Chapter 1

I couldn't sleep. I kept tossing and turning, trying to recapture every minute of what had happened in the lockeroom between Coach, Jared and I.

Was it all just a fantasy that I had conjured up as I lay awake at two-'o-clock in the morning with a hardon in my hand?

No. It had been all to real alright. Although the three of us had cleaned up and showered at the gym, pressing my hands to my face now, I could still smell traces of dirty asshole and upon closer inspection, I could see brown residue, the remnants of turd, embedded under my fingernails.

Too, before the three of us parted, Coach tossed to Jared and I, a kind of trophy I suppose. With a grin, Coach gave each of us one of his crusty, smelly socks. I tucked the filthy gift down the front of my pants so that it nestled snugly against my cock and balls.

Now, in bed, with my mind replaying every raunchy scene as if I were watching a video, I drapped Coach's sweatsock over my face and took a deep whiff. He must have worn the sock for days. Maybe even weeks. It reeked of his foot stink. It's pungent aroma assaulted my nostrils which in turn, made my cock jerk and throb.

I delighted in the way Coach's sock had seemingly turned, I gatherd, from 'Downey' fresh and soft to crusty stiff and stink. The latter I much more preferred because it held me spellbound and submerged in things erotic and sensual.

As I curled my fingers around my rigid shaft and began stroking, I decided to taste the stink that my nose found so appealing. Sucking the filthy sweatsock into my mouth I perceived, at first, its crustiness which, as I drenched it with my saliva, it yielded a robust tang, A flavor of salty, sweaty funk. It was the taste of stink. Though more subtle than that of asshole. Nevertheless, the combination of scent and taste, combined in Coach's sweatsock, sent a wave of goose bumps rippling over my flesh.

My cock throbbed its approbation and I totally surrendered to the pleasure my hand was giving it and to the ecstacy my nose and mouth were enjoying.

This sequence seemed to bring back, more vividly, that which I experienced with Coach and Jared just hours beforehand. What I was doing now reawakened all the aromas, touches and feelings of our raunchy encounter in the lockeroom.

It also made me think back, to before Jared and I entered the lockeroom, how he had taken me into his arms and kissed me deeply. I was amazed at Jared's tenderness one minute and his fiery raunch the next when I had knelt behind him and fucked the shit out of him.

Yet at the same time I wondered if Jared's affectionate kiss and warm embrace was indeed a reflection of his inner feelings towards me? And my feelings towards him? Did that kiss signify what we held locked away within us? Was it just a moment of passion? Or was it something more?

My hand was flying up and down my cock. I loved the way my dick oozed pre-cum which I smeared up and down the length of my shaft. Its almost sticky, slickness was better than any other manufactured lubricant. And afterwards, when left unwashed on my cock, it would add its own aroma to my dick.

Absorbed in my lustful thoughts and self stimulation I gave in to another feeling, which, at the momemt, was more urgent than the need to ejaculate and would add to my sensual pleasure.

At first I thought to leave my bed. But then decided that to break the spell, that wonderful feeling of hand to cock; the taste and smell of Coach's sweatsock would end everything, even my desire, I relaxed.

Slowing down the rythym of my stroking I yielded to my imminent need to piss.

I hadn't pissed in my bed since I was a kid and to do so now, consciencely and deliberately, excited me. I gave no thought to consequence as the first spurts of warm piss, trickled from my pisshole and ran down my cock and over my balls onto the mattress beneath me. My golden nectar felt so good as I masturbated with pissing cock. The warm trickle shortly became a gushing fountain, arching into the air and splashing onto my chest, which, with my free hand, I rubbed all over.

Even into my armpits.

I could feel the warm piss pooling under my asscheeks and I delighted in sloshing my butt in it, feeling too, its nasty warmth seeping into my asscrack and wetting my already warm, moist manhole.

I placed my hand into the gushing geyser so that piss rained onto my crotch, soaking my pubic hairs. Bringing my hand above my face I let the piss drip off my fingers onto my face and into my open mouth immediately aftherwhich, I swirled my hand over my face, washing it with the somewhat rancid cock nectar.

Lifting my head slightly and leaning forward, I took careful aim and shot my piss, in full stream, at my face. I loved the way my piss hit my face. Splashing and trickling, piss ran from my forehead, over my eyes, over my cheeks and dripped from my chin onto my chest.

It thoroughly soaked Coach's funky sweatsock which I still clenched in my mouth and pursing my lips, like a ringer, I wrung every drop of my precious nectar down my throat and sent rivulets of piss seeping out of the corners of my mouth in a steady stream.

It tasted good. It smelled good. It all felt so good and nasty at the same time. The years of careful toilet training and hygine, taught to me by my parents, was now, in this moment overturned and brought with it wave after wave of pleasure. Never before had taking a much needed piss felt so good and so erotic at the same time.

