Quote: Lee Henman @ March 10 2013, 4:56 PM GMTI've never understood knicker-sniffers. If the smell of stale piss is such a turn on then my local pub's gents toilets should be like some sort of highly erotic Shangri-La.
I have a friend named Gavin, who farts a lot, producing the aroma of rotting fish with pig manure. With his award-wining blend he is solely responsible for clearing the top deck of a bus and reputedly caused a fellow altar boy to faint during Mass. I had the privilege of working in an office with this top-trumping engineer and it was shortly after one such toxic production that our boss entered the office, paused, drew his head back on his neck and said "Phwoar, it smells like hamsters in here", then quickly left. I looked at Gavin, he looked at me and a strange, but attractive thought dawned on us both. Hmmm!
We both kept hamsters at home, I for my granddaughter and Gavin for his youngest son. That night when all the family were asleep, I couldn't fight back the curiosity any longer and I quietly put on my slippers and crept into the utility room. Harry the hamster was active in his cage, going about his nocturnal business and didn't notice me opening the little door on the roof. Quick as a flash, I darted my hand into the cage to get a firm, but gentle grip on the little hottie. I fumbled and only managed to withdraw the lovely creature from his cage by one of his tiny back legs. I swiftly but gently cupped both hands around him and brought his trembling rear-end to my nose and inhaled deeply. Wow, what an amazing sensation it was that filled my whole body. I slowly relaxed back onto the laundry pile, casually dropping the wriggling Harry back into his cage, where he scuttled back into his nest, confused at the sudden twist in our relationship. I couldn't care less as all my problems and anxieties melted away in a haze of hamster-sniffing ecstasy. Wow! I thought as I threw my head back into the peg basket. I couldn't wait to get back to the office to see how Gavin had got on.