Aromatic Flesh Novels & Stories

EPISODE 134 I opened my eyes, just a little. Just enough to see through my lashes without revealing I was awake. They were getting closer now. Two of them were carrying a large wooden spit, each holding one end over their shoulders. Skewered in the center was a boar, completely hairless and cleaned. The pinkish meat was already rubbed with crushed herbs that clung to its skin like a dark, speckled coating. I could smell it faintly, the rawness of the flesh mixing with the earthy scent of herbs and smoke from the fire.

It's a magnetic pull that I can't resist, drawing me closer to him, both physically and emotionally. The scent of both Neo and Alaric's presence envelops me, intertwining in the air and creating a unique fragrance that is both comforting and intoxicating. It's a blend of Neo's warm, earthy cologne and Alaric's subtle, crisp aftershave. The combination instantly soothes my senses, wrapping me in a cocoon of tranquility and serenity.

The biological signal that tied my soul to her body was failing, the vibrant pheromones that usually made my cock twitch with a frantic thud beneath my trousers completely muted. My brows furrowed as I pulled my head back slowly, my hand sliding up her spine to grab her chin, ruthlessly tilting her face upward until her wide, terrified stare collided directly with mine. “What is wrong with you, Amaris?” I growled, my deep, gravelly voice dropping into a menacing rumble that made the crystal glasses on the overhead racks vibrate faintly. “Speak to me. Why is your scent completely buried under the smell of a common kitchen? It’s practically nonexistent.”

My folks ran a meat stall in our small town. There were plenty of other meat stalls around, but ours was the only one that was absolutely slammed every single day. We literally couldn't keep up with the demand. And the reason for that was our signature product—aromatic pork. An ounce was 60 dollars. That was right. It was that expensive. And even at that insane price, we still sold out instantly. Lately, I'd been looking pretty run-down. That was because I had been having the same nightmare for a month straight.

My breath hitched, my entire body tensing not with pain, but with a sudden, overwhelming awareness. Her scent filled my senses. It wasn't the heavy perfume of an Olympian lady, but something wilder, more natural. It was the sweet, earthy smell of the forest after a rain, mixed with the faint, lingering aroma of ale and woodsmoke from the tavern. It was an intoxicating combination, a scent that was uniquely hers, and it was doing things to me I hadn't felt in decades.

I knew today she wanted a wild sex. My condition was no different. I was moving my face between her breasts and she was moaning with pleasure. Today there was no point in kissing and cuddling. I removed her sari's end over her breasts and I put my hands around her back to unhook her blouse. She lifted her back slightly to provide access for my hands. I quickly unhooked her blouse and threw it on the floor. Suddenly I could smell musky aroma of her armpits. It was too intense. I had noticed that whenever she was horny that aroma would increase. That day it was so intense that I could smell it from a distance. I always liked her aroma. So I grabbed her both hands and placed them over her head

"This is our house specialty, beef stew! The beef tendon has been stewed for eight hours, and the r****h has soaked up all the broth. The flavor is absolutely B --beautiful!" With that, he lifted the lid. As soon as the lid was removed, a fragrant aroma wrapped in white steam wafted over. The marbled beef brisket trembled atop the milky white broth, the r****h saturated with the beef's aroma, and the beef infused with the r****h's freshness. He then picked up the communal chopsticks and served Amelia a piece of beef tendon. "Try this—the collagen is very rich, it's delicious and springy. I guarantee one bite and you'll never forget it!"

"Wouldn't want to burn down the whole forest." As the snake and frog meat sizzled over the flames, the aroma hit her with unexpected force. Her mouth watered, stomach clenching painfully. ‘Smells amazing. How can it smell so amazing?’

They know the King and the Queen are sleeping in different wings. They place the platters on the table. The smell hits me first. It isn't a drift. It is a wave. Roast lamb. It is cooked with rosemary and garlic, swimming in a rich, dark gravy made from the drippings. It is heavy. Oily. Pungent. The smell of cooked meat and animal fat fills the room, suffocating the delicate scent of the roses. My stomach lurches. It is a violent, physical contraction. My throat closes up. Saliva floods my mouth—the body’s warning signal before a purge.

Water stained wallpaper peels at the edges, and ripped and fraying tapestries hang sporadically throughout. A long wood table sits in the center of the room. It’s scarred with knife marks and stains from years of use. Three men and two women sit around it, their postures relaxed as they laugh at my splayed state. Plates are piled high with roasted meat in front of them, the plates glistening with fat, as the meat falls off the bones. The scent of charred flesh saturates the air, heavy and clinging but beneath it is something else. Something wrong… something that makes the hair on my arms stand up and warning bells flash in my head.