smiffy72
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What are you doing in a kink/fetish forum if you have such a queazy stomach?
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What are you doing in a kink/fetish forum if you have such a queazy stomach?
It’s clear from the wide variety of postings on this thread – some of which are obviously exaggerated for their attractive provocative value – that there is some ambivalence of appeal on the undeniable attraction of the asshole and its variety of aromas; more variety, certainly, than any other body part. I’d like to comment now on only of its attributes, which has had a sustained appeal for me: watching turds of various shapes and consistencies emerge and then drop, sometimes on me.
Shit-play must be pursued only with caution. It’s probably one of the few sexual activities that can lead to a complete breakdown between two – Please, this is not for the frat house! – eager buff buffs if it is, for lack of a better term, mishandled.
This is best pursued when lying in a large bathtub. With my head against a pillow, I like to have someone sitting over me at belt level; bent slightly forward while facing the direction of my feet. This gives me a clear full view of everything in his rear. (As an aside, there is, for me, some undeniable connection between the slow emergence of turds and the similarly slow emergence of a fetus in birth. Puzzling, I’m sure. Any connection twixt the two not withstanding, my only erotic response comes from turds.) After a turd is well along its terminal journey, my companion, still facing the same direction, then firmly sits down on me to secure the welcomed bond. After he’s finished and it’s sufficiently packed in place, he then turns around and lies atop me with his fragrant paste mashed well between us. Because he hasn’t wiped, I then finger fuck him while we kiss. This digital ensmearment with enhancements continues until . . .
Now, a strong word of caution is in order here. Before getting in to that tub, one must be sure that cold and hot water both are available and are running well. Shit smell can not be removed with cold water and can be removed with hot water only with effort and, with some formulations, only after the passage of a full day. My dreadest fear in this activity is for my companion and me to be fully smeared with dried shit, my entire apartment smelling like a toilet not having been flushed for the previous ten days, going to turn on the tub faucets only to have no water come out, and then hear the super of my building – This is New York! – and two plumbers banging on my front door and announce they must come into my apartment immediately to turn off the water supply valve to the apartment below mine because of a flood there. I think at that moment it would be my time to say a prayer, beg forgiveness, and then jump!
Mercifully for me, all this melodrama has yet come to pass. But, for the timid reader of these otherwise encouraging words, I think the safest way to deal with the problem of a possible plumbing failure at this most inopportune of times is to merrily go-ashitting in a rented hotel room. This is, let’s not forget, New York!
Shit-play must be pursued only with caution. It’s probably one of the few sexual activities that can lead to a complete breakdown between two – Please, this is not for the frat house! – eager buff buffs if it is, for lack of a better term, mishandled.
This is best pursued when lying in a large bathtub. With my head against a pillow, I like to have someone sitting over me at belt level; bent slightly forward while facing the direction of my feet. This gives me a clear full view of everything in his rear. (As an aside, there is, for me, some undeniable connection between the slow emergence of turds and the similarly slow emergence of a fetus in birth. Puzzling, I’m sure. Any connection twixt the two not withstanding, my only erotic response comes from turds.) After a turd is well along its terminal journey, my companion, still facing the same direction, then firmly sits down on me to secure the welcomed bond. After he’s finished and it’s sufficiently packed in place, he then turns around and lies atop me with his fragrant paste mashed well between us. Because he hasn’t wiped, I then finger fuck him while we kiss. This digital ensmearment with enhancements continues until . . .
Now, a strong word of caution is in order here. Before getting in to that tub, one must be sure that cold and hot water both are available and are running well. Shit smell can not be removed with cold water and can be removed with hot water only with effort and, with some formulations, only after the passage of a full day. My dreadest fear in this activity is for my companion and me to be fully smeared with dried shit, my entire apartment smelling like a toilet not having been flushed for the previous ten days, going to turn on the tub faucets only to have no water come out, and then hear the super of my building – This is New York! – and two plumbers banging on my front door and announce they must come into my apartment immediately to turn off the water supply valve to the apartment below mine because of a flood there. I think at that moment it would be my time to say a prayer, beg forgiveness, and then jump!
Mercifully for me, all this melodrama has yet come to pass. But, for the timid reader of these otherwise encouraging words, I think the safest way to deal with the problem of a possible plumbing failure at this most inopportune of times is to merrily go-ashitting in a rented hotel room. This is, let’s not forget, New York!
Okay, I really liked the first post, but that's where I draw the line. People are talking about getting off on sweat, musk, etc. You're bringing it into scat, which I think is totally different.
Although I still appreciate the very articulate style of your writing.
Although I still appreciate the very articulate style of your writing.
jefferson2103
On the Prowl
Sorry, I don't find Musings' style of writing "very articulate". I find it simply pretentious and tiresome. Come on guys, stay focused on why we are in this forum.
When do you guys think an ass smells best? Lately it seems like my boyfriend will only let me sniff it if he's showered. He's reasoned with me and said he'll only wash his butt with water, but I can't seem to explain to him what I like. I just want him to go about his day, normally, and when it comes time for sex, unless he's just taken a shit like, less than 2 or 3 hours ago, then to just let me go at it!
What is it about this fetish? Why do you guys think you like it? I feel like it's tied so closely to my first experiences that it has just become an ingrained part of my sexuality. This worries me, though, because it makes me still remember and feel sexual things in regards to memories that happened when I was very young, and throughout my teenage years.
