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 I saw her in the park on a bench, relaxing in the sun.  Her head tilted
toward the warm afternoon sun as her bare arms were outstretched along the
top of the bench.  I doubt that anyone would call her pretty and it was
easy to see her figure was typical for a middle-aged woman, not fat but
more obese than slim.  Even her breasts, barely covered by the sleeveless
shirt she wore were smallish for a woman of her size.  All that being said
I could not keep my eyes off her.  What had caught my attention was the
sight of her underarms displayed for all the way she was sitting and
covered in rich luxurious fur.  I guess I tarried too long and she sensed
my presence for she opened her eyes and looked at me.  She smiled at me
with a look of confidence as I stared at her wondrous pits, "Come sit with
Olga," she barked in a thick Slavic accent and I obeyed as I sat on the
edge of bench.  I was now close enough to be able to take in the strong
pheromones emitting from this phenomenal woman.  " Sit back, make yourself
comfortable little man." She put her hand on my shoulder guiding me to the
back of the warm bench.  I was now sitting with her arm although still
resting on the bench back around me and I was tucked into her armpit.  I
had yet to say a word and I was sure my voice would crack if I tried.  "
You seem frightened of Olga; don't be afraid for Olga knows what you want."
She reached down with her hand and turned my head into her armpit.  I
inhaled deeply, the rich musky odor giving me a throbbing erection as she
wiped her sweaty hair against my face.  Never had I felt so aroused as this
woman allowed me to worship her sweaty arm pits and I was as close to
nirvana as could be allowed to a mere mortal.  Why oh why did I open my
eyes only to see a elderly couple standing there with a look of disgust as
they watched my perverted actions with this woman.  This was the same look
I saw on my mother when she caught me abusing myself in the bathroom, this
was the same look my wife had given me when I begged her to let me kiss
that sacred spot between her legs.  The humiliation of being caught in a
disgusting act in public was so degrading to me that I fled that bench and
the park.  I hurried home where I masturbated to the scent of my goddess
still fresh on my face.  I never saw my Slavic goddess again, although
every time I go near the park I hurry to than bench, her bench, in hope of
seeing her again.  My life is now in turmoil as my wife has left me and my
job was lost.  How could I pretend to love a woman who insists on a shower
before she allows me to touch her?  She smells like Dove, not a woman.  How
could I worry about sales when the only thing that can make me happy is to
be able again to enjoy the true scent of a woman again?