My mind wandered to other fantasies of pissing pleasures. To how it would feel to piss up a man's ass or have a man piss up mine? To what it would be like to save jars of piss, until it had fermented to a ripe stink and then empty my stash into the bathtub and bathe myself?

Perhaps Coach and Jared would encourage, indulge and join me in this erotic adventure adding their warm butt fudge to the pissy bath water?

My lewd fantasies and wet action was bringing me closer and closer to the precipice. As the last spurts of piss shot out of my dick, I quickened the tempo of my hand on my cock. Thrashing about on the piss soaked mattress, I wanked with a fury, sucking hard on Coach's sweatsock in my mouth. I tensed my legs pointing my toes. My back arched as I felt my balls tighten. The sound of wet sloshing rung in my ears. My breaths became rapid as I moaned into the stinky, piss drenched sweatsock. I tightened my grip on my throbbing cock and pumped hard and fast. The head of my dick engourged and flared. With a yelping sigh I let loose my pent up tension. Rope after rope of creamy cum flew into the air and splattered in thick pools upon my heaving, piss soaked chest. Each wave of cum sent spasms of sensual pleasure jolting throughout my entire body.

Scooping the creamy spooge into the palm of my hand, I rubbed it over my face, down my neck, over my chest and into my armpits. There I would leave it to ripen and ferment, along with my piss as, my pleasure spent, I drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter 2

I awoke the next morning with a grin on my face and a certain funky smell in my nostrils. The mattress beneath me was soaked with piss from my ... wet dream?

As reality sunk in I realised I had had no wet dream at all. With reality came the consequences. A wet mattress needed to be flipped and the soiled linens tossed into the washer before Mom suspected anything.

A quick change of the sheets and none would be the wiser. Mentally, I devised a plan as to how I'd have to begin this Saturday morning. No time to take care of my morning boner with a quick jack off.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I raised my arm and bringing my face towards my hairy pit, I took a deep whiff. It was nice and ripe alright and just sniffing it would have to do for now. As I stripped the bed I decided I'd relish my funk by not jumping into the shower. Just as I was about to head out of my bedroom, down to the basement to wash my sheets, the phone rang. Springing back into my room I answered it before either one of my parents did, which, being a Saturday morning, they were bound to let ring as it was their usual day, time and hour to fuck. As I picked up the phone I cracked a smile thinking how on schedule their sex was and how they thought I was too naive to figure out their Saturday morning routine.


"Hey, Denny. Coach here."

"Hey, Coach! What's up?"

"After the other night ... mmmmmm! Alot! Seeing you fuck the shit outta Jared ... all that stink ... fuck! I'm still hard!"

"Ditto that, Coach! That was so hot!"

"I thought I'd get you out here for some extra practice, Denny."

"Hmmmmm! Sounds good. Will Jared be there?"

"Nah! I thought it'd be just you and me doin' a little one on one.

That okay with you?"

The prospect of having a former Miami Dolphin's linebacker all to myself was a temptation too good to pass up. I'd be a fool to. From one jock to another, if a buddy needed a helping hand or mouth ...

"So, when and where, Coach?"

"You game for right now? I haven't gone through my morning routine yet.

Just gettin' warmed up. Thought you'd wanna help me out."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Swing by the gym and pick up your gear from the lockeroom."

"All my gear, Coach?"

"Helmet, pads, cleats. And don't forget your jock!"

"Cup too, Coach?"

"Oh yeah!"

"So, where do I meet up with you, Coach?"

"At my place. I'll be in the garage ... waitin'."

"Give me 'bout a half hour, okay?"

"Fine by me, Denny. Like I said, I'll be waitin' for ya!"

As I hung up the phone, my cock, which had gone soft, sprang to attention. I ran to my bathroom and dug through my laundry hamper for a pair of shorts I'd worn during several practices and finally brought home to be washed. I slipped them on, without underwear, along with a grundgy tank-top I discovered at the bottom of my dirty clothes.

Heading towards the basement with my wet sheets to toss in the washer, I could smell my own funk rising from my body and damp, sweaty clothes.

Leaving a note for my parents as to where I'd be, I dashed out the front door. Hopping on my motorcycle I roared out of the driveway and headed towards school and the lockeroom.

Chapter 3

As I entered the gymnasium with my gym bag in tote, Joey, Roger and Jeff were shooting some hoops on the basketball court.

"Hey Denny!" Roger called out.

"Hey guys!" I hollered.

"What brings you here on a Saturday morning?" Jeff asked.

"Oh ... uh ... just gotta clear some things outta my locker. My Mom's on my case about not bringing stuff home to be washed."

"Yeah right, Denny!" Joey yelled. "Like your stinky gear is really what's stinking up the lockeroom!"

"Hey guys!" I said, throwing up my hands. "I know you enjoy my stink but ..."

"Fuck you, Denny!" Jeff said. "You only tease us with your stink.

