Waking up to that scent

It’s easily one of the most animal, most basic things to experience.  Waking up that scent.  The scent of all of us, wrapped together, almost devouring each other, for a good, long, fun time.

I’m laying here, thinking back about it all.  I can visualize it.  Animal mode kicked in early on for whatever reason and we just went with it.  We let it take over.  Now, laying here in the silence at night, I’m replaying it all.  And it’s all egged on by the scent.  That scent of sex.  Of us.

It’s like it’s screaming out our name still.  It’s full of reminders – it’s almost running around the room, doing this weird narrative “and then that happened HERE and it was incredible” and it’s playing back in my mind’s eye.

I don’t know if it’s because it’s pitch black in the room, so my mind can run through everything all over again, or the fact that we’re still wrapped around each other, or both.  Perhaps it’s scuff marks pulsating in my body, or the grin that never leaves my face.  The stickiness on my hands.

For me, though, it’s the scent that triggers it all.  I can smell you, me, us.  I can almost touch it in the air.  Each time I breathe in, I feel you on me again, the give and take of the night.

It’s like re-living – I can feel you running your hands over me, I can feel your skin under my hands.  I feel you react to the touch, and I suddenly react just to thinking about it all over again.

That scent.  It’s musky, wonderful, salty, sweaty, messy, glorious, sexy.

I don’t know how long it’s been, but as I lay here, it still roars through me.  No acrobatics, just letting go, enjoying, feeling.  No pretense.

Some of the best thoughts in the world, the best experiences, are all wrapped up in that overwhelming scent filling the room.