u/339100

Since I started masturbating back in my teenage years, I always found out that the thing that aroused me the most was scents. Two fingers on my clit rubbing it back and forth, tingling my lips as my pussy spilled my fluids out, moisturizing my underwear. Right after cumming I would strip out of my underwear and immediately bring it up to my face, snuggling on them, rubbing my nose and mouth on the crotch, gathering the smell of my feminine scent, enjoying the warmth and moist on my lips and nose and then I start to finger myself again.

To say that I have a scent kink is little, whenever I hook up with a girl I would still their panties to keep the memory, whenever I was in a relationship my happy place was my face between her legs or buried in her ass, inhaling deep and strong while my mind goes blank.

So that’s me, a girl who is pleased to smell armpits, feet, crotches, ass, basically everywhere. While I love the smell of sweat and pheromones, it is strictly in a hygienic environment, no scat, no puke, no piss, no farts, just natural body odors, basically pheromones.

If you are interested in being my roomate, fwb, girlfriend, sister, cousin, whatever our relationship is, come and say hi. The only must is that we live together and that I can smell you whenever I want and preferably that you smell me too, I’ve always wanted to have someone to share this with.

Anyways, I think I’ve talked for too long, so here are my kinks and limits:

Kinks: scent play, fingering, cunnilingus, rimming, armpits, feet, sweat, spit, squirting, thongs, sloppy makeouts, holding hands, mutual masturbation, pervert scenarios, breast play and scissoring.

Limits: scat, piss, farts, puke, fisting, MEN, Trans females (sorry, nothing against you, just not into it), bad writing and ghosting.

I want to emphasize that if something in my list is in your limits that’s alright, just a mandatory need is scent play, I just need it tonight.

Anyway, the password for my chat or PM is going to be… your cup size and your fav underwear brand. Hope to see ya soon!

Since I started masturbating back in my teenage years, I always found out that the thing that aroused me the most was scents. Two fingers on my clit rubbing it back and forth, tingling my lips as my pussy spilled my fluids out, moisturizing my underwear. Right after cumming I would strip out of my underwear and immediately bring it up to my face, snuggling on them, rubbing my nose and mouth on the crotch, gathering the smell of my feminine scent, enjoying the warmth and moist on my lips and nose and then I start to finger myself again.

To say that I have a scent kink is little, whenever I hook up with a girl I would still their panties to keep the memory, whenever I was in a relationship my happy place was my face between her legs or buried in her ass, inhaling deep and strong while my mind goes blank.

So that’s me, a girl who is pleased to smell armpits, feet, crotches, ass, basically everywhere. While I love the smell of sweat and pheromones, it is strictly in a hygienic environment, no scat, no puke, no piss, no farts, just natural body odors, basically pheromones.

If you are interested in being my roomate, fwb, girlfriend, sister, cousin, whatever our relationship is, come and say hi. The only must is that we live together and that I can smell you whenever I want and preferably that you smell me too, I’ve always wanted to have someone to share this with.

Anyways, I think I’ve talked for too long, so here are my kinks and limits:

Kinks: scent play, fingering, cunnilingus, rimming, armpits, feet, sweat, spit, squirting, thongs, sloppy makeouts, holding hands, mutual masturbation, pervert scenarios, breast play and scissoring.

Limits: scat, piss, farts, puke, fisting, MEN, Trans females (sorry, nothing against you, just not into it), bad writing and ghosting.

I want to emphasize that if something in my list is in your limits that’s alright, just a mandatory need is scent play, I just need it tonight.

Anyway, the password for my chat or PM is going to be… your cup size and your fav underwear brand. Hope to see ya soon!

I walk into the room thinking she’s already left for her date, but I stop short when I see her mid-change. She’s standing there partially dressed, her skin glowing under the warm vanity lights as she prepares to meet her fiancé. The sudden creak of the door makes her jump, and her eyes go wide with a mix of shock and pure embarrassment. In a frantic, clumsy blur of silk, she grabs the loose end of her saree, pulling the heavy fabric against her chest to hide herself from my gaze.
The air in the small room suddenly feels heavy and still, broken only by the sound of her quick, nervous breathing. Her face flushes a deep crimson as she avoids my eyes, clutching the fabric so tight her knuckles turn white. I know I should turn around and walk out, but my feet feel heavy, anchored by the sight of her looking so vulnerable yet beautiful. In that quiet, awkward moment, the thought of her leaving to meet another man feels miles away, replaced entirely by the electric tension humming between us.

