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Fall Emergen-C

I smell cunty in an intoxicating spicy way … a perfect fall way, like a musky bonfire of warm dry leaves, strong thick-sapped trees and boozy apple ciders for a splash of showy fuel.

Maybe it’s because I started drinking emergen-c again every day. Maybe it’s because I haven’t taken a shower in DAYS … not since before Delia and I had sex. Maybe it’s because of the masturbating I’ve done since then, too … even breaking one of her vibrators after she left on her trip.

My clothes are full of it … when my sloppy rub-worn short velvety dress swishes, I get a whiff of it. When I stand up from the computer to stretch and fold myself forward in a jacknife, I smell it.

And I want to KEEP ON smelling it. Keep on turning my head towards wherever the air has lifted it … keep on dipping my nose forward, trying to track it. It’s so alive, and so elusive when it’s airborne like this. No panties, just the friction of hair and thighs and movement that sometimes leads to spreading. That sometimes leads to leaping.

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Intoxicating Bush Smell

From a longer entry I posted today on TastyTrixie.com about being intoxicated by the scent of my own musky bush during my webcam show masturbation session:

Today I decided not to shower, putting my dirty hair in pigtails instead. It’s been four or five days since I had a shower and maybe only two baths (last night and some other time) during that time. For three days I wore the same pair of sticky, hot-smelling panties. My bush is getting really filled-out again, and every time I go to the bathroom I sniff the crotch of my underwear and play with my cowlicks that come together and curl up where my lips meet. The musky smell of pussy-hair steeped in cunt-sweat is part of what I love about not shaving.

Anyway, it smelled so good today during my show, I just kept petting it and bringing my hand up to inhale, over and over again. Deep breaths, totally drugging myself on that woman-sex smell of myself. I fucking could not get enough of it, smelling it, and watching me on the monitor, stroking myself with my light-pink clit poking out between my dirty-blonde fur and those SOCKS pulled up on my thighs making everything in the middle look so fucking naked and whorey.

I remember the first time I ever rode on Highway 1 through Big Sur, not being able to get enough of that hot sage smell. It doesn’t smell like pussy exactly, but it’s addictive and elevating, like ascending to heaven and being on some other unearthly level in between the ground and meeting God’s secretary while He’s away. I feel the same way about the smell of my musky bush, like if I were to immerse myself in it far enough I would wind up in some other place of knowledge and luxury and a decadent form of peace.

Today while I inhaled I realized the scent on my fingers reminded me a whole lot of crayola crayon wrappers. Not exactly like that, but similar. I always wonder where that Really Perfect Pussy smell comes from, like what the secret recipe is for it to be that perfect all of the time. Was it steeping my hair in dirty underwear so long? Was it the hot apple cider and cashews we had before bed? Was it the flax seed and evening primrose oil? Was it having PMS? Was it the mingling of a favorite lotion with the cunt smell to create a perfect pussy-church combo?

Yeah. I know you guys wish I’d post over here more often, right?

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