 Eau de Moi
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Feb. 18th, 2005 @ 09:09 am 
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With technology, we can capture sound and image, but when will we capture scent?
Taking pictures yesterday, I became aware of mine----in the air, on my fingers, and no doubt on my camera. Taking pictures is highly arousing, and in mid-cycle, I’m fragrant. Sweet-salt with a touch of acid, a creamy lobster bisque with a slice of lemon.
I wish I could click Send on that.
The parfum of sex, mine, lingered in the room. Before M came home, I had to open the window.
UPDATE:
The Way Women Sweat
by Renee Ashley
"Ladies don't sweat, dear. They glow."
-- Mother
Glow my ass. Women sweat
wet as the tongues of dogs,
wildly slick beneath the breasts, beneath
the arms the body's water,
the body's salts like an oily sea;
and, where the soft thighs part at the open
mouth of the sex, where the dusky
flesh smothers, raw as an oyster, slick
as a throat, and bright like pearl or shell
in the dark, the musty smell of rich effluvium
lingers like air heavy with pollen and heat.
Source: Wise Womens Web
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Friday Pussy-blogging:
a descriptive glossary of vulvae from The Perfumed Garden, q.v.here also.
See also: wordoyster, Viewing the Local Antiquities
Technorati tags: pussy, fridaypussyblogging
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Technorati Profile
****************Feeling: dreaming about the time Listening to: I'm Gonna Be, The Proclaimers |
| From: | (Anonymous) |
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| Date: |
February 18th, 2005 05:50 am (UTC) |
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(Link) |
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It's supposedly coming.
http://www.time.com/time/interactive/technology/smelling_np.html
http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/7.11/digiscent.html
So perhaps you can expect a little variation on your oft received request: "Send me the smell of your tits!"
Come to think of it, I'd like to be the first in line to receive that in e-mail form, along with what you describe above.
| From: | (Anonymous) |
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| Date: |
February 19th, 2005 02:33 pm (UTC) |
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Smemories
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One of my favorite memories goes back many years. I met a woman through friends, we went back to her place and fucked through the night. The next morning I hung around to meet her boyfriend (I was feeling bold). Later that next day I was resting my arm against the car window and I could smell her sweet jism. It brought every lick and thrust flooding back into my head. I could feel her lips parting as I licked my fingers.
Each of us has distinct scents and they are more powerful than any sight or sound. I can't wait until your site is scratch 'n' sniff.
XOXOXOXO,
Infatuateur
*pausing for that thought*
;)
DTG xxoo
Wonderful.
BTW, I loved your comments at VLA about women and age. Refusing invisibility should be the collar button of every woman over 30.
Thanks, Freya.
Of course, Hiromi was right in certain respects. Invisibility--in the sense that younger men no longer look at you---happens inevitably to women, but it's not some kind of sentence, something to bemoan.
Au contraire. It's an opportunity. A chance to be the person you really are, not as reflected in the male gaze.
In my mid-thirties, like Hiromi, I too was dismayed by the loss of my youthful aura until I realised that those admiring looks that I, like all young women, had learned to expect and to some extent depend on, were really a prison. Or at least, a hall of mirrors.
As an aside: when asked what magical power they would most like to possess, the majority of people say, invisibility.
Once you break free of that male gaze and embrace that power, you can see and claim reality. It's a matter of learning to see the opportunity and then making the choice to use it.
DTG xxoo
It's freeing to a certain extent because the slow, hot gaze that comes after a man knows you long enough to see the way you move, watches your lips - that's sexier and for me, a much greater feeling of power and appeal.
I think we need to reject the notion that there is only one kind of beauty. When I look at women like Annette Benning, who have rejected the countless surgeries and chemical injections that her counterparts have used, I see a much more beautiful woman. Because beauty isn't the absence of wrinkles on the forehead or even the cant of our breasts.
It's actually quite lovely to see many women my age and older sex blogging, embracing that hormonal flood that makes us not firmer but a hell of a lot of sexy.
I wouldn't want to be invisible, btw. (I'd rather have the lasso of truth or the ability to fly, LOL) Being invisible is to not exist. I refuse to exist through the perceptions of anyone else.
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