Saturday, January 19, 2008


As i have mentioned before, my nostrils act and overact on a regular basis. This makes for an enjoyable time or a dreadfully miserable time depending on the spectrum of scents i happen to encounter. While at work, i constantly drink water throughout the day which has the result of me frequently needing to visit the little boy's room. I dread the stench i'm liable to encounter, inhaling a massive breath before i enter, and holding it until i'm able to escape the sewagey aerosol.

Recently, i asked my secretary to order some air freshening devices that i could affix to the tiled walls just so my twice hourly visits weren't so abrasive. The other day, during a routine latrine visit, i found my olfactory receptors bombarded by the heinous fog of someone evacuating the digested byproduct of their noontime pastrami on rye. Praising my secretary's reliability, i grabbed the Renuzit Odor Killer off the top of the urinal and pressed my nose against it. Ahhhh...relief.

A pearl of wisdom greeted me on my trek back to my office. As i stood there, sniffing that artificial aroma with gusto, i realized i could have remained in the bathroom for as long as i wanted, unaffected by the bowel transactions occurring behind me in the stalls. I could hear the person struggling to force out their excrement, and perhaps even watch this, but as long as i didn't have to smell it, i'd survive. What this told me was that a situation has the ability to be illusory depending on how close you are to the source of the perfume.

Sense of smell is the most personal of the senses. How we smell we rarely are aware of, because it is always with us. Yet, we can share our scent with others, they can experience us, a part of us, through our scent. Sometimes, we can leave behind an article of clothing drenched in our odor. Historically, the girl would spray a leaf of her love letters with the precipitation of her favorite boudoir fragrance. How one smells informs those around about them. This is not the same for how one sees or hears. One can smell, as in to produce a particular fragrance, which is an inactive feat. In addition, one can smell, as in to sniff out odors, which is quite the active accomplishment. In this way, the sense of smell has a very powerful duality.

For me, scents are the most jarringly immediate sexual triggers. I associate so many bouquets as catalysts to the act of wanting and needing coitus.

-I just recently received a fresh crop of raw hemp rope, pre-conditioned by a flame, de-burring it as much as possible. When i first opened the bag of ropes, the pungent smokiness pleasantly imbibed my nose. Continuing with its treatment, i washed it in Murphy's Oil Soap to delouse it of the fumey scent. Following this, i rinsed the seven and eight meter coils in my tub, hand-strained it, then hung it on clotheslines in the cellar. Each step provided a powerful emanation, the last one filling the damp cellar with the scent of grass and hay. Each step fixed my mind on the purpose of the rope, the acts that were to follow, the satisfaction of the soul.

-When fucking my girl, i particularly love taking her from behind. While the visual aspect of this position contributes to my arousal, it is the effluvium of our combined oils, perspiration and musk that elevates me to a wildly primal state. I could be blindfolded, and the currents wafting up from this epicenter of fucking, with me smashing my cock into her dripping vulva, mingled with the delicious perfume of her ass would be the only sensory expression i'd need. My most potent sexual formula comes from this momentary and hard-laboring assembly line.

-Sometimes, while i'm masturbating, i relish the opportunity to indulge in real olfactory pungency by taking my palm and rubbing it against my moist and constricted scrotum, then lifting this soiled hand to my nose. I take in a deep whiff of my damp musk, while continuing with the sadistic scene in my head that has me incredibly turned on, and almost immediately, i climax from this multimedia presentation. I don't know exactly why this nostril-centric approach so overpowers me, but i confidently accept that for these brief moments, no one perversion is stronger.

At a younger age, i used to fall into shame when i contemplated how much scent played into my sexual appetite. I was convinced that it set me on a road of copulating ostracism. But, as i've learned to let the hordes of demons inside me run their course when they've insisted, i've grown rather comfortable, if not admiring, of my sense of smell's ability to command immediate and thorough respect.

*this continues on here


Sub Nouveau said...

You know I love reading your blog so much because of the attention to detail, not only in your writing, but in your own life. Oh what a wonderful world this would be if everyone was so aware of what is around them, what makes them tick, etc.

PS. Is the washing of the rope a necessary thing,or is this just something you do on your own?

Slave2JS said...

i have truly enjoyed this journey through the eloquently written.

Thank you for sharing.


Deity said...

it's funny, sometimes my girl will tell me that i'm TOO focused on the detail - too wordy, i think she says. even though i truly appreciate and prefer authors who have an economy with their language, for some reason, i can't help but pack as many words into a sentence as i can.

p.s. necessary, not really. since a flame was used to singe off all the burrs, the rope was covered in soot. if i didn't wash it (which is a step i really enjoy making my girl do from time to time) that soot would end up rubbing off onto my girl's skin as i bind her, making her smell like a chimney. so, i wash it just because i want and prefer the natural hemp scent to come through. excellent question, thank you for asking.

i'm happy to hear you've enjoyed it. hearing that it stimulates and entertains others makes it worth the effort of posting it.

Vesta said...

It was lovely to return to this piece of writing, five years in fact since it was written. I well recall reading it for the first time and giggling with glee at my find; the very first piece of writing of yours I ever read. It stands up very well to the test of time. It seems, and I didn't realize until today, that I rather enjoy sentences packed with as many words as possible.