Southern Comfort by Lovediego@aol.com
The usual disclaimers about age and copyright apply. This is my shit, please don't steal it or reproduce it without my permission. Don't hesitate to reach out to me to let me know what you thought about the series. No flames.
This series contains themes of male same sex relationships, as well as EXTREME RAUNCH, urination and filth.
I left retirement to help bring attention to a good cause. The Gay Male Journal: www.gaymalejournal.org, a non-profit, homosexual male healthcare on-line resource website. The company was founded by and is operated by gay males ONLY; tackling topics on sexual, mental, and general healthcare, all from a gay male perspective. NO stigma, shame or bigotry. All articles are based on science and facts! They are the first and ONLY company in the entire world doing such work. The website is FREE to visit and open 24/7/365.
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Growing up in the North East wasn't easy, especially when you're poor as fuck. Yeah, being poor anywhere isn't the best, but when everything is as expensive as where I lived, and every day you can see all the rich people who can afford things that you never will, it's a bitch. I never wanted all the luxuries society tells us we need. I just wanted the very basics, like food, shelter, and clothes. But, I had to hustle my ass off to get those things, and I often failed.
I wish I could say my mom did her best to raise and provide for me, but that would be a bold-faced lie. She would've had to do a lot more to even rise to the point of doing the bare minimum. We lived in a run-down apartment that used to be my grandmother's before she died of lung cancer. So it was mad cheap and rent-controlled. But in one of the worst neighborhoods you could imagine.
Mom didn't think she was the type of woman who needed to work. She was pretty enough to get strange men to buy her stuff, like clothes and diners. Welfare was supposed to pay for my food, but too often, she spent that money on one of her various boyfriends. When she did get a job, she was soon fired for sleeping with one of the married men who worked there, sometimes even the boss. Weird, but companies frown upon shit like that.
It didn't matter because she only took the jobs so that she could get fired and then collect unemployment insurance. When that ran out, the cycle would begin again.
The good thing about when she worked was that it meant she was home even less and not around to yell and scream at me for no reason or beat the shit out of me when something didn't go her way. To my mom, everything wrong that happened in her life was because she had me. At least once a week, she told me how she wished she had aborted or given me up for adoption. If she'd been drinking, she'd say I should've been left in my no-good daddy's ball sac, swallowed or spit out. Yeah, that was my childhood.
But I had a plan. Once I was old enough to quit school, I was out of that shithole. Anywhere had to be better than there. The city doesn't have jobs like paperboys or lawnmowers for young kids to get, like in the suburbs. So, if you want cash, you need to hustle. For a lot in my neighborhood, that meant selling drugs. I knew that wasn't for me because I was too small to defend myself. The first time I hit the corner, my shit would've been stolen, my ass beat and the dealer above me would either make me take a fall for someone else's bullshit, or I'd get a bullet to the back of my skull. None were options I wanted to choose between.
So, I used where I lived to my advantage. See, there were lots of old and sick people in the building, and I would run errands for them, like to the supermarket, pharmacy, or CVS. For some of the older women, I'd go with them to doctor's appointments or even to their friend's homes at night, just to make sure they got home safely. I wasn't a threat enough to sell drugs, but I was bigger and stronger than a 100-pound senior citizen.
The money wasn't great, but it really started to add up over the years. Which was good since once I hit 18, my mom was gonna be on my shit about how I needed to start looking for a place to live. That was my cut-off date because that was when the government would stop sending her money to take care of me. She would tell me I needed to pick either the military or a homeless shelter, but I couldn't stay at her house anymore.
Failure was not an option.
About now, you might be wondering where my dad was. Well, that's a damn good question. I had no idea, and neither did mom. She only talked about him when she yelled at me about being a no-good piece of shit, just like him. Or when she was bitching to one of her girlfriends about how stinking his cock and balls were. Mom loved reminding me of how much my dad smelled and how, once I hit puberty, I was starting to stink up the apartment, just like him.
My mom hated that I walked and talked like him, looked like him, and even was a stupid, good-for-nothing bum, just like him.
As I got older, I paid more attention to when she was going on about his body, his looks but especially his cock because I thought something was wrong with my junk. And there was no way I was going to tell her about it. She would say he stunk like the devil, but fucked just like him too. That he had a wicked curve to his cock that hit every spot. From his waist, around his privates and into the crack of his ass, he was as hairy as an animal, she loved to tell anyone who would listen.
I truly was growing up to be like him. At least physically.
And that is all I ever heard about him. She went out of her way to never say his name around me.
No matter what she said, I knew I wasn't as ugly as she claimed. I wasn't super handsome, but I was definitely cute. They call boys who are sorta pretty, thinner, and have a sweet personality cute. I was OK with that because it did describe me. I was smaller than most guys my age but wiry. I had some good muscle tone and definition, but I never played any sports or anything. Those things cost money in the inner city. Money I didn't have.
