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Sister Waxing Brother

I grew up lower middle class. After high school, college was out of the question. I did have a couple of small scholarships but they weren’t enough to even pay for textbooks. From all the horror stories I’ve heard of student loans, I didn’t want to go that route. Then too, I didn’t even know what I wanted to do. Nursing? Architecture? Veterinary medicine? I figured college would be wasted on me at that point.

So, I had to earn a living. But doing what? I mean, even beauty school, which did sort of attract me, would take too long and cost too much. My aunt Mae suggested I go into her line of work. Waxing. I was immediately opposed. But she explained that instead of years of schooling, all that was required was a one-day course. Waxers don’t even need certification. She also said it paid well. The spa where she worked was getting $90 for a treatment, of which she received $60, for an hour’s work.

I was kind of squeamish about the whole idea of touching naked people, but then again, I figured I had entertained the idea of being a nurse, and that would have been even more intimate. I mean, what could be more personal than injections, bed baths, and jamming catheters into genitals, right?

Over the course of a week or so, the idea kept coming back to me. I asked Aunt Mae more about it. First, at her spa, there was plenty of work. She said you get used to touching people. She said it was mostly women.

“Mostly?” I asked.

The whole idea of men set me back. I was just about firmly decided to become a waxer until that came up. I hadn’t even had a boyfriend yet. Frankly, men scared me.

I was going to need money. My mother made that clear what with Dad being sick with multiple sclerosis and all, so men or not, and general fear of the unknown, I knew what I had to do. What else could I do?

Mom paid for the waxing school. I was practically trembling as I showed up at the old brick building that looked more like a warehouse than any sort of school.

Inside was a single large room with an office to the side. The room was brightly lit and had a dozen massage tables covered with sheets. I saw that some of other girls were as nervous as I.

The first hour went well, and was fairly interesting as our instructor showed us all about the waxes, and something called ‘sugaring,’ and talked about technique. Then it got weird.

There were fourteen girls in the class. I say girls because most were just a bit older than me, maybe early twenties, but there were a couple of middle-aged women, also. One woman had to be at least seventy and weighed more than what you’d call healthy. I got her. I mean, we were asked to pair up, and before I could sort things out, she became my partner. I guess that was alright. I’m not into age or weight discrimination. Or at least, I try not to be.

From each pair of girls, one was to lay on the table, and get waxed by the other. My elderly partner, Kate, went first, for which I was sort of thankful. I wouldn’t have to be subjected to the direct scrutiny and treatment right away, but I’d have to practice the technique.

We all started with legs. I applied the wax to Kate, and ever so carefully, peeled the edge of the first strip up. I fully got that once you have a grip on the edge, you pull rapidly, so it doesn’t hurt too much. But I saw Kate wincing as I was trying to get the edge started. This happened on three strips, before the instructor came around, and showed me how each patch should have one edge that lays over a just-waxed portion, so I was not pulling hairs as I’d try to get a grip on the edge. She had covered that in the lecture, but I missed that part.

Then it was my turn. You’d think I’d have had some experience with being waxed, but this was my first time. It did sting, but not as badly as I had expected. Kate was like an expert, right out of the gate.

Then we waxed each other’s underarms. Now that, I have to tell you, stings like crazy!

Finally, it was time for the ‘Brazillian.’ That’s waxing each other’s vaginas and anal areas.

We were all asked to strip naked. As I was working on Kate, I kept glancing at her breasts, and her vagina. My eyes were oddly attracted to her, which didn’t make any sense. She was more than three times my age and probably twice my weight. But I have to say, she didn’t look all that terrible. Her breasts were full, and her big dark pink nipples were oddly attractive. When I saw her vagina, I had to look away because I kept getting a sexual twinge in my lower belly, like I get right before I start masturbating. Strange, I know, but that’s just the truth.

Again, I worked on Kate first. That super-sexual feeling in my lower belly, my vagina, and in fact my whole body became very strong. I found the sensation disconcerting. I wasn’t a lesbian, or at least I hoped not. I had given it some thought. It wasn’t that I was against homosexuality. Not at at all. I would have considered a lesbian lifestyle problematic. You know, the stigma. Being shunned by society. On the other hand, part of me admired lesbian boldness. It’s like they’re saying, “Fuck you all. I can be different if I want to.”

