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Click hereI know I shouldn't...
I shouldn't do this...
But...
I don't think I can stop myself
His bathrobe
It's just hanging there
Unattended in the bathroom
I try to ignore it
but it looms in my mind
calls to me
I know I shouldn't...
I take it in my hands
lift it's soft, gray fabric to my face
and inhale
(god, what am I doing? I'm such a creeper)
oh damn
oh damn he smells good
(what a freak, put it down!)
I breathe in deeper
His scent etches itself in my mind
my fingers fondle the belt
(oh you need to stop this right now)
one more
one more hit
Again I inhale
like I'm trying to breathe in his essence
take him into myself
trying to keep him there
a part of me now
(fucking creepy, that's what this is)
I know I shouldn't...
but with him
I can't stop myself
I release it
I wash my hands
still high from his musk
I leave the bathroom
where no one knows
what a creeper I am...
You made me want to smell mystery man! What is it about a mans scent that is so entoxicating? My favorite... Old spice, sweat, arosal. Of fuck... Yummy!!!
I liked the parenthetical self-talk. Although, if recited, one wouldn't imagine them differently than the other lines, I found myself imagining (poems are supposed to do that right?) those in parentheses to be what the poet said out loud and the others what she (or he) thought. That simple difference is what got me thinking and imagining.
good job! perceptive, emotional, passionate--smells can produce erotic feelings even years after when a similar odor reminds of a long forgotten event
It's not the bathrobe that's the fetish, it's the man who wears it...
Dr. Richard von Krafft ebbing would have been definitely interested in this one !!