stinky funkin funk

Jordan Pilato

His coffee breath nauseated her, as it did every other morning during their pre-work romping. It was so modern. Without fail they would meet thirty minutes prior to work in the foyer. She, with her freshly brushed teeth, chomping at the bit to get the funk rolling. He, with a half consumed cup of coffee, already half erect from the diuretic that fueled him. Leaning over as they stood in the crowded elevator, he would whisper- his warm bitter breath causing her to shiver- how he would take his naughty girl this morning. With a lot of cream and sugar presumably... she would think to herself. Into his office they would parade and on his desk they would perform a one act that their co-workers would faintly smell all day when they passed center stage. Truthfully, Henry, her boss, revealed in the stink they made- he helped her make rather. She was well aware of this and on some level sincerely appreciated his obsession with the stink she would inevitably espouse. You see, she had a condition she thought no one could learn to love except she herself. It had a medical name, but for all intensive purposes, we shall refer to it as the stink. Like fish sticks drenched in chocolate milk and left out on a swelteringly hot summer day, her odor, her essence, her proverbial aura, could draw alley cats for miles in search of a delectable meal. A simple trip to the ‘gyno’ would have fixed this condition, but on some sick level, like getting a whiff of one’s own b.o., she derived a certain sense of pleasure from this sent that was all her own. Her nostrils would flare with delight as he pounded her on his desk. The pheromones, long since forgotten by most nostrils tainted with taint’s sprayed with perfume, now aroused in them both a primal being of antediluvian spirits who fucked not only for pleasure but for scent. Henry would wallow in it all day, sniffing his fingers and desk intermittently for boosts in energy. He would even pee sitting down so that he might lean forward toward the toilet bowl and his dangling third participle and breathe in heavily, the noxious scent of fish and nut sweat that loomed like a fog over his pelvic region for the day’s entirety.

Neither of them was aware, but the scent had begun to arouse the entire offices primordial desires for such scentual and sensual relations. Slowly but surely, they would too come to love the stink, come to imitate the stink, cum to the stink....

However, it is essential first to discover how these two secret lovers, came into this foul existence. That is, how Henry and Rose discovered what lay beneath one another.