Date: Tue, 14 Feb 2017 12:40:32 +0000
From: Jay Morris <sniffyoudeep@hotmail.com>
Subject: Benidorm Scally Raunch - Part 1 (scat, puke, extreme)

This story contains extreme raunch - if you're not into scat/puke you may
not enjoy!


Benidorm Scally Raunch Pt 1


"What you need to do is wash Kev out of your hair and sleep with as many
men as possible!"

When my best mate Trish said that to me over the phone I don't think she
had in mind just how dirty things would get. I'd divorced Kev, the papers
were through, it was all official. Funny isn't it, we fought so hard for
the right to get married, nobody seems to remember that leads to the right
to fuck things up and get divorced too. Trish was off work sick and was off
to Benidorm for the week to ease her aching bones and insisted I go with
her.

Being the usual control freak I am I booked everything myself. The hotel,
the flights... and she laughed when I told her I'd booked the Palm Beach
Grand. I assumed it was going to be classy until she informed me it was
stag do central. It was too late to change it, I was flying out that
weekend and everywhere else was booked. As if that wasn't a bad omen
enough, when I got on the flight I found myself surrounded by gangs of lads
tanked up on beer and it was only eight in the morning. There were twenty
of them and they dominated the entire flight. I was furious with them for
the rude awakening of hearing football chants so early in the morning but
it didn't take long for me to spot him.

Picture a young Danny Dyer only a bit nerdy and a little bit out of place
with the rest of the meatheads on the flight. But he was definitely one of
them. The bigger guys seemed to target him for any crude jokes or
horseplay, and at one point I watched him get dragged into a headlock by a
six feet brick shit-house with dirty blonde hair, arms like lumps of
stilton and terrible tattoos. As he pulled the lad in he shouted "Little
brother's first trip away with the lads! We're gonna get you so much fanny
you'll stink for a week!" I'm not going to lie. Hearing this made things
stir in my jeans as I watched young Danny (we'll call him that) get ribbed
by his big burly brother. Wrong I know. And only a taste of things to
come. At one point Danny caught me watching, our eyes met and he shrunk
into his chair, almost painfully shy. I averted my gaze before I got
accused of being a dirty old man. I mean I'm only 48. But I must admit I've
never felt dirtier or older.

Not until I got to Benidorm anyway. I've always gone for the young scally
type. I've been known to crack out the baby oil and work my shaft watching
Jeremy Kyle on more than one occasion. I'll admit that my tastes are not
what most would call pedestrian. If he looks a bit hopeless, a bit stupid,
and you get the impression he probably doesn't wipe his arse properly, then
I'm in love. That's probably what led to my undoing with Kev – well that
and a lot of other things I won't bore you with. But Kev was always very
vanilla. And yes we'd have great sex most the time, but I found myself
scouring public toilets for a young scally arse to eat and sniff and play
with whenever he'd be away on business. And when he found me face down in
the neighbour's son one Sunday afternoon that was the end of it. Not only
did I lose my marriage I lost my home – I was told in no uncertain terms
to vacate and never come near the area again. It's not like Sam next door
was illegal – he was 17! But try telling that to his burly black boxer
dad Jonno – who I'd on more than one occasion pictured fucking the shit
out of his son...

So here I was on a crowded flight amidst the stink of cheap deodorant and
testosterone and the annoyance was passing as the lads tapped into the
dirty fucker lurking beneath my exterior. And the more I looked at Danny
the more I found myself becoming a tad obsessed. He was wearing jeans and
trainers and a every time he reached up to the overhead I got a hint of
Calvin Klein boxers against smooth skin. The only thing more erotic than
that was when one of the other lads came crashing out of the toilet
laughing and spouting "I'd give that an hour guys, had to break that shit's
back it was that big." Throb-material.

Landing in Benidorm was like stepping out into a very cheap tacky
furnace. The heat was incredible, and as the lads charged down the steps
and into customs, Danny was at the back, his jeans sliding down over a very
pert behind that I imagined would smell pretty damn bad after a few hours
in this heat.