I walk into the room thinking she’s already left for her date, but I stop short when I see her mid-change. She’s standing there partially dressed, her skin glowing under the warm vanity lights as she prepares to meet her fiancé. The sudden creak of the door makes her jump, and her eyes go wide with a mix of shock and pure embarrassment. In a frantic, clumsy blur of silk, she grabs the loose end of her saree, pulling the heavy fabric against her chest to hide herself from my gaze.
The air in the small room suddenly feels heavy and still, broken only by the sound of her quick, nervous breathing. Her face flushes a deep crimson as she avoids my eyes, clutching the fabric so tight her knuckles turn white. I know I should turn around and walk out, but my feet feel heavy, anchored by the sight of her looking so vulnerable yet beautiful. In that quiet, awkward moment, the thought of her leaving to meet another man feels miles away, replaced entirely by the electric tension humming between us.

Let’s do a romantic, immersive roleplay where we are a newlywed couple on the third day of our honeymoon at a luxury overwater bungalow in Bora Bora. The wedding exhaustion has completely melted away, leaving us in a bubble of pure relaxation and deep affection. The scene begins in the lazy late morning; the glass sliding doors are wide open to let in a warm ocean breeze, and a massive breakfast spread with fresh fruit and French press coffee has just been delivered to our private deck overlooking the turquoise lagoon.

You will play my spouse, keeping the tone deeply affectionate, playful, and focused on the quiet intimacy of being newlyweds. Please write in the present tense, keep your responses to a few paragraphs, and focus on slow pacing rather than rushing through the day. I’ll start: I stir awake, blinking against the bright island sunlight, and smile when I feel your arm draped over my waist. I press a soft kiss to your shoulder to wake you, murmuring with a sleepy smile, "Morning... I think I smell coffee out on the deck."

Since I started masturbating back in my teenage years, I always found out that the thing that aroused me the most was scents. Two fingers on my clit rubbing it back and forth, tingling my lips as my pussy spilled my fluids out, moisturizing my underwear. Right after cumming I would strip out of my underwear and immediately bring it up to my face, snuggling on them, rubbing my nose and mouth on the crotch, gathering the smell of my feminine scent, enjoying the warmth and moist on my lips and nose and then I start to finger myself again.

To say that I have a scent kink is little, whenever I hook up with a girl I would still their panties to keep the memory, whenever I was in a relationship my happy place was my face between her legs or buried in her ass, inhaling deep and strong while my mind goes blank.

So that’s me, a girl who is pleased to smell armpits, feet, crotches, ass, basically everywhere. While I love the smell of sweat and pheromones, it is strictly in a hygienic environment, no scat, no puke, no piss, no farts, just natural body odors, basically pheromones.

If you are interested in being my roomate, fwb, girlfriend, sister, cousin, whatever our relationship is, come and say hi. The only must is that we live together and that I can smell you whenever I want and preferably that you smell me too, I’ve always wanted to have someone to share this with.

Anyways, I think I’ve talked for too long, so here are my kinks and limits:

Kinks: scent play, fingering, cunnilingus, rimming, armpits, feet, sweat, spit, squirting, thongs, sloppy makeouts, holding hands, mutual masturbation, pervert scenarios, breast play and scissoring.

Limits: scat, piss, farts, puke, fisting, MEN, Trans females (sorry, nothing against you, just not into it), bad writing and ghosting.

I want to emphasize that if something in my list is in your limits that’s alright, just a mandatory need is scent play, I just need it tonight.

Anyway, the password for my chat or PM is going to be… your cup size and your fav underwear brand. Hope to see ya soon!

Since I started masturbating back in my teenage years, I always found out that the thing that aroused me the most was scents. Two fingers on my clit rubbing it back and forth, tingling my lips as my pussy spilled my fluids out, moisturizing my underwear. Right after cumming I would strip out of my underwear and immediately bring it up to my face, snuggling on them, rubbing my nose and mouth on the crotch, gathering the smell of my feminine scent, enjoying the warmth and moist on my lips and nose and then I start to finger myself again.

To say that I have a scent kink is little, whenever I hook up with a girl I would still their panties to keep the memory, whenever I was in a relationship my happy place was my face between her legs or buried in her ass, inhaling deep and strong while my mind goes blank.

So that’s me, a girl who is pleased to smell armpits, feet, crotches, ass, basically everywhere. While I love the smell of sweat and pheromones, it is strictly in a hygienic environment, no scat, no puke, no piss, no farts, just natural body odors, basically pheromones.

