I'd walked to the climbing centre because it was only twenty minutes from my flat and I'd needed the fresh air. February evening, cold enough to make my breath fog, but the walk would warm me up.

Vic was already there when I arrived, chatting with a guy by the chalk bags. Brown hair, wiry build, a bit gawky, but there were definitely some muscles there.

"Ally, this is Mike," Vic said. "Climbs here most Wednesdays."

"Alright," I said, shaking his warm, calloused palm briefly.

We got changed in the respective changing rooms and met at the bouldering wall. The session was good. Vic and I pushed each other on a tricky overhang problem while Mike worked a different route, occasionally offering beta when we got stuck. He was decent company. Made me laugh when he completely arsed up a dynamic move and landed flat on the mat.

An hour and a half later, Vic checked her phone and swore. "Shit, I've got to run. My niece's birthday party started ten minutes ago."

"You're already late; another five minutes won't matter," I said.

"Her mum will have my head." Vic was already jogging toward the changing rooms. "See you both later!"

Mike and I finished our routes, then headed to get changed. I grabbed my bag from the locker, pulled out my clothes, and immediately felt the damp fabric. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

My water bottle had leaked. Completely soaked everything. My jumper, my T-shirt, even my jeans were damp. I held up the jumper, and water dripped onto the floor.

I stuffed the wet clothes back in my bag, resigned to walking home in my climbing gear. Thin shorts and a sports bra that left my midriff exposed. Fine for the centre, less fine for a twenty-minute walk in February. When I came out, Mike was waiting near the entrance, hoodie on, car keys in hand.

"You OK? You didn’t change," he asked.

"My water bottle leaked, and my jumper's completely soaked. "I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder. "Going to freeze my tits off walking home."

He pulled off his hoodie without hesitating. "Here, take this. I'm driving, so I don't need it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, of course." He held it out. Navy blue, well-worn, soft-looking. "I'd offer you a lift, but you probably don't fancy getting in a car with some bloke you've just met."

"Appreciate that, yeah. But thanks for this." I took the hoodie. It was still warm from his body. "I'll get it back to you through Vic or if I see you next week."

"No rush."

He headed to the car park, and I started the walk home. Five minutes in, the cold really started biting, and I snuggled deep into the hoodie. That's when I smelt him.

Not cologne or deodorant, though there was a faint trace of something clean underneath. Sweat, not rank, just warm and masculine and earthy. I pulled the collar up to my nose without thinking and breathed in.

Fuck. My stomach twisted. I breathed in again, deeper this time, and felt heat spread through my chest and lower.

What the fuck was this?

I'd never reacted to someone's smell like this before. I forced myself to lower the fabric and tried to focus on just getting home. But every few steps I'd catch another whiff, and my stomach would tighten. I let myself into the flat, dropped my bag by the door, and kicked off my trainers. Told myself I'd have a cup of tea, maybe watch something, and calm down whatever this weirdness was.

Instead, I went straight to my bedroom. I peeled off my shorts and left them on the floor. I stood there in just my sports bra and knickers, the hoodie still on, and brought the collar to my face again.

Oh God. The scent was stronger in the warmth of my flat. Richer, more intense. I could almost taste it at the back of my throat. My nipples were already hard against the tight fabric of my sports bra, two points of almost painful sensitivity, and between my legs I was soaked through my knickers.

I climbed onto my bed, lay back against the pillows, and pulled the hood over my face. Surrounded by his smell. Breathing him in with every inhale.

My hand slid down my stomach of its own accord, fingers slipping into my knickers. When I touched myself, I let out a sound that was half gasp, half moan. I was absolutely dripping; I could feel it coating my fingers immediately.

This was insane. I barely knew him. We'd climbed together for an hour and a half, exchanged maybe twenty sentences, and now I was lying in my bed about to get myself off because his fucking hoodie smelt good.

But I couldn't stop.

I pushed my knickers down and kicked them off, spreading my legs wide. The fabric of the hoodie brushed against my bare thighs, and I shuddered. I brought the sleeve to my face with my free hand, pressed it against my nose and mouth, and inhaled deeply while my other hand moved between my legs.