The rest of my body was like most boys. I was starting to get a bit of peach fuzz under my nose and chin. My feet were growing almost as fast as my cock, and the hair around it. I had a full pubic bush by the age of 14, and my balls were covered in fur less than a year later. Accidently, I found out my asshole was buried in a jungle of short curly hairs when I touched it after a pretty messy dump.
Puberty brought a fascination with my body that I didn't expect. One day, I was a normal kid, the next, I was a horny fag that couldn't get enough of his own uncut juicy cock and teen stink. I loved everything my young body produced. The smell of my pits were intoxicating, as I huffed them every chance I got. I let my hood get and stay as dirty as I could before anyone else noticed the cheesy aroma rising from my crotch. But best of all was the smell of my asshole. The earthy, dark essence hypnotized me. Constantly, I ran my fingers through my newly furry crack and luxuriated in the greasy slime my hole farted out. I took time to explore each new wrinkly around my anus, catalogued the ridges inside my tight rectum and enjoyed the funk it produced. The funk created, my home grown mixture of sweat, ass gas, butthole juice and shit. How could I make such an amazing smell without trying? Even thinking about my stink got my cock hard and dripping pre jizz. It was one of the best times of my young life. Each time I got time to wank off, I always started with drowning myself in my own stink.
Just because I was a teen didn't mean I was able to spend every waking hour jerking off. How could I? We didn't have a home computer, my mom refused to buy me a cell phone, and I had zero privacy in our tiny apartment.
Even on those rare occasions when I showered, I never got to have a slow wank. I either had to hurry up and bust my nut before my mom, one of her drunk female friends who stayed the night, busted in, or some random guy she hooked up with needed to take a piss before she kicked him out.
My personal time was in the middle of the night when she was out running the streets, and I could take a shit in peace. Even if my mom came home, there was no way in hell she wanted to smell my ass stink. That's probably how and when I began associating sex with bodily functions and smells.
Other people may have hated my natural scent, but I loved it. It was the most authentic essence of me. No cologne or perfume, no chemicals, and no preservatives. Just me.
I had to learn everything about my aging body on my own. School sex education was a joke, and I had an almost totally hands-off parent. I had to sneak around the librarians to access any porn on the internet, but then the mayor outlawed that. So, I experimented on the only body I did have access to, my own.
It didn't take me long to figure out that I was a true and complete scent pig, and there were other guys out there, just like me. I wasn't the only one who got off from the smell of his nasty gym socks and trainers, busted loads just from smelling his own dick cheese, or even liked the smell of his own farts and shit so much that they become necessary components to a proper masturbation session. If I wasn't ripe, I had no desire to stroke my cock. So of course, personal hygiene took a back seat to my sexual perversions.
I even became a bit of an accidental exhibitionist. See, my clothes weren't getting replaced as fast as I was outgrowing them, so I was showing my teen fat cock outline all the time. Because I could never jerk off, I was horny as fuck, all the time, and this meant any stray thought could get me hard. I was constantly dripping cock snot into my underwear, which would seep into my jeans. I smelled of that bleachy, cummy smell just as much as that musky scent I was getting a reputation for having. I learned not to care; I was a social outcast anyway. Nothing was going to make it worse.
Sure, you could say that I was lonely because I was. Even though most of the kids at my school were poor, no one wanted to hang out with the poor kid dressed in old clothes who smelled bad. It wasn't my fault, I showered every day, but it never seemed to last. Gym class was the worst, for obvious reasons.
Since there was no man around to teach me about my pubescent body, I didn't learn about smegma until I'd become a one-boy cheese-making factory. The sharp aroma escaped from the tip of my cock every time I opened my pants to take a piss or took off my clothes. The first time I actually shot a creamy load of hot jizz from my boy-cock, I thought I had broken it. Something came out of my slit that wasn't piss or blood for the first time. I was confused because it felt so damn good that I wanted to recreate whatever I did to make it happen, again and again and again. But I was too afraid that I had done some type of permanent damage to my dick. This fear lasted an entire day, before I was back to jerking off like a madman, under my bed-sheets, wrapped in the Dutch oven I had created.
That's why I wished I had a brother or two. I was so jealous of my friends who had an older one to protect them from the bullies, look after them, and teach them shit like how to fight and have sex. I just had the internet. I guess something is always better than nothing.
My birthday was in the fall, so I started to study for my GED the next day when I was eligible. I dropped out of school, and mom didn't even notice. But, she would've needed to be home to know or care. I kept running errands and saving my money. I saved it in a rolled-up pair of my dirtiest underwear inside some old sneakers in the back of my closet. I knew she'd never dare search there. The intense stench was enough to shock even me a few times when I rummaged around and forgot my treasure was hidden there.
I learned the hard way that mom thought any money I had was automatically hers, and she took it all. Even if it came from my grandmother. That was a very fucked-up 10th birthday.
