Hypothetical Hitch-Hiker Ch. 01

He paused before clarifying, less worried and more intrigued, "And it's that male bum smell which you find 'quite appealing'?"

I chuckled, struggling to maintain an air of casual normality. "Just a bit, yeah. Enough to make me curious, I guess."

"And does it make you... well... horny?"

Now it was make or break time. If I said 'yes', I risked freaking him out, but if I said 'no' I was possibly forestalling any further developments which might happen.

I decided to play it safe. "A little bit, perhaps."

He went quiet and I thought I might have lost him.

I turned to him and smiled again. "You probably think that's really disgusting..."

"No, I don't," he responded. "It's not something I've ever thought of as being sexy, but I can sort of see how it could be."

Oh, nice one, Dane, I thought. Good answer.

He thought about it for a little longer, before asking, "But isn't that something you could experiment with when it's you and your wife?"

"I don't think she would have a male bum smell, Dane. I'm no expert, though."

He chuckled and then asked, "So it would have to be a male smell?"

I nodded. "It's the maleness of the smell that arouses me on my own underwear. I would imagine that the gender of the bum's owner would very much determine the nature of the smell."

He went quiet again and we drove on a mile or so. Again, I started to worry that I'd gone too far and that I'd lost him.

I'd played it too fast; freaked him out by being too direct.

But then he asked, "So you think you would find the smell of another male's bum as... well... arousing as your own?"

"I don't know," I said, lying again. "I've never had the opportunity to find out."

"Haven't you sniffed any other guys' dirty underpants -- in the gym or whatever -- since you're so intrigued by the idea?"

I shook my head. "Like I said, Dane, I've never had the chance. I had my son living with me at home until last year, but it would have seemed a bit inappropriate to have a sniff of his."

Dane laughed at that. "Yeah, and some!"

The conversation tailed off again and I thought, for the third time, that he might be about to let the subject drop. After a good five minutes, though, during which we passed through a village and I took what I knew to be an unsigned shortcut through the National Park, he spoke up again.

"If you like," he started, with his voice faltering in his uncertainty about what he was going to say, "you can have a sniff of one the dirty pairs I've got in my rucksack."

I swung my head around to look at him and he was immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry, Rob! That was a really stupid thing for me to say! Forget I ever said it!"

I smiled at his sudden apprehension. If I'd thought I could have got away with a conciliatory pat on his knee, I'd have given him one: as it was, I didn't.

"I was just surprised by the offer, Dane," I reassured him, instead. "That's why I looked over at you like I did. I certainly wasn't offended!"

He relaxed and beamed back at me. "I thought you were, like, really appalled. Your face looked... I dunno... stunned!"

I smiled again, facing the road. "I know it's a bit of a weird fantasy, and, to be honest, I've never told anyone about it. I suppose I was surprised because I hadn't expected you to be so willing to indulge my curiosity."

He shrugged. "I owe you one for the ride, I guess."

"I told you, you don't."

"It's pretty bizarre, though, isn't it?" he went on, laughing and disregarding what I'd said. "Me paying you for the ride by letting you sniff my dirty kecks!"

"I wouldn't put it like that," I suggested. "You make it sound as if I'm taking advantage of you. As far as I'm concerned, you're just helping me to find out if it's just my own smell that attracts me or whether other guys' smells do too. It's almost scientific, in a way."

He laughed again. "However you want to dress it up, Rob..."

"Well, since you're being so obliging," I went on, "I'd be happy to drive you the whole way home. Right to the door, if you like."

"Really?" he asked. "That would be awesome, mate. It can take ages for people to stop and give you a lift with all the stories of nutters hitching lifts."

Not to mention all the nutters picking up hitch-hikers, I thought dryly.

He thanked me several times and seemed so pleased by my offer that I wondered if there was more to it than just the avoidance of an evening getting cold by the side of the road. I suspected he might see the extra lift as a justification of what he was allowing me to do for him: that he wasn't just wilfully giving some sordid old a man a sniff of his used underpants; he could tell himself afterwards that he'd only reluctantly done so in return for being driven all the way home.

He unzipped a pocket on his rucksack and started fishing around inside it.

"I've been staying with a mate for three nights," he told me. "I've got a few dirty pairs in here somewhere."

