Free Erotic Stories
Waxing Salon Seduction
The blinking sign caught my attention. I had just returned to sit in my car with a fast-food sandwich to eat. The strip-mall location offered typical girl-watching opportunities. Almost immediately, I observed a fit, mature woman walk from her car into the Beach Time Salon. With my gaze directed toward the salon, I noticed the electronic sign in the window alternating between "WAXING" and "MASSAGE" in red letters. Both services piqued my interest.
Since moving to southern Florida three years ago, I was still visiting local businesses to try every esthetician possible. Male Brazilian waxing was surprisingly hard to get despite the abundant beach clientele. I was inclined to investigate every possible establishment that offered waxing to find the one in four that did men and go from there. Finding a decent masseuse at the same establishment would be a bonus.
Without afternoon demands for my time and freshly showered before doing an errand nearby, I decided to check out the salon right after eating my lunch. I grabbed two ibuprofen capsules from a bottle in the glove compartment and washed them down with my drink. From experience, my hopes weren't high for being waxed but I would be prepared if things worked out. As I ate and gave the pills time to work, I reminisced about how I started my grooming practices.
I have been removing my pubic hair for fifteen years, ever since my kinky girlfriend Mara convinced me to let her shave me one evening before going out. I liked the feeling of being hairless around my junk and it kept me in a state of arousal most of the night. Many women noticed my condition; some after Mara alerted them. I enjoyed their attention and fucked Mara like an animal afterward.
As we repeated the adventure, we became more open and bold each time. Mara liked to mention her handiwork to her friends, suggesting that they feel how smooth I was. I don't think anyone declined the invitation to put a hand in my pants. None of them missed a chance to explore every inch of my johnson either. I was getting addicted to the sensual rushes their exploration caused.
Eventually, there happened the night Mara stripped me, putting my hairless cock on display in a room full of people. Subjected to close up inspections and teased by fingers, I was rock hard for nearly forty minutes as they discussed my member. I've always known my cock size is impressive, but that night I learned women thought mine was beautifully shaped.
Toward the end of the exhibition and discussion, I was dripping pre-cum. Mara egged her bestie into cleaning me off with her mouth. I was so ready to explode, that the instant her mouth closed around my dick's head, I unloaded. Her bestie hardly reacted; her head remained motionless as she swallowed several times. Save for quiet grunts and gentle rocking, my body barely indicated I had an orgasm, let alone spurted buckets.
My relationship with the kinky girlfriend lasted over three years. Throughout that period, I was her trophy-dick, asked to pose naked and display my hair-free genitals for discussion on many occasions. Audience participation was encouraged and thanks to Mara's sharing nature, some of them received permission to do more than look and feel. I got used to watching women become mesmerized when they saw my erect cock, and then express a consuming desire to feel it fucking them. I made sure the lucky ones were royally fucked until a married woman split from her husband because of me. I felt guilty about my involvement in their breakup and began being selective in my sex partners.
Showing off became my defining activity, one that outlived the relationship that nurtured all my fetishes. Avoiding sex with married women became my personal rule. Keeping my junk hairless was essential to my enjoyment but required significant planning and attention when I learned I couldn't shave myself adequately. A few other girlfriends enjoyed occasional shaving duties but such times weren't frequent enough to keep me as smooth as I liked. Neither were they inclined to show me to their friends.
For a couple of years after Mara, I went to salons to be shaved. I went to many salons; some were impulse visits just for the opportunity to show my cock to someone new. Only one woman reacted negatively to my erection; most grinned and happily held my hard cock in a gloved hand while working. I would act embarrassed and apologetic at first. On subsequent visits, I would shyly admit how good their touch felt and declare I was having trouble controlling my excitement. A few reacted by teasing me further until I erupted; I'm sure they thought they were getting away with something. I coaxed a few into deliberate handjobs. The ones who remained all business lost me as a customer.
The woman I went to most often did the best and most thorough job. She even shaved my shaft and balls. She was old, overweight, and unattractive but the first time she shaved me, her magical hands endeared her to me. When she finished shaving, she removed her gloves to apply aloe barehanded to my shaved area, taking extra care to soothe my cock. She used both hands to rub its entire length. I didn't need to encourage her verbally. When I groaned and lifted my hips, one of her hands squeezed my dickhead while the other stroked me vigorously.
