“i f*****’ love musk”, i whispered as i hungrily licked his a******.
There’s nothing more manly than the natural stink of man, and i was proud to appreciate it.
I told myself that appreciating the tastes and smells of men was a particularly masculine trait and that i was therefore a particularly masculine man for appreciating them. Everyone at the bookstore agreed
that i was a particularly masculine man, praising me for my “beefy build” and being a “manly dude” right before i shoved my thick uncut c*** up their a**. The bookstore was a great place to find other masculine men
who stunk like men. Blue collar dudes who were neither self-conscious nor exhibitionistic about their bodies. In other words, real men.
The nearby factories would disgorge their workers at 5:00 pm, and by 5:15 the video booths would be filled with hard workers who’d put in a long shift and hadn’t showered since the prior evening. I’d spend hours
letting them s*** my thick c***, sucking their dicks and savoring the primal essence that wafted from their crotches. As i sucked their c****, i’d finger their assholes and if their butts were especially musky, i’d
eat their a** and f*** them.
Did you catch that? I told you that i’d play with their butts to see if
they were musky. But you can’t really smell or taste through your
fingers, can you? See, i told myself that i was into “musk”, and i was.
But i was also into something even more extreme that i hadn’t yet
admitted. I’m getting ahead of myself though.
I spotted the evening’s object from across the video booths. Blond,
husky, scruffy, late thirties and sweating. He was wearing a grey work
shirt and matching pants. His d*** was cut and small, which was actually
quite perfect as i didn’t like there to be any question about who’d be
topping that evening. His tight muscles suggested he might have
wrestled, twenty years and seventy pounds ago. In other words, he had a
serious case of “dad bod”.
As soon as his c*** left his underwear, i was met with the unmistakable
stink of man. Sweat, and also what smelled like petroleum. Jesus it was
strong. This dude really didn’t give a f*** about himself, but he was
smitten by me. And as soon as my finger poked his b******* i felt his
member swell in my mouth. My member swelled too as my finger slid in,
greased by his natural lube. I looked up at him, he looked down at me
sheepishly, somewhat embarrassed. That embarrassment evaporated as soon
as i found his prostate. I withdrew my finger from his a**, smelled the
musk and ordered him to turn around. It was time to eat.
Jesus his a** had a strong taste! Maybe the best i’d ever had, and i’d
had plenty of a**. I couldn’t remember when i’d eaten something so dark,
delicious and strong. I fingered him and licked him, licked him and
fingered him. The more i did this, the more musk i got on me, on my
beard and on my fingers. Finally, i couldn’t hold back anymore, standing
up and shoving my c*** up his a** in one smooth thrust.
He moaned, but was surprisingly loose. This dude looked like a closet
case with wife at home, but he fucked like a pro. The fact that he knew
what he was doing made his stink even hotter. His sloppy hole was the
icing on the cake – there’s nothing better than an unapologetic, dirty
s***.
I’d love to tell you i lasted long, but the smell of his a** on my face
and in my beard, his accommodating hole and the heat of the moment were
all too much. I came, probably within minutes of entering him. He
thanked me profusely and i dashed out.
As my eyes adjusted to the light outside, the first thing i realized was
that there was more than musk on my fingers. There was s***. As i got
to my car, i noticed it was on my lips and beard too. And later, i’d
discover it was underneath my foreskin. Jesus, i was hard again looking
at my fingers. Apparently what made him so hot wasn’t just his musk. I
didn’t waste too much time reflecting. Instead, i intuitively plunged my
fingers into my mouth and licked them clean.
That, readers, was my first conscious admission of how piggish The Prestonian really is.