The Aroused Female


Notice the Scent of an aroused female. Detect her arousal and her betrayal.

The innate ability to smell things others don’t quite get, or before anyone else smells them has always been with me. It both blesses and curses me.

In a crowded elevator, stinky crotches, smelly feet bad breath, unwashed sweaty bodies and clothes always smell stronger to me than to others, I have found. If I am on an bus with a friend and I say, “Oh, did you smell her shitty underwear?” after we get off.

Invariably, my friend will deny smelling anything and think I am off my medication or something.

The ability to smell the aroma of love is the reward that I get for the punishment of putting up with all the nasty things people present in public. I can smell a woman’s oestrus quickly and from some distance. It is so entertaining for me to go into a restaurant and walk around smelling the food mingled with differing women’s scent. Most women know when they smell aroused, because they, themselves can smell it. It is so fun when they try to be covert and get away with it, unnoticed. Usually they do, but when I am around, they are my prey, though I never take advantage, I just find some way to acknowledge them with a silent, knowing smirk or a glance and a nod or wink.

I was at my next door neighbor’s house when his athlete daughter, Karen, came in after her volleyball practice. She played for the local Junior College Volleyball team and was considered a star player. Good looking! Mmmmm that girl is a stunner. She wears; just past her shoulder light silky blonde hair, blonde eyebrows and eye lashes, and sky blue eyes, with tanned skin and she stands 5’9″ tall, weighs about 125, has medium to small but firm breasts, a sculpted athlete’s belly, butt and legs and a bright, sweet personality to boot. She was 19 and in her freshman year at Junior College right in our town. She’s majoring in physical education and is studying to be a high school coach for girls’ volleyball and basketball.

I’ve watched this luscious plumb grow into a woman from a girl. I’ve been around her as she matured and was witness to her unusual scents as she went through her hormonal changes while becoming an adult.

I remember when Karen had her first date. Her dad and I were visiting in their home at 10 pm that night when she got home. The second she was in the door, I could smell her heightened arousal. Nothing had happened, but she was definitely turned on. She went up to her room, and soon I could smell that she was masturbating, the odor changed, intensified. After she was finished, she came down into the living room to sit with us and I looked at her with a knowing, mused look. She looked at me and recognized that I knew what she’d been up to. Her eyes went to the floor and a flush came across her, I could immediately smell her again. She oozed off a scent of ‘somebody, mate with me’.

As an athlete, Karen worked out a lot. Sometimes working out releases those pheromones into the air and a woman’s arousal becomes more apparent just from her exertion. I don’t know what it is, but just working out would turn Karen on. Her heightened odor would be so strong to mate sometimes, that I almost thought I should try it. But, I never did, I just kept my secret to myself and enjoyed her.

When she was a senior in High School, after she turned 18, her car had been in the shop and her folks were working at the times she needed a ride home after practice. So, for a week, they asked me to pick her up from school and get her home after practice. All that week I noticed subtle changes in her aroused aromas. I wondered if the stronger aromas had something to do with how hard the workout was, or if something else was stirring her up. I asked, “So how was practice tonight, Karen?”

“Oh, our coach was so sweet tonight. We’ve been working really hard and tonight he sat us down individually and critiqued our upcoming role with the team for this season. He pulled me aside and told me I’d be the team captain this year because I am a natural leader and he wants to see me blossom into a college level player, and thinks I can achieve that if I work hard.” She said. “He’s offered to spend extra time with me after practices working on special talents I have hoping to highlight them.”

“Ah,” I thought to myself. “That is the reason for such strong sexual smell tonight. She is crushing on her coach and his complimentary, maybe flirty offer.”

I’ve spent my life honing and perfecting my awareness, my sense of smell to a fine art. It gave me an advantage in situations oftentimes and so I kept it quiet, not mentioning it to people.

And that is how I caught my wife cheating on me.

Her smell gave her away to me, not just arousal, but the smell of a man on her, of his sperm, of his sweat, of his cologne, his breath on her skin. I could smell that she’d been with someone else this afternoon, and not too long before she’d come home.

