Goodness, me, where do I begin. Not sure if the thread necessitates TMI, but two are. You have been warned. Let’s go in reverse chronological order.
I was going down on a gal, using proper teasing techniques. As my tongue initially parted her slit and tasted her love juices, something… wasn’t quite right. The taste was a bit unpleasant, but what was most shocking was the texture. Her wetness was a cross between partially gelled gelatin and the glue credit card companies use to secure their card to the letter when they mail it to you. There wasn’t very much that was that texture, but by the time I figured out that it was, it was all already on the tip of my tongue. Being a gentleman, I didn’t want to make , a big deal about it and embarrass her. My hands were wrapped under her legs, so I did the only rational thing; I swallowed it.
My friend was moving recently, and called me up to help him move a deep-freeze out from his basement. The guy in the basement said, “it stinks”. Again, this should have set off warning bells, since he’s the kind of guy who describes my most rank farts as, “smelling like baby powder”. So, I show up to their place, and the rumor was that this thing smelled really bad because it had lost power and quit working. Turns out that it had two plugs, and one of them wasn’t plugged in for a couple months. It took four of us to move that thing up the stairs (and we’re all rugby players, three of us front row). Unfortunately, there was -just- enough clearance to make it up the stairwell, but not enough for anything else. We had to unscrew the hinges, and use a SawZall to take off the handle. So we’re moving this thing up the stairs, and the lid is not at all secure. We all had to stop several times to suppress dry heaves. The worst part was that I was on underneath it, supporting a majority of it’s weight with my back pressed up against it and my legs on the steps. My head was basically level with the opening. Oh, and I forgot to mention that they had plugged it in for the past 24 hours, so the stench was rolling down, right into my face. I guess I should be happy that it wasn’t still warm. I took a shower as soon as I got home, and one in the morning before work, but I still caught wiffs of it all day.
Speaking of unsavory smells, my buddy was once dating this girl who lived in the town we work in. Her sister was rather large, but his girl wouldn’t come to see him by herself. Playing the ultimate wing man, I hooked up with the sister so she would be more willing to come down more often. She was at my place one night, and she asked me to go down on her. To be fair, I really owed it to her, as she had pleased me orally numerous times and I hadn’t reciprocated. So, I start going down, and I get a flashback to differential equation class in college. Something about haggis looking more appetizing as a function squared of how close you get, and smelling more repulsive as a function cubed of how close you get. Anyway, I could have really used a snorkel, it was that bad. But, I figured, no harm, no foul, right? Well, the next morning, she had already left when I got out of bed. I walked outside to get some fresh air, just as my roommate was cleaning up the yard. There was a tub that was probably 20 or 25 gallons that we had used in the past to keep kegs on ice. It was now being used to catch rainwater. It had been slowly filling up for months, and had also collected random yard debris (and probably piss and beer, knowing that house), but there was definitely some rotting organic matter in there. He chose the exact time I walked outside to dump it out, and for some reason it smelled exactly like my upper lip. Just at that time, somebody pulled up and smelled it, too. They wanted to get out of there quick, and I wasn’t staying around. We took off, but it was a horrible idea. I should have washed my face first. Disgusting.
And there’s always the borderline urban legend that makes its rounds through my circle of friends about the guy who fingered a girl whose vagina smelled so bad, that when he was hungover the next day and went to bite his fingernail off, the smell/taste that had been stored under his nail caused him to puke.
Finally, a relatively tame one from when I was in high school. A few of us went mushroom hunting, and I found one that looked like a lightly toasted marshmallow. I was about to pop it into my mouth, but decided to toss it on the ground, instead. I stepped on it, and out came this disgusting goo that had the color and texture of fresh baby vomit of strained peas. In retrospect, I kind of wish I had smelled it.
That’s all I’ve got for now, I’ll see if I can think of any more tomorrow. I’m sure there’s plenty more where those came from.
