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Musk and smell

Just as it can be a tool for deterrence, the natural body smell can also work as a force of sexual attraction and a major source is an armpit. Speaking with Dan, a fan of armpit play, we asked him about his personal attraction, he said: "I think it’s to do with the pheromones. Having it done to me [someone focusing on his pits] is great as I’m not ticklish.”

Speaking with several others, they have the same thought. Some have also seen their ticklish side almost eradicated instantly when the sexual strength of the pit takes over, especially when they’re with a partner who’s putting their focus there.

From personal experience, I’ve been told to hold off wearing deodorant before engaging with a particular guy, which I thought was quite interesting. When I asked him about it he told me that the scent of a natural pit got his dick hard instantly and without it, his experience of sex with a guy wouldn’t be the same.

Maschalagnia or armpit fetishism is where people are sexually attracted to or interested in armpits. This kink can be found most commonly in the gay community, though other sexual groups enjoy it too. Those with an armpit fetish often enjoy the act of kissing, licking and smelling their partner’s pits during foreplay. However, this isn’t to be confused with axillism, the act of armpit intercourse. Some have described armpit intercourse as "Not an outstandingly rewarding trick, but worth trying if you like the idea.”

So we know people are attracted to pits. But what about them do they love the most? After speaking with several gay men and lovers of the pit, they all said the same thing. It’s a combination of musk, masculinity and a little dominance. So let’s break it down.

Older study drawing attention to the sexualisation of armpits by @qxaxarbus on Instagram

Older study drawing attention to the sexualisation of armpits by @qxaxarbus on Instagram

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Dominance and masculinity

Without a doubt, armpit fetish is about the balance of dominance and being submissive. When you think about it, it makes perfect sense. Usually, when someone is having their pits focused on, their limbs are being spread open by their partner and it’s usually done in the heat of the moment and with a little assertion, making one person the Dom and the other, automatically the Sub.

Masculinity goes hand in hand with this too. Continuing the chat with Dan, he said: "I like the masculinity of a hairy pit. I’m sorry if I’m not helping much, but it’s like being able to explain why actually watching someone licking my nipples instantly turns me on. I know I like it, but I can’t explain it.”

What Dan says makes perfect sense. It’s all about those power roles within sex. He loves the idea of a guy enjoying his nipples, and he also enjoys pit play. In these two instances, he puts himself in the role of a Sub, but it could also work to his advantage as a Dom, should he enforce it on his partner. Sex and sexuality are all about a balance of power and enjoyment, so it makes perfect sense that he would like both sides of the coin.

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The foreskin; a fold of smooth tissue, skin, blood vessels, neurons that cover and protect the head of the penis - and the pleasure centre of one of my biggest turn ons. I get asked often about why I love foreskin so much and I always tell them there’s no one correct answer.

I’ve always loved foreskin, on my own dick as well as others. I always seek out porn featuring uncut guys. It’s just something I can’t get enough of.

My first understanding of the foreskin, as a part of my own body came when I was eleven years old. An early starter, puberty had kicked in, my balls dropped, pubes were growing fast and my self discovery of this thing between my legs had started.

The first time I had a wank was in my bathroom and it’s something I can’t ever forget. I had no idea what I was doing, just like most young lads, so it was all very hit and miss. One thing I got correct, however, was pulling back the foreskin, which opened up a whole new world; the dawing of a new age, a heightened level of sensation and pleasure. The feeling was something i’d never experienced before and have since searched for it once more.

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Growing up my love for foreskin grew tenfold, but there were so many unanswered questions, which were eventually answered throughout my early teens. Why did my childhood friend Chris not have one? Should I get circumcised because it’s cleaner? Will foreskin be hard to ‘maintain’?

Being at school was probably the most informative time of my life, not because of the curriculum, but personal experiences and observations. One being the changing rooms. Surprising to many, I wasn’t always a closed off, self-conscious person. Changing rooms weren’t ever a problem. Getting changed in a room full of guys is the most educational place to be, especially during puberty and throughout the year I learned a lot, from just looking.

Myself and all the others lads were in the same boat; full of questions and needing answers. Looking back, eyes were flying all over the room from every guy - we were all looking at each others bodies, being given the information we’d searched for. Everyone was so different. Small dicks, big dicks. Both uncut and cut guys. Post-gym it was a smorgasbord of visual learnings.

My first encounter with a guy in a sexual sense was fantastic, even though I was quite young. I was excited for him to see my big dick and for him to play with the head bulging underneath my meaty, veiny foreskin. The biggest surprise came from the feeling I got when sliding my dick into him, feeling the folds roll back, rubbing my head all the way down. It was the closest I got to that first initial wank.