"Come on, big man. Show me your cum," she demanded.
I was obedient, splashing my jizz all over her hands and arms. I thought she might be annoyed but discovered she actually liked to play with my cum. She finished me the same way every time, too. Eventually, she would remove her top for the happy endings and take my load on her saggy tits. She said it was good for her skin and rubbed it around like a lotion, never wiping it off before dressing. Knowing she preferred to work the rest of the day with my cum on her tits made me think she was kinkier than I was.
Over time, she gave hints that she would provide other services. Although she licked my cum off her fingers and even put my cock in her mouth a few times, I never let myself cum in her mouth. Her unappealing looks and the ring on her left hand limited what I was willing to do or let her do.
The tinted-glass storefront acted like a mirror as I approached, hiding the salon's occupants until I opened the door. The mature woman I had observed entering was getting a pedicure from an Asian woman sitting on a stool. An Asian man wearing a simple mask was doing a young woman's nails at a table; her back was to me. There were four pedicure chairs and four tables but only the two workers. Because I guessed that the Asians might be husband and wife salon owners, my expectations for waxing dwindled.
I strode toward the small counter. The mature lady was the first to look at my crotch, obviously catching sight of my commando cock bouncing under the thin basketball shorts I wore. Her eyes stared with wonder and her mouth fell open. Either she mouthed 'Wow' or she mimed her lips stretching around my cock. I'm used to women doing that but I still enjoy such reactions. Also watching me, the Asian woman managed a sly glance before I turned to read the salon services signboard behind the counter.
Maybe my luck was changing. Below a litany of nail treatments was a list of waxing services that included 'Brazilian' but that left me expecting to hear they did women only. There were four massage modals listed, too. A good body rub was my fallback option. The Asian woman had come to the counter to ask how she could help me.
I spoke softly, facing away from the male worker to my side, hoping to hide the nature of my inquiry from him. "I saw your sign in the window. Do you do Brazilian waxing ... on men?"
At this point in the past, I most often received negative but polite answers, no or women only. A few turned away in disgust as if I was a pervert for asking. With the probable husband there, I expected to hear she didn't do men. She looked down at my bulge and smiled before answering loud enough for everyone to hear. "Yes, I do male Brazilian waxing."
Her bold response startled me and drew attention from the other women. I heard a little 'ooh' sound from the mature lady behind me. The young woman turned her head and shoulders completely around to look at me, her eyes showing interest in where I would be waxed. Strangely, the man did not look up from his work.
"Do I need to schedule one by appointment?"
"For yourself, sir?" I nodded. "Do you want one now? I can take you next."
Still without looking up, the man spoke in an Asian language; his tone sounded commanding. My hostess snapped a short reply in the same language; her tone was one of annoyance. He looked up at her then me without expression. He never paid attention to me after that.
Turning back to me, she was smiling and friendly again. "By next, I mean after I finish Ms. Sandy's pedicure," nodding her head toward the mature woman. "If you care to wait, it should only be ten or fifteen minutes."
She was so pleasant and I understood her speech clearly. I realized her pronunciation was free of distortions from her other language. She was a petite, attractive woman, to whom I was suddenly looking forward to showing my cock. I was eager to judge her waxing skills above all else. I still didn't know the couple's relationship; she didn't wear any rings but could still be married. None of that mattered for just being waxed anyway.
"I don't mind waiting."
"My name is Lee. Can I have your first name, sir? I'd rather call you by name. Also, I'll officially list you in my appointment book."
"My name is Brett."
"Ah, like the baseball player," she remarked while writing my name in a date planner.
I was surprised she was interested in America's pastime. She didn't look old enough to know a player from his era. "You know baseball? You know Brett?"
"Yeah, I know baseball. George Brett, third baseman for the Kansas City Royals." Showing off her sports knowledge to a man who questioned her made her smirk. "Have a seat, Brett. I'll be with you as soon as I can."
Sandy, the mature lady, eagerly leaned forward to ask Lee something as soon as she returned to her stool. "What's a Brazilian?" I only heard the last word clearly but I sussed out the short question before their voices dropped to whispers. Despite their efforts to be secretive, I could tell they talked about waxing a man's pubes ... and the apparent size of my dick. It was their nods, giggles, and glances toward me that were so familiar.
