Unwashed Filthy Friends

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**If unwashed bodies, piss, drinking, and general dirtiness isn’t your thing you might want to look away now**

After college I got involved with a casual soccer league. Nothing too serious, but the exercise was good and a lot of the guys were hot. Most of the guys on my team were pretty obviously straight (or at least, presented themselves that way!), but Mike was the exception, making very obvious that he was gay. It was great to join a group where I wasn’t the only one into cock, and everybody seemed to accept a bi guy into the team without a second thought. Plus Mike was cute. A little shorter than me, with excellent muscly thighs and glutes, tanned and hairy, sporting stubble on a very sexy face.

Some guys would head home right after practice and games, but it was pretty standard for a decent number to shower off before going home or going out again for the night. This is how Mike and I first ended up hooking up; one night after a game we just happened to be the only two in the locker room. We’d always been flirty and pretty physical, so sucking each other off in the showers seemed a natural evolution. Over time that built up to where we’d purposefully find reasons to delay so we were the only ones there, and it became a routine that we’d take turns pushing the other against the wall and pounding their sweaty ass.

One thing I noticed was that Mike rarely ever brought shampoo, body wash, or any sort of soap. In fact, while he didn’t shy away from the shower spray (especially if I was under it spreading my ass cheeks!), he rarely seemed to spend much time under it and generally seemed disinterested in getting clean. I’d also never seen him use deodorant or smelled it on him. All this was fine by me, as I like a nice musky guy – I’d told Mike this was something I loved about our post-workout fucking. In fact, there were a few times where we’d end up so distracted by each others’ sweaty, post-practice bodies that we’d forget to even turn the showers on at all. At first I’d hurriedly clean up before heading home, but as time went by I actually preferred going home unclean and would revel in my unwashed post-sex stink while jerking off before bed. Another thing Mike and I also thoroughly enjoyed were golden showers – to the point where there’d been a few times one of us had nearly had an accident waiting for a slow-moving teammate to exit the locker room. But then, the showers blissfully empty, we’d take turns unloading streams of strong piss over each other as foreplay prior to the main event.

On a particularly hot summer Thursday night Mike and I had been matched up against each other all practice. He was a striker and I’m a defender and practice had been one long scrimmage. We’d been in some particularly close action, both of us hugely competitive and physical players, our sexual relationship completely set to the side. That said, after the scrimmage finished and practice wrapped up, we became human again. Our team captain was outlining the schedule and location of the game that weekend and we were standing at the back of the group taking stock of each other. We were both drenched in sweat, shirts and shorts bunched and sticking in random ways to our bodies, Mike’s hair plastered to his forehead. Rivulets of sweat were running down the muscle lines of our legs and I was able to admire the excellent bulge of Mike’s cock draped with his soaked soccer shorts. A few knowing glances passed between us and unnecessary but welcome nudges – both of us were clearly eagerly anticipating our usual locker room extra curricular activities!

Game day plans sorted out, our captain finally wrapped up and Mike and I headed for the showers. I was pleased to see that everyone else was dispersing, since I really didn’t want to play a waiting game to allow folks to clear out. For one, all the sweaty physicality of practice now had me seriously turned on and wanting Mike’s musky body, and for two, I badly needed to pee! However, as Mike grabbed the handle of the locker room nothing happened except for my friend letting out a short “Ah fuck”.

“What is it?” I asked.

Mike just stretched out a finger directing my attention through the security glass to the interior door. “Out of order – Locker Room Closed” read a piece of paper taped to the door.

“Well shit,” I said, my hand falling to his ass and giving a firm squeeze. “And of course, after the hottest, sweatiest, ripest practice of the year!”

“Ugh, right?” Mike groaned, and I noticed the bulge of his crotch swell slightly. Mike started illegal bahis to say something, then paused and my usually confident friend said cautiously:

“We… we could go back to my place.”