I took my GED exam in the spring and got my results shortly after. I said my goodbyes to my clients, forcing them to promise not to tell anyone a word about my leaving, and packed my shit. I knew I needed to be smart about how I spent my money, so I bought Greyhound's cheapest ticket south. I wanted far away from the city, any city. I took one look last look around the tiny bedroom I 'd spent my entire life in and could only think about never seeing it again. A smile crept along my lips.
Once I got my meager possessions into an old army bag, one of my mom's many ex-boyfriends leave-behinds, I was out. I walked to the bus station and hoped I was making the right decision because there was no way in hell she'd ever let me return if I fucked this up.
Twenty hours later, I arrived. Where exactly? I wasn't sure. I slept most of the trip, only waking up when some new traveler replaced a departing one. I had no idea that I could be so tired. All of my body hurt, from head to toe. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. For so long, I'd been working my ass off, avoiding trouble, studying for that damn test, all while taking abuse from the woman who was supposed to love me. It took a more significant toll on me than I thought.
The bus rolled into some shitty small town in some shitty small state in the South. It was the last stop and as far as my money would get me. I was one of the last riders off. The others in front of me were happily greeted by friends and family that were so pleased to see them. But there was no one waiting for me. I was used to that feeling, but it still hurt.
All too soon, my bladder let me know it needed to be quickly emptied. Like, really soon. Even though it was around 7 at night, it was almost entirely dark outside; I was in the sticks and far away from the bright lights of the big city. I ran into the station with my heavy ass bag slung across my shoulder. My right hand gripped the tip of my wet cock, as I tried but failed miserably to hold in the hot urine that was starting to drip out of my long foreskin and soak my jeans.
I'd never been anywhere as empty as that station. A few people were waiting for buses, and one older woman selling tickets, but besides that, the place was a ghost town and a bit scary. I followed the signs to the men's room, rushing and not paying attention to where I was going. I turned a tight corner and bumped into a wall of a man. I struck him hard in the chest and began to fall backward, but he wasn't even phased. He quickly grabbed my left shoulder to keep me from falling on my ass. Unfortunately, that made me lose my grip on my slippery dick, and my piss made a break for it.
In some run-down, small-town bus station, for the first time since being a baby, I pissed my pants. And not just a little bit came out; the floodgates unclogged and released almost an entire day's worth of smelly urine. I was so embarrassed and tired and scared that I began to cry. Right there, in front of some strange man, in this strange town.
In the middle of god knows where.
"Hey, it's OK little man. I got you." He said while grabbing my hand and taking me into the men's room. The stranger took me inside the handicapped stall, closed the door, relieved me of my duffle bag, and held me securely in his strong arms. And, for the first time in a long time, I wept. I let it all out. I cried so hard that I was shaking. But he just held me. Never moving. Never wavering. Tightly, but not too tight. He stroked the back of my head in the most loving way I could imagine. This made me cry even more. Some man I'd never met before showed me more love, kindness, and affection than I ever got in 16yrs from my own mother. Damn, my life was shit.
I don't know how long he let me wet his wife-beater with my teenage tears or tolerate my piss-soaked jeans rubbing against his, but I was so glad he did. He didn't make me feel stupid or bad for having this very public emotional breakdown. He simply provided me the comfort he knew I needed. And I took it. Because I really needed it so badly.
This man was around 23 or 24 years old, about 5'10", and muscular. Not gym muscular, but like someone who had a job where he picked heavy things up, carried them somewhere, and then put them back down. The body of someone who worked hard for a living. His dirty t-shirt was threadbare and dingy, but so were his tight blue jeans. As I skimmed down, I could see the outline of his impressive bulge, two tree trunk-like legs that ended in a pair of dust-covered work boots.
"Feeling better?" He asked once he noticed my crying had subsided. I looked at his face fully for the first time and was greeted with a huge, shy boy smile. He wore a ball cap over his hair, but I could see it was a bit shaggy and dark brown, just like his eyes.
I tried to nod my head that I was better, but I still wasn't. Some more emotion still needed to be let out. And he was OK with cradling me while my weeping began again.
It's not that I was some weak kid that cried at the drop of a hat. I was the exact opposite. City streets, any city streets aren't for the weak. But impoverished city streets will eat up soft and gentle boys, shit them out, and then move on to the next batch without any guilt, shame, or remorse. Cities make young boys hard, too hard. The environment morphs us into people constantly fighting for survival in a concrete jungle. We don't want to be this way; we have to be this way.
I wasn't the most butch boy on my block, but I could hold my own in a fist fight, run faster than the thugs with guns, and was street-smart enough to keep from being touched by the local perverts in the park.
At home, where I should've been able to let all of that go, I wasn't allowed to. I wasn't allowed to cry or show that I was hurt in any way. My mom called me a faggot if I did. Threatened to sell me to a pimp that would let any guy fuck me up the ass for 5 dollars and a hit of crack if I kept it up. She always reminded me how much she hated weak men and fags. And neither one was going to live under her roof and eat up her good food. So, I kept it bottled up inside for 16 and a half years straight. Until the emotional pressure was too much for me to bear.