At this point in my life I am more than happy with what I was allowed to hold on to, pun intended. My favourite thing about my junk is being intact. I think it’s important we demolish these archaic rules about circumcision based on religion or area of the world. Medical problems should be the only reason someones hood is taken from them without their consent or their own thought process.  

I feel for all the guys who don’t get to experience the pleasure of sitting around on a lazy day, playing with their unaltered dick and letting the precum gather and drip.

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The idea of coming out scared me. I thought it was going to be the worst time of my life. Convinced by the horror stories you hear of arguments, self-doubt, internalised battles and endless explanation of how i’ve tried being straight, it shook me to my core, but I knew that coming out had to be done. These days, I don’t believe anyone should have to come out.

In the end, I didn’t come out as much as I was dragged out, but for the most part, it was pretty uneventful. Only a handful of people were pissed off and not the entire family as I had imagined. But now I was free from the closet, escaping like an uncaged bird, feathers and all!

My teen years were consumed with pursuing as many boys as I could gather, exploring my newfound sexuality and love of sex with all the questionable joys the came with it, and the local scene, where obnoxious drag queens dominated that I knew I needed as my friends. The only way I can visualise it now is like Pokemon; harsh bright clothing, way too much hair gel and nights spent throwing balls around to capture a rare creature.

As my twenties approached, things changed. A lot of my older gay friends raved how escaping the tween years was approached like a rebirth, but I just wasn’t feeling it. The world outside of the glitz and glam was not too dissimilar to the drink stained carpet under our dancing feet — battered, crunchy and in need of some serious work, and I started to realise it.

My partying days came to an end and I started observing the world around me and the shocking realities that I had to now face head-on. I started hearing stories of public beatings and murders in the Middle East, the blatant discrimination in the southern states of the U.S and even closer to home, my Government constantly turning their backs on the LGBT+ people. My people. This wasn’t the rebirth I was told about and when you’re exposed to all of this in one go, it sticks in your head.

For my own sanity, I try to segregate my negative thoughts to one area of my brain. Separated like Klingons and the Federation. But sometimes the neutral zone is crossed and all hell breaks loose. I call them my ‘grey spell’.

My grey spells could last a month before I’m snapped out of them. For me, the worst part about a period of lapsed mental health is how rapid the impact can grow. What starts as a case of doubt, can spread like mycelium into harmful questions of my career, skills as a creative, my body image and the confidence. In the past, it has even raised thoughts of my relationships and how genuine they actually are.

Harvey Milk once said “Don’t let people happen to you” and I try my hardest to live by that.

When I’m battling a form of depression and right-wing oppression I find that activism is the medicine that’s most effective. I have protested at the Russian embassy in London, paraded myself through countless gay pride marches and been a part of vigils for the fallen and all have given me such a boost, releasing the endorphins I need.

More recently I’ve started to look inward at the community. Internalised homophobia needs to stop before we can take down the hetero minority and their tyrannical bullshit. Today i’m stuck on a train heading for London. Delays are endless and so are the snarky, homophobic comments on social media, from people within the community. I can’t change these comments, but I can try and fight for change.

Activism is my recovery. Activism is my twenties rebirth. Activism is my new Cher anthem. Activism is someone else’s life changer.

When I focus my efforts on a form of activism I feel like I do come out fighting, for myself and those who need a voice. Like a screaming gay Batman; a self-professed do-gooder in the name of my people. Only without the costume, I imagine that would be a little tight in the crotch.

This contribution was written by Graeme Fullwood, you can find him on Instagram and Twitter.

 
 
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 Like many gay people at a young age, I never felt comfortable in my body. I came out to my friends at 16, but not to my family until I turned 21. During my early 20’s I wasn’t on the scene much, and always spent my time with my straight friends. Whenever I did go to gay pubs and clubs, I usually went on my own and I would be very shy, and any interaction with a guy would lead to a high level of anxiety. I would never get naked, I would try and hide my body, and even waxed as I hated being hairy.

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I got into my first relationship at 28, and it lasted a few years. During this time I wasn’t in a happy place and gained weight. When we ended, it was time for a change. I lost the weight and spent more time in Soho, London, meeting new people. I started to embrace my body and let the shyness slip. To help, I started doing little things; taking showers at the gym and letting it all hang out, I grew a beard and stopped waxing. After a few weeks I was being referred to as a “bear” and I loved it.

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In 2015 I took part in a naked photoshoot, something I had never done before and it left me feeling so empowered. Being naked is something I love, and it helps me to promote body confidence. Since that first shoot, i’ve been involved in several others, and each of them increases the confidence I now adore.

My body is me, and I will never let anyone put me down.

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