I did my best to ignore the feeling, as I ever-so-carefully worked on Kate’s crotch hair. Then I had to have Kate turn over, get on her hands and knees while I waxed her butt crack. I was surprised how low her big breasts hung. My own breasts were nothing like that. I looked around the room at the other women in the same position, and my heart skipped a beat – over and over again. All these naked women were getting me so aroused I can’t even describe it in words.

As I was working on Kate, I noticed that her vagina was surprisingly wet. I had to wipe the liquid away with a little towelette a few times.

Then I looked back at Kate’s butt, seeing her asshole directly. It had a mild, sweet odor. I felt more sexuality than I ever have in my life. I noticed the feeling of a bit of liquid working its way down my leg. I discreetly wiped it with one hand.

I noticed a couple of the girls left for the bathroom at various times. I’ll bet it was just too much for them, and they had to quickly rub one out.

I don’t know how I got through it without exploding, but I finally got Kate finished up, and really admired my work. Even old Kate looked wonderful ‘down there’ in her new hairless state.

Then she did me. It didn’t sting hardly at all, which surprised me after the underarm experience. I was going crazy with sexual energy. Feeling her fat fingers working on my vagina was just amazing. Then it happened. I orgasmed. I don’t know for sure whether Kate noticed, but then again, how could she not? She didn’t say anything. When it was time for my butt, she had me get on all fours, and I orgasmed again when she was pressing the wax in right against my anus.

I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that as soon as I got home, I masturbated over and over again.

Putting my dildo into my freshly waxed vagina

I told Aunt Mae all about the school, leaving out the whole bit about how horny I, and the other girls got. I figured I was all set to start work. She thought it was all great. Then she asked,

“But no guys there?”

“Right, it was all women.”

“Oh dear, you’ll need one more thing before you can start working here.”

“What’s that?”

“You need to be able to wax a man.”

“I’m sure I can do that.”

“I’m sure you can’t. I mean, not the first time without taking way too long or hurting the guy.”

“What do you mean?”

“The scrotum, dear. It takes some practice.”

I kind of understood. I mean, what person on earth hasn’t seen a scrotum on the Internet? Of course I had never seen one in person except on children when I babysat. I could immediately understand how that loose skin might be a problem.

“So, I have to wax a man before I can start?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“But who? I don’t have a boyfriend or anything.”

“What about Carl?”

“My brother? You’ve got to be fucking kidding!”

“Watch your mouth, young lady.”

“Sorry, but I couldn’t possibly…”

I wasted two days that I could have already been working at the spa before I could figure out how to ask Carl. In fact, it wasn’t me who asked. It was my mother.

Sitting around the table, Mom was telling Dad and Carl about how proud she was of my waxing certificate. Then, she delicately explained that I had only worked on women. She went on to say that I couldn’t start at the spa until I had waxed a man. She turned directly to my father, and said, “How about it, Henry?”

I was immediately geeked out. My dad, Oh my god, no way.

He kind of balked, and started to say something, then something else, and looked like a deer in the headlights. Before he could answer, she turned to Carl.

“Would you be a gent and help your sister out?”

“Now, Mom!” he practically shouted.

But then he wilted under her stare. “Alright, already.”

After dinner, the four of us went to Carl’s room. I don’t know why my parents had to be there, but they each sat in a chair as Carl laid on their bed and I cleared an end table and started laying out my brand new waxing supplies. He was fully clothed.

It took me a while to sort things out, unwrap the cord and get rid of the packaging. While I was doing that, Mom told him, “Dear, you’re going to have to be naked for this.”

“Geez! I know, but really, do I have to? This whole thing is a stupid idea.”

“Hey, it’s not like we haven’t seen you naked before,” my dad said. “We diapered you, remember?”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“You love your sister, right?”


“And you want to help her succeed in life?”

“Of course.”

“So this is just something that has to be done.”

“But she’ll see my, um… my genitals.”

“More than that, I’ll be working on them, silly.” I couldn’t help saying.

“Get over it Carl,” my mom said in that tone that means business.

As my wax was warming, he very slowly and reluctantly removed all his clothing.

