Confessions of a piss perfumer.
Odors are Puritan’s big fear. A problem to flush. Why not let a naughty neighbor pee on us in the bathroom of a bar?
Odors cannot be fended off, it penetrates us like breath into our lungs, fill us up, imbues us. Who knows is addicted.
Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than lots of kinky words, body appearances, or sexual desires.
Odors are all my life of perfumer for the pleasure of women. But no perfume is more addictive than their piss.
Odors of the women’s urine have taken full power on me. Fresh, bottled, or distilled, I found in that scent a sexual power.
Odors get me out of control. I am in total need of the ultimate scent, the one offering full control to anyone wearing it.
Odors of women made me use many artifacts. To capture their exquisite essence nothing is too excessive.
Odor’s bestseller is my piss perfume. A Crystal bottle with an intense golden color and seal with yellow wax.
Odors of piss oil melted to wax are used to seal the bottle before it begins to cool on my body. A last divine fetish act.
Odors! Women could close their eyes on nudity and ears to insane proposals. They cannot escape that perfume power.