When we were fucking the air around us got warm and sweet and salty . . . like something delicious being cooked downstairs with just the softest warmest parts wafting upstairs to tease and invite us down to eat.
MY PUSSY SMELLED LIKE PINEAPPLE AND BACON INFUSED SLUTBUTTER and warm friction.
Not in an overpowering diner-greasepit at breakfast way (though I think the coconut oil we use as lube sometimes might have enriched the hot oil note) . . . it was just a suggestion of bacon (and I’m not just trying to capitalize on this century’s fiendish obsession with all things bacon). It was more of a salty canadian bacon / ham slice warming in a pan smell.
And it made Delia want a Hawaiian pizza. Which she NEVER wants.
I don’t know where the pineapple note came from either, because I hadn’t had any of that either.
Anyway . . . it smelled delicious. I wish I could convey the erotic subtlety of these aromas instead of what probably sounds like an overpowering greasy-spoon filled with construction workers jacking off on plates filled with crispy bacon. It was the kind of smell that makes you want to inhale deeply to get more of it, and follow the trail of scent to where you’d no-doubt find something delicious: MY PUSSY.Read More
I smell like Elmer’s glue today. This is neither bad nor good.
Actually, it does smell kind of good. There’s a clean, sharp, nostalgic-stickiness to the high note of it.
Beginning of birth control placebo week. Haven’t been fucked in WAY too many days. Been eating too much sugar and even french fries.Read More
Have I become a spunk maven or what is going on?!?
So I was in bed for the first time with a young man nearly twenty years my junior with his thick cock stretching out his SpongeBob Squarepants boxer shorts and yeah . . . pretty aroused, when he said “mmmmm, it smells like YOU already had an orgasm . . . ”
WTF?!? I don’t think I smell any different after I have an orgasm than before. And I hadn’t already came. Not within the past couple of hours anyway, though I *was* super horny all day and had been masturbating to this video I made with a different new guy the night before.
Maybe he was smelling residual cum from the two bastings I got the night prior?
Do you believe that the smell of a woman is DISTINCTLY different after she climaxes than it was prior to orgasm?
I really don’t think so. Especially since I had *not* recently had an orgasm (it had been at least two hours I think). I think he smelled pussy and for whatever reason he associates a detectable pussy scent as the scent of a woman who’s having a bunch of orgasms or something. Or I think maybe he was trying to say that I smell like an extra-horny slut.
On the site where I met him he has a number of smelly-pussy things listed as “fetishes”, including such gems as:
- “i know i make you wet. i can smell it.”
- i can smell your wetness already
So that is kind of hot and all, but I do think people are confused about what exactly they’re smelling and why and where it came from.
Hearing this so soon after this remark (the first I’ve ever gotten like that) I wonder if this is some kind of newish (or has a certain segment of the population always done this?) imagined or exaggerated thing with dudes. I’m probably not articulating this properly, but these observations seem outsized. I’m pretty sure my cunt hasn’t become an industrial-strength cum-nebulizer in the past year or changed in a significant chemical way. Are they imagining that as an older woman I have a smellier pussy? I’m not saying it always smells like a dainty flower or even pleasant all of the time, but that’s how most vulvas operate and I’m relatively certain my twat still has normal good and bad days, and that the days and times I was with these guys weren’t particularly strong or offensive (not that they said it was offensive . . . I mean, they seemed pretty into it).Read More
I just lowered my face into the crotch of my panties while I was peeing and the first smell to hit me was a faint nostalgic touch of spicy men’s cologne . . . and then the musky furry hot smell of my snatch.
I don’t know where the cologne smell came from (no men or people wearing men’s cologne or any perfume has even been anywhere NEAR these panties) and I don’t even really like getting my pussy eaten that much, but oh my sweet fucklord . . . it brought me back to being in my twenties. And even my late teens.
I want some new dick so fucking bad. New TEMPORARY dick. FLEETING dick. A man like a jungle-gym to climb on with a thick hard pole to ride.
Hair on his FACE. Hair on his CHEST. Hair on his THIGHS.