I moved my head slightly toward the man's right shoulder, my chin just reaching the top. This put my nose right at his armpit. And damn, the funk hit me hard. I knew I reeked, not just my regular musk, but the addition of a full day on a Greyhound bus across the country. My teenage boy-stink was nothing compared to the scent I was greeted with. This was true, man-stink at its finest. A homemade brew that only a working man could create after a long hard day doing god knows what. I should've been repulsed by his aroma and pulled away, but I wasn't, and I didn't. Instead, I quickly realized that I loved his stink as much as I loved my own. I leaned into the foul smell and took a deep whiff. My head began to swim in his fumes in the best possible way. This was what I'd been missing in my life. A man. The fragrance and stench of a man. The love and attention of a man. The compassion and affection that only a man can give. Inside his armpit, I found what I needed, and I wasn't going to let it go to waste.
Without asking permission, I huffed his personal musk deeper before bravely sticking my tongue out to taste his rancid sweat. It was salty on my tongue but full of rich flavor, and I wanted more, so I took it. I licked and sucked at his curly hairs before swiping my tongue along the folds of his skin. I panted while exploring this small but intimate spot on his body. Almost making love to him. Giving him all I had as I drowned myself in his sweat.
He loved it. Deep guttural moans came from his muscular chest as I felt his thick, eraser-like pierced nipples scrape across my face for the first time. It felt good. They felt good. I sniffed, licked, sucked, and drank in his essence as he continued to cradle my teen body in his arms.
My motions moved the edge of his grungy wife-beater, exposing the tit I could feel on my face. Without looking, my mouth sought it out to suckle. Like a baby, I began to nurse. The stranger let me know it was fine with him by caressing my head and rubbing my neck. My own mother never breastfed me, but here, in this dirty bus station bathroom, in the middle of nowhere, I was having my first experience of being intimately nurtured. Of course, no milk came from his body, but the metal bar felt nice on my tongue as I could still smell his pit funk in my nose. I don't know how long he permitted me to use his body this way, but soon enough, he gently moved my head away from his chest and looked me in the eye.
"OK little man, that's enough of that, for now. Let's get you cleaned up and presentable again." I don't know what I was expecting, but it sure as shit wasn't a strange grown-ass man licking the tears away from my eyes. His warm wet tongue lapped up my salty excretions until my cheeks were dry. He then moved down to my nose. Thick globs of creamy snot ran out of my nostrils and settled around my lips. I could feel the sticky phlegm puddle around the corners of my mouth.
Methodically, the stranger sucked up my nose gunk and swallowed it down. He made sure to run his thick tongue along the edges of my lips and retrieve all the scum gathered there. I was disgusted and aroused at the same time. This sexy dude just ate my slime and loved it!
Folding his tear-wet tongue into a spoon shape to scoop up snot, he began doing just that. He made pig-like grunting sounds as he worked.
But he wasn't done. The stranger bent down, with his mouth directly under my nose, closed off my left nostril with two of his calloused fingers, and said one single word to me. "Blow." And I did. I let the viscous mucus hiding inside my nose shoot out almost violently. Twice. Not phased in the least, he captured everything left over in my nose inside his mouth. Then, he repeated the lewd act with my right nostril until it too was totally empty.
I watched in awe as he gathered it with a satisfied smile.
My own mouth slightly opened with surprise, just long enough for the stranger to stick his coated tongue inside. He began to lick along the sides, then top and bottom of my gapping face-hole. Gobs of my own snot were re-deposited inside my body once again. The feeling was smooth like pudding but with the added flavor of the stranger's smelly saliva. We weren't kissing as much as exchanging bodily fluids.
It was gross in the best way conceivable. He used his tongue to mop up and gather my spit and any left-over phlegm. In one big gulp, he swallowed.
Staring me in the eye, he searched my face for any signs of hesitation or disgust, finding neither.
Finally, he pulled a yellow hankie from his left back pocket and wiped my face clean of his spit. He cleaned the gunk from my eyes and dried my sweaty brow before turning the dirty rag toward my nose.
He cleaned the tip a few times and stuck it inside, making circular motions along the ridges of both nostrils, before replacing the filthy rag to its home inside his back pocket.
"Come on, it's time to go." I didn't know or even care where he wanted to take me, but I knew I wanted to follow.
The stranger grabbed my heavy duffle bag from the dirty tiled floor, hoisted it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing, opened the stall door, and led me out into the bright florescent lights of the men's room.
In our haste to get me into the handicapped stall, I didn't take the time to look around. I just pursued his strong backside wherever he wanted to take me. But as we left, I noticed that we weren't alone. Against the far back wall were four guys. Two with their pants down around their ankles, a third on the dirty floor between their legs, sucking their cocks like his life depended on it. And a final one licking the butt of the first guy. All my life, I was told to avoid public bathrooms because that's where fags went to fuck, and here I was, right in the middle of one, and had no idea.
