I don’t have an armpit fetish or kink. That was my initial thought when present with this week’s Kink topic but then as I thought about writing this post I realised that this statement might not be completely accurate because the thought of armpits made me smile.
I love my armpits being caressed. Soft gentle fingertips gliding back and forth across my armpit as I lay with my arms thrown back above my head. I don’t mean tickling, that makes me squeal and squirm and thrash about and is a form of torture.
My skin in my armpits is very sensitive, the lightest of caresses will send little shivers of delight through me. I find having them touched in this way so very relaxing. It is not a direct sexual turn on to me though but a bit like a massage or having my back stroked it is a sensual experience that I adore.
I love his armpits. I love to touch them, twirling my fingers in his armpit hair which is soft to the touch and feeling the delicate skin that runs down the underside of his arm. It cradles my head when I lay in his arms at night; that perfectly safe and loving place that is by his side. I feel small there, oh so perfectly small.
All this is nothing though compared to his scent. I can often be found with my nose pressed into his armpit and inhaling deeply, drawing the smell of him into me. It is a smell I can never seem to get enough of. It is an aroma that, in my mind, is associated with love, safety, passion and sex, all rolled into one. When I smell that smell that is so very uniquely him I am drawn deeply into those feelings.
He never uses deodorant or cologne and yet he never smells sweaty in the acrid bitter sense of that word. It is far more delicate than that and a powerful olfactory stimulus to me that turns me on and calms me at the same time. There is something earthy and basic about my reaction, like a cat marking her kittens with her own scent I love to find his scent lingering on my hair or clothes. I guess it is just like the marks he leaves on my skin, to me they are a sign of his desire for me and his ownership.
It was when I was taking this picture that I suddenly realised that my above statement about armpits not being a kink for me was in fact wrong. As he stripped of his shirt and lay down on the bed, that distinctive heady scent soon caught my attention and I found myself having to resist the urge to cast the camera aside and bury my nose into it. I did manage to keep to the task just long enough to get this shot and then the camera was forgotten as I leaned in for a kiss before whispering into his ear…
“You smell like an invitation”
Sadly it is school holidays and the only reply I got was a voice calling me from the other room
“Mum, can you please dry my hair now?”
Despite things getting no further than a kiss it did show me that whilst armpits as a general thing are not particularly sexy to me I definitely have a massive kink, which inspires an almost visceral reaction in me for his armpits.
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