Mudchute Services

"Oh yeah!" I heard him gasp as I experienced a taste far stronger and more exciting than I ever had during rimming. I could tell that what was on my tongue was as base and distasteful as I might have expected, but on a purely animal, sexual level it proved to be electrifying. This was in no way comparable to the subtle and secretive scents I enjoyed during anal sex with my fellow men: it was the full-on consuming punch of a man's basest stink at its most primal and intense.

"Lick my bollocks!" I heard him call out. "Lick his fucking muck off them!"

I continued lapping at his full and heaving scrotum but I pushed my face further between his legs as my sights were now set a little higher up. I was fascinated by his massive thickly-coated cock, slamming back and forth as it prepared to unload itself inside the lad's shit-encrusted arse.

I reached my tongue up towards it and he sensed my intention.

"Aah yeah – that's right! Clean it!" he called down to me. "Clean his shit off my cock!"

I pressed my tongue into the battering shaft of it and felt the glutinous material collect on its tip as it drove back and forth. The taste was appalling but nevertheless the sensation of what I was doing made my own aching erection strain still harder in my rapidly beating hand.

I couldn't believe that I was actually doing this – how utterly depraved I was behaving to be licking one guy's crud off another's frantically driving cock – but I was and... oh God! It felt so exciting!

I reached my tongue further forwards towards the gaping arsehole, with the builder's stinking mess still squeezing around the huge shaft of the cock. Before I could lick it, though, I felt my climax kick in.

"Fucking lick it! Eat it!" the bloke was grunting down to me as the hammering of his cock became a squalid brown blur. Suddenly a massive outpouring of semen frothed out of the builder's arse in a dirty beige lather, reminding me of a milky cappuccino that had abruptly overflowed. The sound of his thrusting cock became wetter and more sloppy and the smell from it, splattering the lad's spunk-moistened shit in an even wider diameter across his bum, intensified still further.

I pulled out from between his legs and struggled back to my feet behind him.

He was growling animalistically as he emptied his bollocks into the builder's well-used arse, holding him firm with both hands as he rammed his cock home over and over in long deep lunges. His semen was bubbling out of the lad in a dirty brown lather, trickling down the backs of his legs and getting caught in big frothy gobs on the suited guy's pubes.

Only then did it occur to me that the condom must have torn.

I pressed my middle finger between his muscular buttocks as he discharged the last few squirts of his load into the dirty rectum. Among the coarse sweaty hair of his crack, I found his spit-moistened hole spasming and puckering in time with his diminishing thrusts and worked the top of my finger into it. He grunted appreciatively as his hot muscular ring squeezed tightly around my finger.

Being fingered gave his orgasm a second wind and he let out a series of carnal grunts as his cock fired off a further surge of his cream up into his companion's over-filled bowels. It frothed out from the boy's arse crack with renewed vigour: a foaming lather of fresh man-seed, sullied and discoloured by thick brown gobs of semi-solid shit.

That seemed to propel the builder towards his own climax: the sloppy squelching sounds as well as the strengthening odour from his semen-loosened rectum driving his tiny kiddy-sized dick to start shooting a few derisory splashes of jizz across the rim of the toilet bowl.

A movement above me made me glance upwards and I saw that we were being observed over the cubicle partition from the next stall by a lad who must be standing on the toilet. He was young – maybe nineteen or twenty – and was wearing thick-rimmed specs with his smooth wavy hair flawlessly gelled into a luxuriant quiff. He looked like a fashionably nerdy student; probably just some lad intent on taking a dump whose curiosity had been diverted by the activities going on through the peep-holes I had used earlier.

His expression was one of revulsion: he seemed utterly appalled by the depravity going on below him. And yet his shoulder was shuddering rapidly betraying that, however offended his face might appear, his hand and his hard-on were both enjoying the scatological show.

He glanced over at me – his eyes wide with horror – and I suddenly wondered if perhaps he was concerned that gay sex might always look like this. Whether he'd been secretly fantasizing about getting together with another guy and was now fearful that the union of their bodies – something he might have imagined as being meaningful and beautiful – would end up with them wallowing together in a mess as crude as repulsive as what he was now seeing.

I smiled up at him in encouragement and muttered, "It's not usually like this!"

He seemed not to understand and instead looked back down at the churning froth of dirty spunk spewing out from the builder's arse as the cock's rhythmic release finally began to abate. In spite of how disgusted he looked at the vulgarity of what he was seeing, his shoulder was shaking faster and harder as he whacked himself off as quickly as he could.

He was like me: on one level appalled by the utter filth he was witnessing, while on another unable to stop himself becoming desperately aroused by it.

The suited guy's big softening cock finally flopped out of the builder's splayed slimy hole with the condom hanging in tatters from its shaft. A thick gunge of shit mixed together with the older man's seed poured down the backs of the builder's thighs and the horrendous stench of it made us all wince and pull away like a slap across the face.

