I take a deep breath and smell with joy the mixture of perfumes and pussy oils.
That's actually their killer punch. One fragrant angel in a massage parlour early one morning (by which I mean 11 am, when the flower is fresh and yet to be ravished by the day's mongers) knew I would love that sweet watering hole of hers -- she was so confident !! And she was right. When she allowed herself to be coaxed to doff her t-shirt and her jeans she proudly knelt before my prostate figure and announced softly that her panty was new and she wouldn't like me to soil it. Thirteen seconds later when my face found its burial place I was happily inhaling from the freshest and sweetest petals I had ever found in this garden of eden. It is a fragrance that still lives with me, a memento of that lucky morning when the early bird got its clit-shaped worm.
