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Women have special scents. It’s nature’s way of attracting men, or other women. Sometimes the scents are barely perceptible; slightly sultry and perhaps musky. Other times they are overwhelming and pungent. Occasionally they linger for days on the body, a possibly undesired scent which even the strongest soap and the coarsest cloth prove ineffectual at removing – usually from our digits or face. Some men are more sensitive to these smells than others. Is this a gift? Or is it a curse?

We can choose to wear that scent with pride. We might smell ourselves to remind us of our recent bodily intertwine. In my younger days, I would even offer a “sniff” to a buddy, boasting of my recent sexual conquest. But, if I had a later date with another young lass, or was scheduled to meet a family member or client, I feared that those sexcents might be unwelcome.

But were they? Perhaps women pick up these scents too, adding to their desire for you. After all, I’ve never been turned down because a woman smelled another woman on me. Whereas I have been turned down when I smelled like an Indian Kurambai sheep.

Or a turd. But never when I smelled of vagina.

Some have proposed that those loitering bouquets are a figment of the imagination. However, having experienced these aromas first hand, I can personally attest that not only do they have multi-day staying power, they can, on some occasions, be foul. Rarely, very foul.

To put this in perspective, after an exceptionally fiber laden meal one evening not too long ago, I provided an ass shot of malodorous butt gas over the course of several hours. These discharges would have hurt someone lacking the olfactory fortitude to withstand the assault of my pungent air poop.

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