Maschalophilous

By Lily Harlem (Guest Blogger)

Okay, today lets talk about something often overlooked in erotic romantic fiction – ‘maschalophilous’. You maybe don’t know what it means but I bet a rather high proportion of you would appreciate a little more literary dedication to it. Here’s a clue…

Had a look at these pictures? If they work for you see if you can guess what you’re suffering from…or rather indulging in. Okay one more, just for those of you on the fence.

Guessed it? Maschalophilous is the word for armpit lust, and boy do I have that going on. Big time. There’s just something about this often overlooked part of the male anatomy that hits all the right buttons in me. The underarm is a secret place men don’t even know is secret, and when they strip off their tops, material covering their eyes for the briefest, most stolen of moments, we get to feast on their deliciously manly pits – and they don’t know anything about it!! How cool, or rather, hot is that?

My current resident hunk has a delectable underarm, pale skin untouched by the sun, dark, wispy hair, the softest on his body, and a scent of pheromones that’s to die for. Unfortunately, being that he’s consumed by the urge to pull away giggling whenever I try and caress this part of his body, means I’m in somewhat of an armpit drought.

Perhaps this is why I found myself thinking about underarms and looking out for underarms with an unhealthy regularity this summer. And summer, let me tell you, is definitely the time to indulge if you suffer from this debilitating condition.

Debilitating? I hear you cry. Yes! Debilitating. There have been times I’ve had to stop, sit down and let out a string of Mmm’s and Ahhh’s when a particularly perfect underarm has flashed my way in the park. And walking past a construction site on a hot day, jeez, that can take my feet from under me, leave me with no option but to stop and stare from the nearest bench or wall or hood of a car. Once (I’m on a roll now) on the treadmill at the gym, right in front of me a beefy hunk started pressing weights in just a pair of ripped off shorts – Phwoar! - I flew off the back and landed in a twist of limbs. All that brawn and bicep surrounding a tantalizing lick of sweat laced hair was too much and with absolutely no inhibition about flashing it at me either.

I didn’t stand a chance. It took me two weeks to heal the burn mark on my knee and work up the courage to go back to the gym. From then on I made sure I hit the stop button if a hottie started showcasing pits in the weight section. I came up with a plan to stand still, wipe my head and drink from my water bottle whilst I took in the free sights.

I blame Top Gun for my obsession. In fact, I probably should be suing. Remember the scene on the beach? Volley ball, thumping music, hot, sweaty guys wacking a ball over the net.

Each time they lifted their arms my young, innocent eyes were treated to stretched tight torso’s and acres of rarely seen skin. Each guy has slightly different coloured underarm hair - hair that I now know would be soft and silky to touch, skin that would be warm and delicate, more so at the very centre of the dip, and a scent that would be devastatingly masculine, if only I could just nuzzle in and… oh, er…there I go again!

I’ve done some research into my quest for the perfect pit?

“Brad” I hear someone heckle from the back. Mmm, tempting but try Mr Wahlberg, he’s working it pretty well for me.

However, this works equally well…he looks sooo bad!

So you see, maschalophilous can be hard to live with, but it is also a delight to be afflicted with and searching out the perfect pits can be arduous and dangerous but also very rewarding.

Here you go, one last pic to feed the habit, and yes, I am doing my bit to raise awareness and adding yummy descriptions of sublime pits into my stories. Yum, yum….

Escape to the Country by Lily Harlem

Available November 8 from Total-E-Bound!

London life is hard going for Annie and Tim, and despite being in love, they're just not hitting the spot in the bedroom. So, in an attempt to put the steam back into their relationship, Tim whisks Annie to the Cotswolds to visit Matt and Jane, his uber-cool, sexually liberal friends from University.

As the temperature heats to melting point in the chocolate box cottage so does the sex, and Annie, with the help of her hosts, discovers a variety of hidden carnal desires, not just in herself but also Tim. Who would have thought he'd be into that? Who would have thought 'that' would have her buzzing from head to toe?"

Visit Lily on-line at http://www.lilyharlem.weebly.com