From what I could see, Lee was trying to be coy but Sandy had trouble controlling her excitement. I distinctly heard her ask, "Did you see it swing?" before Lee shushed her. Their conversation ended when Sandy turned her head toward me, perhaps purposely so I would hear her wistful voice. "I wish I had your job today, Lee."
I pretended not to notice but inwardly thought of dropping my shorts to show off what I knew Sandy, like all women, yearned to see. Meanwhile, my thoughts also pondered Lee holding my cock a short time from now. My cock stiffened, ready to perform, pushing up against my hands folded in my lap.
What kind of esthetician would she be? What would be her reaction to seeing my cock? Showing off my hairless package was still my preferred game but the waxing treatment had become its own erotic experience. As I waited, my thoughts drifted to how the latter practice started.
The problem I had with shaving was the itching and the short duration of what I considered perfect skin appearance. Coarse, blunt stubble reappeared within days, detectable by touch before becoming visibly noticeable. Eventually, I discovered Brazilian waxing as an alternative. Although being hairless was the same purpose, the process and results are significantly different.
After making up my mind to try waxing, just being brave enough to let someone rip my pubic hair out by the roots took almost two months. When I did go, it was the worst experience possible and was almost my only attempt. The waxing hurt like hell, more than it should have but I didn't know that at first. She wasn't experienced enough to do it right or guide me, and her modesty demands made the treatment difficult.
I didn't know to take pain relievers before my waxing to reduce sensitivity. She didn't trim my full growth hair to half-an-inch first, instead yanking out my pubes in tangled masses. She didn't apply a desensitizer before waxing or a soothing lotion after. She had my cock covered with a modesty-towel at all times, even half-covered while waxing its shaft. She insisted that I hold the towel in place the entire time and adjust its position per her verbal instructions, which became a comedy of misunderstandings.
Trying to hold my cock with the cloth wrapped around it while she yanked off the tape proved impossible. When I used my fingertips on my skin for a better grip, I got the sticky wax all over my hands. For days afterward, I found bits of wax still adhered to my skin and missed hairs. I eventually learned she used the wrong wax for my sensitive groin area.
Months later, I was talking to a hair stylist named Gloria at another salon while she cut my hair. When I found out she was a licensed esthetician, we discussed my first experience. She was horrified by what I described and offered a half-priced waxing so I would let her show me how waxing is supposed to be done. When I accepted her offer, we made an appointment for the next day. She gave me preparation instructions (like taking ibuprofen an hour before and wearing loose clothing) that all newbies should receive.
Ushered into a private room for the waxing, she left me to undress and instructed me to cover my groin with a modesty-cloth. I thought that meant she wouldn't see much of my cock but the covering was for the people outside the room and only lasted until she closed the door after returning. The first thing she did was grab the cloth and toss it on a stand behind her. She did an exaggerated double take and her words made me laugh. "Whoa! Maybe your first esthetician was intimidated by that monster you have."
"She never saw it except for little patches of skin when she got around to waxing it. Are you intimidated?"
Gloria stood over me, looking down at my cock as she pulled on surgical gloves. "No, it's just a penis, a rather large one ... but I think I can handle it." She gave me a wry smile and a wink before lifting my cock with her thumb and fingertips. "I may have to charge you overtime, though."
She put me at ease with her humor and unabashed language. Likewise, she was informative, explaining every step of her treatment starting with a close inspection. "Your pubes are too long. I'll clip them short so they don't tangle and I can pull them out straight. Ah, I see you have a skin tag here on your left nut. I'll have to work around that. If the wax rips that off, it'll sting like a son-of-a-bitch."
Lifting my nuts out of the way, she said I had significant hair in my ass crack. She was very explicit about the hygienic advantage of removing those hairs and talked me into removing them too as a regular part of Brazilian waxing included in the basic price.
"Get on your hands and knees, sweetie. I'll do your backside before it gets nasty. If you're like most men, you'll sweat, especially being nervous."