In my defense, I was a bit preoccupied with my own bullshit.
We went into the bus station halls, down a long corridor, and out a side exit towards a back parking lot. There, unlike the front of the station, there was definitely more life. At least 6 cars were parked next to each other, and more than that number of men were milling about, talking, and touching each other in obviously sexual ways.
"Come on, you can see more stuff like that later. Right now, we need to go." He motioned towards a dark blue, older model Ford pick-up truck, caked with dirt and grime. My bag was quickly thrown into the back as he opened the passenger door for me. I hopped in and waited a few seconds before he joined me on the other side.
"Put your seat belt on, little man ."He said in a definite but not stern tone. I did as I was told. He put the truck into gear, and off we drove into the warm country night.
With my window down, I could smell the clean, fresh air. I never knew that air could smell so sweet and feel so good on my skin. Every now and again, the stranger would look in my direction to make sure I was OK; it was on his third glance that something occurred to him. He didn't even know my name.
"I'm so sorry; I was raised better than this. My manners are shit today. My name's TJ; what's yours, little man." He asked as he spit into his right palm and extended it for me to shake.
I said my name is Jaime, and I was very pleased to meet him.
"No need to be so formal after what we just shared. But, I'm very pleased to meet you too. So, Uhm, do you want to talk about what's going on? If not, that's cool too. I just want you to know that I can be more than a shoulder to cry on; I'm a good listener too." TJ told me as he tried to keep one eye on the dark back roads.
Thanks, I said. Maybe later. At that time, I was still embarrassed about wetting myself. The mess became more noticeable once I sat down, and the piss began to dry. Somehow, it seemed to grow in size and begin to wet both my balls and the crack of my ass. When I left home the day before, I thought I was a man, off on a new adventure. Instead, I turned out to be a boy, sitting in a pool of his own piss.
"No pressure." He said. And I believed him. After about 20 minutes, we turned down a narrow dirt road that would be easy to miss if you didn't know what you were looking for. It stretched longer than I expected, flanked by the most giant and beautiful trees I'd ever seen. The air still had that fresh, clean smell, but now it mixed in with hints of cherry or oak. At the end of the lane was a mid-sized cabin. I know I should've been terrified about what this strange man had planned for me, but I wasn't.
Well, not until a black jeep came into view as we reached the cabin.
Sensing a change in my body language, TJ gave me a comforting look and said. "Don't worry, little man, that's my brother Jeb's jeep. We live together. It's just the two of us out here, I promise. No one is going to hurt you." He said with the most handsome smile in the world.
Usually, words like that are only said by rapists and murderers just before they rape and murder you. Still, I don't know if it was my exhaustion or blind trust, but I believed I would be safe with TJ and his brother.
He turned the truck off, hopped out, and grabbed my bag again. I quickly joined TJ as he approached the front porch. Looking back at my seat, I could see I'd left an unmistakable wet mark. But TJ didn't seem to mind.
Over my shoulder, I noticed that we were in a highly secluded area. The only lights were from the cabin, and I couldn't even see the large street we turned off of.
It was somehow peaceful, yet creepy as fuck. For the first time in my young life, I wasn't drowning in the noise of a vast city. No voices arguing about bullshit. No cop cars pretending to stop crime. No mother, no mother at all.
The front door was unlocked, making me chuckle inside my head. I had only seen white people on TV keep their doors unlocked. Any fool trying that in my neighborhood was begging to get robbed, shot or both. TJ dropped my heavy bag onto the hard wooden floor and began unlacing his dirty boots before yelling out to his older brother.
"Jeb, are you decent? We got company. Come out and say hello to our guest." His voice boomed through the cabin, bouncing off the super high ceilings.
As we waited, I began to take off my dirty, smelly sneakers and leave them next to TJ's much larger and smellier boots. He was still wearing his socks, which were simply a grungy pair of stinky cloth, barely held together by threads, with a sizable hole in each one.
Not that mine were in a much better condition. And they stank almost as bad.
"God damn, TJ, can't a man take a comfortable shit in his own home for five seconds?" Jeb mock complained as he flushed the toilet, turned the corner from the bathroom, and unashamedly walked toward the two of us.
To my total surprise, the older man was buck-ass naked. I'd never seen a man, or boy even, fully nude in real life. Sure, on the internet, but never a swinging cock and balls in real life.
And this naked man wasn't like any of the smooth twinks or shaved muscle boys I used to see online. Jeb was a hairy beast of a specimen, with a brown pelt that covered almost his entire body. He sported a close cropped haircut that perfectly accentuated his thick mustache and beard that any mountain man would be envious of. He had a rugged natural look that was on the border of mean and playful at the same time. His sparking blue eyes made that possible. He threw me a subtle smile from a set of slightly crooked teeth.
He didn't have pierced nipples like his little brother, but they were still large, thick, and looked like they'd been gnawed on. His chest was broad and hairy, just like his small muscle gut. Jeb was by no means fat, but he was definitely a solid brick house of a man.
