The Indescribably Wonderful Aroma of Men
By: Nicole Mackenna
Tags: Religion, Spirituality, Women, Men, Sexuality

Sexuality | Spirituality

The Indescribably Wonderful Aroma of Men

Men, oh, sweet men…

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My boyfriend and I finally had sex yesterday. It’d been about a week. The pandemic has been weighing in heavily on our sex lives. We’ve never had more time and we’ve never been busier. Caught up in the mix, it’s been hard for us to find time to set aside and dive into the sex. The pandemic is exhausting, mentally, emotionally, and physically.

So I was delighted when we finally set aside some time and met for a nighttime rendezvous in the bedroom. I tugged at his jeans as I smiled up at him, even if it took me a moment to recalibrate myself and orient myself to the feeling of being sexual again. Contrary to what you may have seen on Pornhub, we women aren’t always horny at a moment’s notice, ready to pounce and paw, like a lioness playing with her mate.

Unbuttoning his fly I began and stared down, as I observed that pronounced V in my boyfriend’s lower abdomen. I love that part of him. Taking our clothes off in a shuffle that resembled an out-of-date 1950s dance, I made my way down to put him in my mouth and begin giving him oral sex, and I took a moment to myself before I began.

I just smelled him. From his flat stomach all the way down to his member. The intoxication dilated my veins as the pumping blood flowed through me, reminding me that I’m alive.

I love to tease him and make him wait for it. It builds anticipation and makes me feel like I’m in control. Not to mention, I adore the way he smells, even if I’d always be hard-pressed and woefully inadequate at putting it into words.

There’s always a pause I cannot help but make as I work my way down to a man’s groin, taking his pants down around his ankles in order to please him when I stop and just smell his essence. For the men out there who don’t know this, guys have an odor too that smells completely different from anything else in the world. It’s so indescribable because it’s so remote, so different from anything that I have a hard time likening it to anything you’d smell somewhere else.

This moment is incredibly arousing. If I’d struggled to get in the mood before, I’m there now.

No two men smell the same. You can’t convince me otherwise. And there’s something so beautiful, so intimate, so romantic about taking in the essence of your partner, breathing in parts of him. The smell is fragrant and pungent, though it is endearing. It’s like an aromatic fingerprint of love that I can bask in before I please the person I’m with. Something in my brain kicks into overdrive and I salivate, getting the overwhelming urge to grab him and just put him in my mouth. My nerves fire on all cylinders, and my body begins to tingle.

I closed my eyes and inhaled and took the plunge, putting him in my mouth. His soft flesh telling delicate tales of vulnerability through the sense of touch. So much unspoken communication transpires in these moments as our bodies connect and our passions excite.

The soft kiss of the head on my lips, the gentle stroke of the shaft into my mouth, the acts of love and lust, fornication carried out in the name of care and humanness are our mutual communions. The holy sacrament of togetherness and connection, far removed from the pious and totalitarian Catholic upbringing I had.

Skin vibrates against skin in an act of purely ecstatic harmony. It’s as if we’re playing the music of the Universe. Eyes closed I drift off into my work. The errand arouses me and I soak through the only article of clothing that I have left. I can’t help myself.

I wonder if I want to continue this enjoyable act until the grand finale or if I want to be penetrated. It’s so hard to let go once I’ve got him in my grasps.

To give one another pleasure is the main pursuit, but also to communicate our love to one another; it’s through sex we communicate what words by themselves cannot suffice to.

By giving someone the momentary reprieve of ecstasy, we can show them with actions, not words, how much we want them to be happy in life…and there’s joy in that. It feels so good to be so bad, bad in the eyes of the religious dogmas that wanted to stamp out every shred of human sexuality that blossomed naturally within me.

“What’s so bad about sex that so many religions on Earth have hated it? What makes it vile in their eyes?” I’ve often wondered. “Sins of the flesh,” they say. At this point, such phrases as these have come to arouse me more than anything else.

The scent of man, like the smell of freshly cooked food or a warm fire on a chilly night, will always strike us somewhere deep and irresistible within our minds. The scent of man screams to the archaic woman in me and unleashes a being that craves more than the niceties of linguistics and logic can provide.

When I smell, I don’t need to speak. The potency hits me directly in my olfactory cortex providing a direct shot of pure excitement to my amygdala. My whole body is shaken. How’s that for a spiritual experience?

We ended up shifting to having mind-blowing sex. I convulsed, but I can assure my fellow readers who were raised Catholic, the convulsions had nothing to do with traditional benediction and everything to do with getting in touch with my inner woman. Untamed, unshamed, unaltered womanhood.

We culminated the ceremony with a long cuddle session as I basked in the odorous after-sex stenches that filled the small room we shared for the night. I couldn’t expect to get much closer to God than I was right then. I was liberated from the institutions that have for too long held the title of sanctity and restored to the natural order of life as a sexual being, thrust upon the eternal flux of time and space, here to enjoy the life I have for a little while and hope to do a little bit of good, leaving the world a better place than I found it.

And I can’t think of a better way to do that than sharing love and giving orgasms.