It was Saturday morning. I was super-horny. I’d give anything to have a girlfriend who would like to be all sexual with me. Failing that, it would be nice to exchange oral sex with a woman – or a man. Or maybe just a handjob. A jerk-off buddy would have been nice. But none of that was available.
I decided to do something I had been thinking about for a while: Get waxed. To me, that seemed like it would be a nice semi-sexual adventure.
I called a salon and booked an afternoon appointment.
I arrived a few minutes early. The place was in a busy shopping mall. It was especially busy being Saturday afternoon. I came to the front desk and immediately felt out of place. It was a large establishment, and everyone there, staff and clients, were female. The place smelled vaguely of hair spray and nail polish, and there were a half dozen chairs with women under hair dryers or getting manicures. I was embarrassed. I wanted to leave. I wasn’t even sure I was in the right place.
I was greeted at the front desk by a young woman with noticeably large boobs. She was a real looker. I told her I had a 3pm appointment, which she confirmed. Then I sheepishly, quietly, asked whether I was in the right place, “I’m here for genital waxing?” I practically whispered.
Not matching my quiet voice at all, “Oh, yes, we do men.” she too-loudly answered.
I was hoping she’d be my practitioner. She was a hottie. I’d like that. She led me back to a private room. Well, sort of private. It was in front of a window with lots of mall shoppers walking by. Between the window and a treatment table, was a flimsy wooden slatted divider. I was convinced that anyone walking by would be able to see me if they peeked in from the corner of the window. In reality, I suppose the view was fully blocked, but I didn’t know that for sure. There is a bit of an exhibitionist streak in me, and I should have enjoyed the possibility of being seen getting waxed by strangers, but in this moment, I didn’t feel that way at all. I was geeked out by the possibility of being seen.
The pretty young thing told me to disrobe, and put on a gown that was neatly folded on the table. Then she left, telling me that my aesthetician would be in in a minute.
While staring at the wooden divider in front of the window, and trying to figure out if it was OK, I started reluctantly taking off my clothing. I was starting to wish I hadn’t booked this stupid appointment. What was I thinking?
Well, it would be cool to get waxed by the big-boobed young girl. But it wasn’t going to be her. She had said my aesthetician would be in. So who would it be? I was hoping for someone really sexy, of course. I was hoping for maybe a Black or Asian girl. I’ve always been attracted to darker-skinned people, probably because I’m so light-skinned. Long hair and large tits would be especially nice.
A moment later, the door opened, and my aesthetician walked in. It was not a young girl. Not at all. This woman had big breasts also, but they weren’t as big as her stomach. Her shorter gray hair told me she was well over forty. Now, I really wanted out. I had thoughts of throwing my clothes back on, saying, “I’m sorry, this was a mistake.” and leaving.
I didn’t. That would be even more embarrassing. I’m not one to chicken out or change my mind in most circumstances, even when it was as weird and uncomfortable as this.
After a moment of small talk, she got to work. Now, I’ve never been waxed before, so I didn’t know what to expect. Would it hurt like crazy? I didn’t think so, but still… In retrospect, I was frightened, and freaking out, and still thinking that people walking by the window might see me.
The woman kept up pleasant conversation as she trimmed my crotch hair with a hair clipper. My penis was totally soft and small. I was a bit embarrassed about that also. I didn’t want her to think I was always like that. I wanted it to fluff out a bit to impress the old woman. I don’t know why, I just did.
She hadn’t touched my penis yet. She was just clipping the hair. Then she grabbed and lifted my penis out of the way as she continued clipping. That touch felt surprisingly nice. She then started pressing my scrotum this way and that, moving my balls out of the way so she could complete her trimming. I’ve always had a thing about having my balls manipulated. That’s usually very erotic for me. It felt nice, but that was all. I stayed soft as overcooked spaghetti, still being afraid of what was coming next. Would it hurt like crazy?
She went over to a table, fiddling around with her equipment, and returned with the wax and a stick like a big tongue depressor. She spread some on me. It was hot. Almost too hot, but not enough to burn me. She let it cool, picked at an edge, then WHIP, she yanked if off, taking a stripe of hair from my body, right above my dick. It did sting, but not too bad. Immediately, she pressed her fingers down on the now hairless stripe, which immediately soothed the slight pain.
All in all, I felt a tremendous sense of relief. Yes, it had stung, but not very badly. I’d be able to accommodate this waxing.
She did another stripe, and another. Then she held my dick in one hand, and applied some wax along one edge near the base. I felt myself fluffing up. I was at the beginning of an erection.
Again it was dichotomous. Part of me was here for some sort of sexual adventure. I’d love to have a big, proud erection in this old woman’s hands. But another part of me would be embarrassed almost to tears if I actually became erect during the treatment.
Well, I’ll bet you can guess what happened. As she continued to work on my penis, manipulating it this way and that, I became half erect. I started to apologize, but she shushed me, saying, “No worries, probably two-thirds of the guys I work on get erections. It’s just all part of the process.”
She then surprised me with a confession, “I rather like it when they do.”
I can’t explain just why, but that threw a switch in me. I almost immediately became fully erect, and no longer felt any embarrassment about it. Furthermore, my thinking about the whole window thing changed also. ‘So what if the people walking by can see me?’
She continued to work on my penis for a while. Then it was on to the left side of my scrotum. Now, I should elaborate that my balls have always been sensitive. Well, no, that’s not quite the word. They are erogenous. I love having my balls gently squished around in my sack. By anyone. Pretty women go to the head of the line. But, even if it’s a guy, or even a gray-haired heavyset aesthetician, that really sends me into erotic joy.
So there she was applying wax to the left side of my scrotum. Then she pulled the strip off, and pressed her fingertips against the left ball to ease the sting. It was just too much. I felt that inevitable ‘gonna cum’ feeling, and before I could do anything about it, I was ejaculating all over my stomach.
“Oh my goodness!” was all she said. Then, without missing a beat, as if this was an everyday occurrence, she grabbed a towel and cleaned me up. After I settled down, she went on to pull the hair off the right side of my scrotum. It stung. It totally fucking stung!
I guess after one ejaculates, one’s sensitivity goes through the roof.
I wasn’t liking this any more. Then, she had me get on all fours on the table, and waxed my whole asshole region. It was nearly intolerable. In fact, I did scream just a little at one point.
Then it was on to a tweezer operation. She painstakingly went after all the individual hairs that had escaped the wax treatment, first with me still on all fours and my anus exposed to the slight breeze of the air conditioning in the room, and then she had me lay back down, and went back to work on my genital region.
Finally, it was over. She handed me a little round hand mirror. I guess women need to see sort of down under, but I didn’t need the mirror. I took a look at her work. My gosh! I was as smooth as a child. I was delighted by the look. Since she handed me the mirror, I figured I might as well use it, so I looked under my balls, then raised my legs and looked at my asshole. Seeing myself fully nude like that, sent me into horniness again. I could have jerked off right there and then, but of course I didn’t.
The appointment was over. I had one question for her: “Do many guys ejaculate during this treatment?”
She hesitated, as if looking for a way not to concern me or hurt my feelings. “It’s never happened before.” She brightly added, “But, I was honored!”
I generously tipped the woman, and went home. The moment I got in my bedroom, my clothes were off and I jerked off big-time remembering what had just happened.