Somewhere, there is a guy who insists that I have stolen a pair of his boxers. I haven’t, but considering the number of times I have held them over my face and deeply inhaled, I do see why he holds this mistaken belief. Frankly, I struggle to understand why he wouldn’t have stolen some of my knickers; personally, I love the way I smell.
I would expect that it’s fairly normal to imagine burying your face in a guy’s crotch while you bury your face in their underwear? You can breathe in that wonderful unique scent, and think about all the filthy things you’ve done with them. Whenever I’m asked to pass a guy his boxers after sex, I never relinquish them straight away. I’ll pick them up and savour his smell for just a few more seconds, smiling in post-shag satisfaction before I toss them over.
Especially if they’ve been stuffed in my mouth to gag me while you pin me down to eat out my cunt. Just saying.
And girls: mmm… I love how girls smell. If we’re hugging or spooning – however platonically – and I’m even a tiny bit attracted to you, I assure you that I will be using most of my willpower to stop myself from burying my face against your neck and licking it. Especially if you’re sweaty. Or I’m hugging you from behind. Or if we’ve just woken up. Or… yeah. Of course, occasionally licking or kissing or biting that neck is acceptable, but I’m off topic again.
My cunt smells wonderful. Especially when I’m turned on and wet, and I slip two fingers down for a rub just so I can bring my fingers up to my nose for a quick sniff. I’ll also taste my own arousal from my fingers, delighting in my own taste. The smell of my own aroused cunt will make me wetter, which in turn makes the smell stronger. When wanking, I’ll push my knickers down to my knees with my jeans, so I can lean down and smell my own pants while I touch myself.
Maybe this is normal; maybe everyone does it. Maybe it’s common to pick your discarded jeans off the floor at the end of the day and untangle your knickers from them so you can breathe in your own scent?
But I like how I smell at other times too. When I’m on my period I smell (in my opinion, anyway) bloody fantastic. If you get past the horrible clinical smell of sanitary products, that is. Parts of my body – my arse, my vulva – smell good. It might be in part due to the sense that I shouldn’t enjoy this smell. Possibly it’s the feeling that I shouldn’t that I shouldn’t sometimes catch a whiff of my piece of used toilet roll and want to breathe it in again – it’s the non-societally-accepted element which makes it so appealing.
It’s not just that, though. When I’ve finished cutting my toenails, or using my nail scissors to dig dirt or fluff out from under them, I always have a sniff of the scissors. I wonder why the smell of my warm, human smell mixed with the cold metal of the blades is so pleasant. My own saliva smells good too; napping in odd positions often leads to me drooling over pillows and waking up with another one of my scents just about discernible.
The smell of my cunt, my arse, my nails – the smell of your cock, your neck – are so unique, so human, so raw. It’s an individual primal scent. So, is it not normal enough to pick up a pair of boxers, hold them to your face and inhale deeply? I do that whenever I can. But I’ll also breathe in my own scent, because I smell wonderful too.
So seriously, why has no one stolen a pair of MY knickers?
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.