An Armpit Fetish Leads to Even More
I got the feeling that she was a little lazy when it came to beautifying herself and keeping her personal space clean. She'd noted to our group of friends that she'd had to move to a new apartment in the area recently and had mentioned, with a typical smile on her face, that showing off the apartment to inquirers meant she had to pick all her dirty underwear off the floor of her bedroom. I also noticed that she very irregularly shaved her armpit hair yet wore clothing almost every week that accentuated the stubble. I much appreciated the effect and hoped that she wasn't aware of how arousing I found it. I tried not to stare, but did it anyway.
I'd always hated it when women waxed or shaved their natural body hair, particularly underneath their arms, their legs, or their public region. Some women overdid it, leaving behind a mass of reddened razor burns. Some had their hair waxed off, which, if they were truly honest, often produced significant, if short-lived pain. Regardless of how they did it, the effect always looked really weird to me, strange and abnormal, certainly not sexually appealing in any way.
My first time with a man, he really surprised me by licking my armpit hair with great zest. I would have never thought up such a thing on my own, and the erotic feelings I'd received from him were very appealing ones. I decided that I would ask the next woman I slept with who wasn't fussy about body hair removal if she'd be willing to let me do the same thing to her. Katie drew sharp boundaries about how far she was willing to go with me—we certainly never fucked, but when I brought up the idea to her offhandedly, she told me she was willing to try it.
Starting to fool around one day after work, I noticed she'd gone two or three days before shaving her pits. Game on. She told me before we started that she hadn't applied deodorant or antiperspirant that day, either, but that she had cleaned that part of her body with soap. I didn't think that those rules of basic hygiene would be an issue for me. I had showered and shampooed my hair, too. That said, none of us was going to get a mouthful of yucky tasting chemicals never designed to enter the human mouth.
We started off kissing, as we always did. We were primarily dry humpers, to be honest with you. Whenever I tried to push our conduct and behavior a little bit further than she wanted, she'd say things like "down, boy" which I knew was my queue to dismount and calm things down a little. She was a good kisser and we very much enjoyed the tactile sensations of lips against lips, and tongue against tongue. She was several inches shorter than me and nestled easily against my shoulder blades, which made for effective cuddling, which we adopted every time we were together, bodily.
Still kissing, she extended her right and left arms above her head, as though she was stretching, which I knew was my sign to begin to lick her armpits. I started with the right one for some reason. The sensation felt a little like rubbing my tongue against sandpaper. Amazingly, she groaned in appreciation, and encouraged me to continue. Having never done this before, I was relying purely on instinct and let no surface go untouched.
I then crossed over her body completely with kisses and began licking the left armpit with the same force. Once again, she groaned, but this time she began to rub her pubic bone up and down my erection. I had never gone that far before with her, so what her intimate areas looked like underneath clothing were a matter of pure imagination to me. Raising this level of intensity for me was also very unfamiliar, but I took it on as a challenge.
She quickly unbuttoned the jeans she was wearing, unzipped herself, and wiggled out of them. She was wearing a white silk thong, which accentuated her small, compact ass. She smelled heavily of sex and a cursory glance at the crotch of her panties revealed a large, ever-widening wet spot. I'd never gotten her this wet before and she said as much. I wasn't sure if that meant that we were finally going to go all the way, or she was noting a simple fact. Maybe both.
I returned to my beginnings, kissing her, continuing to grind harder and harder against her. Now I had more mobility and better access. I took my whole face, including my lips, nose, mouth, and face and buried them in her armpit. She gasped. I was lost in the moment, too engaged with what I was doing to make too much note of what this now-realized fetish was producing in her.
It reminded me of the one male-on-male, invitation-only sex gathering to which I'd ever been invited. One man was turned on heavily by male body odor. He walked from participant to participant, inquisitively, very adamant as to what he was after. "Just checking for funk!" he'd say, with great emphasis. I reluctantly offered him mine and he found it appealing for a moment or two before quickly moving on to the next man in line.
I have to admit I'd thought what Katie and I currently were up to was going to turn out to be a colossal failure. It was pleasantly shocked to find out that she was just as much up to it as I was. In time, I recognized that this armpit action was only going to be a tease. It wasn't going to be stimulating enough to get her all of the way there. I'd never actually produced an orgasm before with her, but I was hoping she'd at least allow my tongue the right and privilege to explore places it never had been in times past.
She removed her sopping panties, but not before warning me that oral sex was as far as we were going to go. I hadn't even removed her blouse or bra, but this far into the proceedings, it didn't seem to matter. I was still fully clothed myself. She was naked from the waist down, with the exception of her socks. I made a few tentative swipes across her brown and red pubes, which were not particularly copious. This was something of a disappointment for me, but it was helpful in that It gave me a clear target to know where and how to concentrate, using the muscles of my tongue. I knew enough by then to recognize that every woman reaches orgasm in a slightly different way.