Now, we’d never been over to each others’ places. I for one was still living with roommates and, while occasional hookups were generally well tolerated, the kind of kink Mike and I got up to would definitely have raised eyebrows. Plus, stinky locker room sex was hot as fuck, so why would we bother going anywhere else when that was available to us?

“Hell yes,” I immediately replied.

“It’s… well, pretty messy,” Mike said, then in response to my shrug: “No, like, dirty messy. Not like I just haven’t tidied up recently. I’ve never cleaned and I pretty much never take garbage out and stuff. That kinda dirty messy.” He sounded slightly crestfallen. On the other hand, the more he’d said the more strangely aroused I’d felt. I’d always liked musky partners and had a few fantastic experiences playing in mud or food. Now as my friend laid out how truly dirty his living quarters were I could feel the straps of my jockstrap tighten around my ass as my dick swelled. Mike noticed my increased bulge and smiled.

“Well, if that’s your response…” he said, tone brighter. “Why don’t you follow me!”

He assured me it would be a ten minute drive, and I followed his tail lights, wondering just what was in store for us that night. I had my windows down, but the evening air was barely any relief from the heat and I continued to sweat the whole drive. True to his word, within ten minutes we were on his leafy, unassuming city street, and as I twisted to parallel park I was reminded just how badly I needed a piss.

We both got out of our respective cars, and I followed him to the house. It was fairly standard for this area – main row house above, with an English basement below. It was no surprise when Mike started down the stairs to the English basement. As he unlocked the door I was surprised at just how much anticipation I was feeling – though part of that could have been from my bladder. But even more so I was craving to see just what was behind the door. Mike swung it open and stepped in and I followed.

Even though he’d just switched a light on, Mike’s place was dim. That was the initial impression, followed by the smell. No odor predominated, but it was a collection of aged muskiness and decay. Not a sharp odor like you might get when something has gone bad in the fridge; this was more like well rotted manure combined with high school locker room and weed. Strong and permeating, but not aggressive. As my eyes were adjusting I also noted that the temperature was barely different from outdoors. Clearly Mike didn’t bother running air conditioning, and while it did look like he had his windows open some there was no breeze to speak of. I could feel a drop of sweat dripping down my face, more drips running down the crack of my ass.

Now that I’d adjusted to the gloom I could see the layout better. It was typical of this style house, more or less one long room with a bathroom towards the back and a small counter space with a stove and refrigerator making up the kitchen. At the extreme rear of the room was a door that presumably led to the back yard or alley. Mike’s bed was against one wall about halfway back, though calling it a bed was a stretch: in reality it appeared to be two mattresses next to each other, a collection of sheets strewn on top, several lube containers on a side table towards the head of the bed. Towards the front of the room where we were was an old couch facing a TV. Takeout boxes, empty snack containers, pizza boxes, beer cans, and other detritus were ubiquitous, stacks appearing on pretty much every horizontal surface. Several bongs were also visible as were two massive hookahs by the bed area.

Mike turned toward me. “I warned you!”

I moved directly in front of him, hands reaching around his waist.

“You did, but fuck me if I’m not turned on right now.”

“Can I fuck you if you are turned on right now too?” he cheekily replied.

I pulled him into me, bulges touching in obvious arousal as we made out, sweat from each other’s faces mixing as our tongues intertwined. We each had a hand on the back of the other’s head, pulling into each other as our hips slowly gyrated as our cocks rubbed against each other through straining shorts. We broke off the kiss, both panting.

“Beer or a bong?” Mike offered.

“Beer first, then bong. But even before that, I illegal bahis siteleri need a slash!” I replied.

Mike gave his sly, shit eating trademark smile. “House rules: beer before bathroom!”

He headed deeper into the basement room to the fridge, kicking off his sneakers as he did so. I followed suit, though it wasn’t like we were going to track more dirt into the place! He opened the fridge door, the light at least doubling how bright the place was, and grabbed two cans. There didn’t seem to be much other than beer in the fridge, and it was pretty well stuffed. He handed me a can and cracked the top on his.