What is it about this fetish? Why do you guys think you like it? I feel like it's tied so closely to my first experiences that it has just become an ingrained part of my sexuality. This worries me, though, because it makes me still remember and feel sexual things in regards to memories that happened when I was very young, and throughout my teenage years.
Interesting. Same for me... animalistic, primal. I think since it's been ingrained in me it's just totally wired to my sexuality. But I wonder why I got into it. Anyways, you're a bottom, but you like that? I always figured if you're really into ass (like me) you're a top.
What is it about this fetish? Why do you guys think you like it? I feel like it's tied so closely to my first experiences that it has just become an ingrained part of my sexuality. This worries me, though, because it makes me still remember and feel sexual things in regards to memories that happened when I was very young, and throughout my teenage years. saymyname
* * *
As for the fetish itself...I've always been more of an ass guy...even though I'm a bottom. I like the look, the smell, etc. The smell awakens an animalistic side of me I cannot even begin to explain. It just drives me wild to ... huntneo
* * *
saymyname and huntneo — both of whom are close to me in sentiment — are on the right track with their recognition of the mysterious origins of what they mistakenly are classing as fetish; more rightly called (and less psychologically loaded), I believe, attractants. Up-‘n-down the animal kingdom (including the insects), provocative scent, the pheromone, can be that spark that brings two like motivated creatures together for the moment. And that moment of indeterminate length can leave an indelible imprint on the emotional memory that finds its subsequent fulfillment in overt physical union of some kind; even if no more than with the eyes.
When in high school long ago I met Penelope, a year younger than I at seventeen. She embodied everything — skin tone, body proportions, musical voice, . . . you name it — a dream soddened adolescent boy could ever hope to encounter. But, her single distinctive feature that, even decades later, can awaken for me a memory of her full person is the aroma of Carnation, her favorite perfume. On a hot day in August on the Nr 1 train under Broadway or walking in Alphabet City on The Lower East Side of Manhattan, if someone nearby has been spritzed with Carnation that reaches me, a complete image of Penelope will come instantly before me. So, I think it must be with what saymyname and huntneo are referring to. Anyone who can define the origins and enduring caste of these attractions satisfactorily will deserve a Nobel Prize.
saymyname is worried needlessly about a continued interest in some feature of his experience that may have seized him in adolescence; or, perhaps, even earlier. I doubt he would repudiate Mozart or Emerson in adulthood because they may have had a profound, defining effect on him at his age of fourteen. We, all of us, are an accumulation of our experiences, prenatal to our current age. Those experiences we have found troublesome or that in any way interfere with our ideas of a satisfying life we try to discard. There is otherwise no reason to jettison those that continue to provide us measures of comfort and pleasure. And, further, there certainly is no reason to try to do so with those tied strongly to physical bonding with like-minded travelers with whom we become acquainted for whatever length of time.
* * *
As for the fetish itself...I've always been more of an ass guy...even though I'm a bottom. I like the look, the smell, etc. The smell awakens an animalistic side of me I cannot even begin to explain. It just drives me wild to ... huntneo
* * *
saymyname and huntneo — both of whom are close to me in sentiment — are on the right track with their recognition of the mysterious origins of what they mistakenly are classing as fetish; more rightly called (and less psychologically loaded), I believe, attractants. Up-‘n-down the animal kingdom (including the insects), provocative scent, the pheromone, can be that spark that brings two like motivated creatures together for the moment. And that moment of indeterminate length can leave an indelible imprint on the emotional memory that finds its subsequent fulfillment in overt physical union of some kind; even if no more than with the eyes.
When in high school long ago I met Penelope, a year younger than I at seventeen. She embodied everything — skin tone, body proportions, musical voice, . . . you name it — a dream soddened adolescent boy could ever hope to encounter. But, her single distinctive feature that, even decades later, can awaken for me a memory of her full person is the aroma of Carnation, her favorite perfume. On a hot day in August on the Nr 1 train under Broadway or walking in Alphabet City on The Lower East Side of Manhattan, if someone nearby has been spritzed with Carnation that reaches me, a complete image of Penelope will come instantly before me. So, I think it must be with what saymyname and huntneo are referring to. Anyone who can define the origins and enduring caste of these attractions satisfactorily will deserve a Nobel Prize.
saymyname is worried needlessly about a continued interest in some feature of his experience that may have seized him in adolescence; or, perhaps, even earlier. I doubt he would repudiate Mozart or Emerson in adulthood because they may have had a profound, defining effect on him at his age of fourteen. We, all of us, are an accumulation of our experiences, prenatal to our current age. Those experiences we have found troublesome or that in any way interfere with our ideas of a satisfying life we try to discard. There is otherwise no reason to jettison those that continue to provide us measures of comfort and pleasure. And, further, there certainly is no reason to try to do so with those tied strongly to physical bonding with like-minded travelers with whom we become acquainted for whatever length of time.
kingzulu
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please do not associate the name of jesus to that situation thats offensive and derogatory
thats the son of god i would not mess with that man.. jus letting you know
WIZZARD101
JUB Addict
sweaty is hot, shitty is gross at least for me
WIZZARD101
JUB Addict
I'll just place this here.......
ok is this real or a muppet?
Buuu guy u look so boring!! poor of your boyfriend!
flashgordon85
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I love sniff ass of beautiful boy ... I'm a very fetish
RankPitSFO
Slut
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Hot sweet stink!
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Just got home from work..... Sniff this raw hole
