Fondness For Scents

I have a fondness for scents, you know,
The way his cock smells, that familiar glow,
And my own cunt's scent, day by day,
But also that musky aroma, when in bed we play.

After a hot, long day, I sniff my knickers worn,
And I must admit, I'm not ashamed, I'm not scorned.
But it hasn't always been easy, you see,
Society says women should smell like roses, fancy and pretty.

But I prefer the scent of fucking, raw and real,
Pussy, piss, cum, cock, ass, farts, sweat, and dirt's appeal.
I'm not supposed to enjoy the stinky delight,
Or revel in my dirty knickers, it's not deemed right.

But that's the point, sex isn't all princesses and glitter,
It's messy, wet, sticky, a glorious, dirty hitter.
Sleeping in the wet patch, cum dried on my face,
A messy bed, wild hair, living life at its own pace.

Don't let anyone steal the joy, the thrill,
From the things that show you're alive, that you've lived your fill.
Life is too short, my friend, to hesitate or quit,
So take a little sniff, let knickers have their bit.