was already on his way.
He shows up, knocks on my door, and he was not what I expected. Thought he'd be some creeper in a trench coat or something. Nah, dude looked clean. Button-up shirt, nice jeans, and this low-key vibe. Like he could be somebody's professor or something.
"Malcom?" he says, real polite.
"Yeah," I reply. "You're uh...ScentSeeker?"
I let him in, he steps through, and boom - he's on it. Closes his eyes, leans in close to my neck like he's about to dive right in.
"Hold up," I say, pushing him back with a firm hand on his chest. Not hard, just enough so he gets it. "You don't just start like that."
He blinks up at me, surprised but not scared. Kinda curious, even. I step back, cross my arms, and let the energy shift.
"Lemme make something real clear," I say, my voice low but steady. "You don't get to improvise, aight? You're here for me, not the other way around. I'll tell you what to sniff, when to sniff it, and how. Got it?"
"Yes," he says softly, almost like he's...grateful? Dude's already settling into it, I can tell.
I sit on the couch, legs spread, leaning back like I'm taking my throne. "First, you're going to undress me. Every piece, nice and slow."
He nods, kneels down in front of me without a word, and reaches for the hem of my shirt. His hands are steady but careful, like he knows he's gotta earn this. He pulls it up and over my head, then pauses, holding it like it's some kinda artifact.
"Go on," I say, nodding toward the shirt in his hands. "Take a whiff."
He lifts it to his face and breathes in deep, eyes closed like he's savoring it. I watch him, not saying a word, just letting him take it in.
"Good?" I ask after a moment.
"It's...warm," he whispers. "Comforting."
"Yeah, bet it is. Now keep going."
He folds the shirt, sets it aside, and moves to my socks. This part's almost funny, watching him tug 'em off one by one, slow and deliberate. Soon as he gets the first one off, he looks at me for permission.
"Smell it," I say, waving a hand.
And man, he does. Presses his nose to it like he's breathing in fresh-baked cookies or something. Dude's straight-up in heaven. I can't help smirking at how deep he's getting into it.
"Now the other one," I tell him.
Same thing - off comes the sock, on goes the sniffing. He's taking his time, like he's studying every little detail.
"Aight," I say after he's done. "Pants next. Don't rush."
He unbuttons my pants, tugs 'em down slow, and folds 'em like he's working retail or something. Before I even gotta tell him, he's sniffing the waistband, then the knees, then the cuffs. Dude's thorough, I'll give him that.
When he gets to my boxers, there's a pause. He looks up at me like he's waiting for the green light.
I raise an eyebrow. "You waiting for an invitation? Take 'em off."
He does, careful as ever, and holds 'em in his hands like they're made of gold. Sniffs 'em slow, taking his sweet time, and I let him.
"Good?" I ask.
"Perfect," he murmurs, voice almost shaky.
"Aight then," I say, standing up now, completely bare. "You ready for what's next?"
"Yes," he says, looking up at me like I'm the king of the damn universe.
He's still kneeling there, holding my boxers like they're a damn trophy, breathing in every molecule.
"Aight," I say, leaning down, grabbing him by the head. My right hand's firm, fingers tangling in his hair like I'm about to steer him where I want. "About time you got the real deal."
I guide him up, bringing his face level with my chest, and then pull him right into my armpit. Not a light touch, either - I bury him in there. Sweat, hair, everything. His nose's mashed so deep there's no escape.
"Breathe," I tell him, and I feel him hesitate for half a second. But what's he gonna do? He's locked in. So he snorts - long, shaky, and loud enough for me to hear it.
"Yeah," I say, starting to grin now. "That's it. Get all of it."
While he's there, I shift a little, rubbing his face against the hair like I'm using him as a towel. The way his nose presses into me, taking in every bit of the scent? Man, it's wild. I can feel his breath quickening against my skin, like he's overwhelmed but he don't wanna stop.
I pull him back for a sec, just enough to see his face - flushed, lips parted, eyes wide. "You good?" I ask, and he nods, barely able to form words.
"Good. 'Cause we're doing the other side now," I say, grinning wider.
I shift him over, locking his face into my left pit this time. Same deal - nose mashed in, no room for protest. His breath hitches again as I press him in even harder, letting the sweat and heat do their thing.
"Bet you're loving this, huh?" I ask, rubbing his face back and forth against the hair. He doesn't answer, but the way he leans into it tells me everything I need to know.
