Jen sipped her latte. She was sitting in a Starbucks with Mr. Johnny number eleven. She looked super sexy in her short skirt and slinky sheer pantyhose
Mr. Johnny number eleven wasn’t really Mr. Johnny number eleven’s real name. Mr. Johnny number eleven’s real name was Jack. He sold furniture in a store in Waukegan Illinois. He lived in a trailer in Beach Park Illinois. His trailer smelled like socks. He had emailed Jen and set up this coffee date after seeing a character on an episode of “Law & Order” that reminded Jack of Jen. That inspired Jack to yank out creamer thinking about Jen’s fine legs.
“I bet your shwang smells like a blueberry muffin!” said Jen. “Larry’s Prick was ugly and smelled like ammonia, limburger and, old sweat socks.”
Larry was an old friend of Jack’s who dated Jen for about a year.
“I can’t blame him for having an ugly penis, but, I mean, limburger is a good cheese if you like limburger, and then maybe you might like the smell of limburger cheese, but a man’s penis shouldn’t smell like limburger. I suppose you could say that a guy’s dick shouldn’t smell like a blueberry muffin, but a blueberry muffin is a pleasant smell that can be appreciated as a pleasant scent on its own. You can’t say that about limburger. Have you ever seen a limburger scented candle? I’ve actually seen a “blueberry muffin” scented candle. I’ve never seen a “limburger” scented candle. I’ve never seen an “ammonia” or “old sweat socks” scented candle either. It’s like…”
Jen gave Jack a perplexed look. “It’s like…like if my pussy smelled like a dead old goat, or something of that nature.” She said “That wouldn’t be right, and I wouldn’t expect Larry to suck on it if it did. I’d sure want to get the dead old goat smell out of my cunt before I’d present it to any respectable man. I mean a gal knows when she needs to douche, right?”
Jen spread her legs a little and exposed her crotch to Jack on purpose. Jack thought it would have been dandy to kneel down in between her legs and slurp at her exposed snatch through a hole cut out of the cotton crotch of her pantyhose; sucking her warm tasty twat into a hot quivering quim. Jack considered excusing himself, going to the restroom and yanking out a creamer.
“Well,” Jack replied, “Maybe Larry didn’t know his penis smelled like ammonia, limburger and, old sweat socks.”
Jen looked like she saw a ghost. “Do you really think he might not have known his penis smelled like ammonia, limburger and, old sweat socks?”
“It’s possible.” Jack said “I know this woman at work who wears a ton of stinky perfume and she sure doesn’t realize it.”
“Oh my…Yes. I might smell bad and not know it. Jen looked shocked and a little worried. "My cunt might smell like a dead old goat or something of that nature, and I just don’t know it! Did Larry ever tell you my cooch stinks?”
“Well, he never talked about that kind of thing much, but he did say he didn’t like oral with you” Jack lied. Larry ALWAYS talked about sex. He said Jen’s box was the sweetest slit he’d ever tasted, but he also told Jack that he rarely performed oral sex on her. He preferred to lay back and sip beer while watching Jen suck his shwantz.
“Oh my…” said Jen, “Jack, I need you to sniff my muff and tell me if it smells like a dead old goat or something of that nature. What are you doing next Tuesday?”
“Next Tuesday? I think I’ll be in Philly.” Jack said “I can give it a sniff tonight if you want.”
“I want to give a good douche and a few days to air out first. I want to play Parcheesi tonight.” Said Jen
“Ok, we could do that” Jack conceded “but why don’t I give your tampon socket a sniff tonight. That way, if it doesn’t smell like a dead old goat or something of that nature, you can be comforted in the knowledge that the problem is not that your box smells like a dead old goat or something of that nature and you are unable to discern that on your own. You will know that your honey pot doesn’t smell like a dead old goat or something of that nature.” Jack explained, “Then I can come and sniff your snapper periodically so that if it ever does smell like a dead old goat or something of that nature, and you are unable to discern that on your own, I will be there to tell you.”
“Oh Jack, would you do that for me?” Jen’s eyes welled up and for a moment it looked as if she might cry. “You’re so considerate. Maybe I can take a sniff of your shwantzer and see if it smells like a blueberry muffin!”
“You know, I never said my penis smells like a blueberry muffin” Jack replied, “but you can give it a sniff if you want to”
“I know you never claimed that your penis smells like a blueberry muffin, but now I’m really curious.” Jen admitted. “So it’s settled. We’ll go to my place and play a little Parcheesi, unless you have a game and want to go to your house.”
“No” said Jack “I don’t have a Parcheesi board at my house. I must admit, you’ll have to show me how to play.”
“You’re not familiar with Parcheesi, the Royal game of India? It was played in India around 500 BC. It was played on the palace grounds and used slave girls as the red, yellow blue and green pawns. You need 2 dice. Five has a special value.” Jen explained. We’ll go to my place, I show you how to play Parcheesi, and I have a 2 hour documentary we can watch about it too, then you can sniff my cooze and tell me if it smells like a dead old goat or something of that nature. Then I can take a sniff of your shlong and see if it smells like a blueberry muffin! I’ll douche tomorrow and let my pussy air out a bit before you come over next Tuesday if you’re not in Philly and give my cockpit a sniff and tell me if it smells like a dead old goat or something of that nature. You can tell me if the douche helped.”
“Yes. I think I was mistaken about Tuesday. I’ll be there” Jack said “Perhaps I could develop a rating scale…”
“Ok. Let’s go” said Jen standing up.
It wasn’t far to Jen’s apartment. Jack was very patient and watched the 2 hour documentary about Parcheesi. Then Jen taught him to play, and they played a game. It was about 11:00 pm and Jack wanted to sniff Jens fuck hole.
“Oh Jack, I’m so glad you got in touch with me.” Said Jen, “I had a great time tonight. Now would you find it in your heart to give my coochie a sniff and tell me if it smells like a dead old goat or something of that nature, I’d certainly appreciate it!”
“Sure.” Let me take a whiff of that cooter.” Said Jack as he bent towards her.
“Ok…wait Jack.” Jen lay on her back on the floor. She hiked her skirt up as she lifted her legs into the air and positioned herself as a turkey waiting to be stuffed. The crotch of her pantyhose had been cut out so that her trimmed stench trench was proudly presented to Jack.
“Does my meat wallet smell like a dead old goat or something of that nature?”