First Scent

One sense, which invariably seems absent from these stories, or experiences, or confessions, is the sense of smell. Yet it is a most powerful and evocative sense. It is our olfactory system which is used to used to detect pheromones’ which are an essential part of sexual arousal, for both sexes. Who does not recall travelling home, on foot, on the bus, on the train or whatever, sniffing one’s fingers after a night out with the girlfriend? And, even if you cleaned your teeth, preserving that delicious scent to savour with the morning ****. Unless, of course, one had managed to keep her panties or, better yet, been gifted them!

My first experience of oral sex was at the age of 15. Before anyone rears up, she was 15 too and my then girlfriend.  Her name was Shirley, she was a dancer and I have fond memories of this beautiful girl. In those post war days almost all homes in England were poorly heated. Central heating was almost unknown in most homes. The only rooms in the house likely to be heated were the kitchen and the living room – and that only at weekends or evenings. On this particular evening my parents had gone off to the cinema, leaving us to watch, they thought, TV. (In black and white – what else?!) Having spent most of the evening playing with each other she had, as usual, made me come with a hand job and I had gone off to clean up and make tea. She was lying back on the sofa, me sitting on the carpet between her legs with my back against it. Legs stretched out, firer glowing, no other lights other than the flickering TV and whatever was showing.

Every once in a while I could smell her fragrance wafting up from my fingers to my nose, her fingers stroking my hair. I turned my head and kissed her nylon-covered thigh, just above the knee. Turning a little more I pushed gently at her legs, until my shoulder was against the sofa. My right hand was under her skirt, and my lips were nuzzling at the soft,  bare, flesh above her stocking tops. She didn’t protest, her fingers continuing to caress my head as my right hand parted her leg and my lips found the hollow of her thigh. My heart was thumping, her scent intoxicating. My **** harder than I had ever known.

I felt her thighs trembling against my cheek as my mouth nuzzled  into her pubic hair, my lips finding her slit, my tongue slipping between moist, slippery, incredibly soft, lips. My body rotated until I was on my knees before her, my hands parting and raising her legs as I hungrily buried my face in her sex. With both hands she drew my head to her. As I drank her nectar, I heard her whispering little words, words which would have shocked her mother.

It’s been many years now since that first experience. My love of *********** has not diminished in any way. It was many years before I really understood a woman’s anatomy, where the clitoris was, how different every woman is. Writing this has made me realise how those first experiences can remain with us for life – I still love to feel a woman’s hand on my head as I eat her out, love it if she is guiding me to the right spots. Like wise that other aspect of love making – aural. But that’s for another time.
GWiz GWiz
66-70, M
2 Responses Jul 10, 2010

I have a small collection of sexual memories which I treasure and keep coming back to, of moments like the one you describe so evocatively. That is not to say that all the less memorable experiences were not special, simply that only a few stand out after all these years. Like you, I have always loved the scent of woman and I can date that back to pre-pubescence when I spent a lot of time up my cousin's skirt, inhaling the sweet smell of her. Who knows where these things come from.

Fascinating! Cool story, G, nicely written =)