And that's when it hits me - the absurdity of it all, the control, the look on his face. I start chuckling, deep and low, the sound rumbling in my chest.
"You're something else, man," I say, finally letting him pull back. His face is all red, hair a mess, but he's got this dazed look, like he's exactly where he wants to be.
"Ready for more?" I ask, still chuckling, watching him sit there all flushed and dazed, like I just knocked something loose in his brain.
"Aight," I say, leaning back against the couch. "On your knees."
He doesn't hesitate. He drops down like he's practicing for Sunday mass, hands on his thighs, looking up at me all eager.
"You know what's next," I say, motioning toward my junk. "Start sniffing. Every. Inch."
He swallows hard, then leans forward, starting slow. His nose brushes the base of my cock, and I can feel his breath, warm and shaky. He takes a deep inhale, and I swear it's like he's trying to memorize me.
"Yeah, that's it," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Don't skip nothing. Get all up in there."
He moves lower, sniffing around my balls now. Real close, almost reverent. His nose presses into the skin, taking in the heat and the scent, and I can't help but laugh.
"Don't half-ass it," I tell him. "You miss a spot, you're starting all over."
I watch as he works, methodical and slow, breathing in every damn inch like I told him. He moves to my thighs next, first the right, then the left, sniffing along the muscles like he's savoring the whole thing.
I stretch my legs out, pointing to my feet. "Get down there. Start with the toes. Make sure you get in between 'em."
He shifts lower, settling by my feet now. He grabs one with both hands, lifting it slightly, and presses his nose into the gaps between my toes. The second he inhales, I feel him shudder, like the scent's hitting him hard.
"That's it," I say, smirking again. "Deep breaths. Don't hold back."
He moves through each toe, sniffing carefully, like he's taking his time with it. When he's done, I tilt my foot up.
He presses his face against the sole, breathing in like it's the damn Holy Grail. I watch as his nose drags along the length, from the heel to the ball, his breath hot against my skin.
"Other one," I say, after he finishes.
He switches feet, repeating the same routine - toes first, then the sole, sniffing every inch like it's the only thing that matters.
When he's finally done, I lean back, stretching out like I just ran a marathon. "Aight," I say, still grinning. "Not bad. You're definitely proving your worth."
He's sitting there, breathing all heavy, still looking like he's caught in some kinda trance. But then, he starts shifting like he's about to leave. Like he thinks the show's over.
"Hold up," I say, sitting up straight and shooting him a look. "Where do you think you're going?"
He freezes mid-motion, blinking up at me like a deer in headlights.
"I didn't say you could leave, did I?" I ask, voice steady but firm. "Nah, we're not done yet."
"I-I thought--" he starts, but I cut him off.
"Stop thinking. Here's what's next: You're not leaving till you sniff my ass."
His eyes widen, and he looks like he's trying to process what I just said. I can see the hesitation, the gears turning in his head.
I stand up and turning around so my backside's facing him. "Get over here. Nose between the cheeks. Now."
He hesitates for a second, but then he shuffles forward on his knees, like he knows he doesn't got much of a choice. His hands hover awkwardly near my thighs, and he leans in slow, like he's trying to brace himself.
The second his nose gets close, I feel it - the little brush of air as he takes his first breath. And man, the reaction is instant. He pulls back, coughing, like he just ran face-first into a brick wall.
I burst out laughing, deep and loud. "What's the matter, man? Too much for you?"
He doesn't answer, just looks up at me all red-faced, trying to catch his breath.
"Nah," I say, glancing over my shoulder with a grin. "I want your nose stuck to my asshole. Deep breaths. Get in there."
He swallows hard, his hands clutching at my hips for balance as he leans back in. This time, there's no hesitating. He presses his nose right into the middle, buried between the cheeks, and breathes in deep.
"That's more like it," I say, still laughing a little. "All the way."
He's trying his best, but I can hear the struggle in the way he's breathing, choking a little like the musk is too much to handle.
"Deeper," I say, pushing my hips back just a bit.
He does what I tell him, nose pressed in tight, taking breath after breath like his life depends on it. I'm still cracking up, the sound echoing through the room.
When he finally pulls back, his face is red, his hair's a mess, and he looks like he just ran a marathon.
He mumbles a quick "uh, thank you, for this" before scurrying out the door, and I'm left standing there, shaking my head and smirking.
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