Although I felt a little odd about where she was going to touch me and worried about possible pain, I complied. Not needing to trim the short hairs there, she first wiped the area with a towelette, applying a desensitizing lotion. She had me pull one cheek aside as she pulled the other, the only time she had me assist.
Smearing the warm wax in a small strip then placing a piece of paper tape over the wax, she rubbed the tape with her fingers to make the wax adhere. Pushing or pulling my skin taut, a quick yank pulled the tape, wax, and my hairs away. Sometimes, she dabbed with the tape to remove remaining bits of wax. Working quickly and causing little discomfort, she was rubbing on soothing lotion with her gloved fingers before I knew it.
Gloria prepared my front side by trimming my pubes with a small, mustache clipper. She was not shy about using her free hand to place or to hold my cock out of the way. Her fingers also rolled my balls then pulled my cock vertical with her hand wrapped around the head while she clipped the hairs on it. Although I felt a twinge of excitement watching her flip me around, anticipating the waxing process prevented me from getting an erection.
Handling my junk with the same familiarity while maintaining an obvious professionalism about the necessary contact, she waxed away the shortened hairs. She worked with amazing speed, not giving me enough time to enjoy the touching but just enough to steel myself for each stinging yank.
She kept up a distracting conversation throughout from which I learned the advantages waxing had over shaving. Because the hair is removed root and all, it takes longer to grow back, and the new hairs grow in softer and finer. Some of the hair follicles die and stop growing over time, thinning the crop. The skin toughens and becomes less sensitive just as a man's face does from shaving.
Gloria was candid enough to warn me about sex after waxing, too. Because all the follicles are exposed to the surface, bacteria and contaminants can get in and cause infections. She recommended avoiding not just intercourse but oral sex and even masturbation for twenty-four hours. Not everyone abides by that advice, myself included, and few suffer any consequences, but the risks are there.
Following the waxing, she inspected my cock closely, using tweezers to pull two missed hairs she found. After changing into fresh gloves, she applied lotion to the entire waxed area. She left my cock and balls for last but her vigorous rubbing bumped them enough for me to start to stiffen. After spreading additional lotion on her hands, her fingers curled firmly around my cock as her hand slowly slid up and down several times. I thought she was giving me a handjob but she stopped abruptly.
The sensuous nature of her final touches left me fully hard ... and bewildered. My condition amused her and while she acknowledged that most men become erect, she admitted she was probably responsible for making it worse. I felt bold enough to ask her to make it up to me but she would not finish me off; not then or after any of the dozens of other times she waxed me.
When I learned several appointments later that Gloria waxed herself, we discussed the similarities and differences of waxing females. I asked for a visual demonstration of the specifics with a tongue-in-cheek 'for educational purposes' excuse. She surprised me by exposing her vulva inches from my head, pulling her labia and clitoral hood aside to show the delicate places where hairs grew on her sex. I was mildly aroused seeing her bald pussy but settled for the factual observation and nothing else.
I went to Gloria exclusively at first because she earned my patronage. If only she would have jerked me off, I would have remained loyal. Even the promise of healthy tips didn't sway her. She refused to risk the loss of her license or job over what amounted to performing a sex act for money.
As I began to sample other estheticians, I realized Gloria did the best job. While I didn't find a better waxing, I found some happier endings. Two girls seemed to finish me off as a normal part of their job, giving me a casual and distracted handjob at the end without being asked. Over roughly six years, I encountered about a dozen other girls who made me bust a nut. Some enjoyed working on a fit young man with a big cock so much that I received special handling that led to not-so-accidental discharges. Disregarding the risks for whatever reasons, some agreed to extra treatment exchanged for nicer tips. I even hooked up with one babe a few times.
Sadly, none of the willing providers proved to be worth their poor waxing results. I remained one of Gloria's regular customers until I left the big city and its northern climate three years ago for the sand and sun of our country's southernmost beaches. Through similar sampling, I found a mature black woman who did the best job but she was no-funny-stuff legit. I used a few 'handy' girls on occasion when I wanted a good time. Naturally, I was always on the lookout for the best of both worlds in one provider.
I looked up from the magazine I was browsing when Sandy got out of her pedicure chair and put on her sandals. I saw her take a credit card from her purse and follow Lee to the counter, noticing the oddity of leaving her purse behind. Both of them looked at me; Lee took another quick glance, Sandy a long stare.
