Crimson Crossing – Stories in Erotica

Say it once, say it twice

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I’ll say it once, I’ll say it twice; I’ll continuously repeat it until undeniably understood… that I possess the extraordinary capability to detect the most of minuscule remnants of untamed desire. Much like a truffle hog able to detect the subterranean fungus three feet down impenetrable soil, I too parallel such olfactory vitality.

Neither sight or taste, even touch is required to know who has been fulfilled and to what degree. Inhaling subtly gives direction, purpose and arousal. Downwind is often suffocating. Not because of an inability to withstand the intensity of multi-directional and rapidly approaching saturations of scents, but because I know that I cannot indulge them all.

I don’t indulge anyone for their sake, nor for some sort of charitable cause that grants the needy, rather to feel my mouth overtaken by euphoria as aroma turns to moisture. To awaken in the morning with my lips, nose, and chin covered with dried saturation.

It is the smell, however, that draws me in. The scent that reaches me from the distance, foretelling the size, shape, suppleness, even wishes to be treated or mistreated. All is revealed by understanding the makeup of each molecule. They speak, they really do. Some say it slowly, others scream it out, many unable to restrain their frustrations launch into a furious soliloquy of submission to my whims.

Not knowing whether smiling, or daydreaming is more appropriate I simply respond by drawing as close to the subject as noticeable. I want to make it clear that any and all emanating aroma revealed through the weak blockade provided by cloth calls to me. “Feel me seep, feel me throb”. This one here, standing in front of me. I wish everyone possessed my abilities, that I could bottle it to uncap it for seconds at a time numbing all reason, arousing enough to grasp in public and rub.

It smells of not just one, but multiple scents as if this here got beaten for a long while yet desires a climax not received. Oh, I can smell the fight withstood, how invigorated it became by losing control and being made do things orthodoxy dislikes. Oopha, the aromas are neatly interwoven. It’s illuminating to experience such smell. Were it not because I’m standing here in public I’d blow a fuse to share with the rest of the smells.

Oh, I feel no shame to walk about in public where the bloom of spring gardens are opaqued by dripping molecules of unfulfilled. I bathe in them each day, purposely walking in and out, weaving through the strongest scents… and there you have it.

Be me for one day and see the joy I receive from all corners and all nationalities. I breathe to that.

Author: jibarican

https://crimsoncrossing.wordpress.com

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