He ruffled through scrunched-up teeshirts and socks and eventually found a pair of white boxer trunks which he examined. I could see from the momentary glance I got how discoloured they were.

He laughed and quickly stashed them back away. "You really don't want to smell those!"

Then he found another pair which met with his approval.

"Yeah, these should be okay," he announced. I glanced over and saw they were also white and had a DKNY waistband. "They're not too stained but they're pretty whiffy. My mum used to say you could strip wallpaper with my dirty underwear."

I laughed, looking back towards the road ahead.

"Do you want to put them up to my nose?" I suggested. I wanted him to feel he was in control of what I was allowed to sniff.

He reached his dirty shorts out towards my face but then giggled and pulled away. "I can't believe you're actually going to sniff my smelly pants! It's really gross!"

I chuckled. "You're doing me a favour, Dane -- it's something I've always wondered about."

"Are you sure you really want to, thought?" he felt it necessary to clarify. "I mean, my dick, my bollocks and my arse were all cooped up in these for going on twenty-four hours."

I smiled over at him. "I think that's rather the point, isn't it?"

It occurred to me from the time-span he'd quoted that he must sleep in the underwear he'd worn that day, much like my son does. That, I anticipated, would result in an altogether more satisfying sniffing experience.

He recovered his confidence and then held them out again. He asked, "Which part do you want to smell first? The front or the back?"

"It's the back I'm most interested in," I admitted. "But let's start out front. It might be more fun to take the scenic route!"

He fiddled with the underwear, orientating the gusset of them in his palm, and then pressed them towards my nose.

"This is where my knob lies in them," he helpfully informed me as I sniffed at the material.

He really had no need to have told me that: the sharp, acrid bite of stale urine told me all I needed to know. It wasn't unpleasant, and indeed was mildly arousing on some level to know that I was smelling something so personal about him, but compared to the far more interesting scents I knew to be lurking just inches away, the whiff of his dried pee wasn't something I wanted to dwell on.

"It has a certain appeal, Dane, but it's not really my thing," I declared.

He withdrew his shorts and repositioned them on his hand and then chuckled at the memory of something he'd forgotten.

"Oh yeah," he said. "Try this."

He pressed them back up to my nose and I found that the smell on this part was much richer and more conspicuously sexual. There was an alkaline tang to it with a heavy, salty undertone.

I sniffed a few times, enjoying a familiar odour imbued with Dane's own idiosyncratic hormonal tang, before smiling and asking, "Were you a naughty boy in these briefs, Dane? Late one night, perhaps?"

He chuckled and withdrew the undershorts, telling me, "It was early one morning, actually, but yes, I was a little bit naughty given that I was a guest in the house."

I laughed back. "An attentive host should be flattered that the guest felt so comfortable that he was able to rub one out in the guest room."

Dane fiddled with the white trunks again and offered them back to my face for a third sniff. I expected that this time it would be the back of them he was letting me smell, but the odour on the material lacked the familiar pungence that I'd come to recognise as belonging to the male behind.

The smell was altogether more sweaty and musky, with hints of Dane's own sexual juices bringing it a distinctive fragrance.

I sniffed a few times, enjoying the aroma, before offering a guess at which part I was sniffing: "Is that where your sweaty bollocks spent a day jiggling around, by any chance?"

He laughed at that and admitted that I was correct. "You could turn this into a TV game show," he added.

I smiled at the thought. I'd definitely Sky Plus that.

Then he withdrew the shorts again and turned them over to find what I knew would be their most flavoursome spot.

"Are you really sure you want to do this?" he asked, making it doubly clear which particular area of the flimsy cotton I was about to be presented with.

"Why would I not?" I retorted. "I thought this was the whole purpose of what we were doing."

"You didn't seem that interested in the parts you just sniffed," he said. I wondered if my apparent lack of enthusiasm was, in some way, slightly insulting to him.

"I told you, Dane -- it's the back I'm intrigued by. The front of my own briefs has never been something I've found particularly attractive."

He took a sniff himself and announced that they were indeed particularly smelly.

"I think my mum might have been right," he said. "You could probably even strip paint with these."

I smiled. "Are you sure you wore them just the one day?"

