You do come across some odd things on the internet, don’t you? Mind you, you come across some queer folk in real life too. I bumped into a boy once who spent ages pouring drinks down my throat and trying to persuade me to throw up in the loo for his girlfriend to watch.
I didn’t fancy it much and she got a bit pissed off when it dawned I wasn’t showing signs of getting pissed enough to have to . . .and no way was I going to stick my finger down my throat, thanks. Done that, out of necessity, and I don’t like the mess or the taste it leaves in your mouth either. Last time was when I swallowed a dodgy oyster in France . . .
Anyway, what started me off on this was discovering a blog devoted to boys’ armpits. I know some people get off on looking at them, even licking them. If somebody wants to do that, do you wash the deodorant off first? Or does a quick lick of anti-perspirant increase the pleasure? Or do some expect you to work up a bit of a sweat first?
I’ve licked lots of other things: you know, the usual. Cocks, balls, nipples, belly button . . .On the odd occasion I’ve done cunelingus. (I do hate the smell of fish, that reminds me.) Feet and toes, as well, but newly bathed and towelled ones, not fresh (not quite got the right word there) out of a pair of trainers, but I suppose some do. . .
Armpits, though? I’ve never actually been asked, and I’ve never thought of licking any in bed with anybody. I suppose it can’t be much different to getting pubic hair in your teeth, but I don’t go a bundle on that either; it’s just a kind of accidental by-product, not the be all and end all, if you see what I mean . . .
Depends on how soft it is, I suppose. Do some guys go for shaved and smooth or shaved but stubbly? Designer armpits? “Come round a week on Thursday, it’ll have grown back enough to rasp your tongue”? Coarse and wiry? Mine’s quite fine and soft. It is lower down, too, in case you’re curious. And unusually long, I’ve been told, unless I get rid of it, which I do occasionally.
I’m getting carried away here, aren’t I? What struck me before my imagination got aroused (though none of this has aroused anything else so far) was the kind of obsessive detail this blog goes into. “Thirty per cent normal hair for his age” . . . things like that . . . “eighty per cent armpit maturity” . . . That one got me. How do you work that out? Do you kind of work back from a really hairy guy of fifty (100 per cent mature armpit?) or something to say a 12-year old without any (zero hair, premature armpit?) to get the range?
I think mine started growing when I was ten; I don’t think it grew much for quite a while, but I do remember being a bit embarrassed and plucking the hairs out . . . Stopped when I was about thirteen, I think, and it started getting more difficult. Can't work out the percentage or the maturity it might have been though.
Mercifully, my hair doesn’t belong to my Italian genes it seems, so it never got thick and coarse. It, er, didn't 'mature' that fast, I suppose. I remember a boy at school though, who had a really hairy chest, belly and back by the time he was seventeen . . . Dunno about his armpits, I can’t remember looking at them when we went swimming. I do know it went right down the crack in his bum. Don't ask, and no I didn't anyway. I still don't much like very hairy guys though. Think I've mentioned that.
Anyway, this armpit thing all struck me as a bit weird, a relatively harmless fetish, dressed up as a kind of sociological study to make it sort of respectable. That struck me as a bit silly.
I wonder if there are others? Guys who spend their lives closely examining testicles and working out the percentage of wrinkles and skin looseness according to some sort of norm? People who obsess on the size and colour of nipples and the shape and spread of the aureole? I’ve been told I have quite nice ones more than once. Think I showed you a pic or two a while back.
All the same, I don’t really like my nipples being twisted or tweaked let alone nipped very sharply by somebody’s incisors, all of which has been done to me of course. (Nipple twisting by a sadistic bastard of a queer—other sense—teacher once under my shirt at school. It hurt. I still get a bit twitchy and catch my breath when I feel someone’s thumb and forefinger tightening on my tits . . .) Still, even so, I think it’s more erotic foreplay than someone tonguing my armpits, but there we are. There’s nowt so queer as queers, like I almost said at the beginning.
(And look, I’m not quoting that Channel 4 series title . . .I was brought up in the north of England—I can still do a middling Manchester accent, just—and everybody said that when people made a mess of things or did summat a bit weird or out o’th’ordinary like. See? Told you I can still do it, even though I’ve ended up sounding more Estuary English nah, innit?)
Er. Look, if you actually like that kind if thing, I mean, it’s OK by me, really. You just carry on licking all those hairs. Do you rinse your mouth out afterwards or do you kind of roll them round your mouth and then swallow them? Or spit them out? Oh, sorry. I don’t suppose it’s really like blowing a boy is it? I sort of got carried away there. . .Sorry the pic isn't much cop if you're really into it.
The black thingy is Yves St Laurent, by the way. Tried to get a shot of the logo, but it's embroidered black on black and it didn't come out with the webcam so I gave up. If anybody wants, I'll do a proper pic with a digi instead of the webcam. Depends on what's on offer of course. . .I've got Paypal?
