#274) Sniff, Then Scratch

It was the last week of school. So, Mary, an elementary teacher, and her colleagues had much less to do. There wasn’t much lesson-planning, so fewer lesson plans to write-up and turn-in to her principal. They were on the downhill slide, inexorably toward class graduation in just five days.

            So it was the perfect time to get back into the healthier lifestyle that her hectic schedule had precluded during the school year. Mary decided to ride her bicycle to and from school daily for this last week. That would be an enjoyable way to break back into regular work-outs, which Mary wanted to fill her free time over the leisurely summer months.

            On Monday, Mary wore a cute knit dress, put her long hair in a ponytail under a scarf, and rode her pink Schwinn bike to and from school. It felt great to get some fresh air and athletic exertion, so on the way home, she stopped off at the park near her apartment, and took a spin around it, too. As Mary was dismounting outside her apartment complex, she first saw him. He was easy to notice. It was May, the days were getting warmer, people were wearing casual clothes. But this gentleman was dressed up formally. He wore an impeccably tailored three-piece suit, polished dress shoes, even a fedora hat. Mary was fairly sure that he was watching her, almost scrutinizing her. He made her a bit self-conscious. She avoided eye contact.

            Tuesday was just the same. Mary wore slacks on this day, and when she pedaled home, she saw the bespoke gentleman standing in the same spot across the street from her apartment, staring at her. Mary noticed something else, yesterday’s suit had been gray, today’s was navy blue pinstriped. And the pleated trousers were tented under the strain of his massive hard-on. She hurried inside.

            Mary was elated that she was all the closer to the finish line of teaching on Wednesday, but was distressed to find the gentleman standing right at the entrance of her apartment that evening. From far away she saw his perfectly tailored black suit on this day, with a black fedora. Who had a wardrobe of dress men’s hats in this day and age? But it was daylight outside, she lived there for gosh sakes; she wasn’t going to be intimidated! As she dismounted, he spoke to her for the first time.

            “Excuse me, Miss. I’ve noticed you for the past several days, and I think you’ve noticed me.” Mary noticed that he had a clipped, precise way of speaking, wasn’t sure if he had an accent or not, but was not from the Atlanta area, that was for sure. “My name is Rogers, Roger Rogers…” he said, extending his open hand. Mary would have felt rude to just leave him hanging, so shook it, and offered her name, just her first name.

            “I’m Mary, pleased to meet you. Yes, I noticed your beautiful clothes…”

            He smiled. “I just had to tell you that you are stunning! It brightens my day to see you…”

            Mary now smiled, “Thank you, that’s nice of you to say!” And as she turned to enter her complex, her eye caught the fact that these trousers were more full cut, but couldn’t disguise the fact that he still had a boner.

            On Thursday, Mary wore a sundress to school. Coming home at day’s end, she saw that he was wearing a seersucker suit with a straw boater and blue suede shoes. His outfits must have cost thousands of dollars, so classic, so tasty. She would’ve been smitten by him, like she would be with a favorite, eccentric uncle. If only for that obvious protuberance in his pants.

            “Good afternoon, Mary!” he called to her.

            “Mr. Rogers,” she returned formally.

            “Have a pleasant evening, please,” he said.

            She didn’t know how to respond.

            Because she didn’t have papers to grade, Mary thought about this situation over a glass of wine after dinner. He’s clearly a man of means, probably well-off. He has nice manners, he has taste. He just has a permanent stiffy! Maybe it’s a medical condition. She shouldn’t hold it against him (after all, he hadn’t tried to hold it against her!). He was older, probably in his fifties, he’s lucky that he’s so virile. Overlook it, she told herself. Give him the benefit of the doubt.

            Mary realized that if Mr. Rogers hadn’t been there that Friday afternoon, she would’ve missed him, been slightly disappointed. Just to see that day’s haberdashery, she told herself. But after a joyous day of good-byes to students and so-longs to colleagues, she pedaled home to see him in a light tan khaki suit with matching fedora, very smart.

            She took the initiative, “You look very nice, sir!”

