Sweat

I adore sweat.

I’ve spent all day watching the Great North Run coverage thinking about sweat. I’ve seen pictures of people training, running, and wishing I could fuck them afterwards.

I love fucking guys when they’ve been to the gym and already smell of sweat. I love the feeling of being an extension of the workout. He’s not at the gym anymore but he’s not quite finished.

I love guys who sweat whilst they fuck. Especially unapologetically. I like the feeling of it dripping on to me. I love the intoxicating smell, mixed with the smell of sex which lingers in a room. You don’t notice it, until you step outside (usually naked to get some sort of sustenance- biscuits, Pringles, anything which will no doubt get crumbs everywhere…!). And don’t get me started on how it tastes.

I don’t sweat. Perhaps this is why I love it so much. Except when I masturbate, and I can sometimes feel it behind my knees, and even more rarely feel a drop trickle down the back of my leg.

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