It all begins with me lifting my arms high, drawing in the raw scent of my own armpits. I can’t resist dragging my tongue across the warm skin, tasting every salty trace as the pleasure sinks deeper. The more I worship them, the hotter I burn, each slow lick, each soft kiss making my pulse race and my body ache for more. My hands stay locked there, stroking, sniffing, savoring; saliva glistening over every fold while I moan into the heat. Piece by piece, I peel away my clothes, revealing nothing but the slick, trembling worship of my pits in every angle.