I started slow, just running my fingertips along my outer lips, feeling how swollen they were. I was so aroused; everything felt hypersensitive, every touch sending sparks up through my belly. I traced along the space between my thighs and my vagina, teasing myself, building the pleasure.

"Oh fuck," I breathed into the fabric.

I thought about him at the climbing centre. Those wiry arms, the way his shoulders and back moved when he reached for a hold. His hands, rough palms, the calluses I'd felt when we shook hands. I thought about those hands on me instead, touching me where I was touching myself.

I hadn’t even realised how much I had noticed him. During the day I hadn’t been attracted to him at all; he really wasn’t my type. But now, fuck, now he was all I could think about. 

I slid my fingers through my folds, parting them, feeling how slick I was. My arousal had spread everywhere, coating my inner thighs, and when I stroked along my inner lips, I could hear the wet sound of it. I circled my opening with one fingertip, pressed just slightly inside, then pulled back. Teasing.

My clit was throbbing. I could feel it pulsing, swollen and desperate for attention, but I made myself wait. I stroked around it instead, over the hood, with light touches that made my hips jerk.

"Yes," I heard myself say, voice muffled by the hood. "Fuck."

I dipped two fingers inside myself, just to the first knuckle, and my back arched off the bed. I was so wet they slid in easily, and the feeling made me moan. I pulled them out, used the wetness to lubricate my clit, and started circling it properly.

The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. I gasped, and my legs fell open wider, heels digging into the mattress. I kept the pressure light, just my fingertips, swirling in small circles over and around my clit, building the pleasure slowly, letting it spread through my body.

The hoodie shifted against my skin with every movement, and I could smell him everywhere, all around me, like he was right there in the bed with me. That warm, masculine, earthy scent filled my lungs, making my head swim.

My free hand pulled the collar tighter against my face, and I moaned, louder this time. I couldn't help it. The scent, the feel of the soft fabric, the rhythm of my fingers, it was all building into something overwhelming.

I slid my fingers back down, gathered more wetness, then returned to my clit. This time I used more pressure, and the pleasure ratcheted up immediately. I could feel it building in my lower belly, a tight coiling sensation that made my thighs start to shake.

"God, yes," I gasped.

I imagined him on top of me, his body pressing me into the mattress, his weight pinning me down. His face buried in my neck the way mine was buried in his hoodie. What would he smell like up close, skin to skin? What would he taste like if I licked the hollow of his throat, the curve where his neck met his shoulder?

I changed the motion, rubbing my clit side to side now, faster. I was getting close; I needed more.

I slid two fingers inside myself, fully this time, deep, and pressed against my front wall. I started thrusting them in and out, not too fast, finding a rhythm while my thumb took over on my clit.

The dual sensation was almost too much. Every time I thrust my fingers in, my thumb pressed harder against my clit, and the pleasure was building so fast I could barely breathe.

"Oh God, oh fuck," I cried to the empty room.

The hoodie was getting damp with sweat where it clung to my skin, and I was burning up, but I couldn't take it off.

I buried my face deeper into the hood, breathing him in with desperate gulps of air. I added a third finger, and cried out, louder than before. My cunt was gripping them tight, muscles contracting with every thrust.

I pumped my fingers faster now, harder, really fucking myself with them while my thumb worked my clit in tight little circles. The pressure was building to a breaking point, that coiling in my belly getting tighter and tighter.

"Please, yes, please." I moaned into my empty flat. My thighs started shaking, my muscles trembling. I could feel it right there, so close, just out of reach.

I was right on the edge, teetering, every nerve ending screaming. My thumb pressed hard against my clit, and I rubbed in fast, firm circles, chasing it.

"Oh fuck, oh God, yes, yes."

It built and built, the tension winding tighter in my core, my cunt clenching around my fingers, my clit throbbing under my thumb. I was so close, right there; I just needed a little more. I just needed...

The orgasm crashed into me, and I screamed into the hoodie.

My whole body locked up, back lifting clean off the mattress, every muscle going rigid. The pleasure exploded from where my fingers were buried inside me and radiated outward in waves. My fingers were caressed by rhythmic pulses so strong I could feel them in my stomach, and my clit pulsed in time under my thumb.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop my hips from bucking against my hand as the orgasm tore through me. It felt like electricity, like every nerve in my body was firing at once. My toes curled so hard they cramped.