I've never been one for believing in fate but on arriving at the
tack-o-rama hotel I had an experience that made me start to doubt
myself... There, in reception, checking in in front of me... was Danny and
his brother and their stag-do mates. Standing back I got a great look at
them. Every shape and size of young scally beef on offer – the skinny
one, the fat one, the gym bunnies, the TOWIE crowd with plucked eyebrows
and probably bald shaved genitalia, the older ones let off the leash and
probably soon to be elbow deep in pussy knowing their wives were hundreds
of miles away... and then Danny. Awkward, shifting about, glued to his
phone, scratching his balls every few minutes. I imagined heaven resided
somewhere under his fingernails after a good deep scratch under his scrotum
in the Spanish heat.

Just shy of licking my lips I managed to check in and was gutted to find my
room nowhere near theirs. I must admit the minute I got to my room my pants
were dropped and I sat spread-eagled on the sofa, my nine inches in hand
pumping away. Danny was on my mind. Simply bent over in front of me
spreading his cheeks. I imagined a tiny bit of hair around his hole. Tinged
brown where he hadn't long taken a dump. And I was asking him to pucker it
up for me. He was laughing, amused by this strange old queer who liked the
way his shitter looked. And as it puckered in, out, in, out, a fart ripped
out in my face and bingo. Torrents of seed covered my chest. But Danny was
no longer there. Just a tacky two euro painting hung askew on the lounge
wall.

I showered, stepped into my shorts and tank, lathered my skin in oil and
hit the pool as fast as humanly possible. The place was quite busy,
thankfully low on families although there did appear to be a German husband
and wife with their teenage daughter who was bored rigid stuck with the
parents and no friends to speak of. She was plugged into her iPhone humming
away to something or other as I took the next lounger and spread out,
ordering a drink and promptly passing out for a good twenty minutes or
so. I was awoken by laughter. Deep, monotone male voices erupting into
guffaws and sending the pigeons of my sleep scattering to the skies. I woke
to find the stag lads had followed me down to the pool and were causing all
manner of mess in and out of the pool.

Beers were flowing, jeers were booming out and the shorts were... short. I
don't know which z-list reality `star' we have to thank for the tiny shorts
straight guys are now wearing on holiday but I'd like to personally thank
him. Legs spread on loungers, balls almost on show, the lads were soaking
up the rays and quite frankly soaking up the inner lining of my shorts.
They won't have showered before coming out in the sun so the smell of their
undercarriages, arses, balls, feet, dicks, pits, were at the forefront of
my mind. I'd had a few beers, it was sunny and hot. I was soon to be
rampant. And I wasn't the only one.

Two of the lads were eying up the German teenager next to me. They were
whispering to each other as they letched on her. She can't have been more
than 16 but they had her staked out, spread-eagled and ready to be
inhabited in their dirty minds. And as the blond guy whispered to the
brawny ginger I could see tenting. Blondie was actually talking dirty to
his mate about the girl next to me, turning him on. My semi chub was about
to stand to attention when I was distracted. Danny was coming to join them.

In his own little yellow shorts, Danny's body was on full view and it was
quite something. Smooth, pink-nippled and glistening in the sun, it gave
the impression of a young lad who's only recently started to attempt the
gym and emulate his big brother. He was enveloped in his bro's arms again
and dragged on to a lounger for more horseplay. The brother was twice the
size of him with a fat arse hanging off the back of a chunky rugby frame. I
couldn't help but wonder if they'd shared a bedroom back home – and if
hands had ever wandered. If underwear was left balled and stinking at the
foot of twin beds as big bro took out his daily frustrations on Danny's
pert arse, pulled out dripping, covered in Danny's boyshit which was then
wiped nonchalantly on the duvet cover. Or better still slide into Danny's
mouth for cleaning, held past the tonsils until Danny stopped gagging.

The picture in my mind sent seepage down my shorts and under the gaze of
the German family next to me I thought best to turn over, not look at the
lads anymore, avert my disgusting mind. I plugged in my iPod and lost
myself to Abba for a good half hour. Yes, you can be camp and be an utter
pervert too!