“Last one to finish is the loser?” he asked.

“Sure… whatever means I can piss sooner!” I replied.

“Ok, go!”

Neither of us bothered to try to cut the bottom of the can or anything, instead opting to chug from the lid opening. A look in my periphery confirmed that neither of us were bothering to drink every single drop, significant leakage running down our chins and adding to the sweat already soaking our shirts. I finished marginally faster, crumpled the can in my hand and tossed it on the floor. Mike followed suit.

“Hey, you’re a natural!”

“Haha yeah, I could get used to this,” I replied. “Now, what’s the winner get? Do I finally get to take a leak?” The hastily downed beer had done nothing to improve my situation!

“As a matter of fact, you do,” responded Mike as he moved towards his mattresses. “Get your sweaty self over here.”

Mike practically dove onto the closest mattress, landing on his ass and bouncing slightly. Now I was closer the stained mattress and sheets were not just stained and dirty, but also appeared wet. Mike was sitting up, legs out in front, leaning back on his hands.

“Ok winner, get on up here and give me a shower!” Mike sounded practically gleeful. “On no no no! Shorts stay on!” I had started to reach for my waistband, but now I was even more happy to play this game. I love wetting clothes, and soaking my shorts while showering my friend was even better. I stepped up on the mattress. Even though my socks were soaked in a hard practice’s-worth of sweat I could feel the cool of soaked-in wetness from the mattress transfer to my socks. I assumed that Mike’s toilet didn’t see a lot of use and he instead must just piss on his bed; I sure couldn’t think of any other way it would stay this soaked! A few more very wet steps and I was straddling my friend, his face between my legs not far from the bottom of my shorts.

It took a few moments, then with a small “pffft” my stream started, first soaking the pouch of my jock and crotch of my shorts, then running down my leg. Slightly more pressure led to a true cascade from my shorts, splattering over Mike’s face and open mouth. The relief as my bladder emptied was fantastic, prompting a groan from me. Mike’s shirt had soaked all it could take and rivers of piss were now spilling from his mouth, down his chest, and pooling in his shorts. As my stream lessened Mike closed his mouth and swallowed, sticking his tongue out and opening his mouth wide to show his accomplishment. I reached through the leg hole of my shorts and pulled the sodden pouch of my jockstrap to the side freeing my cock and shaking the remaining drops from my now rapidly stiffening tip.

“Mmmmmm naughty man! I didn’t say the winner got to take his cock out!” Mike was clearly in his element.

“You definitely didn’t! What do the rules say about that?” I played into his game.

“Well now you have to get your ass down here and I’ll return the favor.” Just the reply I’d been hoping for.

Mike stood up, and I dropped to the mattress, my suspicions immediately confirmed that it was completely soaked. I assumed the position Mike had been in – sitting legs in front, torso propped up by my arms behind, still fully clothed except my cock emerging from my shorts. Now closer to the mattress itself I detected a thoroughly rank smell emanating from it – it smelled like a mix of unclean urinal, freshly fucked and well lubed asshole, and month old bong water. Mike dropped his shorts and threw the wet clothing at me, hitting me square in the face.

“Hey! Shorts stay on, remember!” I exclaimed.

“On no, that was only the rule for winners,” came the impertinent reply.

I opened my mouth to argue back, but was met with a forceful and well aimed stream. Not only had mike shed his shorts, he’d also freed his cock from his jockstrap and was now aiming a pressure jet of piss into my mouth. After a canlı bahis siteleri momentary start in which I closed my mouth causing piss to splatter everywhere, I reopened and began gulping down my friend’s pungent shower. As his impressive stream began to slow, I allowed my mouth to fill and, after a moment of letting piss overflow and run down my neck, closed my mouth and pushed a nice fountain back out hitting Mike.