His waist was around 36 inches and tapered toward the plumpest cock I'd ever seen. His member hung around 6 inches soft, surrounded by more of his dense man-fur, adorned with a silver cockring and thick metal ring through the wide piss slit. I knew enough from my searches on the web that this was a Prince Albert. It looked amazingly masculine on him as it slightly peaked out from a long, chunky foreskin.
His dick skin, like mine, was darker than the rest of his body. The long tip looked just as weathered as his nipples; like someone had been chewing on them too.
He had the big, broad thighs, calves, and feet of a man of his size and shape. Of course they were hairy.
Maybe we truly did surprise him in the act of using the toilet because it looked like he was still pissing as he walked toward us. A long stream of yellow urine flowed onto the wooden floor from his thick dick head, and it was sexy as hell. A rancid puddle formed at his feet. Making his toes slick with piss. My own teen member began to swell again in my soiled underpants.
Soon enough, he was standing right in front of me. I could smell his scent immediately. It was similar to TJ's but stronger, thicker, and more layered. Almost aggressive. Like he hadn't had a bath in some time. I should've guessed that from the layer of crusty white smegma that encircled the tip of his dick skin. I know from experience that something like that isn't from skipping just a shower or five.
Jeb thrust his powerful right paw toward me. Just as I was about to politely shake his hand, he quickly moved in and forced me into a tight bear hug. I almost instantly surrendered to this man, in a way not unlike I did his brother less than an hour ago. What was it about these men that put me so at ease?
"Jeb's a hugger. Sorry, I should've warned you." TJ said softly in my ear as his brother released me. At no time did he mention his blatant nakedness, still pissing cock, or intense BO.
"Damn, dude, just let me be me, OK? I'm sure the young man can handle a hug, and it's not like I raped him or anything." Jeb said mockingly that, for a moment, made me rethink going home with TJ. I didn't know either of these guys, and deep in these woods, they could do anything to me, bury my body in the backyard, and no one would ever be the wiser. It's not like Amber alerts and search parties are sent out for boys like me.
"What is your name, by the way, young man." Jeb took the time to ask as he scrutinized me up and down. He seemed to be drinking me in. Cataloging each inch of my 5'6" petite frame. The older brother started with the top of my wavy hair, squinted as he searched for nonexistent facial hair on my face, and slowly gazed downward, toward my piss-soaked jeans and dirty white socks.
"Jamie ."I said.
I could tell he was sniffing the air, and smelling the stink of my teen bladder. Even in their rustic cabin, filled with the aroma of two grown men, my urine stood out. Maybe because it was still fresh or because it was new in their space. Either way, this alpha dog could tell that I had an accident. But, he was polite enough not to say that he noticed.
"Good to meet you, Jaime. Consider our home to be your home. Make yourself comfortable, and let me know if you need anything. I'm going to get set for the party." Jeb winked at me as he turned toward the open kitchen. I watched his hairy muscle ass cheeks flex as he left. In between his cleft, I could see a line of brown, unwiped shit clinging to his butt hairs. Jeb might have flushed the toilet, but it didn't look like he slowed down to wipe his ass.
What party, I asked.
"Your welcoming party, of course. We can't let your arrival in our home go uncelebrated. We have better manners than that, don't we, TJ? No home training, but better manners." He joked as he turned back toward us, put two fingers into his now stopped pissing cock head, and swiped up some of the briny liquid before putting them into his mouth and sucking them dry. A sly smirk crossed his lips as he went on his way to prepare.
"Come on, little man, let's get you out of these wet clothes." TJ ignored his brother's raunchy behavior and led me up the wide wooden staircase leading to a sleeping loft. The cabin didn't have bedrooms, and both brothers shared the loft, preferring to sleep in a single king-sized bed.
He again extended his hand for me to hold as he led me up the broad staircase, and of course, I quickly grabbed it. As he led, I stared at his muscular backside in his skin-tight jeans and consumed more of his personal odor.
From the loft, I could see the entire cabin. It was an open floor plan with everything in view except the bathroom and the kitchen. Wooden beams lined the ceiling and pointed towards a large skylight. I had never seen so many stars before.
"Let's see. I think I might have something for you to put on. It won't fit perfectly, but as you can tell, we don't have a strict dress code here." TJ shouted to me from the back of a closet at the other end of the loft.
I could've just worn something of my own from my bag, but I wanted to wear something of his. And TJ seemed to want that too.
When he returned, he'd stripped off his ball cap, tight jeans and tee shirt, that were covered in my tears and crusty snot. But left on his dirty socks. TJ casually walked towards me wearing only a tiny, tight, dirty jockstrap that probably hadn't walked pasted a washing machine in years. He was literally falling out of it. That undersized piece of fabric and tainted elastic straps had no chance of containing the massive man meat inside. A thick tuft of pubic hair made itself known from the very top of his nut holder.
