1. Journal Entry: 1952


    Date: 1/18/2016, Categories: Fetish, Hardcore, Masturbation, Author: RaisinBran, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    1952, June 12th Each time she showers I can smell the steam from the hot water she uses because my bedroom is directly across from the bathroom. It’s always the same kind of odor because it’s always the same kind of soap: Secret Garden, imported from Japan. Tangerine, cinnamon, and vanilla. I know because I checked, and my father happens to manufacture the soap she uses. One time, after she was done, I went inside the bathroom and grabbed the still damp soap bar. I smelled it with my eyes closed, imagining how her entire body must smell the same. She usually showers two times a day, once in the morning before everyone else wakes and again in the evening right before she goes to bed. Fortunately I had my bedroom relocated near the servants quarters, away from everyone else, particularly from the annoyance of my f****y, otherwise I wouldn’t have discovered such comings and goings. A coincidence that her bedroom is located just several doors away from mine. The first time I discovered I could smell her when she showered was about three months ago. I had caught pneumonia, which made me feverish and prevented me from getting any kind of adequate sl**p. I kept waking up every hour or so, sweating and shifting restlessly, impatient and resentful at the unfairness of it all, only to feel inexplicably lulled ten minutes later. Just before dawn I had awakened, as I had done countless times that night, but I think it was more from the smell than it was from the illness. The scent swept ...
    and suffused the room through the gap at the bottom of my door and permeated the space in my bedroom with its florid scent. The odor seemed to have grabbed me, intoxicated me, swept me in its wake as if it was a cloud and I a bird, swallowing me as I flew helplessly into it. For the first time in weeks my shiver dissipated and I began to feel warm all over, as if I was a lizard resting lazily in the summer sun. At the same time I became aware that I was getting hard. My cock swelled, protruding out from beneath the thin covers, raising itself defiantly, determined to break the surface of the sheets. I grabbed myself, began rubbing, remembered that the sheets covered me and kicked them away while pulling down my pants, and continued rubbing. I stroked my shaft up and down, twisting my fingers around it, then stroked up and down again and again, almost frantic, until I heard myself moan, heedless of anyone who might hear, and spilled myself into the air, onto the sheets and on myself. Just as I had finished there was a knock on my door. Hastily, I pulled the sheets up to cover myself. “Mr. Sanford? Are you okay? May I come in?” “You may come in, Cecile.” “Mr. Sanford, are you all right? I thought I heard a noise.” “I’m fine, just a cough.” After a pause, “Would you like for me to bring you some tea? Perhaps that would help.” “No, Cecile. Thank you. You may leave.” “Very well. Just ring the bell if you need anything.” The door closed and I breathed, relieved that she had gone. ...
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