            “And you are ravishing!” he replied.

            “I’m not,” she blushed, “I’m just a girl-next-door…”

            “Please allow me a little time to convince you otherwise, come to dinner with me?”

            Mary recalled her resolve, looked at how dashing he appeared, was honestly a little curious. “Okay… let me lock-up my bike and put down my school stuff. I’ll be right back…”

            “Wonderful!” he exclaimed with a grin, didn’t try to follow her.

            When she emerged again, he escorted her to an MG – TD, a classic sportscar from England. It looked like a mini-Duesenberg sedan, but that would’ve been ostentatious and this was cool! Mary was glad that her dad had been a huge car buff as she was growing up, giving her an appreciation of such things, things that Mr. Rogers clearly had the taste and wealth to afford. He drove her to one of the hottest-rated new restaurants in town, a place Mary knew was difficult to get into. But the hostess saw them to a nice table warmly, as though he was a regular. Mary spied to see that Mr. Rogers held that tan fedora in front of himself as they walked to the table, kept it there until they were seated.

            Mary wasn’t just a school teacher, she did some part-time modeling, especially in the summer months. At her modeling agency, she was classified as a girl-next-door-type, but that was in comparison to glamorous fashion-model types. This vocation gave her an introit into the upper crust. She’d dated a few men who had money. Unfortunately, they were nouveau rich, tended to be ostentatious and flamboyant, not understated old money. Rogers exuded class, on the other hand. These previous suitors had hardly let Mary get a word in edgewise, whereas the perfectly-suited Roger seemed laser-focused on her and only her, peppering her with questions as they enjoyed the well-seasoned meal. He inquired in depth about her teaching, then about the modeling when it came to light. He asked about her upbringing, schooling, hopes for the future, all kinds of things. It made her feel appreciated, valued, and she realized over dessert that she was having a marvelous time.

            He drove her home, and at her door she gushed, “You did make me feel… cherished; thank you for a delightful evening!”

            “I’m pleased! May I see you again?”

            “I suppose so…” she smiled.

            “Would tomorrow night be too soon?”

            Disarmed, she blushed and went with what her heart was saying, “Yes!”

            At seven on Saturday evening Roger took Mary to one of the most exclusive eateries in all of Atlanta, Bones Restaurant. Again, they were seated at a superb table, again had a sumptuous meal, again shared scintillating conversation. The sublime evening flew by!

At her door, Mary was tentative. “If I ask you in for coffee, will you accept that offer as it is, not assume that I’m inviting you into my pants… yet…?”

“Yes,” Roger answered, “on my word as a gentleman,” he quote Rhett Butler, which made them both smile as she caught-on to his joke. But then continued, “Actually, at this hour, I’d prefer decaffeinated, if you have it…”

“Would you prefer something else, I have Jack Daniels Black Label?”


“It was my dad’s favorite,” she offered.

“He has good taste.”

“Had,” she corrected, “he died last year.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Thank you, you remind me of him in some ways…”


“Distinguished, well mannered…” she smiled and he returned one, pleased that he’d successfully created this impression, even if it wasn’t entirely true.

“I remind you more of a father-figure, than a romantic interest, don’t I?”

“Well, you are older… but you are also fascinating… I’m conflicted…” she tried to be diplomatic.

“You are quite right. To reciprocate, you are delightful, pretty, bright, articulate, I could go on and on. I know that you were raised as upper class, but are now struggling on a teacher’s salary…”

“You can say that again!”

“And I have a remedy, an offer for you to consider…” he said.

Mary waited, a smile frozen on her features, not sure what was coming next.

“I’ll pay you one thousand dollars here and now…”

The smile disappeared from Mary’s face as her eyes grew huge. Now she was intrigued.

“For the privilege of smelling your bicycle seat.”

Mary blinked. Her brain screamed, What The Fuck?!

“I’m serious,” Roger pressed, reached into his pocket and produced the one thousand dollar bill.

Mary was stunned.

“You’re not kidding?”

