The smell of food attracts the prey. I fell for it, it seems. There was no miracle in my life but the sound of her voice. Hoarse, but oddly comforting. Ugly. Rather enchanting, however, was the habit of having to listen to it every day. The first wind of her morning breath permeating in bed. As foul a smell as turd can be. But I had no cause to complain. Morning sex. She responds, never resists. It was anticlimactic, and how can one reach climax in something like that?
Underwhelming, sure. Nauseating, yes. Definitely aversive.
But... doesn't it always, always, always seem to go that you never know what you have until it's gone?