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Last night I walked up behind Charles and kissed his neck. I noticed his bodyís fragrance. He never has a strong odor and can go a long time without bathing (something Iím sure he wonít appreciate my sharing with the world). I could believe his sweat glands secret a natural disinfectant. Maybe his health is so fragile that even bacteria cannot thrive on his body.
Charles voice kindled me the first time I heard him speak: the classic, ever more rare voice of a Southern nelly gay man. The first time we hugged I was almost overcome by his scent; his natural scent, not cologne. If pheromones could be crafted like perfume I donít think Iíd find a mix more lovable and erotic.
My desire to sustain and strengthen him often seems most manifest when Iím under the spell of his natural scent.