“I know how difficult your esteemed career is, how time consuming and exhausting, yet how poorly it pays. I’m not asking you to compromise your principles, asking you for sex…”

Mary had recently been looking at her finances, was wondering if she could get through the summer on her teacher’s salary, or if she really needed to find a job for the next three months. Tears came to her eyes at this Deus ex machina. He wasn’t propositioning for sex. He was just… a little strange. Mary felt empathy, knowing herself well. She wheeled her pink Schwinn into the living room of the small apartment. He held out the bill to her. She inspected it. It wasn’t counterfeit! He pulled his ever-present erection from his fly and rolled a condom down over it.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time..” he whispered as he approached the bike.

“I now understand…” she replied.

He inhaled deeply, hovering over the thin leather seat. Without touching himself, he climaxed almost immediately, so hard that Mary could hear the jets erupting into the prophylactic. The effort crumpled the gent, doubling him over so that he nearly fell to the floor.

“Thank you!” he uttered.

“It was my pleasure…” she confessed, holding the bill tightly in her fist.

He visited her bathroom, cleaned up, five minutes later was back in her living room finishing the tumbler of liquor.

“I’d like to see you again, take you out to eat a great meal again, enjoy your company again, do this,” and he gestured toward her bike, “again, pay you just as well. Interested?”

She knew her financial picture. She knew what another thousand dollars would mean. She knew how effortless it was to earn. She traded phone numbers with Roger.

“I’ll call you in a few days,” he said, and was gone.

On Monday, the first day of freedom for Mary, a delivery came to her door. It was a brand new racing bike, a really nice one.

“I can’t thank you enough!” Mary said when she reached Roger by phone.

“Happy that you like it!”

“I love it!”

“There are some rules that go along with it,” he continued. “Only you are to ride it, wearing as few clothes as you feel comfortable in. Never clean the seat. Does all that sound workable?” He was breathing heavily.

It pleased Mary that Roger was so easily entertained, found it sexy that he was so turned-on by this. Strange, but sexy.

How about going with me to Nan Thai tomorrow night?” Roger asked.

“I’d love to!” Mary stated honestly, then added, “and I’ll ride the bike daily…”

“I’ll see you at seven,” he breathed.

“It’s a date.”

At dinner, Roger tried to captivate school teacher Mary with a history lesson.

“When Napoleon was returning a conquering hero to France, he sent a message to his wife, Josephine. It said, ‘Am three days march away from you. Don’t bathe.’ He loved the female scent almost as much as I do. You’ve had some time to think about it. Are you okay with what we do?”

“I’ve never known anyone like you,” she replied honestly. “It’s strangely complimentary… I masturbated to the thought of you smelling that racing bike’s seat last night…”

“You are a Goddess!” he returned.

“I’ll tell you more when we’re back at my place…”

“You make me want to get our order to go…” he shot back.

“No! We have all night, let’s savor every minute,” she smiled and then changed the topic of conversation.

An hour and a half of sweet agony later, Roger was admitted to Mary’s apartment. Her new bike was in the center of the room. She unzipped her skirt and let it drop to the floor.

“I wore this thong while riding it,” she said, revealing the revealing bottoms she had on. “I rode it a lot, so much that my ass is sore, my pussy chaffed… And like Josephine, I haven’t washed my privates recently. I knew that story; I was a History major before I got my teaching credential…”

The euphoric look on his face as he handed her the crisp bill was worth it. With trembling hands, he pulled out his rock hard cock and rolled a condom down over it.

“Can I touch myself while you do your thing?” she asked.

Roger was touched by this request. She pulled her thong to the side and began fingering her tender lips, scratching at her little love button with her fingertips. Roger did not touch his erection at all, just like the last time. He leaned down, sniffed strongly, began climaxing convulsively, jerking in spasms until the rubber was filled with his spunk. Mary had witnessed it twice now, and still could hardly believe it.

“Excuse me,” Roger mumbled, headed to her bathroom.

“Mind if I tag along,” she volunteered brightly. Mary took the lead, took the prophylactic off Roger, knotted it and discarded it, then licked his cock clean lovingly. Then she zipped him up and walked him back out to the couch. “Can you stay this time?”