Though I’ve always had the ability to smell an aroused woman, I never Escort Ankara shared about it with my wife. It gave me the edge of seduction when she was most open to it. She always thought I was just an exceptional lover, because I would do little things that elicited wafts of her approval to my nose and then lead her down that path to electric orgasms. I’ve been faithful to her during our entire courtship and marriage, though I had my fantasies, I never, ever touched.

I was so stunned when I came home after a normal day and was confronted by a strong aroused woman, scent. My woman, I knew it by now, it was no other woman’s aroma, it was Heather’s, and it was mixed with the scent of semen and a man’s cologne, not mine.

I was crushed as this information rushed into my awareness and what it meant. My lover, my friend, my partner, my pal had betrayed me just today for the first time after 7 years of faithfulness, helpfulness, loving kindness and all that wraps up in two committed lives entangling more and more every day on their journey to becoming one.

“So, Heather, what have you been up to this afternoon?” I asked, knowing, but hoping against hope.

“Oh, I just worked out at the club, I just got home ahead of you, I need to go up and take a shower, and then I’ll start on dinner.” She said matter- of-factly, selling her ‘trying to act normal’ act.

“I can smell that you do.” I thought as my heart began to weep over her lie of omission. “Don’t cook for me tonight; I’m off to a dinner appointment with a client from Seattle who is in town for a few days.” I lied right back at her.

I was glad that I could keep it together, because I was devastated. I stumbled out of the house into the garage and got in my car. I headed away from the house, aimlessly, in thought. I didn’t need a private eye, didn’t need to catch her in the act, I did catch her….she just did not know it.

I returned home late, after the lights were out and left early before she stirred. I wasn’t ready to confront her yet. I hadn’t made up my mind what to do; I needed a little time to think this through. There was no mistake; I smelled the smell of another man on her. Her arousal could be attributed to the workout, but it was heightened beyond just a workout, so I knew the mingling of scents was a bad sign.

I left her a message that I would be out of town, at company headquarters in Atlanta. They’d called me in to interview me for a promotion, but I did not tell her about the promotion.

I got home a week later, it was the most time I could possible delay. When I walked in the house, the unmistakable scent of male sperm, male pheromones, male sweat, and male cologne assaulted my senses. My wife was washed clean, but the house was lousy with the scent of yet another man, different from the one I smelled last week.

“Oh, honey, I missed you. You went to bed so late and up so early that night and then you left town for this past week without even telling me goodbye. Is something wrong?” She queried.

“Who are they, Heather?” I spat.

“What do you mean? Who are who?” she innocently asked.

What has happened that you suddenly throw our plans, our lives, me, away?” I asked.

“Why are you talking like this, Bill? You’ve been gone for a week, let’s have some make up love and reconnect, baby.” she offered.

“Heather, have you had sex with someone other than me in the past 8 days?” I asked, “Actually, more than one someone, at least two, maybe more.”

She blanched. “No, I…, what could you mean?” she shakily replied.

She had no idea how I could have come across this information, she’d been so careful.

“we had hardly even had any contact with one another, and he couldn’t possibly know anything yet.” She reasoned silently.

“Ok, so you and I are exactly the same now as 9 days ago? No other men have been plowing with my heifer? No other hogs rutting in my garden?” I dared.

“Of course not, whatever would give you that idea, silly?” she answered. She was shivering and refused eye contact with me.

I just turned and left. I drove over to the club. We belonged to a golf course association and it had swimming and weightlifting, sauna, massage rooms as well as treadmills and a track for working out. There was a golf pro, and a fitness trainer who both worked at the club full time and were available for golf lessons or to help clients with a fitness plan for working out. I had never been there yet, so I wasn’t known, and had not met either the pro or the trainer.

I walked in and sniffed. I went up to the golf pro, and could smell his sweat. He’d just returned from a round of golf and was still perspiring and the smell of his stale cologne and sweat mingled together identified him to me as the first of my wife’s paramours. Coldly, I faced him. His smile cut short when he looked into my face and saw the danger lurking there.

“Keep your cock in your pants around the ladies of this club, motherfucker.” I warned. “This Ankara Escort is your one warning.”

He stood there, shocked, mouth open as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of just exactly what it was.

