So I had this friend back in uni, let’s call her Sportsgirl. Sportsgirl was… wait for it… really into athletics and hiking. She didn’t really have the height or build to go professional, and to be fair, it probably wasn’t something she wanted to do for a living either, but nevertheless, it seemed like every weekend she was away on some event or other, an ironman here, a half-marathon there, and so on.

I don’t even really know how we became friends – I don’t know how people like her make friends outside of their hobbies to begin with as it seems that’s all they talk about. She was one of those who was aloof in class, disappeared straight after, and never came to any nights out. I noticed her on day one because she stuck out like a sore thumb in her activewear and tube socks, as if she was meant to be on a PE course instead of ours. I decided I’d try and avail Sportsgirl of my oral talents, which she deserved by virtue of being attractive and crossing my path (high bar, I know).

I did my best attempt at unassumingly sitting close to her when I could. A few off-hand comments later about how much the class sucked, we struck up some short conversations. I quickly realised she was seriously lacking in the humour department, but shared my love of sarcasm and complaining, so we had something to build on. I tried to not let my eyes wander on her really well-defined calves or, God forbid, her thighs in those mesh shorts… hhhng.

A few times she invited me on a run, but I was in seriously shit shape (not overweight, just out of breath after a minute), so I always declined or flaked out. Now, I did have a huge thing for a sweaty mess of a woman after exercise, so I did seriously consider a lifestyle change once or twice. In the end, I was too lazy, and we didn’t click in a way that I wanted to pursue her for a relationship.

One Monday close to year-end, I noticed she wasn’t around on the classes we shared, so I messaged her to see if she was fine, maybe if she took off early on the summer break. She took a day to reply, saying she slipped away for a long hike up North, because she found a group that was going, and she wouldn’t have done it alone. She didn’t have constant access to a charger, so it was difficult to chat, but I did find out she was gone for the entire week, camping all the way through, without showers and, as she stressed, coffee.

Now, this is early June, and unusually hot for the UK (that kind of became usual since then)… so my monkey brain immediately went wild with my imagination. I mentioned above that I had a thing for sweaty women. At that time specifically, I was starting to explore my burgeoning fantasy about a truly natural woman, unshaven and unshowered, as the gods themselves surely intended. Whenever I went down on someone after they haven’t showered in a while, or maybe after some heavy dancing, I was incredibly turned on by the smell and taste.

I decided that I must meet her when she’s back. I didn’t know what I wanted out of it, but I was certain that even the sight of her would be incredibly hot for me. I offered to invite her for her first coffee when she’s back and set off to meet her as she got off the train.

I immediately noticed she was a mess coming out of the gates. Tangled hair, bags under the eyes, sunkissed cheeks, scratches everywhere on her legs, dirt on her boots, stains on her pits – freaking hot, in other words. I leaned in for a hug to confirm my suspicion, and yes, I could smell her from a few steps away. She had a strong scent of sweat, stale clothes, and something else that was just her own smell, but way stronger. It’s that kind of intoxicating smell that would make you gag if it was from someone you’re not attracted to, but here, I was under a spell. My caveman brain came storming out of the gates and clubbed every other thinking part unconscious.

She apologised, saying she had to cut out the deodorant and multiple change of clothes to keep the weight low – she wasn’t embarrassed about it though, which I liked. I jokingly said that I was just about to ask her for the name of her perfume because it was really nice, which she laughed at. She did have some sense of humour after all!

We got into a coffeeshop next to the station and made our way upstairs to chat. She told me everything about the trip and how great of a time she had. I asked if she got with anyone in the group while there. She was quick to say no, in a way that said “no way”. I stayed on topic, asking if she didn’t even get some head under the sheets at night in the tent. She laughed again, saying that no one would give anybody head in the conditions they were in.

Now I had to see how she responded and if there’s any chance she’s into it, so I told her that some people love going down too much to care. I added that I thought her group would be those kinds of people. She laughed again, saying that surely that wasn’t true. She continued saying that her group wasn’t like that… unfortunately, because she really could have used some head some of those nights.