"Oh God! The stink!" the lad peering over the partition said, looking back at me in outright disgust.

I smiled again: in spite of how roughly he was masturbating himself on his side of the partition, he seemed genuinely horrified that all of this might be typical of sex between men. That the tender gay lovemaking he had perhaps romanticized about at night in his bed would in the event prove to be as obscene and explicit as this.

"It doesn't normally smell like this," I told him as he stared at me in revulsion with his hand pounding at his dick. He was clearly hugely turned on by how wild and untamed anal sex between men could appear, but at the same time revolted that for him and his male lover, this might be the normal smell of their homosexual intimacy.

I didn't want him to feel reluctant to explore his sexuality on the basis of what he was experiencing here. I wanted him to know that this was something bizarre and extreme and that if he was curious about being gay or bi, the sex he would enjoy with other guys was likely to be just as beautiful as he imagined.

Of course I didn't tell him any of that – not there like that – but instead I pulled my finger out of the suited guy's arsehole and raised it to the lad's shuddering face.

The finger was streaked with a light brown sludge; a mere fraction of what was caked around the huge softening cock from which the remains of the condom were being yanked.

"This is how dirty a dick normally gets after a butt-fuck," I told him. "And this is about as shitty as gay sex normally smells," I added, extending my finger towards his nose.

He sniffed at it hungrily, enjoying the earthy pungent odour I knew to be more typically released during anal sex between men. This was the smell that I so adored myself; the smell that had drawn me here and caused to me to squat down and apply my nose to the suited guy's big brawny butt.

"That's the smell of bum sex," I confided, chuckling at how much he was loving inhaling the suited guy's bum-stink on my finger and how powerfully his shoulder was now thumping against the partition. "This is the smell you'll get when you fuck some guy up his butt, or when you bend over to let another lad do it to you!"

His expression turned to one of flinching pain as his cock started squirting on the other side of the partition wall. I was amused that it was the thought of bending to receive a cock that had been the trigger of his orgasm; perhaps the thought of working his dick up another lad's arse didn't seem so appealing now that he'd seen what had oozed out of the builder's.

Once our observer's climax had subsided and he'd clambered down from the toilet to wipe himself down, the problem in our cubicle became one of sanitation. For my part, I'd escaped largely unsoiled – I only needed to wash my hands and buy a bottle of mouthwash from the shop out in the foyer – but both the suited guy and the builder found themselves in a much messier predicament.

"What the fuck am I going to tell my wife?" the suited guy muttered, looking down at how much wet brown slop had spattered onto his shirt and trousers.

"Yeah, my mum's gonna go fuckin' ape!" the builder added, seeing the state of his sodden underwear and how grim the back of his tracksuit bottoms looked.

I let myself out of their stall feeling like Arnie saying, "I'll be back!" and went to wet a wodge of paper towels with warm soapy water. I have no idea what the other men in the toilet thought I was doing, amassing such a sopping bundle of wet towels, but it would have seemed inconsiderate for me to have just left my two companions like that: doing their best to daub off the worst of the stinking mess with flimsy sheets of toilet paper from the dispenser in the cubicle.

I'm sure the suited guy must have still been a bit whiffy when he got back to his wife but no doubt he had an excuse at the ready. And the young builder could surely have talked his out of the state his shorts and tracksuit bottoms were in to his mum: a backfiring portaloo at the building site, for example, or an unpleasant practical joke thought up by one of his mates.

On the drive home, I was unable to shake my thoughts from what I'd done in the cubicle. I didn't feel disgusted with myself – after all, my part in our threesome had, for all intents and purposes, been a rim-job which had taken a somewhat uncouth twist. I couldn't help being plagued by recurrent worries, however, about the sort of outcome such an interest might lead me towards.

I felt a bit like the voyeur student: fascinated by the barbarity of the sex I'd found myself wrapped up in, but at the same time unnerved by the implications of it. Was the excitement I'd felt when I'd licked the man's shit-covered cock just an aspect of my fascination with bloke's butts and my fondness for sniffing and rimming them? More importantly, did I want to pursue such excremental encounters any further?

I didn't yet have any answers as I knew this would need a good deal of further thought.

My musings started that very night at bedtime when, with my hand firmly gripping my organ as it swelled upwards through my pyjama fly, I replayed the whole experience back in my head for what proved to be the first of many enjoyable occasions. Each time I replayed the memory, I took my own part a little further, exploring different scenarios to see what effect they would have on my masturbatory pleasures and the rapidity of my climaxes.

Soon I did have some answers, even if they weren't the ones I might have been hoping for, and I realised that what I'd done in the cubicle would likely be merely the first manifestation of a whole new side to my sexuality.