Aftersun
In the summer of 2003, I'd just made the move down from the grim north to the south of England. In my memory, it now seems like a three-month-long idyll of endless sun and shimmery hot picnics in the long grass. I'd fallen in lust with a young man of an outdoor persuasion, and we spent many happy hours "sunbathing" in the surrounding fields, boating on the river and so on. Now, I'm quite pale, and also an idiot, so on any given sunny day I inevitably manage to burn some part of myself that I've missed with the factor 20. So I took to carrying around some Boots brand aftersun with me so I could apply it as and when, which turned out to be quite often, and as I couldn't reach all of me applications of aftersun would quite often lead to spur-of-the-moment naughtiness. Ever since then, the smell of aftersun gets me instantly and dangerously horny, reminding me of coming back to said boy's room, which was always cool and dark out of the sun, and him rubbing the lotion on my back or shoulders or wherever, and the instantaneous teeth-gritting wince of cold lotion on sore skin. Hot hands, cool cream, very very nice.

So far, so comparitively normal.Unfortunately, a few weeks back, temping at the superdrug in town, and there's a bashed box of you-guessed-what. I had to clean up the greasy mess with paper towels whilst talking to customers, all the while whilst wriggling like a kitten in catnip.

Length? Just be grateful it didn't involve an optician...
(jennymnemonic, Sun 5 Feb 2006, 0:08, Reply)