Every spring, I smell semen—or spooge, baby batter, love mayonnaise, the sometimes viscous, mostly watery (and fingers-crossed, never chunky) male juice that has been the bane of many a' girls' existence since the dawn of the blow job. The culprit? An efflorescent
tree blanketed in odorous, white blossoms.
At times I chalked up the thick stink to an olfactory misunderstanding rooted in my tendency to eroticise everything—even botany. That is, until the most recent issue of
The Onion cemented my observation in cold, hard fact (as
The Onion is known to do).
2 comments:
Ahhh, the cum tree. I know it well. They thrive in Atlanta. 'Twas two or three years in that humid hell before someone mentioned the "cum tree" while speeding by a lush park one spring evening, windows down.
Only then did I realize I'm not alone.
And no, I don't actively go around sniffing cum.
Ahhh Yes, I also know it well. I thought I had escaped it once I moved from south Indianapolis, where I spent many days gagging on my way to work. But, know living in western Germany I am lucky to have one growing right in my own backyard. Oh joy! Not a smell I want to smell every day!
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