"Yeah, but I was in the back of my friend's parents' car for a few hours. I think they must have ridden up quite a lot."

"Sounds like they make the perfect test for me. Come on, let's a have a whiff of them!"

He reached them out towards me again before losing his nerve and pulling back, giggling, one last time.

After he'd recomposed himself, he felt it necessary to make absolutely certain that I knew what I was getting myself into.

"You realise -- don't you -- that this is the smell of my bum? That this is actually quite dirty and I'm about to push it under your nose?"

"I am fully aware of what it is I'm about to smell," I said.

"If you think it's really nasty -- if it makes you feel sick or something -- just pull back and I'll put them away. We'll just forget it ever happened."

"Absolutely," I agreed with a nod.

He reached forwards again and pressed his dirty underpants towards my face. Even though they were an inch or so from my nose, just one gentle sniff had me almost swerving the car at the intensity of his bum odour.

"Oh, Jesus!" I called out and, misinterpreting my reaction, Dane pulled his trunks away. I grabbed his arm and shoved them back up to my nose. At first I sniffed tentatively at them but then, gaining in confidence and finding the aroma so arousing, I burrowed my nose more firmly into the fabric. I couldn't believe how much the material was oozing with his pheromones and how exciting it was to smell his rich, masculine redolence seeping from the cotton.

"Do you actually like it?" he asked with apparent disbelief.

I smiled and nodded into the well-soiled seat of his underpants, moving my nose around as I sniffed them to find their most odoriferous spot. I could feel my cock steadily hardening and I knew that this young man would soon be able to see from the front of my trousers how much the back of his shorts was affecting me.

"That's probably the best bit there," he said, guiding a small discoloured patch of material up to my nose. I inhaled from it intently, feeling my heart race at how deliciously ripe it was with his roughest and most carnal stink.

I called out, "Oh God, yeah! That is so fucking hot!"

He laughed and moved the material against my nose, guiding me to smell further up along his butt-crack, where the scent was sweatier but far less intensely pungent. It was nice to smell where the material had pressed between his buttocks as he'd sat in the car, but after the electrifying pleasure of where my nose had just been, I found the pathway he was leading me along increasingly disappointing.

I pulled away and told him, gasping for breath, "I liked the smell more where you had them a few seconds ago."

"That's right where my hole was," he informed me.

I smiled, still panting. "I'd rather guessed that."

He returned the material to its earlier position and pressed his fingers up against it, pushing it up into my nostrils. I breathed in as deeply as I could and revelled in the sheer, raw power of his arse on the cloth, then inhaled in short, rapid bursts like a sniffer dog, determined to extract every molecule of scent from these intoxicating underpants.

"Oh God, yes!" I cried out, as I fed on the smell of his bum.

He laughed again and said, "Are you sure you can drive while you're enjoying this so much?"

I nodded with my face still pressing into his shorts. "I can see the road fine," I muttered through the white material under my nose.

"I wasn't thinking of that," he explained. "I was worried about the amount of blood that seems to have rushed to your... er..."

I pulled away from the seat of his underpants and looked over at him. He was glancing down at my crotch, now straining with excitement as my large and prominent bulge looked like it was threatening to burst my zipper.

"I guess that answers the question about whether I find other guys' bum smells arousing," I said.

"You couldn't make it any clearer," he laughed, taking the trunks from my face and tucking them back into his rucksack.

I turned back to face the road and kept driving along roads that were climbing steadily upwards into the wooded hills of the National Park.

We both went quiet for a while and I mused on how to play things from here.

Dane had seemed remarkably unconcerned that my crotch had been so blatantly aroused as I'd sat alongside him: if anything, he'd viewed my prominent erection as a source of amusement. It was also encouraging how quickly he'd lost his reservations about letting me sniff his underwear: once he'd seen how much I enjoyed the smell of the back of them, he'd been surprisingly eager to titillate me by pressing the dirtiest part of the material up into my nostrils.

I suddenly wondered if he himself had been getting horny.

I glanced across at the front of his jeans. There was a suggestion of a bulge but nothing too obvious. If he had developed a hard-on, he'd all but lost it by now.

I decided to let him take the lead from here. If he had been aroused by what we'd been doing, the likelihood was that, given a little time, he'd try to push our playfulness a little further. And if hadn't been aroused, there was probably no point in me trying to coax more from him -- I'd only end up looking like even more of a pervert than I already did.