If you are interested in being my roomate, fwb, girlfriend, sister, cousin, whatever our relationship is, come and say hi. The only must is that we live together and that I can smell you whenever I want and preferably that you smell me too, I’ve always wanted to have someone to share this with.

Anyways, I think I’ve talked for too long, so here are my kinks and limits:

Kinks: scent play, fingering, cunnilingus, rimming, armpits, feet, sweat, spit, squirting, thongs, sloppy makeouts, holding hands, mutual masturbation, pervert scenarios, breast play and scissoring.

Limits: scat, piss, farts, puke, fisting, MEN, Trans females (sorry, nothing against you, just not into it), bad writing and ghosting.

I want to emphasize that if something in my list is in your limits that’s alright, just a mandatory need is scent play, I just need it tonight.

Anyway, the password for my chat or PM is going to be… your cup size and your fav underwear brand. Hope to see ya soon!

Let’s do a romantic, immersive roleplay where we are a newlywed couple on the third day of our honeymoon at a luxury overwater bungalow in Bora Bora. The wedding exhaustion has completely melted away, leaving us in a bubble of pure relaxation and deep affection. The scene begins in the lazy late morning; the glass sliding doors are wide open to let in a warm ocean breeze, and a massive breakfast spread with fresh fruit and French press coffee has just been delivered to our private deck overlooking the turquoise lagoon.

You will play my spouse, keeping the tone deeply affectionate, playful, and focused on the quiet intimacy of being newlyweds. Please write in the present tense, keep your responses to a few paragraphs, and focus on slow pacing rather than rushing through the day. I’ll start: I stir awake, blinking against the bright island sunlight, and smile when I feel your arm draped over my waist. I press a soft kiss to your shoulder to wake you, murmuring with a sleepy smile, "Morning... I think I smell coffee out on the deck."

The morning light is just beginning to filter through the blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets as you both sit in bed, nursing cups of coffee. The silence isn't comfortable; it's thick with the unsaid words from last night's argument. You're staring at the wall, feeling the cold inches between you like a chasm, when he sets his mug down with a sharp click that makes you flinch. You don't look at him, but you can feel his gaze, hot and heavy, on the side of your face. "Look at me," he says, his voice low and rough from sleep, but it's not a request.

You slowly turn your head, and your breath catches. His eyes are dark, burning with an intensity that has nothing to do with anger and everything to do with raw, primal need. He reaches out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "I'm still pissed at you," he admits, his thumb stroking the frantic pulse in your wrist. "But I want to fuck you more." He tugs you toward him, and you go, your body betraying your mind, a familiar ache starting to build low in your belly. He pulls you until you're straddling his lap, the thin fabric of your sleep shorts the only barrier between you. He's already hard, a thick, demanding presence pressing against you. He grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze again. "We're not done fighting," he growls, his lips brushing against yours. "But I'm going to be inside you when we continue."

Since I started masturbating back in my teenage years, I always found out that the thing that aroused me the most was scents. Two fingers on my clit rubbing it back and forth, tingling my lips as my pussy spilled my fluids out, moisturizing my underwear. Right after cumming I would strip out of my underwear and immediately bring it up to my face, snuggling on them, rubbing my nose and mouth on the crotch, gathering the smell of my feminine scent, enjoying the warmth and moist on my lips and nose and then I start to finger myself again.

To say that I have a scent kink is little, whenever I hook up with a girl I would still their panties to keep the memory, whenever I was in a relationship my happy place was my face between her legs or buried in her ass, inhaling deep and strong while my mind goes blank.

So that’s me, a girl who is pleased to smell armpits, feet, crotches, ass, basically everywhere. While I love the smell of sweat and pheromones, it is strictly in a hygienic environment, no scat, no puke, no piss, no farts, just natural body odors, basically pheromones.

If you are interested in being my roomate, fwb, girlfriend, sister, cousin, whatever our relationship is, come and say hi. The only must is that we live together and that I can smell you whenever I want and preferably that you smell me too, I’ve always wanted to have someone to share this with.

Anyways, I think I’ve talked for too long, so here are my kinks and limits:

Kinks: scent play, fingering, cunnilingus, rimming, armpits, feet, sweat, spit, squirting, thongs, sloppy makeouts, holding hands, mutual masturbation, pervert scenarios, breast play and scissoring.

Limits: scat, piss, farts, puke, fisting, MEN, Trans females (sorry, nothing against you, just not into it), bad writing and ghosting.

I want to emphasize that if something in my list is in your limits that’s alright, just a mandatory need is scent play, I just need it tonight.