"You don't ever offer it."

"Three pigs in a poke!" I laughed.

"Yeah! And we'll huff ... and we'll huff the stink right outta you too man!" Roger chanted.

"Later, dudes!" I hollered, heading for the lockeroom.

"Oh baby!" Joey cired. "Check out that ass of his!"

Running up to me, Joey yanked down the back of my shorts, exposing my buns to the other guys who shouted their approval. Swirling his hand over my butt he slipped a finger into my asscrack.

"Soon, Joey!" I whispered, to him. "Real soon."

"Promise?" Joey asked, withdrawing his finger and passing it under his nose.

"Yeah. I promise."

Glancing over my shoulder as I jogged towards the lockeroom, I could see Joey sniffing his finger as he rejoined Jeff and Roger. As I made my way towards my locker, following Joey's lead, I fingered my butt. I had to make sure that the smile on Joey's face was due to my stink. I had to admit, it was nice and ripe. Hopefully, Coach would think so too.

Shoving my gear into my gym bag, and pausing to sniff the aroma wafting out of Jared's locker, I headed out the back door of the lockeroom and raced towards my motorcycle. As I ran, gym bag in hand, my cock and balls bounced unrestrained beneath my shorts. Straddling my bike, my semi-hard cock snaked its way out of my shorts. Its fleshy whitness looked and felt good against the black, leather seat beneath me. As I revved up the engine, pre-cum oozed out of my piss slit.

I felt raunchy. I felt dirty. I felt nasty. I felt Coach drawing me to him.

Chapter 4

I pulled up into Coach's driveway and coaxed my bike to a stop. I unhitched my gym bag and, looking around, assuring myself that I could not be seen, I leaned over and pressing my face to the warm seat of my bike, where butt sweat and cock snot rested. I licked the residue.

Content that my machine was clean and smacking my lips, I sauntered towards the door on the side of the garage.

Upon entering the garage I was amazed to see that Coach had transformed it into a veritable gym, complete with weights and a wide assortment of other equipment. He was seated on a workout bench, his beefy legs spread wide and his feet, shod in cleats, planted firmly on the ground.

As I drew my eyes from his feet, up his legs to his thighs to the welcome sight of his jockstrap which concealed a hefty bulge, I gasped.

Not only was the pouch between his legs full, but the material of that pouch was so grundgy and dark in color and its stench so ripe and powerful that my nostrils quivered as I dropped my gym bag to the cement floor.

"Fuck!" I sighed, my stiffening dick, poking its head from under my loose shorts, as if to have a look at the man spreadeagled before me.

"Put on my favorite jock for you, Denny!" Coach whispered, running his hand over the filthy pouch, upward over his hairy, washboard stomach to his chest and under the shoulder pads he had on. "It's never been washed and goes back to my pro football days. Can't imagine how many loads I, as well as other jocks, have shot on and into the funky cup underneath! Wanna smell it?"

Coach cooed, as he raised his muscular arm up and clasped his hand, fingers outstreatched, atop his helmet, blazed with the insignia of the Miami Dolphins.

"Put on your gear, Denny! I want a Mesa Verde jock to meet a Miami Dolphin!"

Mesmerized, I pulled off my tank top, shorts and sneakers, replacing them with helmet, shoulder pads, jockstrap and cleated shoes.

"Gonna fuckin' do this, man!" Coach hissed, "jock to jock. Fuckin'

stink to stink!"

"Yes sir!" I sighed, placing my hand on my chest and tweaking an erect nipple. "I want your stink, Coach! All of your stink!"

"We're gonna get off on our jockstink, Denny!" Coach sighed, glancing at me.

Looking to his side, my eyes followed his to the pole standing beside him. Suspended from it was a bulging enema bag. The long hose dangled.

The black nozzle, of which, disappeared into the hairy cleft of his full, muscular ass.

"Wanna add some of your piss to that bag, buddy?" Coach sighed, slipping the nozzle deeper until it completely disappeared between his buttcheeks.

"Fuck!" I moaned, standing before Coach suited up and rubbing my crotch.

"Fuck yeah, jockboy!" Coach whimpered. "What I spew out of my manhole, I'm gonna refill this bag with my stink and then I'm gonna fill your ass and you're gonna fuckin' fart it out of your jock cunt onto me and my gear!"

"Jesus!" I groaned, dropping to my knees and sliding across the cement floor towards Coach. "I want your stink, Coach! All of your fuckin'


"Oh yeah, motherfucker!" Coach hissed, drawing up his legs so I could see his asshole plugged with the nozzle and hearing his moans as he released the valve sending the contents of the bag up his ass. "My ass is packed with stinking shit, Denny! Let's see what comes outta my man pussy and refills this bag. Then we'll fill up your ass with my slop and play!"

I stepped up beside Coach. Unhitching the enema bag, I lowered it to under my cock ... and pissed.



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