Confession: I Smell Girls’ Chairs When They Stand Up

It began in high school, during a particularly dreary biology class. She was the girl that sat in front of me, with a perfectly rounded ass that seemed to hypnotize me every time she shifted in her seat. Her name was Rachel, and she was kind of a bitch – but she had this amazing ass that really looked lovely when she pushed it down onto the chair. It was something deeper, something primal, something that called to me on a level I hadn’t even known existed.

One day, during a lecture, Rachel leaned back in her chair, her bottom lifting slightly from the cushion, allowing a sliver of her sweet scent to waft through the air and straight into my nostrils. I could see a bit of her ass crack and her thong and I swear what hit me was the air running through her ass. It was as if the heavens had opened up and whispered sweet nothings in my ear. The scent was faint, but it was there, and it was all I could do to focus on the teacher’s droning voice as I fantasized about what it would be like to bury my face those cheeks.

I never would have dared to act on this strange fascination, of course. Rachel was out of my league, and I was far too shy and inexperienced to even consider approaching her. But the smell remained, an ever-present reminder of the untouchable desire that had taken root in my teenage mind. After she left I pretended to drop a book on the ground near her chair, tilted my head to the side and sniffed it. I would cum hard over and over again imagining that scent and wishing my face was pushed against her ass for real.

Fast forward to my first real office job. Since then, I’ve honed my craft, so to speak. I’ve learned the art of subtlety—how to lean in just so, or to casually glance away at just the right moment, so no one suspects a thing. The thrill of it all is exhilarating, like a secret that only I know about, a naughty little habit that gets me through the dull workday.

There’s a woman in my office, let’s call her Laura. Laura has a habit of leaving her chair slightly warm when she gets up. She’s not heavy by any means, but the imprint of her body on the fabric is like a siren’s call to my nose. I find myself lingering in the vicinity of her workspace, waiting for the moment she’s out of the room, so I can lean in and inhale.

It’s not about Laura specifically; it’s about the scent. It’s about the thrill of knowing that I’m doing something so taboo, something so intimate, without her ever being the wiser. And oh, the smell—how it fills me with a heady mix of lust and longing, making my heart race and my palms sweat. There’s something so naughty about smelling a hot woman’s butt.

Response from Lexi:

Wow! It sounds like you’ve been carrying this fetish for quite a long time. It’s pretty normal for a single incident or person to spark something new that you carry forward with you for years (or even the rest of your life) – especially in your formative years!

I’d imagine most girls would be embarrassed that you’re smelling anything near their butt. But hey, what they don’t know won’t hurt them! Just don’t get caught!

 

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