“Oooooh do that again!” was the enthusiastic reply. Mike clearly wanted to try something. I did as asked, the tail end of his stream just filling my mouth. As I closed my mouth Mike stood over me even closer, bending down so his open mouth was maybe a foot above mine. I did my best to shoot the fountain into it, some making it, but the majority hitting his face or landing back on mine. There was still enough piss that he was able to drool a good drizzle into my waiting mouth, which he then followed up by falling to his knees still straddling me. We made out, swapping piss and spit back and forth, as I lay back so we were both horizontal on the piss-drenched smelly mattress.

Our bladders now empty, both of us were obviously very turned on. While I was a fan of my cock and had never had any complaints, Mike’s was utterly amazing – uncut, thick, long, and extremely veiny, the base culminating in a gorgeous mound of fragrant pubic hair above very full balls. Both our dicks were fully erect as Mike stood back up.

“Another beer race to see who bottoms first?” Mike was already at the fridge.

“Ah hell, why not?”

Mike tossed me a beer and almost simultaneously let out an “Ok, go!”. Talk about rigging the game! I popped the top and beer immediately spurted out. Mike meanwhile looked halfway done. By the time I’d finally chugged the fizzy brew Mike had already crunched his can, tossed it, and was back at the bed.

“Loooooser!!” he yelled in over the top triumph, grabbing the sides of my shorts as he did so and ripping them off my legs. “On your belly slut!”

I laughed and turned over, my jock’s straps framing my ass. Mike threw his shirt off, now nude except socks, opened a can of boy butter from the side table and grabbed what looked a like a fistful. Legs wide, I arched my back and spread my ass cheeks apart with both hands. Mike slapped the wad of grease in my crack like a chef throwing down a ball of pizza dough then proceeded to rub it in. After a few wipes of my crack he slid first one, then two, then three fingers in my waiting asshole, adding more of the thick lube each time. Then a brief moment as he repositioned himself and slathered his manhood in grease, and finally his cockhead was resting on my hole, his hands on my hips. With one fluid motion he split my hole and thrust all the way in my ass.

“Uuuuuunghf yes fuck me,” I groaned in lust, my hands releasing my ass cheeks and face pressing deeper into the filthy mattress. Everything leading up to now – the scrimmage, the stink of sweat, the dirty bedroom, the piss, the stench of the bed – had built to now where I wanted nothing more than to be used like a complete whore, asshole gaped for my friend’s use. Mike pulled out slowly and thrust in me again. “Mmmmm harder! Pound me like the dirty slut I am!”

“And here I thought I was the dirty one,” was the reply from Mike. He slowly increased in rhythm. His hands had started on my hips, but now he moved one to my shoulder for more leverage as his pace increased. He was truly riding me now, pelvis smashing into my ass as his cock rearranged my guts. I was in heaven, my stretched hole eagerly gobbling his dick again and again, senses overwhelmed by the combination of rough pounding and stench. His pace increased still further and I could tell he was close.

“Yes that’s right!” I yelled into the bed. “Fuck me like you mean it”!

“Ungh – yes – you’re – my – dirty – filth – whore”, each word accompanied by a thrust. Then with one final wild slam and a ferocious primal bellow Mike buried his cock in my ass and I felt it pulse as he came. I lost count of how many, my senses utterly overwhelmed, whole body tingling as Mike lay over me and pumped his cum into me.

As my senses finally started returning to normal, Mike slowly pulled out and climbed down me. He surprised me a bit by spreading my ass with his hands and burying his tongue in the hole his cock had just vacated. A thorough and extremely pleasurable tonguing followed. Then he lay down back next to me.

“I just can’t resist the taste of a freshly fucked asshole,” he grinned, pulling my head towards his as he did so. We made out, the taste of lube and cum and ass and sweat passing from his mouth to mine. Mike eventually broke off the kiss.

“Think you’d like to stick around tonight and we’ll just just how filthy we can really get?”

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