Scientists tell us that the sense of scent is primordial, closely tied to core needs. The brain localizes the olfactory neurons responsible for scent suspiciously close to the neurons that control reproductive behavior. Maybe that’s why I remember the aromas from that first time.

We were in the last year of school. I had noticed her all year, the tall, seemingly remote, strikingly gorgeous blonde in my calculus class named Cindy. None of us really seemed to know her, but the rumors swirled. Didn’t someone say they had overheard her talking about modeling?

She did always seem so well put together… just the right clothes to complement her svelte curves. And, of course, she always seemed to have the right answers in class. Got all the proofs before anyone else. Knew the theorems up and down. Could integrate with the best of ‘em.

What we all knew for sure was that her boyfriend, James, really couldn’t be right for her. He seemed, well, just so mousey. Slinking along behind her, seeming to serve her wishes in a quiet manner. Every guy in the class figured that he was her toy, and hoped that they would be first in line when the time came for her to move on to a “real man.”

Charlie. That was the first scent I noticed. She always wore a thick necklace with an “O” shaped container, filled with the perfume known as the fragrance of the strong woman. For many months, that was the aroma I associated with Cindy.

By January, word on the street was that James and Cindy were on the way out. Sad, really, after a couple of years of what seemed like submissive bliss on his part. But, Cindy was ready to move on, to extend her charms in other directions.

I never quite understood why she turned to me next. The rugged and the meek both could have won her over easily, but I was neither extreme, just kind of average in all ways. But over several weeks, we began to talk, to exchange pleasantries. Nothing very heavy or serious, but enough to become comfortable being together.

One day, with a long weekend coming up, I asked if she would like to meet Saturday afternoon someplace downtown, away from each other’s families and from any chance of running into classmates. To my joy, she agreed!

We found our way to the modern art museum and learned that our tastes in Picasso and Kandinsky overlapped. A couple of coffees later, and we were holding hands, strolling the gently sloping circular exhibit hall. Charlie and Cindy… I couldn’t separate the two!

By the next weekend, we were making out at a friend’s house, an informal party that turned into a couples’ retreat. We had paired off, and Cindy and I found a futon with our names on it. I really couldn’t believe my good fortune, to be entwined limb by limb with this beauty. 

When she slowly but noticeably ground her pelvis into mine, I realized that there was simply no way, no room to hide my incredibly painful erection from her. And that’s exactly what she was hoping would be my situation.

“I can feel you’re hard,” she whispered. With a soft giggle, she added, “I was hoping you would be!” 

And with that, she took my hand, and deftly slipped it under the top of her corduroy pants, past the lacy top of her panties, and right into the moist warmth of the soft hairs. Seconds later, I discovered the slickness of her excitement, and a quick tour around the neighborhood led me to insert two fingers deep between the lips. She sighed into my mouth, thrusting her mons up against my palm, and away we went for my first thrill ride!

Did I make her cum? I never knew and was way too shy to ask. But she certainly seemed to enjoy my efforts.

For my part, I went home hiding my hard penis from all who would see me, as her hand didn’t quite make it as far as mine did. But, once home, I finished what never really got started. Had to, really, if I wanted to fall asleep! While one hand rapidly stroked my cock, the fingers of the other were affixed to my nose, as I inhaled a whole new scent of Cindy.

My birthday was soon upon us, and she promised a special gift. In school, I had access to the photographic darkrooms, primarily for their use for certain science experiments I had been working on that required careful control over light and dark. I was entrusted with a key to the darkroom, which I now realized was a gift from heaven for a guy with raging hormones, a drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend, and an unquenchable thirst for private fun.

We closeted ourselves in the darkroom so she could give me my gift.

Quietly, swiftly, she sat beside and searched for the hard cock she had only tentatively explored before. Zipper down. Underwear pushed aside. In seconds, her warm, soft hand engulfed me, stroking slowly. Incredulously, I watched as she leaned over and took me in her mouth. Yes, I had read… had heard, but never experienced what she was giving freely to me now.

Being my first blowjob, you might imagine I would cum in seconds, a few minutes at best. What young man could resist such excitement, such exquisite pleasure? To her frustration, and to mine as well, it seemed to take forever for me to cum.

But, after ages, maybe ten or twenty minutes, who knows, her careful and patient ministrations with her warm, suckling mouth brought me to my climax. And she gulped my semen down greedily. Bells were ringing, time to go! But first, a kiss, a soft sweet exchange of oral fluids, tinged with the taste and smell of my cum shared between lovers.

As the next several weeks passed, we had little opportunity to be alone. Sure, quick chats in the halls, furtive make-outs in the stairs, but not what we both seemed to crave. Vacation was coming up, however, and our time would arrive.

We met by the bus stop near my house. Middle of the day, no parents to avoid, no neighbors home to witness. We quietly walked to my home, entered the small brick structure, and swiftly moved to my bedroom. There, she softly pushed me down to the bed. Words were yet to be exchanged, yet we knew the plan. She quickly removed her blouse, revealing her simple white bra filled with her superb breasts. 

“Shall I model my underwear for you?” she asked while twirling around. 

Fool that I was, too eager and youthful for my own good, I shook my head no, and we got down to complete the business of disrobing. In a near instant, we were naked together, lying side by side on my single bed, the same bed in which I had jerked off so many times dreaming about sex with her.

Her tits filled my hands, and still, I couldn’t contain their perfect shape and size. Nipples penetrated the skin of my palms, begging for my fingers to slide over and around, learning the magic of a gentle twist to make her moan. She slid down and took my hard cock into her mouth, but this time I felt the need, the desire, to return the favor.

Moving down now between her legs, I came face to lips with my first pussy. Tentatively, I slid my tongue between the pouting, wet, nearly pulsing lips. Wafting up to my nose was that same aroma, that same scent I slept with weeks before, the same scent I think I can still recall these many decades later.

Using my fingers, lips, and tongue, I brought her to the edge and over, feeling the muscles of her pussy contract in sequence around my fingers while she squirmed, moaned, and maybe even sighed above me.

The main event was next. She pulled me up through her legs, through her flexed knees. Missionary, of course. Now, this was the 70’s, and the main thing we worried about back then was pregnancy. And of course, she had just finished her period last week, she reassured me, so we both knew (?) that she couldn’t get pregnant.

So, my initiation to intercourse was unsheathed, unprotected, and delicious. Unlike the first blowjob, my first fuck was fast and to the point. Two minutes, I’m sure, and I was lying on my back, panting and rapturous. 

As she climbed over me, cum leaking out of her pussy and running down my thigh, she whispered into my ear, “I love the smell of your cum. Almost as much as the taste.” 

And with that, she dipped her fingers into her pussy, brought back up the mixture of juices, and slowly sniffed and licked them before my fascinated eyes. Round two was next, a bit longer, and just as amazing.

Years later, I still wonder what happened to Cindy. We didn’t last another two weeks. We had our moment, our pleasure. Once the moment had passed, the relationship had no foundation upon which to build. Lesson learned. But, even now, the perfume of her sex and the sexuality of her perfume waft back to me through the ages. The scents of Cindy.