- Erotic Poetry
- Underarm
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I met a man who whispered in my ear,
"Your underarms are what I hold most dear.
The scent, the hair, the skin so soft,
It's the one thing that gets me off."
I tried to understand his fascination,
But couldn't shake off the sensation,
That his fetish was something quite obscure,
Something I couldn't quite endure.
He'd bury his nose in my underarm hair,
Breathing deeply as if he didn't care,
That others thought his fetish was odd,
But to him, it was something he couldn't stop.
I found it strange, this fascination of his,
But I couldn't help but find it bliss,
The way he worshipped my armpits and all,
It was a fetish unlike any other call.
So, I let him indulge in his passion,
His underarm and armpit obsession,
For it was something that made him happy,
And who was I to judge his fantasy?
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