Well, that was my slightly ajar door to push a little further! I told her (still in a bantery tone) that she should have invited me then. She called bullshit because it was like a bioweapon went off down there and I would have noped out. I retorted that I’d have been a gentleman and soldiered on, whatever it took. She laughed again, unconvinced, but I could maybe see some gears turning.

After I pause, being as nonchalant as possible, I asked her how about now, does she still want to be eaten out? She just called me straight out, asking if I was propositioning her. I said yeah, I didn’t want to leave her in need. She called bullshit on my fake charity, and asked, probably a bit too loudly, if I wanted to eat her nasty, five-day pussy. I said yes again, without any doubt in my voice. She thought for a few seconds, shrugged and said that if I went down there’s no turning back, and she’d keep my head there if I had second thoughts. I gulped and said that was waaayy hotter than I think she realised. She also told me she’s not fucking me, to which I replied that I wasn’t going to even suggest that, this was just about her.

She smirked and mentioned her roommate wasn’t home. I asked what we were waiting for, so we grabbed our stuff and out we went. It was a looong 20 minutes to her place. All the while I could still smell her, which was driving me crazy, and we’re trying to small talk as if we weren’t on the way for me to put my mouth on some hardcore pussy. My thinking brain has come to since the earlier beating and I’m wondering what I may have gotten myself into… where is she in her cycle? What if she’s got a raging yeast infection from not being able to wipe properly? What if she couldn’t clean her ass well enough? I decide there and then that now I owe her to finish the mission, come what may, and leave her pussy shining spotless by the time I’m done.

When we got in, I crouched down to help her out of her boots. She was surprised, but pleasantly. I actually wanted to get a whiff of her feet but wasn’t ready to betray yet another out-there fetish just yet. I really shouldn’t have bothered to crouch, because they stank so much that I could have gotten the same experience if I was just standing next to her. I cannot say I didn’t enjoy it though, but decided it wasn’t the right time to open that particular door.

I made the mistake of staying down there a second too long and couldn’t help myself from touching and kissing her thighs. I wanted her to sit somewhere comfortable first, but I couldn’t stop. I unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them off at the same time with her panties. Quick glance on her gusset, which was totally caked but nothing untoward so that’s good… when her scent hit me. A very strong mix of pussy, the sweet smell of stale urine, and days old sweat… I couldn’t help but groan. She had a lightly trimmed bush, which was now all kinds of a sticky, wet, tangled mess.

It was as if gravity was pulling me in. She rested one of her legs on my shoulder and I just absolutely dove in and devoured her, sucking her lips, licking up and swallowing her juices. When she grabbed my head and pulled it into her, I took it as a sign to focus on her clit. After that, she took no longer than 20 seconds.

When she came down, I pulled away to give her some space to breathe and said the first words since entering her flat, pointing out that she must have really needed that. She let out the biggest sigh of relief I’ve seen, and just nodded. It looked like all my worries were unfounded and she tasted phenomenal, so I led her to the living room, and she laid back on the couch. I got on my knees and got to work again, determined to drain every ounce of pleasure from her.

I must have done at least half an hour, alternating between sucking her lips, tonguing her, and bathing her clit. Towards the end it got too sensitive, so I’d made good use of my fingers to get that extra orgasm. Normally I use my fingers more, but I wanted everything on my tongue and lips this time.

I could still smell her feet, and, having gotten as far as I wanted already, offered her a foot massage. She laughed in a sort of “of course he’s into that shit too” way and gave me her feet. When I managed to take her socks off, I was not disappointed. Calloused, full of sock lint, dirty, and above all, smelly. After massaging them for a few minutes, I wanted to push my luck and see if she was into me sucking her toes, so I looked up to ask… and found her fast asleep. So then I’m like, shit, what does one do in that situation??

I decided to stick around, not the least because I couldn’t see any way to lock the door if I left. After a few painstaking hours of browsing my phone, she finally came to. The first thing she said that she could use another orgasm. That was music to my ears, so I practically slid on my knees.

The thing about her juices was that I didn’t stop smelling them until I slathered my beard with shampoo later… twice. I can probably still recall the smell and taste.