It was only when we'd ventured quite deep in the forest that he broke the silence by chuckling and saying, "Aw... Rob... your boner's gone soft again!"

He was peering at my crotch.

I turned to throw him an encouraging smile. "You sound almost disappointed, Dane!"

"I was impressed -- that's all. I've never seen a guy do that to his trousers -- you were nearly bursting out of them!"

"It's a while since I've felt so horny, to be honest," I told him, switching my lights on in the gloom. "I always suspected that I'd get turned-on by another bloke's bum smell, I only never knew how much."

Oh, Robert: what a big, fat fake you are.

"Why was it so exciting?" he asked. "I mean, it never did anything to me when I sniffed them."

"It doesn't really work with your own," I explained, slowing the car as the road became steadily more bendy as we got into the hills. "Like I told you, whenever I've sniffed my own underpants I've been intrigued by the smell, but getting my nose stuck into someone else's was in a totally different league."

"Maybe I should try it," he suggested with a dubious laugh.

"Maybe you should," I agreed.

"Next time I stop over with a mate, I'll have to have a sly sniff of the back of his skiddy boxers in the bathroom."

He laughed again and I chuckled as if amused. I immediately knew how I should reply but I didn't want to say it too quickly and appear too calculated.

So I let his joke settle fully before I made my move.

And then, as casually as I could, I came back with: "Well, if you are really are keen to see if you'd enjoy the same thing that I did, you could try it a lot quicker than that."

He looked over at me, interested.

"What do you mean?"

I smiled, trying to maintain the impression of amicable indifference, and then said, "You're not the only one who has dirty laundry with you."

He continued staring at me, failing to understand, so I went on, "I'm actually on the way home from a meeting organised by the engineering company I work for. I stayed over last night in a hotel near Preston."

"So?" he asked blankly.

"So..." I smiled. "I've got yesterday's dirty underwear in my holdall in the boot."

"Oh," he said, ponderously, as my meaning dawned on him.

I turned again and smiled more broadly at him. "It's just an idea, Dane. A rather filthy one, I admit, but just an idea nonetheless. Feel free to say no."

He nodded slowly, carefully considering my suggestion.

At length he said, "To be honest, Rob, I'd feel kind of uncomfortable. I mean, it seemed like we were just having a bit of giggle when I watched you sniffing mine, but to sniff yours... well... it'd be a bit different, wouldn't it?"

I shrugged. "If you don't want to, there's no big deal. It was just a silly thought I had, knowing that you were curious to try it yourself."

"I kind of am," he said, his voice betraying how tempted he was by the idea I was proposing. "But what if I was really grossed out by it? After you've been so nice, giving me the lift and stuff, I'd feel really wrong to let you see how... I dunno... disgusted I was if I really didn't like it."

I smiled. "I tell you what, then, Dane. If you do want to have a sniff of mine -- and I'm really not forcing you -- at the same time, I could have a sniff of the really rough ones you wouldn't let me see, and if --"

"The rough ones?" he queried, cutting in.

"Yes," I chuckled. "The ones in your rucksack that you said I really didn't want to smell."

"Oh, those!" he laughed. "Yeah, they were a bit grim!"

"Well, if you give me a sniff of those --"

"You'd actually want to smell them?" he interrupted me again. "They're a bit... you know... worse for wear!"

"I think I probably would enjoy smelling them," I admitted, "but I could match my reaction to yours. If you turn out to be disgusted by what you smell on mine, I could do the same with yours -- that way neither of us would be offending the other."

He smiled and nodded at the inventiveness of the suggestion. "Sounds like it might work..."

"Do you want to give it a go?" I asked, having just noticed a sign for a picnic area which was five-hundred yards ahead.

"Go on, then... yeah!" he laughed. "It'll be a bit weird but it might be kind of interesting."

"I'll have to pull in," I informed him. "My overnight bag is in the boot."

"Okay. As long as no-one else is around."

"I don't suppose they will be," I said, indicating right to turn into the picnic area. "Not in this weather and with night starting to fall."

I pulled into the gravel car-park, which was completely deserted as I'd expected, as Dane laughed again at what we were about to do.