The smell of Meeko’s unwashed body was one of life’s genuine pleasures. Whenever she went without bathing, her flesh gave off an aroma that was frustratingly addictive. It intensified in the hot weather, and when she spent her time in our apartment lazing around in dirty clothes avoiding going into work, her body became a hive of olfactory wonders. I actively encouraged her not to wash and did my best to create the optimum conditions where I could nurture her scent for my benefit. It was one of the reasons I didn’t change our bedsheets that often, although it was also down to laziness. In this sultry weather, after only a few days or so, I could smell her from the other room, every pore oozing a bouquet of some sickly, strange delight. The aroma from her armpits had a nutty, somewhat meaty tang to them that reminded me of childhood barbeques in my parent’s old house. That she didn’t shave there meant the scent collected, and whenever I got up close and sniffed, it made me wretch. As previously mentioned, her sex tasted like toffee. But it wasn’t just toffee. There were many other aromas there too, each one dancing with the other creating a supreme perfume that words could never describe. When we fucked, the sweat of our bodies made us greasy, so greasy we developed a second skin that cocooned us from the outside world. We were dirty and swimming in sin, and even after I shot my seed inside of her, still there was no washing, and when it trickled out from her an hour or so later, I would watch with glee as it dried on her skin, making her scaly like a fish. Meeko teemed with life. She was a harbinger for the creative ways I strived to seek. Without her body, everything was grey. The bodies of other women didn’t interest me at all. They held no mystery. And then there were Meeko’s tears. I never encouraged them, but when they came, the salt in them tickled my taste buds and made we want to eat every inch of her—bones and all. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would spend hours licking her shoulder and neck while she slept. Nibbling on her ear and sucking the hairs on her head, I would rub my cock over her buttocks, and when she awoke, she’d let me have her, and come morning, we’d be dirtier still.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US