Lately I’ve really been enjoying catching whiffs of my wife’s post-shower wake when she’s prepping for camming on TrixieCams.com.
Normally I really don’t like the scent of lady-perfumes and stuff, or at least I’m really picky about it and don’t like it to be overwhelming. But there’s something so warm and spicy and exotic and GOLDEN about the products she uses; it gives her whole aura a radiant sense of expensive decadent feminine glamour.
After twenty years together, you’d think I’d be used to this by now, but frequently smelling her shampoo, leave-in conditioner, and other products feels like a new thing these days. Partly because we now have overlap between her shower and get-ready spaces and my work spaces and our general living areas (we live in a pretty small house with a little ADU / my “cabin”) since last year we had to give up the studio apartment we used for work. Now we are in closer quarters and haven’t totally re-adjusted to sharing our confined spaces.
Our friend has been letting us use one of the rooms in his house for a cam studio; for a few months he let Delia take over his primary bedroom, so she was showering and fixing up her hair and makeup over there so I wasn’t in the same space and smelling her for that, but now she moved into a tiny room at his house for camming without its own bathroom, so she’s getting ready here at home before heading over there to cam … which means I am basking in the warm humidity of splashy shower and shampoo scents in the cabin (our preferred showering site). I am walking through the hot air being blown through her hair from the dryer when I go to the kitchen for coffee where she’s stationed on her new throne at the end of the counter in front of a cheap mirror propped against the wall. And after she goes to work, I stroll around sniffing up the haze of sexy cougar perfume she leaves behind: fancy, potent, amber oils atomized and lingering like a bronze tan fog bank made for an intoxicating golden porn angel to float on.
These scents are so much more seductive to me now than in years past when I would associate them with shooting picture sets and video scenes (meaning I had to be focused on my work as a photographer, director, etc.). Now I am able to dawdle a little more in her mommy-ish feminine mystique since I am not straight away having to go to porn-director work or already focused on prepping / doing associated labor like cleaning up wherever we’re going to shoot, getting the cameras ready, putting her outfits together, etc.
I enjoy the aromas of my wife’s girly-work so much more now that I am *not* doing that kind of work much myself (for now, anyway) either personally or professionally. A lot of my negative associations I’ve had in the past with these kinds of hot-girl or fresh-out-of-the-salon smells were due to the pressure of having to smell like that myself (or do the presentation-things associated with those smells), which *I (mostly) HATE*. But I haven’t gotten my hair done FOR YEARS (since before pandemic lockdowns) and have become the sloppy filthy unkempt hermit I always kind of wanted to be. So now when I smell froof and vanilla-musk and bronzelle smoothing or whatever, it smells like someone else — someone different from me: an archetype of mature femininity outside of myself. Since I am no longer associating the smells with a chore I must do, it doesn’t make me so mad, headache-y, resentful and put out since, for now, I do not feel as obligated to do those things myself (or at least I have enjoyed taking a break from that and allowed myself to wallow comfortably for a few years in being an all-natural purely-human-stinking invisible slob).
I love enjoying the scentsational aroma-therapeutic fantasy of WOMAN drifting around the house, and the source of it being my wife. Doing wifely things. BEING wifey and womanly. While I just … inhale. Hypnotized by the suggestive transformative magic of it all.
This smells like THE LIFE for me, and I love that by the time we go to bed, the strongest notes of the perfumes have subsided and there’s just a twist of strawberry and other faint elixirs lingering in her natural curls and transferring to her pillowcase.
She is the DREAM of Palm Springs or Reno golf-course-adjacent retirement laying next to my stinky body, making the FANTASY seem possible of having special cabinets in our walk-in closet(s) especially for my comfortable boots and bolo tie collections. The fantasy where she smells like blonde and I smell like leather and it all feels like MAGIC with big rings glittering next to all of my knuckles under the heat-lights when I load up my plate at the buffet.