Perfumed Asshore

I love writing about the strangeness I encounter in the dating trenches. Universal principles of female nature are more fun to continually rediscover when they’re embroidered with quirks and hiding under free-bushing skirts.

However, I’ve had to curtail recounting these exploits in a public forum as increasing numbers of Chateau guests have emailed to say they’ve recommended the blog to their sons, and sometimes daughters. When I hear about this in the middle of contemplating another launch of raunch, a feeling comes over me……one I can’t quite describe…..it’s so alien to me…..guilt, yes that’s it. Guilt, mixed with embarrassment. Apparently, I think of the children more than Hillary Clinton’s Cunt Corp does.

But I can’t resist this tale of the tail. So to any parents reading, please usher your children to their radiator shackles.

I girl I dated had a perfumed asshole. She was half-Asian (not the same Asian chick as the one featured in this post). I caught a whiff when she straddled me 69 style to suck me off. Her ass bobbed closer and closer to my nose, and the scent of jasmine (assmine?) wafted pleasantly across my face. Sweetest smelling mini-vag I ever sniffed.

For Lucifer knows what reason, I never bothered to ask why her asshole smelled like perfume. Best explanation I can give is that when I’m in the bone zone I let fleeting and amusing thoughts escape transmission to my tongue, so while I may think it, I never get around to vocalizing it. If it’s a particularly unusual assfectation, it can feel awkward to bring it up. So I enjoy the sensation and the farcical quality of the moment and leave it at that.

Recapping, I wonder now what that hapa’s perfumed asshore meant. I come up with five possibilities.

1. it’s an inscrutable oriental thing
2. her asshole was either congenitally very smelly, or she adhered to a higher standard for asshole freshness, and perfuming it helped her live with herself
3. it was an olfactory invitation to me alone to rectally ravage her (rim jobs are out of the question, jeez people, i’m not a savage)
4. she was a serial sphincter spritzer, and the jasmine aroma was the equivalent of a sexual history report card. straight As in anal play
5. she had just had a spicy dog stew

If you have a memorable time with a woman who perfumes her asshole, you’ll think “that’s brisk baby!” and have an immediate compulsion to come to the Chateau to share your glory. We’ll be here with the lights on. Because proctology dies in darkness.