Sniffy

The other day after getting out of the shower I was sorting through the pile of discarded clothes on the bedroom floor deciding if any of them could be worn again or if they all needed to make their way to the laundry basket when just as I lifted my knickers to my face he walked in the room

“Dirty girl” he muttered

I grinned back at him over the red lace and countered with

“I am only checking to see if they are wearable”

“Liar” he chuckled

And he was right, because I already knew they were destined for the laundry basket but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy them for a brief(excuse the pun) moment beforehand.

I sniff my knickers and I like it.

I have always had a bit of a thing for smells. I wrote about it here, Heaven Scent, and how his smell inspires a powerful visceral reaction in me but it is not just about armpits. I like the way his cock smells and I like the way my cunt smells both its everyday scent but also that musky rich aroma that is the result of our sex. However being able to admit that I like my own smell is not something I have always been comfortable with.

Many years ago, in my late teens, with my then partner, I tried going on the Pill. It was not a successful experiment however during that short period we were obviously having sex without a condom. It was the first time in my life I had experienced that. On one occasion we ended up having sex before going out to see friends. Once out I happened to visit the toilet and when I did, this amazingly sexy (to me) heady aroma hit me, quite literally, travelling from my nose to my brain which immediately sent this kick back of a reaction down through my body and straight into my cunt. It was like olfactory Viagra to me. I left the bathroom and returned back to the group but when I had a chance I whispered my slutty discovery into my partners ear only to be greeted with a look of absolute disgust. Even now writing this down I can feel the heat of shame prickling away at me and that anxious little twist in my stomach that also accompanied those moments when I realised that I was ‘not normal’ or something like that. I went from thinking that smell was fucking hot to being utterly ashamed of my body and my sexual urges and like so many of my desires/likes they became my dirty little secret. I was utterly convinced there was something wrong with me, but I guess I have a stubborn streak and even in the face of all that negativity that was churning around inside me I never lost my love for it, I just kept it hidden.

It took many years, and the input of two key gentleman who honoured, nurtured and celebrated my inner slut, setting her free from the prison of shame which had kept her hidden, for me to recover from that moment and be able to own the fact that not only do I like the way my cunt smells but I actually find it incredibly sexy.

Shame is a powerful thing, it causes people to deny their true feelings, it makes us feel bad about ourselves, there is no happiness or freedom to be found in shame. It strips people of their ability to learn and explore who they are, it makes us secretive, lonely and confused and when it comes to the female body and female sexuality it has been used as a tool to control and suppress. You are not supposed to like and enjoy your own body and women who do are often viewed in a negative light. The fear of that light keeps women (and men) in the dark when it comes to owning and sharing their desires.

Women are supposed to smell like roses and lavender not like they have just been fucked and if they do they are meant to ‘deal with it’ as quickly and as quietly as possible, they are not supposed to enjoy it and they are certainly not to supposed to revel in it by smelling their own dirty knickers afterwards but that is the point, because sex is not like a trip to Disney land with pretty flowers and perfect princesses all showered in glitter and rainbows. Sex is much more exciting than that; sex is sweaty and wet and sticky and messy and meant to be glorious dirty fun and whether it is smelling your knickers, happily sleeping in the wet patch, peeling dried cum of your face, the bed being messy or your hair being wild, whatever that thing is that shows you have lived and are alive, never let anyone take the joy of that away from you. Life is too short for that and knickers smell too good to just be discarded in the laundry basket with out at least one little sniff.