“If you like…”

“…Am I correct that you can keep an erection for a long time?” He nodded. “But you only come when smelling…?” He nodded again. “Have you tried to make love with a woman, and then sniffed when you wanted to finish?”

“I’ve never known a woman who… I thought would understand… my fixation…”

“I don’t know if I’d call it a fixation… More like a fetish… We all have kinks in our natures, just kind of ripples and waves… without them, sex would be bland, boring…”

“You have some ripples…?” he asked, looking her deep in her eyes.

“Well, my clitoris is too far from my vaginal opening for intercourse to be orgasmic. I have to touch myself, or receive cunnilingus… I’ve always felt strange, a little deformed…There’s more to it than that, but that gives you an idea…Let’s just take baby steps, together, and see where we go…”

Mary never felt more vulnerable in her life, so she kissed Roger to cover it. But when they had to come up for air, Roger was looking at her with nothing but adoration.

“How about we wheel that bike, both bikes in fact, into my bedroom, and you spend the night?”

Roger smiled like this was the most brilliant idea ever.

In her boudoir, Mary took her thong off. “That thing really stinks! I’m really ripe down there!” she laughed self-consciously. But the well-endowed schlong that hung limply between Roger’s legs stirred at her mere comment. She hung the garment of the racing bike’s curved handlebars. “They are right there when you want them, when you need to sniff, but let’s see if we can play around some first… There’s also a hamper of dirty clothes right over there…” At this mention, hydraulics raised his stiffening cock a bit higher. They laid down together on the bed. “I’d like to suck you…” She did and he grew more rigid. “When you sniff, do you get off on smells of ass as well as pussy?” He nodded. Mary shifted around until her legs were straddling his head. “There’s my ass hole, lover, just above you, have at me…” He parted her with both hands, buried his nose right up her rectum. She sucked him some more, until the pleasurable sensations were too much. “Remember I said I had more kinks? …Since puberty I’ve masturbated. Because penetration in my pussy did little for me… I experimented up my butt… I really like it there..!” Without missing a beat, Roger fingered where he was sniffing. “Oh that’s nice! I’m gonna cum!” she whimpered. “Cum with me, Roger…!”

“I don’t have a condom on!” he protested.

“You don’t need one! Cum on my tits, cum on my butt! Want me to suck you more?”

But with permission granted, Roger quickly leaned over and grabbed her thong and inhaled. Powerful blasts of ejaculate spurted out of him, streamers of white stuff shot out of him like it was New Year’s Eve. They were ropes of sticky strands shooting into her hair, her face, her chest. Mary looked like a net had been thrown over her, a heavy net of sperm.

“You cum like a teenager!” she enthused, awestruck and nearly knocked over from the blasts.

When he could cognate and articulate once more, he returned, “I think I like your ripples and waves, Mary!”

“I’d planned on taking a shower tonight, my pussy really reeks, but now I have to. Want to shower with me?”

“That sounds wonderful!” Roger responded.

They stood silently under the hot waterfall for a moment. They both were lost in the revelation that each had found someone complimentary to their needs in the other. They both knew it wasn’t perfect, but they weren’t perfect, no one was. But it held potential. There was shared, genuine affection, appreciation, and really high sex drives. Then Mary started to speak, tentatively at first.

“It seems to me… that you’re fixated on bicycle seats because you never knew a woman… in the flesh… who understood your olfactory obsession, is that accurate?”

Roger nodded.

“I’m wondering…” Mary continued, putting her hand on his manhood and putting one of his on her pubic bush, “if we could try baby steps toward eliminating the bike…” She was about to make an analogy to training wheels coming off when he surprised Mary by becoming tumescent. She remarked at the growing evidence, “God, your refractory period is, like, three minutes!”

“You turn me on…”

“No, I mean, thank you, but it’s not just me, is it? You can get hard again, after ejaculation, in less than five minutes, can’t you?”

Roger nodded as though this was no big deal.

