And it started to get dark. There were a few cars, but nobody stopped for me, until suddenly a police car came into view. When it passed me, it began ...o slow down. My heart skipped a beat. I was outside the "protected space," as Mrs. Johnson had described the camp, and I was a little boy (hard to remember that after the last few weeks) in a dress. Was I going to be arrested?The car stopped. A policeman opened the door and called out. "Hello, young lady. Are you all right?"I didn't know what to. I had heard the locker room jokes about women’s pussies smelling like dead fish or rotten cheese. Joan had a very delicate scent, with just a hint of muskiness to it. I fell in love with the aroma of woman’s pussies at that moment, although, never did I find one that had as sweet a perfume as Joan Goodwin’s. (Yes, over the years I’ve come across women whose pubic hair was a rough as steel wool, whose vaginal juices were as thick as used motor oil, and who did smell like rotten cheese.)When my. More

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