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Scent of a Woman

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We fuck all morning.

She tries fingering me, which isn’t terribly successful. She resorts to eating my pussy, which works out better-in fact, much better than last time.

Gratified, my body still thrumming, I eat her out. I make her ride the edge, periodically telling her I know she’s about to come and that she won’t get there unless I allow it.

I have her in my thrall for well over an hour by the time she comes.

Slowly, she returns to consciousness. I peel away the dental dam. Her vulva, ass, and inner thighs are smeared with sticky cum. I breathe in deep, that wonderful funk of a well-fucked girl.

“Let’s take a shower,” I say.

“Okay,” she says, dazed.

When she finally hauls herself off the sweat-damp sheets, her walk is unsteady. I’m already in the bathroom, hanging two towels.

In the shower, in the steam and spray, we make out and fondle each other’s bodies. The heavy scent of cum slowly vanishes, replaced by soap smell and hot water droplets.

Playfully, we wash each other with a bath sponge. A couple times, I ask permission before touching places like her vulva or her asscrack. She welcomes me.

At one point, she asks me for permission.

I tell her, “You touch anything you want and stick your fingers anywhere you want. I promise you, you’re not going to make me feel weird.”

She nods.

She doesn’t get too adventurous, but she does a damn good job of washing me.

I encourage her to lift the parts of me that overhang, to get between my folds, and in my asscrack. She obliges, lavishing attention on me in a way that makes me feel really good.

When she’s done, I give myself a quick rinse to get rid of the last of the suds that she didn’t get herself.

Then I ask her, “What do you like to call your anus?”

To this, she hesitates.

Then, she says, “My asshole.”

“Can I wash your asshole?”

She thinks about this for a second.

Then she says, “Okay. Yes.”

She doesn’t turn around-she’s facing me, her body pressed to mine-but she spreads her legs and spreads her cheeks apart. She lets her face rest on my collarbone, not meeting my eyes.

I suds up my fingers, reach around, and wash her there, gently circling the muscular little bahis siteleri pucker. I pay close attention to her body language. She tenses up, but she doesn’t pull away.

There’s so much of her cum collected and dried on her anus. It sloughs off in runnels of water and soap.

I permit myself to linger, just a little, after I feel that it’s come clean. Her body is perceptibly more comfortable already; relaxing while I touch her there.

I think that she might even be enjoying it. I’m tempted to ask her about it.

Maybe later. Let’s not get too far off-track… just kind of off-track.

When I’m done, I release her. She bends over a little, letting the spray wash the soap away from her backside.

“Would you like to wash my asshole?” I ask.

“If you want,” she says.

“I want you to,” I say, “but only if you’re comfortable doing it.”

“I am,” she says, a little bolder.

“Have you ever looked at someone else’s asshole?”

“No,” she says. Then adds, “Well, when I was a little kid. There was a neighbor boy. We played doctor.”

I laugh. “I played doctor with lots of neighbor boys.”

She also laughs.

“Would you like to look at my asshole while you wash it?”

“I guess. Why not?”

She’s learning fast.

She might not be enthusiastically throwing herself into everything I suggest.

But “I guess, why not?” will get her far in life.

She squats in front of me, soap and fingers at the ready. I turn around, plant my feet apart, and bend over. I steady myself on the wall with my forearms.

I’ve been fucked in this shower, posed against this wall, so many times that I feel like I could fall asleep in this position.

I feel her tentatively spread my cheeks apart with the thumb and fingers of one hand. I feel the sudden flow of hot, steamy air.

“Tell me what you see,” I say.

“Your asshole,” she says from behind me.

I laugh. “Describe it to me.”

“It’s a pucker,” she says.


“It’s above your pussy.”


“It’s a little darker than the rest of you.”


“It has hair around it. It connects with your pubic hair.”


“It’s pretty much what I thought it would look like,” canlı bahis siteleri she says, “but kind of not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess I just expect assholes to be…”


“Dirty?” she says, as if repeating a word that someone else suggested to her.