When I turned back around the lads were more sedate, soaking up some
serious rays. Danny's nipples were hard in the sun as he held up his phone,
taking selfies. Normally I'd judge anyone harshly for that but he could do
no wrong in my eyes. And then the best thing happened. As Danny took selfie
after selfie, his brother climbed off his lounger and crept around to
behind Danny's head. Silently egged on by his mates, he dipped his hand
into his shorts and flopped out a massive pink cock which he flopped on to
his little brother's forehead for the selfie. Danny cried out in horror and
amusement as the lads cheered. I had to get up and go. I didn't like the
pervert this was turning me into! A jaunt to the local shops would chill me
out, cool me down, and ease my throb.

But the whole time I was stood in the local supermarket all I could think
was "I wonder if Danny enjoyed the smell of his brother's genitals wafting
across his face..."

Trish was due to arrive at six so when there was no sign I was
worried. Then my fears were confirmed at seven when I had a Skype call from
her – mascara streaming down her face as she declared she'd been rumbled
by her boss and fired. She was no longer in the mood to come and meet
me. Flighty Trish was always doing things like this and I knew I shouldn't
be angry but I was. I'd uprooted and dragged myself to this Godforsaken
dump for her and now she was letting me down. A war of words ensued and I
hung up.

Furious, I necked a gin and hit the town. There is something terrifying and
liberating about being alone in a foreign country. And that goes double for
being alone on a foreign gay scene! Accosted by drag queens, bears and
leery hen parties, I found I was in no mood to swing my handbag to Kylie
tonight. Trish had pissed me off too much – and when I get on the gin in
a bad mood it never ends well. So I decided to do the sensible thing and
get back to the hotel and get my head down. But as I headed along the
strip, eyeing up straight lad after straight lad in short shorts, tank
tops, perma-tans, bad tattoos... I found the throb returning. But I wasn't
going to get what I wanted in the bars I'd just been to.

A wank it was. I headed on down the road until lo and behold, the stag do
from my hotel – and indeed my wet dreams – were fighting with a
bouncer who was throwing Danny out for being too young and too drunk. I
stood back to watch as his big bro defended him. Paralytic Danny slurred
"It's ok bro I'll just go back." But Big Bro was having none of it and
insisted he would at least get him back to the hotel in one piece. He
arranged to meet the others in some terrible sports bar and escorted a
slurring staggering Danny – in white shorts and a blue t-shirt, almost
like a sailor boy from a Pierre et Gilles piece – back to safety. I
decided to hang back and watch as he comforted Danny. His strong arms
gripped his waist, and next to each other their arses were like two ends of
the spectrum. One big round and chunky, the other pert, tight and small. I
found myself imagining how they would smell as I followed them back up the
hill and into the hotel.

I'm not particularly proud of what I did next but even thinking about it
now has made my cock hard. I followed them to see which room they were
in. Room 205. I was in 403 on a totally different floor. Watching them go
inside, I stood out of sight until Big Bro came back out, calling to Danny
to ring him if he needed anything. My heart pounded in my chest, I was
sweating profusely. I couldn't really be about to do this... but even as my
hand reached for the knocker on the door I found I couldn't stop myself.

After a moment Danny opened the door, blurry-eyed, completely out of it. I
cleared my throat and played the grumpy neighbour.

"Sorry to be a moaner mate but can you guys keep it down, I'm trying to get
some sleep."

Danny giggled, held his fingers to his lips to shush himself. "Sorry yeah
I'm... I'm fucking wrecked..." He laughed and I smirked.

"Well," I replied, "At least one of us is having a good night I guess."

"Can you just... wait... sorry I... I..." His smile faded. "I think I'm
gonna be sick."

I leapt into action. Grabbing Danny I guided him back into his room and
found the bathroom. I was genuinely more concerned for his safety than
anything else and I have proof of this. It was only afterwards, as I left,
that I noticed filthy stained boxers on the bathroom floor. If I'd gone in
there just to fuck him the pants would have been the first thing I spotted!

As Danny fell to his knees on the floor, his back arched, his pert arse in
those white shorts sticking up in the air, he started to cough and
splutter. His eyes, piercing blue, streamed with tears as his specs fell
off and down the side of the toilet. I noticed how full and pink his lips
were as saliva trailed from them in a string.

"Fuck, I'm gonna puke!" he cried out.

