his smell, my dysfunction

Have I told you he has the sweetest smell? Well he does. Or his cock does, to be precise.

It must be his diet. Health-conscious, all organic, fruits and nuts, careful him. I am more of an onion garlic chili spice kinda gal. I know how I smell, salt and sour and metal and bitter and ammonia and sweet and pungent all at once. I’m no walk in the garden. I change all the time. I smell and taste exactly like me.

I smell him all the time, like I’ve smelled no other. Those times I described sitting on top of him. Or I can think of one strident time when I was on my back and he was hovering over me. Right when he starts to get aroused, and his eyes shut a bit, or his head pushes forward a bit out of its skin, I start to sense it. I feel like a freak because I can smell it so stongly, yet I wonder if I am imagining it. But then I’ve always had a sensitive nose. I am hit with whiffs of it and I know it’s real, though impossible to describe...

(..make me faint
frankincense
with a butterscotch
drunken lick
twist,
chocolate it ain’t
but pheremone caramel
poison,
fill me myrrh,
musky fucky,
keep it coming,
sweet
and
never sour
you...)

I wonder how weird it would be if I gave in to my impulse to lean over, right in the middle of the action, and really take a deep breath of it in.

His redolence. His fragrance. His aroma. His essence.

Language fails me here, it really does. I think of the other language I know, and there is a word that is used for a smell that is pleasing. Except when you say it, it means delicious, mmm, ohhh ,oof, let me smell that again. No other word really comes as close in my mind.

I have not talked yet of the last time I was at his house and I finally tasted him in my mouth. It is a shame that I was distracted with the fact that I had my first date with N right afterwards. And that as per my usual when I visit him, I had just finished a paper the night before, was running on 5 hours of sleep, had all my Christmas shopping to do right afterwards, a lunch date with N, dinner with X and other friends, as well as my city to get back to, so I could pack my suitcases and clean the house, so I could then get back to his city and catch my flight the next day. (It never rains, but it pours, or rather clawing cats and barking dogs suddenly decide to make their debut from large gaping holes in the sky.)

Maybe as a result of this, it was the only visit where I felt a bit dysfunctional and lost with him.

He was still sleeping anyways when I arrived, it was so early. He had had a late night too. He’d got up earlier to leave the door unlocked for me. I felt shy and a stranger again at his bedroom door, unwilling to disrupt his sleep. I helloed at the threshold. Aren’t you going to come in?, he asked. Yes, oh, wasn’t sure if you wanted me to, I said. Well, yes, sorry, come in, he mumbled. I felt silly and walked in.

Did I take off my pants before I lay down on his bed? I forget. I remember he was cold from having just woken up. He drowsily told me he had a strange desire never there before, to have me licking and teasing all over his body, playing whichever way I wanted. Actually he'd told me this already once over the phone a long while back but I decided not to remind him of it. My mouth was dry. I’d always wanted to do this and now was the time. As I started, he reassured me that it was not about a performance on my part, that it was just to watch me enjoy myself.

He felt like this amazon valley of choice underneath me, and he was still cold so he was pulling the comforter over us, and over my lost head. I was so tentative you know. I was so awkward. Thick mats of my hair kept finding its way to my mouth, and I was getting annoyed, because I did not like the sensation. And it was annoying to hold it back with one hand and he wasn't holding it back for me. I was so distracted. And trapped under the sheets. It’s ok, have fun with it, he said, the feel of your hair and me in your mouth, it’s fun. I’m not sure why I could not fully. Just distracted I guess. I've been told I might have ADD. Do you think it's true maybe? It would certainly explain my writing. Maybe even parts of my life. Though not really my childhood. I thought we were all a bit like this.

But he had this very white clammy skin my teeth just slid off, I wanted to suck into it and pull up but it wouldn’t quite give way. It was smooth and clear like glass. Like butter you forgot to take out of the freezer. I don’t know what it was. I didn’t want to feel him fully I think. Maybe what it was? Or he didn’t want it? I was so very close. Tip of my tongue on his nipples, this I liked, little kisses I opted for finally which I liked, I liked it all, but why couldn’t I just give in?

Then he started to emanate his fabulous smell again. And I put my hand on the down of his stomach and groaned. Do I tell him now how good he smells? Shh. I started to move down bit by bit and stopped. Is there something else you want to do, he asked sleepily, heaving gently. Uhuh, I said. Say it out loud, he said. Feels good to say things out loud. He's right, but I didn’t feel like talking that day. His cock, his scent, thisclose to my lips. This, I said. And put my mouth around his cock for a brief moment. And took out and licked soft. My mouth was exploding with his flavor. And the thrill of having done it. He sighed and breathed.

I won’t get fully hard, he said. It’s ok, I said. No I mean, on purpose, for you, he answered. Oh, I said sheepishly. I realized I had no desire to give him a full-blown blowjob. I wanted to have him in my mouth, and I wanted to lick and hold wherever and whenever I felt. But no real desire to build and build him slowly, to ride him with my mouth and take him deep in as he lengthened. Not like with X, and afterwards with N. There was just this unusual fetish for his taste and I was unsure how to express it. I breathed all close around his head, nearly but never quite closing my mouth around him. I started to lick along his shaft, strings of yummy syrupy yes he was, smooth and satin. Wish my mouth hadn’t been so dry. My fingers were moving down to his ass where his balls started, stroking. This intimacy felt strange, you know, I’ve never fully touched him, only fucked. His head was poking out further and further and he was sharply sensitive to touch, and asked that I keep his skin pulled up and around his head to avoid pain as I sucked. Which was new. So I tried to do this, while still stroking at his base, and I was moving my head, and he was helping me, and oh I hate to say it but selfish me, really I just wanted to taste.

Not that I wasn’t turned on. I had unwittingly clamped my legs around his one thigh, his hairs tickling on me, as I started to grind against, and he groaned and pushed his thigh up to meet me, feeling a bit of my wet.

I realized what he meant about not becoming fully hard because the longer he got the more I felt like I was covering no ground. I used to love taking X into my throat past my gag so I was close to his balls. And I had no troubles with N. They were sizeable enough. But I was befuddled now as to how I would possibly get the right angle if I were to want to push down further with him. Dangled headfirst from a crane maybe? Was there enough neck for that? It made me want to laugh a bit.

Oh but I was distracted and silly and trying to adjust, and all I really wanted was him tasty in my mouth for a minute or two, so I stopped finally, tired, and sorried. And he pulled me up and said it was ok, and I kissed his torso for a minute or two longer, before he put his cock inside between my legs, my cunt finally filled and we fucked. And it was as good as ever.

And later on, after we had slept for a bit, he asked a bit about N, this mysterious date of mine. And I told him, but was kind of vague and curt because I didn't know what to say, and well, you know the rest.

We should try the first part again some better time I suppose, when I am more relaxed, if we feel like it. It’s a shame I couldn’t enjoy more thoroughly what I had been looking forward to so.

I wanted to write about it (even though there are much more important things to write about), because I realized I have made mention of our every single encounter here, phone, writing and real, if not fully, then at least in passing.

So here, for the record books, was that last one.

And I do so like and miss his smell.