“You don’t think my asshole is dirty?” I say, a little playful.


“It’ll be even cleaner if you wash it.”

A moment passes. Then I feel a fingertip, slippery with soap, circling me so softly that it tickles.

“You’ll have to push harder than that,” I say, trying not to giggle. “Don’t worry. You won’t hurt me.”

She does it harder, massaging the ridges of my asshole with a firm touch.

It feels amazing.

Amazing enough that I want her to do more.

But I know this is new for her, and I might be getting greedy.

“Okay. Now rinse me,” I say.

I hear her gathering water in her palms, a loud, sloshing noise, and I feel her dump it over my ass. It runs over my cheeks and into my asscrack and over my pussy.

It’s a sexy feeling, the flow of warm water over engorged genitals.

I’m not going to ask her to lick me or finger me or anything like that. Yet.


Still bent over, I say, “Is it clean now?”

“Yes,” she says. She’s still crouched behind me, low enough that some of the spray is passing over her head and hitting me in the ass.

“As clean as any other part of me?”

“Yes,” she says.

“What if I asked you to touch it?”

“With soap?”

“No. Just a finger.”

She says nothing. I feel her touch a fingertip right to the center of the pucker.

“If it’s really clean,” I say, trying to be delicate, “it should smell clean, right?”

“Right,” I hear her say. She sounds a little hesitant.

I decide to get to the point.

“If I wanted you to put your nose right up to it,” I say, “would you smell it and see that it’s just as clean as anywhere else?”

Again, silence.

Then I feel her nose tentatively poking between my cheeks, just above my asshole. I hear her breathe in through her nose. The rush of air stirs my asshair.

“What do you smell,” I ask.

“It’s like…” she trails off.

I wait patiently.

She canlı bahis says, “It’s kind of musky, but it’s really faint.”


“Yeah. Like, even if I couldn’t see what I was smelling, I would know it was your ass.”

“Does it smell dirty?”


“Like shit?”

“Definitely no.”

“Does it smell bad?”

This, she thinks about.

Then she says, “No. I don’t think so. It’s not something I would have ever thought of as a good smell, but…”

I release the wall, turn around, and hold my hand out to her.

She accepts it, and stands up.

“Are you thinking of it as a good smell now?” I ask her.

I don’t bother to hide my gaze as she draws up to her regular height. Water flows over her body parts in lovely curving lines. Her skin has a beautiful wet sheen.

“Maybe,” she says, coming in close.

She embraces me, pressing into my belly.

Then she says, “Yes, actually. I think so.”

“Does it turn you on?”

She answers slowly. “Yeah. I wouldn’t have thought about it that way before, but yeah. It turns me on.”

We make out some more, longer than a shower has any business lasting.

Our mouths are hot and humid together. They seem to meld with the hot water pouring over us. Our skin steams, our pores open, water collects in the crevice of our tits pressing together.

After a while, I stop the spray, and, a while after that, we get out and towel off.

Somehow, we manage to keep our hands off each other.

We return to the bedroom to dry the rest of the way and get dressed.

I could fuck her all over again.

But we don’t have the time. She’s meeting her roommates at a coffee shop a couple blocks away, so she doesn’t bother calling a rideshare. I have some stuff yet to do at home, so she decides to walk.

I walk her out to the front step. Neither of us has said much.

Before she leaves, she turns to me and says, “Can I kiss you?”

Standing there, speckled in sunshine and the shadows of leafy trees, we kiss tenderly, then maybe more than tenderly.

Some jackoff on a bike yells “WOOHOO!” as he rolls by. Without breaking away from her, I give him the finger.

Later, upstairs, as I’m getting ready to leave, I straighten out the bedding. I sniff it and contemplate washing it.

It smells like her-her sweat, her cum. I sigh; the scent makes my insides twitch.

Then I ball up the bedding and throw it in the hamper.


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