Because I like to show off and have practiced it for so long, in public, I'm always situationally aware of what's showing and who's looking. Always ready to oblige, I give interested voyeurs an easy opportunity and plenty to see. Sitting sideways to the front window, sunlight was spotlighting my stage so I raised the curtain.
Looking down and lifting the magazine halfway to my face as if reading, I held it away from my chest enough to see for myself what they could see. My cock is a show-er, not a grower. In a flaccid state, it is about ninety percent its erect size. The bell shape of my circumcised glans presents an obvious outline under thin material such as the shorts I wore. Using peripheral vision, I saw Sandy boldly facing me from the counter five feet away while Lee processed her payment. I knew she could see it lying on my thigh; I could feel her eyes on it.
When she turned to sign her receipt, Lee used the moment to lean her head for a quick peek around the cash register. One of them giggled after a whispered exchange. Sandy returned to where she left her purse; after putting her card away, she took out her cellphone to check messages or something.
Lee came out from behind the counter and called me by name. I glanced up and took a good look at her. She was short and slender, about thirtyish. Her thin legs were clad in capris pants and a baggy, nondescript blouse dr*ped her chest. She was stunning with classic Asian facial features. Thin eyebrows arched over brown eyes; a wide smile exposed white teeth contrasting her golden skin. Her black hair was pulled back into a bun, making her face look narrow.
Tossing my magazine aside, I stood up and noticed her eyes zero in on my crotch. Sandy looked up from her phone ... and stood waiting. I understood her actions now; she made sure she was still around to watch me parade by. With two gawkers focused on me, I flaunted my goods for them.
Because of its length, my cock bounces naturally when I walk. I can subdue its movement if I choose or exaggerate its swing as I did for Sandy and Lee. Lee turned to lead me toward a door at the back of the narrow salon. As we passed Sandy, I heard her say, "Enjoy." I thought she was giving me cheeky advice but then I saw Lee wave her hand in possible acknowledgement. To whom was her suggestion directed then?
The door in the rear corner of the main salon area opened to a back hallway. Two doors led off the hallway, and I could see an open break area and a bathroom at the rear. After closing the passage door, Lee opened the first door and led me into an absurdly small room. A waxing table filled one side of the room, almost touching three walls. A cabinet with a countertop filled the other side leaving a space in the middle barely large enough for both of us to stand and swing the door closed.
The room appeared seldom used, having collected boxes of supplies on the treatment table and a stack of towels on the countertop. Lee stacked the clutter in a corner and told me to get undressed. She didn't leave the room but turned her back to me to turn on a wax warmer. I didn't hesitate to whip off my shirt and shorts, ending up standing naked behind her while she continued organizing items she would use. When she squatted to retrieve something from the cabinet, her ass bumped my leg.
"Excuse me," she begged as her head turned, halting when she saw my cock hanging a foot from her face. "Oh, you're ready," she remarked casually before her eyes took a slow, three-second scan down my cock. "Ah, you can get on the table. Lie on your back until I take a better look."
'Better than the long, admiring look I just watched her take?' I questioned myself. I didn't know much about this attractive young woman but I already liked her approach to her work and I looked forward to any exam she would perform. When she came to stand at my hip moments later, her hands remained busy folding tape from a roll and cutting it into short strips. Her eyes appeared to glisten as she silently looked down at my groin.
"I see that you were waxed recently. How long have you been getting waxed?"
"About ten years now."
"Great! That means you're here for a legitimate treatment and I can expect you to act like a gentleman."
She didn't say it in so many words but I understood she was telling me she didn't give happy endings. Not only did she preempt my asking, she nixed half my exhibition game. I was disappointed that I misread her first reactions and imagined that I was in for a heavy dose of modesty with the treatment.
She bent down to inspect me more closely. She hadn't put on gloves yet when her fingers reached out to stretch my skin near a mole. It wasn't near my cock so I considered the touch no big deal. Then the back of her hand pushed my cock aside and she pulled my nutsacks around to see every surface. While the incidental bare hand-to-cock contact and ball-rolling were unexpected, they still weren't that out of the ordinary and I didn't show an overt reaction.