I walked around outside the pro shop, upstairs to the workout gym. I walked in and it was laced with the odors of sweat and stale cologne, as well as female arousal and perfume. At first, I could identify no specific aroma, but I did get the slight scent of familiar sperm after a few minutes. I walked around the room and realized the familiar sperm smell was on another housewife, a friend of ours, who was working on the row machine. She was sweating and aroused to the max. Her body had been sprayed by the same man’s sperm that left his scent in my house during the week I’d been gone.

“So, this guy has a stable.” It dawned on me.

Processing what I had learned took me a couple of hours. I drove around thinking. I decided on a plan.

I went back to the gym and put on some workout clothes and began just acting like I was working out. After about 30 minutes, the trainer came out of a massage room, followed by one of the older wives of the club. Her husband was on the board, they are very wealthy it has been said. The smell of her arousal, mixed with his sweat and sperm were unmistakable. This is my man. This was the scent from the man who’s sperm was in my home when I got home earlier today, and his scent was on Shelly, the girl working on the row machine, and now on this older woman.

The trainer was larger and in better shape than I. He would not be easily intimidated, nor readily beaten in a fair fight.

“I’ll have to take a different approach.” I thought.

When it got close to closing time, I went into the sauna with my Swiss army knife. It was easily concealed in my hand and I just sat and steamed. It was hard to see anything the steam was so thick.

Before long the trainer came in, dropped his towel and sat down. I took note of his body and remarked what a great looking guy he was. Ah, pride, what an ally when it motivates someone else.

He chuckled, stood up, flexing his pecks and turned and flexed his gluts. I added that his cock was remarkable, too. He turned and put his hand under it and flopped it for me.

I swooned and said. “I haven’t ever seen one like that; it really looks delicious.”

He was digging this for sure. I had wondered if he wasn’t bi-sexual, so I asked him, “Can I touch it?”

He said, “Sure, come over here, you can lick it too if you want, even suck it.”

“Oh, goody”, I replied and knelt between his knees in that steam room.

I took his erect cock in my hand, brought my other hand up to his balls. His head went back and his eyes closed.

Now, the blade on my little Swiss army knife isn’t too big, about 1 ½ inch long but it is razor sharp. I grabbed his balls like I had a sack of marbles and in one slice I was holding his sack and testicles in my hand.

He never felt a thing for a moment. Blood came spurting out of his vacated scrota;

I told him, “You’ll bleed to death quickly if you don’t stop the flow of blood.”

He jammed his hands against his body between his legs and went screaming outside the sauna for help.

I dropped his balls in the trash, covered them up with some paper towels, showered, got dressed and left.

The trainer had never seen me before, so in the steam room he never really got much of a look at me, he was so hung up on his ego, he hardly even noticed me and couldn’t give the police any kind of accurate description.

I was questioned by police, because my name was in the register as having been in the gym during the day, but so were dozens of others. I was just one suspect among many. They’d have to have more than they had to arrest and convict me.

I called the golf pro and asked him if he’d heard about the trainer and what happened to him. Fearfully, he said he had.

I mentioned to him that he’d had a warning, “did you remember it?”

He said “I sure as hell do and I’ll heed it.” My secret would be safe.

Actually, though I didn’t want to go to jail, I really didn’t care at the time. I was distressed over my wife’s infidelity and lying. Maybe I was a little suicidal for a while. So, I didn’t think too clearly. I left a loose end with the golf pro, but he never came forward, so my life continued in solitude. I lucked out.

I heard that he left town. He quit the club without notice and gave no forwarding address a few weeks later.

I filed for divorce on ‘grounds of irreconcilable differences.’ took the job offered me at a larger pay grade and better benefits and perks in Boulder.

My wife was a pain, but I was done with her and she gradually faded from my heart and from mind. It was like a bad injury. Your body will heal, given time. My heart was healing with time. I left her everything, including the bills. I just took my own clothes and personal effects, my car was loaded and Ankara Escort Bayan full, but she got everything else. We came out about even.