Anyway, the password for my chat or PM is going to be… your cup size and your fav underwear brand. Hope to see ya soon!

I walk into the room thinking she’s already left for her date, but I stop short when I see her mid-change. She’s standing there partially dressed, her skin glowing under the warm vanity lights as she prepares to meet her fiancé. The sudden creak of the door makes her jump, and her eyes go wide with a mix of shock and pure embarrassment. In a frantic, clumsy blur of silk, she grabs the loose end of her saree, pulling the heavy fabric against her chest to hide herself from my gaze.
The air in the small room suddenly feels heavy and still, broken only by the sound of her quick, nervous breathing. Her face flushes a deep crimson as she avoids my eyes, clutching the fabric so tight her knuckles turn white. I know I should turn around and walk out, but my feet feel heavy, anchored by the sight of her looking so vulnerable yet beautiful. In that quiet, awkward moment, the thought of her leaving to meet another man feels miles away, replaced entirely by the electric tension humming between us.

I walk into the room thinking she’s already left for her date, but I stop short when I see her mid-change. She’s standing there partially dressed, her skin glowing under the warm vanity lights as she prepares to meet her fiancé. The sudden creak of the door makes her jump, and her eyes go wide with a mix of shock and pure embarrassment. In a frantic, clumsy blur of silk, she grabs the loose end of her saree, pulling the heavy fabric against her chest to hide herself from my gaze.
The air in the small room suddenly feels heavy and still, broken only by the sound of her quick, nervous breathing. Her face flushes a deep crimson as she avoids my eyes, clutching the fabric so tight her knuckles turn white. I know I should turn around and walk out, but my feet feel heavy, anchored by the sight of her looking so vulnerable yet beautiful. In that quiet, awkward moment, the thought of her leaving to meet another man feels miles away, replaced entirely by the electric tension humming between us.

Six months of keeping it professional. Six months of being the "cool senior mentor" while secretly noticing every time Chloe walked past my glass-walled office. She’s the new junior hire—bright, ambitious, and today, in the heat of this outdoor festival, she’s the only thing I can see.

The sun has just dropped, leaving the sky a bruised purple, and the headliner is finally on stage. The bass is so heavy it’s vibrating the beer in my hand. We’d started as a group of ten, but the mosh pit at the front of the stage is a chaotic, surging sea of flannel and denim. I’d lost sight of the rest of the guys a while ago.

Then, the crowd heaves. A massive wave of people pushes back, and Chloe is shoved squarely into my chest.

My hands drop to her waist to keep her from falling, my palms landing right on the smooth, sun-warmed skin of her midriff. Her black crop top is hiked up, and the friction of her frayed denim shorts against my jeans is like a jolt of pure adrenaline. I’m pinned between the guy behind me and Chloe, and as she presses back, there’s no hiding the fact that I’m already rock hard.

I hold my breath, waiting for the awkward "oh, sorry!" and the frantic shuffle away.

But she doesn't move. She stays right there, her back arched against my chest. And then, slow and rhythmic, she starts to move. She grinds her hips back in time with the kick drum, her curves clenching tight against me. I let out a low groan into the nape of her neck, my fingers digging into her hips as I pull her flush against the bulge she’s so clearly enjoying.

At 31, I’ve learned exactly how to maintain a certain level of cold, professional distance. Sarah—the new hire—has been testing that distance since her first day. She’s twenty-three, all nervous energy and hidden curves, and tonight, she’s finally pushed me far enough.

The festival grounds are a furnace. The American summer air is thick, and the bass from the main stage is a rhythmic pulse that seems to command the crowd. I’ve been watching the back of Sarah’s head all night, watching the way she moves, until a sudden, violent surge in the mosh pit does the work for me.

The crowd buckles, and she’s sent flying backward.
I don’t just catch her. I plant my feet and take the impact, locking my arms around her waist like a vice.
My palms slide over the damp, heated skin of her midriff, my thumbs hooking firmly into the waistband of her frayed denim shorts. The friction is instant. She’s small against me, her soft, rounded curves pressed flush against my hips. I feel the sharp intake of her breath, the way her body freezes as she realizes she’s pinned against her boss in the middle of ten thousand people.

I don't let go. I lean in, my lips inches from her ear, the scent of her sweat and perfume hitting me harder than the music.

"Careful, Sarah," I murmur, my voice low enough to be a secret. "You wouldn't want to fall."