Her exam took a surprising direction, one that changed my expectations about everything to come. One hand grabbed my cock to lift and hold it up. I could feel the surprising warmth of her skin, her fingers wrapped firmly around just below my glans. She pulled and turned my cock in all directions, at one point using her other hand to probe and rub a spot on the underside of my shaft near the base. I started to get hard.
"Did you know you have a skin tag here?"
"Yeah, on my left testicle."
"No, I saw that one, too," she responded and paused to touch my nut to indicate its location. "You've got one here on your penis, too." She tilted my stiffening cock toward her, twisted it to expose the underside, and pulled some skin with her thumb and forefinger to show me. As hard as I was, there wasn't much loose skin. She had to squeeze my cock to maintain her grip as she twisted it and her thumb was pressing on the sensitive underside.
"I didn't know that." I chose to remain a gentleman by not mentioning that I liked her barehanded touch. I didn't have to mention what it was doing to me. My member was being a typical dick and making a monumental spectacle of itself.
I heard the passage door open and close, and then a male voice spoke from the hallway in their foreign language. Lee turned toward the door and responded in kind. As they alternated speaking several times, I noticed her hand never let go of my cock. I was probably imagining things, but she seemed to squeeze and tug my cock as she spoke. Was it deliberate or absentminded? I couldn't fully enjoy the stimulation because I was worried that he would come through the unlocked door and see what was going on.
"Is everything okay?" I asked when they finished.
"Yes. My husband just told me there are no customers so he's going to eat his lunch."
So, he is her husband! I couldn't believe she didn't let go of my erect cock in reaction to him being close by. She didn't seem worried he would come in the room. Maybe she didn't care if he discovered her hands-on technique, maybe because he already knew about it. The kinky situation turned me on but her marital status created a conflict for the ideas already forming in my brain.
Finally, she released my cock, and with a wry smile, looked at it standing free over my belly. "Get on your elbows and knees, Brett. I'll start with your backside."
As I flipped over, she squirted lotion onto a ball of cotton and waited for me to get situated. Before beginning, she directed me to spread my knees wider and stretch my arms above my head to lower my shoulders onto the table. Positioned with my ass sticking in the air, cheeks flared, she had easy access inside my ass crack -- and I'm sure a clear view of my balls and cock hanging almost to the table.
I felt the warm fingers of her empty hand handling my flesh as she worked. She applied the desensitizer slowly, taking care to avoid getting any directly on my anus. She spread the lotion on a portion of my cheeks, the back and inside of my upper thighs, and the area between my butt and balls.
She remained gloveless as she began waxing. I've read about and seen videos of estheticians that work without gloves, but of the dozens in my past, none did. I recognized experience in the brisk pace of her work and training in her techniques. She would stretch the skin, butter on some wax, slap a tape strip on it, and rub the tape surface. Holding the skin stretched with one hand, she would yank the tape away with the other.
I was fixating on feeling her touching me, reveling in its intimacy, ignoring the discomforts that normally kill an erection. My swollen cock hung heavy and started to tingle. I wanted to rub it. Better still, I wanted her to rub it! I tried to tell her by telepathy. My answer came in a burning sting on my sensitive inner thigh; I jerked and winced loudly.
"I'm sorry, Brett," she cooed as she dabbed twice with the tape at some residue. Suddenly, I felt her warm palm covering the stinging swath of skin for several seconds. Sweet mother of relief! Remarkably, my sense of touch nerves overrode the pain signals quickly. I was convinced a gloved hand would not work as effectively, making up my mind immediately that Lee was now my favorite. Thereafter, any little jerk or complaint from me caused her to provide another palm treatment. I shouldn't be faulted for seeing a way to take advantage of her responses.
My backside waxing ended with her spreading a soothing lotion containing aloe over the waxed areas. She wasn't shy around my anus with this lotion, smearing across it several times. Previous applications with gloves paled in comparison to the personal sense of empathy Lee created with caressing-like movements. I couldn't wait to turn over and get the same treatment on my front.
