I trained as an aesthetician. Growing up, I loved getting together with my girlfriends, and doing their hair and faces. In our teens, we even waxed each other from time to time. Yes, I do mean more than bikini line. I mean full vaginal waxings. I secretly got a thrill out of that, as I’m sure did the other girls.
Toward the end of high school, I had to get serious about a career. I realized that beauty school was affordable, and that if one plays it right, one can earn a decent living in a beauty parlor. It’s enjoyable work, and that’s what swung my decision. I’ve heard that 70% of Americans hate their work. I didn’t want to be one of them.
So I graduated, and got a chair in a very progressive parlor. I was making good money by my standards. I mean, I could even rent an apartment of my own in Southern California, which is no small thing.
The parlor had a private room where clients could be waxed in private. The room was never used during the first year I worked there. One day, a client asked where she might get her legs waxed. I immediately thought of the little room, and said I could do it. It would be an extra $60 for me, which I didn’t mind, plus I had enjoyed waxing, even though I wasn’t professionally trained in it. As a aesthetician, I could legally do it anyway. So I waxed her legs. She was brave, didn’t scream or anything, because as you may know, waxing legs can be downright painful, unlike genital waxing, which stings only a little and only for a moment.
My client was evidently happy with her waxing, because in a short while, several of her friends came in. Some wanted pussy waxing, which I really, really, enjoyed doing. I especially enjoyed seeing them get a little wet with excitement. As you may know, the wetness doesn’t help the waxing procedure, so it has to be wiped up, something that requires a very intimate stroking into the inner labia, way down into the opening, to get the moisture out. Everyone loved this, especially me! Every now and then, a woman would have an orgasm during the session, although most didn’t. Most of the ones who did would try to hide it. but every now and then, I’d get a very open client, who would writhe and moan, and sometimes even scream. No doubt it could be heard throughout the parlor. Did the clientele and other beauticians know what was going on in the private room? I’ll bet they thought these women were screaming due to the wax being pulled off.
I don’t know whether you believe in evolution, but my clientele evolved. In time, almost every client wanted genital waxing. Pretty soon, all of my work was in the private room. I would guess that the women who did orgasm were more enthusiastic about the waxing than those who did not, because during the next year, more and more women were having orgasms. Either that, or maybe I was unconsciously doing the treatments differently, helping bring on the orgasmic state. OK, I probably kind of knew what I was doing, and I was delighted.
I mean, you take a scared and shy young – or old – woman who has never been depilated, and you reassure her that it won’t hurt as much as she might have imagined, and let her know it is alright to disrobe in front of you, and have her vagina touched professionally. As the treatment gets underway, you see her melt, and allow herself great release under your ministrations. Then, when you hand her the mirror and she sees herself more naked than she has been since puberty, you just know she’s going to jill herself the moment she gets home. You can only imagine the delight she and her husband will have with her new hairless state. It’s a wonderful thing.
I was happy at first. But I wanted more. I couldn’t quite define it. Hell, yes I could! I wanted to have sex with these women. I wanted to get naked along with them. I wanted to kiss and cuddle with them. I wanted them to love me, and give me orgasms too. But none of that was happening. I had to remain professional.
That was ten years ago. Since I’ve always been good with English, the written word, and I’ve been fascinated with the legal system, I quit that frustrating work, and took a job as a paralegal. Every now and then I’d look back on the waxing business, and kind of miss it. But, I’m fucking the hell out of my boss. We’re in love. I moved into her apartment a year ago.