“For most men, it’s, like, half an hour! For most men your age, it’s…” She decided to take a different tack at the matter at hand, they both knew they were different. “Sniff your fingers. Can you smell my pussy on them?”

He did, smiled, grew more erect. Mary grabbed the bar of soap. She started to lather-up his erection.

“Do you want to soap my pussy while I do you?”

True to form, the meek Mr. Rogers only nodded his affirmative interest. He rotated the soap in his hands, applied them to her sex. His cock now resembled a diving board, stiff but waveringly vibrating under the weight of Mary’s hand-job. Its magical properties had Mary in a trance.

“God, you’ve got a marvelous cock! And it’s an all-day sucker!” Then she looked deep into Roger’s eyes. “Do you want to put it inside me?” She saw the reaction in his enlarged pupils; the fastidious Mr. Rogers knew that he didn’t have a condom close by. She had an answer at the ready, however. “You don’t need a condom… if you put it up my butt… where I’ll enjoy it most…”

“I want to please you, Mary,” he stated like a confession to his priestess, a declaration to his queen, a proposal to his beloved, a bond with his fellow-fetishist.

She spun around, bent over, braced herself against the tiled wall. She felt his fingers explore, caress, tickle, penetrate, soap the aperture. He sniffed the fingers that had just been in both her orifices.

“Not yet, big boy!” she directed, reaching between her legs to direct his missile to her silo. “…We’re not ready for launch just yet… push it in slow… that’s it, even slower, savor the sensations, see how tight it is?”

Mary was secretly pleased that he kept the erection. She was elated at the feeling of a real cock there, after so many years of playing with just anal dildos and vibrators. It wasn’t like they’d removed their training wheels; it was like they’d graduated to motorcycles suddenly. She adjusted to the intrusion, was now ready to rev their engines in tandem.

“Fuck me in the ass, Roger! Yes, fuck me, lover! That’s it, in and out, fuck my butt! Oh, fuck, that’s good!” She pressed on the shower stall door, it swung open. “I want you to look at something, Roger…” On their way from bed to bath, Mary had snagged her soiled thong from off the handlebars and left the garment on the sink, just out of reach of the two in the shower. “My stinky underwear is right there… right there if you want them… they smell to high heaven of pussy… but don’t you want to try the real thing, Roger? Finger my pussy, yes, finger me there while you fuck my butt… God, that’s good! …Now smell your hand…Smell fresh vagina for a change…”

It had been instantaneous before, now it happened in slow motion. Roger felt what seemed like a bowling ball of fire deep inside him start to roll, building in speed and intensity, rolling, growing, burning, yes…!” He thrust in and out of Mary’s tight anus instinctually, his hips hammering into her, his stomach spanking her bottom, fucking her like she’d never been fucked before, as he had never fucked in his life, as he came in vitriolic, violent spurts into her. She remember the sticky web he’d spun all over her in the bedroom, imagined that same stuff erupting into her now. Mary touched her clitoris, like a kitten clawing at her mommy-cat, just one scratch with a paw, and… She started to climax in the push-button fashion that Roger was famous for, squeezing his cock with butterfly kisses from her other mouth, making her womb spasm, and pussy clench, her clit explode.

They hugged and huddled under the cascading water that obliterated the tears both were shedding, as they simultaneously had the same thought at the exact same second. Well, that went better than I could’ve hoped…

6 responses to “#274) Sniff, Then Scratch”

  1. This somewhat dates me but considering the Dapper and polite Mr. Rogers I couldn’t help but think of these lines…albeit a kinky version thereof

    “So let’s make the most of this beautiful day,
    Since we’re together we might as well say,
    Would you be mine
    Could you be mine…
    Won’t you be my neighbor”

    Liked by 1 person

    • K,
      I confess that I NEVER ONCE thought of THAT Mr. Rogers when writing this, but…
      Mary is a wonderfully kinky lay,
      Her tight butt cheeks Rogers did widely splay,
      Would he be able to
      Could he be able to…
      Be her butt-fuck-buddy?

      Liked by 1 person

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