The funk from his pouch hit me from across the room and joined the stench of dirty socks and underpants that littered the loft floor. It seemed like the brothers stripped out of their filthy boots at the door and let any other clothes find a new home on any couch, chair, or floor that would have them.
"Here, try these." TJ handed me a dingy pair of used-to-be white tighty whities. The waistband was worn out and dingy, and the butt had a few holes around it. They certainly weren't clean, but I didn't care. The underpants were larger than my size, but I didn't care about that either. I wanted to wear something that touched his cock, balls, and asshole.
"Give those to me. I'll take care of them." TJ commanded. Attempting to preserve some amount of modesty and dignity, I turned away from him as I took off my wet jeans and soaked underpants. The smell was even more intense than I'd noticed on the drive over. I usually wore my own pair for at least three or four days straight. I loved, not only the smell the contained, but also the way they looked. The mix of white, yellow and brown stains were proof of my burgeoning manhood. But, I also knew how much other people hated my natural scents and would either die from the sight of them or laugh at my disgusting lack of hygiene. I wasn't sure how TJ would feel about me after he saw my nasty pair, even if his own were not much better. Some people are strange that way. They love something about themselves but hate it in others. Still, I knew I had to get out of my wet clothes.
He might not have gotten a look at my hairy teen boy-cock, but I was definitely mooning him with my rank brown ass. I knew from experience that not only was he seeing my butt cheeks but also getting a good whiff of what was in-between them. Even I could smell that subtle but obvious stink of shit as I bent over. It was a smell that I loved so much, but got embarrassed if anyone else got a huff.
Lastly, I decided I might as well throw him my t-shirt. It wasn't covered in piss, but my pit stink had ruined it hours ago.
I tossed the soiled garments over to him and started to put on the underpants he shared with me. I wasn't sure, but I was almost certain I heard him huffing my nasty soaked underwear before placing them on the railing to dry.
"All set?" He asked. Making sure not to rush me while letting me know he wanted to see how I looked in his abused underpants.
I was right; they were dirty. Not as dirty as mine, but still nowhere near being laundry fresh. The front had a enormous yellow patch that was obviously from dried piss. Some white flakes of what I knew to be dick cheese were inside the pouch, and a light brown skid mark graced the middle of the backseat. These were not my underpants, but they looked like they could've been a pair straight from my duffle bag. Not only did I not have the money to waste on laundry before leaving, I didn't have the desire to wash my clothes. Especially not my dirty underwear, that I had worked so hard on to achieve that perfect look and smell that got me hard and dripping boy juices.
TJ's shorts wouldn't sit properly on my waist, so they hung low, almost on my hips, exposing my thick pubic bush and top of my still chubbed teen dick.
"You look great. Let's get you something to eat." TJ extended his hand to me again as he led me down the staircase, through the large room, and into the kitchen. Jeb was bent over naked, looking into the refrigerator.
His thick thighs were open, showing off the sludge caught between his checks and caressing his unwiped shithole. We were close enough to ground zero that I caught a whiff of his spicy cavity. The contrast of browns against his hairy buns was obvious and looked more like a circle of scum around his anus, than the long stripes I produced.
Jeb's big, grungy man-ass was staring us in the face. He wiggled his pungent butt back and forth happily like a dog as he pulled a couple of beers from the back of the fridge.
TJ led me out the backdoor and onto their porch. It was huge and took up almost as much space as the living area. The wooden structure was perfect for looking out into the deep forest to the left, or over the crystal blue lake, to the right. The brothers set it up to comfortably house an outdoor grill and two oversized reclining deck chairs, with a table in between them.
The younger brother took the first chair, with Jeb following close behind me. I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he closed in on my ass. He ran one of his hands up and inside of the crack of the borrowed underpants I was wearing and coated the already filthy fabric with the essence of my unwashed teen butthole. I could feel the thin cotton absorb all the rank scents and moisture I'd been producing over the last few days.
"There, that's better ."Jeb said to no one in particular as he passed me and handed his brother a cold beer bottle. Once they were both seated, I realized I had nowhere to sit, but TJ just grabbed me by my waist and brought my hips to settle down between his open legs. I didn't resist and let myself be enveloped in his strong arms once again.
I could feel the prickling of his chest hairs against my naked back as the brothers began talking. I was engrossed in the view, the warmth of TJ's overstuffed jock, and the smell of a warm summer night in the South.
"...is he even old enough to drink? I knew you were going out to get your ass bred, but I didn't expect you to come back with a full-grown kid." Jeb laughed at my expense. But this confirmed what I thought about the bus station men's room and why TJ was there. I wasn't upset. Hell, I wouldn't have ever met him if he wasn't there then.
TJ took a deep swig from his bottle before handing it to me. It was so fast that the smell of his breath was still on the beer neck. I opened my mouth and quickly took a long pull. I was so thirsty, and the cold beer felt good going down. No, that was far from being my first beer, but it was the first time I shared one with another dude. His backwash added something special to the taste that I really liked.