When it finally started to ebb, I was gasping for breath, my whole body shaking. Small aftershocks rippled through me, making my muscles twitch.

I lay there for a long moment, fingers still inside me, face still pressed to the hood. My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. My legs were trembling, small tremors I couldn't control.

Then reality crept back in and embarrassment flooded through me. I'd just masturbated to the smell of a man's hoodie. A man I'd met once. A man I hadn’t even been attracted to.

But my body was still humming with pleasure, and I inhaled again, getting another lungful of his scent.

I pulled my fingers out slowly, wincing at how sensitive I was. My hand was soaked, glistening. I wiped it on my thigh and told myself to stop, to get up, take the hoodie off, and have a shower.

But I didn't. Instead I reached up and started working the sports bra off, which was awkward as fuck with the hoodie still on. But it was baggy enough that I managed. When the hoodie settled back over me and the fabric dragged across my bare nipples, the sensation made me gasp. They were so sensitive, tight and aching, and the soft worn cotton felt incredible against them.

I shifted slightly, feeling the hoodie move over my breasts. I brought the sleeve back to my face with one hand while the other slid back down between my legs.

"Oh God," I whispered.

When I touched my clit again, it was almost too much, but I couldn't stop. I circled it gently at first, letting the sensation build gradually.

I thought about seeing him again. Returning the hoodie through Vic, acting normal, pretending I hadn't done this. Would I be able to look at him? Would he somehow know?

The thought made fresh arousal gather between my legs. I could feel myself getting wetter again.

I slid my fingers back inside, just two this time, going slow. My walls were tender and swollen, and I could feel every ridge, every movement. I stroked along my front wall, gentle pumping motions, while my thumb found my clit.

"Yes," I breathed. "Oh fuck."

Slow thrusts of my fingers while my thumb swirled around my clit. Not rushing it this time, drawing it out, letting the pleasure build in layers.

I imagined running into him at the climbing centre next week. Him asking if his hoodie had kept me warm. Maybe he'd smile, and I'd catch his scent again, fresh and immediate.

My hips started rolling, grinding against my hand. I added more pressure to my clit, rubbing in firmer circles.

I moved my fingers faster. My other hand fisted in the fabric by my face, and I buried my nose in it, inhaling so hard it made me dizzy. The scent flooded my senses, and I felt my body starting to tighten, that familiar coiling low in my core.

The hoodie continued to drag across my nipples as my breathing got heavier. I thrust my fingers deeper, curled them harder, and rubbed my clit in fast tight circles.

I could feel it building, that pressure winding tighter and tighter. My thighs started shaking again, and I spread them wider, giving myself more access. 

"Oh fuck, oh God, Mike." His name tore out of me, and suddenly I was cumming, harder than the first time, my vagina so tight on my fingers so I couldn't move them, muscles spasming in rapid pulses. The orgasm ripped through me like a shockwave.

It felt like my whole body was convulsing. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain. My clit was throbbing so hard under my thumb I could feel my pulse there, rapid and desperate.

Between my legs I was gushing, soaking my hand, my thighs, and definitely the hoodie and probably the sheets underneath. My nipples were so hard they ached, and every time the hoodie shifted against them, it sent fresh sparks of pleasure through my body.

"Mike, fuck, yes, yes, yes!"

I couldn't stop moaning, couldn't stop gasping his name as wave after wave rolled through me. I couldn't do anything but ride it out.

When it finally started to release me, I collapsed back against the pillows, sobbing for breath, my whole body shaking violently.

My hand fell away from between my legs and just lay there on my thigh, soaked past the wrist. The hoodie was damp with sweat, clinging to my skin. I could feel my heartbeat everywhere. pounding in my ears, my chest, my cunt.

I did feel mortified. But I also felt fucking incredible. I pulled the hood back slightly, letting cooler air hit my flushed face, and stared up at my ceiling. The hoodie would need washing before I gave it back. Obviously. I couldn't return it like this, reeking of sex and sweat.

But maybe not tonight. Tonight I'd just lie here, wrapped in his scent, and try to work out what the fuck I was going to do next week when I saw him again.

I pulled the hood back over my face, breathed in deeply. Fuck. This was going to be a problem.