I almost gasped. I mean, I knew he was a good-looking kid, and I had seen him shirtless numerous times, but this was different. There was that horny feeling in my vagina again. I was glad I was dressed, because I was feeling wet already.

The whole penis area was fascinating. I’d seen them on the Internet, but here was the real thing. Carl’s seemed like a fine specimen, nearly hidden under a patch of brown hair.

The thing is, I didn’t want to touch it. To actually reach out and touch my brother’s junk. I mean, how weird is that, right? But that’s exactly what I had to do.

I grabbed some scissors to start by trimming the excessive length of hair. His penis was laying in the way, so with my other hand, I gingerly lifted it to one side. I was surprised by it’s softness, and its warmth. I felt it twitch a little bit.

I got to work, and got his hair pretty well trimmed down to the length that’s right for waxing. Meanwhile, I could swear his penis was a bit thicker and firmer that it was when I started.

Now, the actual waxing got under way. Remembering that each strip has to have an edge that’s not in hair so I can get a grip on it, I started by applying a patch to the hairless side of his penis, and extending toward his lower stomach. After letting it solidify, I grabbed that free edge, and pulled rapidly.

Carl screamed, “Woah! That hurt!”

What I hadn’t realized is how floppy all that stuff is. His penis had been pulled, as well as the edge of his scrotum.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll do it different. That won’t happen again.”

I immediately understood why Aunt Mae said I had to practice on a real live male.

I applied another strip to the other side, and this time, I held his penis and upper scrotum down with the fingertips of one hand, while pulling off the wax with the other.

He only winced a little this time, quietly saying, “Ah, that’s much better.”

I continued with the waxing, and his penis grew larger. An erection, I realized.

His face got all red, and he apologized to all of us in the room.

Dad told him, “It’s natural under the circumstances.”

I was surprised my mother and father wanted to stay in the room, violating Carl’s privacy, but maybe they thought they were ‘protecting’ him in some way by being there.

I had Carl get on his hands and knees, and removed all the hair from his anal area. Then I had him lay back down so I could do the final step, which was pulling out the few remaining hairs with a pair of tweezers. My gosh, people look so great when they are hairless, and Carl was just looking brilliant!

His penis was way different now. It was very, very erect, sticking up at about a 45-degree angle, and pulsing with every heartbeat. I grabbed it with one hand, and started pulling out hairs at the base with my other hand. After a minute, Carl started to squirm. I was trying to figure out why. It wasn’t because of the tweezers. It was some other kind of squirming. As I was still trying to understand that, suddenly I felt his penis pulsing, and something warm and thick liquid was pouring into my hand.

“I’m going to cum,” He said in a quiet, embarrassed voice, even as he was already ejaculating. I knew what it was, having read about it.

I may have been as embarrassed as he was. My first thought was that I caused it. I should have been aware. I should have done something different.

My father thought it was funny, and started laughing. Mom was trying to hide a smile behind her hand. Without saying a word, they got up and left the room.

Not long after, I heard the telltale squeaking of their bedsprings.

In the meantime, Carl had wiped up with a towel, and was putting his underwear back on.

“Sorry about that, Sis,” he apologized.

“No, it was cool. No worries at all,” I answered.

I took this picture of Carl a couple of days later

And I left his room. As soon as I got into my own room, I couldn’t take my clothes off fast enough. I rubbed myself to a spectacular series of orgasms. That was unusual for me. I usually have one orgasm, and then I’m done.

The next day, I was fully qualified to take up my rightful position in the spa. Just like Aunt Mae promised, it was lucrative work, right from day one. I guess the patrons, both female, and the occasional male, enjoy having an 18-year-old working on them.

Truth be told, almost all of the work is leg waxing. Sometimes, I do get a vagina. I can’t always tell, but I believe most of the women orgasm during the process.

Only like twice a month, I get a guy for a ‘manzillian.’ I love doing those, and wish there were more of them. Oh, yes, mostly the guys do get hard, but they don’t ejaculate like Carl did. Well, one guy did. That was excellent. I’d like more of that.

Funny thing, other than me returning two days later to take some pictures of my work, which he almost didn’t allow, Carl and I have never done anything of that sort again, and it’s never been talked about.

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