It smelt to me first of all--earthy, primal, sweaty, wild honey and wet bushes--and it seemed to me like the scratching of a cock. Her hair, which was dark, rugged, shone with a thin coating of sweat, and hung, wet, matted, about her back.
I drew in my nose, my nose, at the juicy, hot heat of her armpit, and sniffed at the crude, intense musk of her flesh. The smell, the smell was primitive, raw, unmistakably feminine.
The system recognized my admiration immediately, serving me with 50 points of perverts due to the act. It was the actual payoff of how her breath caught, and her body tensed with either embarrassment or arousal, that she did not know what to do next, to either pull away or to come closer.
"Mmm… fuck," I said, and my voice was harsh with lust, my tongue extended to lick a long, slow line up her armpit. The flavor burst my tongue--salty, tangy, sweet--including the very flavor of her hopelessness itself.
