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?