And God help me I almost came as he let go. The barf flew out of him and
down the toilet a deep green colour. It was rank, disgusting and I was
solid watching this lad totally lose control. As he bawked and cried, I
leaned in.

"Better out than in, Danny..."

And I slid my ring finger into his mouth and down his throat. His eyes
bulged with shock as I found his gullet and finger fucked his throat until
up came more coating my hand. The smell was overpowering as he erupted with
more puke. But as it flew I heard his stomach gurgle and my attention moved
south.

That arse. That right pert arse in those white shorts. As he moaned and
kept retching I slide down. My prize was right there for the taking. And I
did what I'd dreamed of all day. Call it the gin, call it the anger at
being stood up, or call me a filthy old pervert but I put my face to the
shorts and inhaled deep. The smell was intoxicating. Fart, shit and teenage
lad balls and ass – the perfect stink storm. As Danny regained some
composure he tried to stand so I helped him.

"Fuck that stinks..." he moaned.

"It's okay let's get you to bed," I replied. And sliding my hand around his
waist, so tight and slender, I helped him out of the bathroom and into the
bedroom. The smell of teen sweat was strong in here. His travelling clothes
were strewn on the floor, dirty socks, dirty underwear. Those Calvins I'd
coveted right there at my feet. As Danny flopped forward on to the bed I
stooped down and picked up the Calvins. They were white, with piss stains
at the front and a very slight mustard taint at the back where they'd been
wedged up his arse all day in the heat. I took one smell of the mustard and
I was rigid again. I had his vomit drying on my hands and his shit stain
under my nose. And Danny was on the bed face down. His arse beckoned and I
couldn't resist. I got on the bed with him, hooked my fingers around the
waist band of his shorts and pulled them down.

"Fuck, mate, what you doing..." he whispered.

"Helping you out of your clothes, come on, let's get these off," was all I
could offer by way of explanation as I pulled his shorts down and off in
one go. He'd gone commando. His arse was perfectly smooth and bubble-like,
his legs spread wide in front of me. The smell emanating up from his
perineum was like manna from heaven. The perfect mix of sweat and
shit. There was no way I could resist.

I dove down, planting my nose between his cheeks and my tongue on the
underneath of his smooth balls. The hair I'd imagined on his arsehole was
not there. He was totally smooth. His hole was ripe as anything, puckering
and opening to my nose as I pushed in, desperate to smell as much of him as
I could before he regained his senses. But awake and moaning he was, and he
even pushed back, sliding to his knees.

"Mate no I need... I still feel sick..."

And he bawked, face to the pillow, but as he did his hole opened in front
of me. As he retched and more sick showered his clean white pillow, his
hole erupted in my face. Too many beers and a dodgy kebab rendered Danny
open at both ends as he evacuated his guts. Teenage scally gut juice poured
out in front of me and I did the only thing I could. I opened my mouth and
leaned forward. But I hadn't expected the influx at such a pace, and with
that came my own gag reflex. My eyes watered as I found myself heaving and
puking back into his hole. I was filling Danny, the most beautiful teenage
lad I'd seen in years, with my vomit, deep into his smooth virgin anus. The
puke fest continued as he heaved everywhere.

And then suddenly he went limp and passed out in his own vomit. Horrified
with myself, I stepped back. I actually had to check if he was
breathing. He was. He was face down, he was safe. And in the space of five
minutes he'd unloaded his arse and stomach into my mouth. Leaning at his
side, I licked the puke from his lips as I took out my nine inch
cock. Lathered with his gut juice from each end, I pulled my dick hard and
fast until I reached the point of no return, and stood just as my balls
exploded. My hot white gunk hit him in his perfect sleeping face, and it
only took about two seconds for me to come down off my piggy cum high to
see the state he was in.

The smell hit me. It was like an animal house. Shit and puke everywhere. I
had to get out. I'd never be able to look myself in the mirror again after
this. I was disgusted. But before I left I took his Calvins, rushing back
to the safety of my hotel room with the fear... would he remember in the
morning? And would he see me across the pool and come charging at me,
backed by his stag do mates and big burly brother, to kick the shit out of
me?

To Be Continued...