"OK boys, while you two get to know each other better, I'm going to get these steaks on the grill and get this party started." I thought of taking over Jeb's chair but felt TJ tense up as I began to move. He wanted me to stay in his lap, and I happily complied.
The rest of the night went as expected. The three of us talked, laughed, and got to know each other better. They told me about their shithead, abusive father, who used to beat the living shit out of them when he was drunk. And I told them about my mom and her long trail of nameless boyfriends. At first, I felt a bit bad about airing family dirty laundry in front of total strangers. Still, I decided to just fuck it and get it all off my chest to some guys who not only would listen but truly understood what I had gone through. It was a nice change. Something I never thought I'd experience.
But, damn, they were like a couple of feral animals. Nothing seemed to be off limits. They burped, farted, and cussed like guys who didn't care what others thought of them. Everything I had been taught was dirty and disgusting, was just a natural bodily function to the brothers that didn't need to be called out or admonished.
With our fingers, we ate our steaks from one large communal paper plate. We broke stalks of corn on the cob, slobbered in butter, and shared them, along with bottles of beer, as we enjoyed the summer night air. TJ feed me torn pieced of the charted flesh directly into my mouth. After I returned the gesture, he licked my fingers clean of bbq sauce. Not to be left out, Jeb chewed-up corn and fed it to me like I was a baby bird; newly flavored with his spit. The more we drank, the more outrageous they became with me.
I was having a great time. But, all good things eventually come to an end.
The first sign was when I opened my mouth wide and yawned. Within seconds, the two brothers copied my action, showing they were just as tired as I. Jeb made the first move and picked up the dirty plate and empty bottles. He chucked them into two separate recycling bins at the edge of the deck. I got up to see if I could help and almost fell over. I'd never had so much alcohol to drink and was a bit tipsy. The brothers laughed at my predicament as Jeb quickly moved behind to catch me. I fell back into his strong arms, and he caught a good whiff of my ripe smell.
"Pew wee, you stink, pup. TJ, I think our guest needs a bath. We can't let him back inside smelling like a boy's locker room." Jeb laughed as he held me tight. I could smell the beer on his breath, as the stink of his own body made my teen cock begin to rise against my will.
TJ got the hint faster than I did and jumped from his seat. For the first time, I saw his uncut, greasy cock as he lowered the front of his raunchy jock and aimed it right at my chest. Like his brother, he wore a thick metal cockring around the base of his 5-inch flaccid member. I looked down to see a hefty set of balls, just like his brother's, except he had the added jewelry of a heavy metal ball weight.
The hot urine on my skin felt oddly soothing, and TJ had a full tank to unload. Jeb supported me from behind as his younger brother bathed me in his salty urine.
"From the moment I met you, Jaime, something just screamed that you wouldn't mind a golden shower." Jeb joked as he let loose his thick stream of piss up my back, with the remnants raining down my very soiled underpants and into the crack of my unwashed boy hole.
I was getting drenched in recycled beer from the front and back and loving every minute. I was still mesmerized by TJ's adored family jewels and inadvertently bent at the waist as he continued to unload. Before I knew it, I was splashed in the face by his hot piss, and for some reason, I opened my mouth to get a taste. It wasn't as bitter or strong as I expected. But had more of a nutty flavor. It was good. I kept my mouth open, hoping for more, but the stream stopped.
For some reason, piss was the only bodily fluid I produced that I didn't get into. Maybe because it was too hard to clean-up or conceal. Everyone knows what urine smells like and you can't hide the stench as easily or explain it away.
"If you want more to drink, little man, you're gonna have to get it yourself, from the tap." TJ stuck his growing mancock in my face as I assumed the position of a proper cock sucker. I opened my mouth wider and put his bulbous dickhead into my mouth. Before I could close it, the flood gates were reopened, and my mouth was filled with more of his bladder brew.
Behind me, I could feel even more of Jeb's piss coating the thick hairs in the crack of my ass. Mixing his scent with my own. The brothers were marking me as their property.
Once TJ was completely empty, I continued to nurse on his dirty uncut cock head, just like I had his nipple a few hours earlier. He had a cheezy hood that tasted a bit rancid. He obviously had the same hygiene habits as his older brother. I didn't mind. I loved the way he tasted and smelled. They stank the way I imagined real men smelled. Natural and ripe, not covered in chemicals and perfumes.
TJ pulled his cock out of my mouth and stood me upright.
"OK, that's enough for now. We need to get this little man tucked into bed for a good night's rest. He's had a long day and deserves it."
Jeb agreed as he shook the remainder of his stream directly inside the drooping waistband of my soaked underwear.
The wood on the deck was slippery with piss, but we managed to make it back inside safely. TJ took me in his arms and guided me back through the cabin and upstairs to the loft. Jeb stayed behind a bit longer to do a few things with the grill and close up the house.
Once we reached the top of the stairs, I remembered that there was only one bed and three of us. I had no idea how this would work, but I quickly found out and loved the outcome.
To be continued...