So, I found myself in Boulder, the Party town and home of the University of Colorado Buffaloes. My neighbor Karen had played 2 years of volleyball for McCook, Nebraska junior college. And CU Boulder offered her lots of incentives to play for them her junior and senior year, which she wanted to do.

Karen’s dad called me when they found out she would be going to school in Boulder her junior year. They were coming to the school a month early to look the town and the area over a bit and wanted to know if they could stay with me.

I had two extra bedrooms and large enough house to easily accommodate them, plus they had been long time friends and neighbors of mine.

Karen and her dad had been in my house for two days. I never asked about Heather, and they didn’t offer anything which was fine with me.

I had moved on, but, I smelled Heather on Ken the moment he walked in the door. His cell rang at dinner on the second night and his face went pale and then red.

Karen saw this and asked her dad, “what is it daddy?”

The smell he emitted at that moment was alarming to me, I had smelled that before and it was male arousal. My guess was that it was Heather on the line, calling him from back home in McCook.

When he hung up, he was silent for a few moments.

Karen was alarmed and she badgered him to tell her what the call was about.

He said, “Baby, I need to get back to McCook. That was my boss. The company is downsizing, my job may be on the chopping block. I need to get back there and see if I can’t save it.

Bill, will you let her stay the rest of the month and help her get into school and into her apartment when it comes open?” The cockhound was going back because his girlfriend, my ex, had put her foot down, or something.

He would leave his daughter at this important time for her so he could get laid. What a doofus.

“Absolutely Ken, you go do your best, cultivate your boss a little, I’ll see to everything here that needs attention.” I offered.

I knew he was going back to “cultivate” the neighbor.

Karen admonished, “Daddy, maybe I should come back with you. You will need someone; since mom is gone you’ll be all alone.”

Ken replied, “Baby, this is your college education. This is your future; you will get experience here and prepare for your life as a coach. Put your shoulder to the wheel and take advantage of this opportunity. It may never come again.”

“He’s right, Karen.” I said. “He’s tough and resilient. He needs to go and put HIS shoulder to HIS wheel too and worrying about you will deflect some of his energy. My advice is stay here and we’ll get you started. You are welcome here and I will be happy to get you moved over to your apartment when it becomes available and show you around campus in the meanwhile.”

I was trying to protect her, and I definitely was looking forward to spending a month alone in my house with this willow fox.

She relented and the next morning he was off to McCook and to enter the ‘wolves den’ fighting for his way of life-right.

She and I watched him drive off and she turned to me and cried, finally hugging me. “I guess this is my first day as an adult isn’t it Mr. Bill.”

“Karen,” I said, “you’ll do great. Let’s get ourselves together and I’ll show you around Boulder.”

Karen always has a scent about her that is different from most women. For one thing, she always seems to give off those pheromones of arousal. It has always puzzled me, because most women have definite times when they are not aroused, but Karen always seems to be, according to her smell.

I have fantasized that “It is me; she’s just hot for me.”

“It’s too much to ask,” I have told myself a hundred times.

We poked around Boulder that first day; I bought her lunch at a sidewalk hot dog stand on the Pearl Street mall. It was a warm summer day, and her silky blonde hair, blonde eyebrows and blonde eyelashes glistened white in the late July sun. She was so interesting to look at with her tanned skin and blue eyes, and to already know that she is blonde all over was maddening. Her trim, athletically fit figure, lean and yet petite on that tall frame, made her a walking dream.

All the guys who saw her that day were mesmerized, as was I. She was beyond beautiful, she was remarkable.

Karen is bright, intelligent, and witty and can be a practical joker. When I got home, I went in the bathroom and started to piss in the toilet…the pee went everywhere, on the floor and on my legs and shoes. I stopped the stream and looked down into the toilet only to realize she had stretched cellophane across it; the little wench.

When I came out of the bathroom, she was rolling on the couch laughing at me, her legs bent at the knee and her feet in the air. It was summer and she had short shorts on, so it provided me quite a show of sheer yellow panties with a tuft of blonde pubic hair poking out one side.

“Damn, was that my arousal I smelled? Yes, and hers too.”

“It’s ok,” I told her, “the sun shines on every dog’s ass at one time or another; I’ll get you back and it will be in spades.”

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