I expect her to scramble for footing. Instead, I feel her spine melt against my chest. She arches her back, leaning into my strength, and then she does it—she starts to move. She rolls her hips back against me, a slow, rhythmic grind that matches the throb of the bass.

I tighten my grip, my fingers digging into her hips to dictate the pace. I’m not just letting her grind; I’m steering her. I pull her back harder, making sure she feels every bit of the friction she’s asking for, letting her know that while we’re out here in the dark, she belongs entirely to me.

At 31, I’ve learned exactly how to maintain a certain level of cold, professional distance. Sarah—the new hire—has been testing that distance since her first day. She’s twenty-three, all nervous energy and hidden curves, and tonight, she’s finally pushed me far enough.

The festival grounds are a furnace. The American summer air is thick, and the bass from the main stage is a rhythmic pulse that seems to command the crowd. I’ve been watching the back of Sarah’s head all night, watching the way she moves, until a sudden, violent surge in the mosh pit does the work for me.

The crowd buckles, and she’s sent flying backward.
I don’t just catch her. I plant my feet and take the impact, locking my arms around her waist like a vice.
My palms slide over the damp, heated skin of her midriff, my thumbs hooking firmly into the waistband of her frayed denim shorts. The friction is instant. She’s small against me, her soft, rounded curves pressed flush against my hips. I feel the sharp intake of her breath, the way her body freezes as she realizes she’s pinned against her boss in the middle of ten thousand people.

I don't let go. I lean in, my lips inches from her ear, the scent of her sweat and perfume hitting me harder than the music.

"Careful, Sarah," I murmur, my voice low enough to be a secret. "You wouldn't want to fall."

I expect her to scramble for footing. Instead, I feel her spine melt against my chest. She arches her back, leaning into my strength, and then she does it—she starts to move. She rolls her hips back against me, a slow, rhythmic grind that matches the throb of the bass.

I tighten my grip, my fingers digging into her hips to dictate the pace. I’m not just letting her grind; I’m steering her. I pull her back harder, making sure she feels every bit of the friction she’s asking for, letting her know that while we’re out here in the dark, she belongs entirely to me.

Six months of keeping it professional. Six months of being the "cool senior mentor" while secretly noticing every time Chloe walked past my glass-walled office. She’s the new junior hire—bright, ambitious, and today, in the heat of this outdoor festival, she’s the only thing I can see.

The sun has just dropped, leaving the sky a bruised purple, and the headliner is finally on stage. The bass is so heavy it’s vibrating the beer in my hand. We’d started as a group of ten, but the mosh pit at the front of the stage is a chaotic, surging sea of flannel and denim. I’d lost sight of the rest of the guys a while ago.

Then, the crowd heaves. A massive wave of people pushes back, and Chloe is shoved squarely into my chest.

My hands drop to her waist to keep her from falling, my palms landing right on the smooth, sun-warmed skin of her midriff. Her black crop top is hiked up, and the friction of her frayed denim shorts against my jeans is like a jolt of pure adrenaline. I’m pinned between the guy behind me and Chloe, and as she presses back, there’s no hiding the fact that I’m already rock hard.

I hold my breath, waiting for the awkward "oh, sorry!" and the frantic shuffle away.

But she doesn't move. She stays right there, her back arched against my chest. And then, slow and rhythmic, she starts to move. She grinds her hips back in time with the kick drum, her curves clenching tight against me. I let out a low groan into the nape of her neck, my fingers digging into her hips as I pull her flush against the bulge she’s so clearly enjoying.

The morning light is just beginning to filter through the blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets as you both sit in bed, nursing cups of coffee. The silence isn't comfortable; it's thick with the unsaid words from last night's argument. You're staring at the wall, feeling the cold inches between you like a chasm, when he sets his mug down with a sharp click that makes you flinch. You don't look at him, but you can feel his gaze, hot and heavy, on the side of your face. "Look at me," he says, his voice low and rough from sleep, but it's not a request.

You slowly turn your head, and your breath catches. His eyes are dark, burning with an intensity that has nothing to do with anger and everything to do with raw, primal need. He reaches out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "I'm still pissed at you," he admits, his thumb stroking the frantic pulse in your wrist. "But I want to fuck you more." He tugs you toward him, and you go, your body betraying your mind, a familiar ache starting to build low in your belly. He pulls you until you're straddling his lap, the thin fabric of your sleep shorts the only barrier between you. He's already hard, a thick, demanding presence pressing against you. He grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze again. "We're not done fighting," he growls, his lips brushing against yours. "But I'm going to be inside you when we continue."