We had never done this before, as I said, so I was very much flying blind. I'm not even sure if she'd produced an orgasm by herself at any previous time. Consulting with my female friends, I find that, more often than not, it sometimes takes them years to learn how to masturbate properly—particularly in a way that produces consistent success. I'd been with a much older woman a few years before who had disappointed me deeply without meaning to—I was certain I was doing everything 100% right in licking her off. She acknowledged that I was, technique-wise, but she conceded with regret that she could never manage to get herself off that way. We ended up having very awkward intercourse, which produced a successful orgasm for her and significant pain and discomfort for me, purely because of how tightly she had to squeeze and wrench my back to get herself to climax.
Katie was now making odd grunting noises, somewhat feral sounds. Taking this as a good sign, she kept forcefully repeating, "Fuck!' "Fuck!" "Fuck!" With every profanity, she grew more and more engaged with the process. To show you how different sex is with men and women, as if you needed any more of them, I reflected upon how many ways masturbation was totally ingrained within me. It was almost a daily companion and had been a stress release for years. I couldn't imagine life without it, though it always seemed to me that women, once they figured it out for themselves, had far better orgasms than we did, and far more than we ever could dream of imagining.
I used my tongue to scoop out imaginary ice cream from inside her vagina, starting deep inside and ending with light pressure against her clit. A previous lover had told me that every man failed to realize that optimum clit stimulation was a light touch, not a heavy one. Keeping that in mind, I took her advice in this situation. Instead of burying my face in her armpits, I decided to insert as much of my face as possible this time around. I felt moisture against the tip of my nose, my lips, my chin, and part of my cheeks. She went momentarily mute, then inhaled, exhaled, and implored me to finger her as I continued what I was doing.
"Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop." She was begging now, and my ego loved it.
Flipping my wrists upside down, I inserted my index finger all the way inside and began fucking her in and out. This has never been a comfortable act for me—I recognize how sensitive an organ the vagina is, and I'm always afraid I'm going to hurt whomever I'm sexing. Furthermore, I worry that a hard fingernail rubbing against soft tissue is going to cause pain, so I take my time in what I'm doing. But Katie wanted hard thrusting and made loud demands for it, so far be it for me to complain. I always do what I am told.
I wanted more of armpit action. I kissed quickly up her body and licked against and across the right one a second time. I had no clue rationally why this was so arousing for me, and especially for her, but sometimes intellectualizing sexuality is an exercise in futility. Maybe it's part of our vestigial, caveman brains.
"I want all of you," she proclaimed, with great emphasis, "but not yet. Now I know I'm comfortable enough with you to go all the way. You passed the exam."
We were cuddling again, resting comfortably in each other's arms. "This was really hot. I have to admit I was surprised with the whole armpit thing. It's not like I was grossed out by it, but I just never thought..." Her voice trailed off.
I was circumspect. "Sometimes it's best not to overthink these things."
But I did suggest something else, something that stopped short of outright fucking, but was close enough.
"What if I fuck your armpit?"
"Umm. That's a little different." She was nonplussed.
"Why not try it?"
She gave me a weird look, but granted me permission. By then I was as hard as a rock and desperate to have my own orgasm. I took my cock in hand and rubbed it up and down for several minutes, north to south, against the stubble.
And as I did so, I imagined what I really want, which was for me to be buried in her wet snatch. She had put me off for a very long time, longer than most women had, longer than a woman who had withheld sex from me for almost a year. In that circumstance, she paid an impromptu visit to the place I was housesitting, where we'd ended up having sex on the living room bed of the person who was then out of town for several days. Even now, I still don't understand what prompted her to grant me permission then, what set of factors led her to set aside her wariness at that exact point in time.
It just happened. And after that, it kept happening.
Returning to the present, Katie was beginning to have some odd feelings of her own. "This feels really...different." Again, she was not entirely sure about what I was up to, but wasn't against me trying something new.
I loved the way it felt. "Now, close your arm tightly against my cock and let me fuck in and out."
She complied. I began to thrust back and forth. Anticipating something I was hoping to achieve, but knew I might not get, I had brought a bottle of lube with me. I lubricated my cock with my right hand to better slide back and forth.
The sensation, along with the fact that I was actually having this experience was getting me close to shooting my load. I felt I needed to warn her.
"This could get really messy."
And that much was true. As I'd said, I'd had a lot of build up. Too much build up, in my mind. I imagined a time where I'd climb on top of her and not be told to keep my desires at bay. I wanted a POV shot of my own, to play and replay in my mind, watching her eyes and face as I penetrated her, over and over again.
It wasn't long before I climaxed. And I came quite a bit. One volley of semen shot across her right breast, then began to quickly drip down from the teat to her stomach. A second pooled and remained in great quantity on the breast itself. A third shot with great force directly onto the left breast. A fourth reached the crease between both tits and ran down between them.
My prediction was right. I'd made quite a mess. But she didn't seem to mind that much. In all of our dalliances, she always brought a towel with her, and it wasn't difficult to clean up the two of us with ease.
So who knows? Maybe next time we'll take it another step. I'm prepared to stay patient. Good things come to those who wait.
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