And I want all of that hair to smell like a man who got a little pretty for me and then got a little sweaty with me and then all of his FACE CHEST CROTCH hair got infused with the bass note of my spicy animal cunt honey smell. Right now I just want that six-and-a-half-feet of man steeped in a spontaneous “sleep”-over with my pussy, and to bury my nose in soft brown man-body-hair. That smells like what I just smelled in my panties.Read More
I had an unexpected hookup with a stranger last week – I met him in a surprising way. The kind of way that sounds like total porno schtick but was REAL . . . so, you know, it made me pretty excited. The manner of meeting was so unusual and specific I can’t even tell you about it in concrete details for fear of compromising both his privacy and mine.
Walking home from dinner down dark alleys with this guy the first night, I was thrilled to be heading back to our one-room pied-à-terre (my wife was at our regular home, giving me full run of our city apartment) and hoping to fuck him, but not sure whether or not it would happen.
The only real furniture we have in our apartment is a biiiiiiig bed. So if you’re going to hang with me in our apartment, I’m going to be in bed. And encourage you to be in bed. SO HE WAS IN BED WITH ME and eventually I got way too wiggly and excited and started to, you know, MOUNT him and rub against him. And most people can’t have me on top of them without reaching for my big tits (this guy was no exception). And under my short dress to my
panties boxers (sorry, it’s the truth).
He pulled off my boxers and exclaimed what a wet pussy I had, and that he knew it was going to be super wet BECAUSE HE COULD SMELL IT ALL THE WAY HOME.
Yes, that’s right, he said he could smell my wet fucking pussy when we were walking back to my place. In open air. THROUGH my dress and underwear and everything. Maybe the boxers allowed more of my scent to waft out through the legholes? I’M NOT SURE HOW THIS COULD BE POSSIBLE!
Listen, I don’t know if he was making it up or maybe imagining it. He’s close to my height so maybe . . . closer to it? I personally couldn’t smell it (and I’m pretty attuned to my own scent, not in a way that blinds me to it but makes me hyperaware of it). Maybe he just has a really acute sense of smell? Or maybe it just seemed like a hot thing to say . . . I don’t know.
I’ve never had anybody say this to me before (that I recall, anyway). There are definitely times I can smell it through a nightgown when I’m not wearing panties and the fabric has been rubbing against my muff for a couple of nights, but when I ask Delia if she can smell it, she only can if she puts her face right up against me and inhales deeply.
Yeah, I had a moment of concern that it smelled overpoweringly bad, but . . . no fucking way. On my boxers my pussy smelled good, on my fingers my pussy smelled good . . . up close my pussy smelled good. THAT WAS YUMMY-SMELLING PUSSY for sure. I mean, he did come back for more!Read More
When I took off my nightgown this morning I caught a whiff of my snatch smelling offensively of the consequences of eating lots of garlic yesterday.
But now, just past high noon, I caught a whiff of it smelling perfectly of hot musky summer as I warmed myself in the August sun, pulling sticky, spent petunia flowers away from the plants for the benefit of new flowers.Read More
DRY. Not like a dry desert heat – we’ve still got moisture in the air – but no measurable rainfall FOR THE ENTIRE MONTH OF JULY which is very unusual for the Seattle area. I’ve spent every single Fourth of July of my life in Western Washington, and my memory is of most of them being drizzly or at least overcast.
My body is ripe with this summer. Not grossly funky or heatstroke-sick, but definitely carrying the kind of heat for days and weeks on end that warms up every aroma of sweat, of sugar, of sock . . . of pussy . . . of body hair. Especially the body hair between my legs. My clothes are infused with it.
Today my body smells like spunk and pussy smeared around in my bush and soft thighs, and warm, dense, doughy bread.
I’m wearing one of my favorite flimsy white cotton nightgowns. It looks modest, but it smells like sex.
Actually, NO BUTS ABOUT IT. My nightie looks modest . . . and, fittingly, it smells like sex. Because that’s what soft mommy-types in short flimsy nightgowns smell like . . . like soft summer fucking. Or hard, damp, frantic fucking! That’s what you like to think, anyway. But of course in this case I’m not really a mom. I just like wearing these kinds of pretty nightgowns. And fucking . . .Read More