Within a bee hive, pheromonal output is key to communication and reproduction. If only it were that simple for us humans.
As an eroticist and beekeeper, the opportunity for me to get to write about pheromones is exciting! I’ll try not to linger too long on the ‘Apidae’ side of things, but do want to briefly give you a small, living example of just how effecting pheromones are within the animal kingdom and then illustrate how all might not be lost on us humans.
A colony’s success depends upon genetic diversity, and to me, that is devastatingly erotic.
What are pheromones?
“A pheromone is a chemical secreted to the outside [of the body] by an individual which, when received by another individual of the same species, results in a specific behavioural response.”
You could say that, to an extent, honey bees live and die by pheromones. The queen bee’s ‘output’, for example, is especially crucial. She is constantly releasing pheromones from various glands on her body, including her mandibles and even her feet! Her unique chemical signature provides the entire colony with her health and fertility information. If a queen’s pheromones are inferior or, for whatever reason, they become detractive or unfavourable, the colony will kill her and raise a new queen. Bees mean business, and pheromones have made them efficient producers.
Humans are nowhere near as efficient as our friend, the honey bee. And I’ve read somewhere that our olfactory systems have actually devolved. Plus, we have the added complication of language and emotions. When we want to fuck for recreational or procreational purposes, we communicate with sexy words and erotic visual cues. And that’s key here because humans are pleasure–seekers.
And yet, we still can’t shake that throwback instinct to nuzzle against our lover’s skin for a good sniff.
While navigating the complex world of today’s horniness, we still experience that drive to wrangle our noses into the mix because we are a ‘nose forward’ species. We interpret a lot of valuable information through our noses, like hygiene, overall health, the tanginess of adrenaline, and an individual’s breeding viability. Even though science hasn’t actually proven that our pheromone receptors are working as information receivers and transmitters, some do believe that pheromonal communication is happening. They just haven’t pinned down the specifics yet. Maybe it’s our lizard brains trying to aid in helping us make good mating choices. I mean, no matter how good you are at it, communication is challenging and it’s easy to misinterpret sexual cues. But pheromones? Well, they don’t lie.
I wonder what it would be like to approach someone and, with one sniff, know with our whole being that that person was irrefutably ready to fuck. And that they were an ideal specimen to breed with. It might take some of the fun out of things. Or maybe, it would add more fun! No more guessing, just fucking.
How pheromones act as sex attractants
Luckily, we still experience an array of pheromonal output—but it is a much subtler thing than with the honey bees. When we smell the “sex attractant” of a partner, not everyone experiences a physical response. Many of us, though, do feel our own genitals become wet or our nipples will harden. Some of us feel an undeniable boost of lust. For me, it’s like when gas catches fire—that whoosh of sensation warms my body. Just a few days ago, I had my nose buried in Big Daddy Dayv’s genitals, and his bouquet made me so wet and… growly—I needed to sink my teeth into one of his inner thighs. He may have yelped, but he definitely enjoyed it.
The first time I recognised a pheromonal reaction happening within myself was when I smelled my sister’s newborn. It was not a pleasurable experience. (She had her first child a few months after I’d also had my first.) I lowered my nose to take in that new-baby scent, and my head immediately jerked back! The bitter smell of him was… repugnant. I felt so bad. It was as though an internal alarm had just blared, “He’s not yours!”
I have also experienced intense sexual attraction due to a stranger’s pheromonal output.
It was so instantly affecting that. Honestly, it scared me.
One sunny summer morning, I pushed my one-year-old son and two-month-old daughter in a double stroller along the trail that goes around McKinley Park, in Sacramento. It was time to breastfeed my daughter, and that meant time to go home. Up ahead, three men jogged towards me. I moved over as far right as the giant stroller would allow. I avoided eye contact as they got nearer but noticed that all the men wore matching dark-blue t-shirts labelled either ‘EMT’ or ‘Fire Fighter.’ (My memory is a little fuzzy on that detail.) The man jogging in the middle had an impressive, floppy afro. I remember thinking, “Cool hair.”
As the trio passed me, I breathed in and caught someone’s scent. First, I smelled their deodorant, which is common enough. (I should explain quickly here that I like to play this smelling game whenever I’m out on any trail. I breathe in through my nose as walkers, joggers, or bicyclists pass me, and I sort out their smells. Yes, I’ve regretted it more times than I care to admit. Funk happens, but it’s usually sunscreen that hits my nose first. There are so many lovely varieties of sunscreen!) Anyway, that morning at McKinley Park, I smelled the bouquet of one of the men’s sweat, and then below that layer my nose caught the enticing compounds of something else entirely. And then suddenly, BOOM!
My heart pounded, and my knees actually weakened.
Autopilot stopped my feet and turned my body almost fully around.
I gripped the handle of that stroller like it was a cock trying to run from me.
It was like I’d tasted one of the men’s DNA and, while pushing two new babies of my own I wanted his babies too! Obliviously I was in full baby-making mode.
Telling my husband about ‘the incident in the park’ didn’t feel like an option right away. It was too powerful, and my reactions really did alarm me. I knew I wouldn’t feel anything remotely compersive if he’d told me the same thing had happened to him. I would be hurt by jealousy. When I did tell him, it wasn’t his favourite thing to hear, but ultimately, Dayv said that it ‘hit a button’ for him that I had become so erotically charged from pheromones.
Since the ‘incident in the park,’ I’ve discovered that I am indeed a pheromone chaser. My nose and brain, and body are connected in such a way that really shows me the depth of my primal, erotic self. Whenever I catch that special waft of a person’s ‘essence’ in the air—it actively turns me on, and I especially love the fact that they are none-the-wiser. Maybe I’m really a succubus…
I do wonder if that same trio at the park were to come jogging by me again, would I have the same reaction as I did back then? Or would I just smell deodorant and sweat? Maybe some hair product?
Next time you’re nose deep in your partner, take a sniff. A slow, purposeful sniff. Pay attention to how your body responds. Maybe you are a pheromone chaser too!