When she had me flip over, I was hard as a rock. Getting stiff happens; being stiff already and staying stiff through all the discomfort had never happened before. To happen this time, when I wanted to be a gentleman, cast doubts that my treatment would end pleasantly. To my relief, she didn't seem to mind the elephant (trunk) in the room because more than half the time, she had her hands on it. Despite wanting to lose my woody, everything she did kept me hard.
Working in a radial pattern around my cock, she stretched my skin, usually by holding my cock in some way. She didn't hold lightly with fingertips, but rather a mid-cock grip that reminded me of holding a baseball bat. My cock remained hard for so long, it started to drip pre-cum. Lee noticed when she got some on her hand. Nonchalantly, she used a cloth to wipe her hand and the oozing tip of my cock.
I was closer to blowing my load than I wanted to be so I decided not to fake pain when she worked on my cock to get a palm treatment on it. The hairs that grow on my cock are on the lower half, leaving the business end for her to hold. She had the warmest hands I've ever known. I keep mentioning that because that warmth wrapped around my swollen glans made her touch impossible to ignore.
She waxed the top side of my cock first, having to bend my hard-on toward my legs to do it. Rubbing the tape on the wax effectively rubbed my cock. She squeezed my cock to hold it when she ripped the tape off. Instead of killing my boner, the sting resonated down into my gut and I felt the tingle start. Oh, no!
She pushed my cock to the side away from her and held it down forcibly, pressing my cock against my hipbone. The heat from the wax excited me. Her fingers stroked me through the tape again. I was fighting my arousal until she yanked the tape off. Searing pain caused all my muscles to tense up.
Her palm covered the irritated spot on the side of my shaft immediately. She leaned on her hands, applying pressure with both directly to my cock. The agony and the ecstasy were getting to be too much. I moaned. She thought I was still hurting so she rotated her palms, firmly massaging my cock. My orgasm was getting out of my control.
Holding my cock against my belly, the tip of my glans was pointed into the center of her palm. Rubbing the tape with her other hand, her fingers stroked the bulging underside ridge where I am most sensitive. That was all I could take.
I gasped out a warning at the last second. "I'm sorry, Lee." My semen started shooting into her palm.
She didn't let go. Rope after rope of cum was squirting into her hand and gushing onto my belly in an epic orgasm. Her other hand continued to rub the underside of my cock through the tape, encouraging the flow. I worried that I had ruined my chances for future visits but she was smiling as she stared at gushing cock. As she grabbed a towel and started wiping up my jizz, I apologized again.
"Don't worry about it. I'm not upset. You're not the first guy to have an accident." After a long pause, she added with a hint of laughter, "But you're the first before I finished waxing."
She emphasized the last point by grabbing my cock, grabbing the tape still on my cock, and ripping it off. After waxing the remaining side, she was done. Lee inspected her finished work, dabbing off some wax residue, and tweezing off a few hairs.
She sensually applied the soothing lotion, first avoiding but teasing my soft cock. Taking a fresh handful of lotion, she smeared it on my cock from the base all the way to tip. Her hand made six or seven long, slow slides to the end of my cock to work the lotion in. Each time, her thumb and fingers played with my glans. I got hard again, not enough to cum, but enough to bubble up a milky drop which she spread over my glans with her fingertip.
I would have shot my wad right there if I hadn't minutes earlier. Maybe she was showing me how she ends her waxings. I knew I would be back for more if she didn't turn me away. She told me to dress but stayed in the cramped room cleaning up as I got off the table. She saw my cock sticking straight out, but neither of us mentioned my accident, even with a gossamer of cum hanging from the tip. Without prompting, she used a towel to wipe off the dribble so it wouldn't visibly stain my shorts. Still feeling remorseful, I apologized a third time.
"You can stop worrying about that, Brett. I told you I'm okay with what happened."
"But you asked me to be a gentleman."
"You were. You didn't get grabby with me. That's where some guys get out of line. I like to become friends with my customers, so please give me a hug, Brett."
"Okay, but while I'm like this?" Still naked below the waist while we spoke, I tilted my hips to bring attention to my stiff cock between us.
Her answer came when she stepped forward, dr*ped the towel over my standing cock, and put her arms around me. She didn't give me a polite, arms-length hug; her whole body pressed against me. I held her firmly for several seconds, enjoying her breasts against my chest, and her hips snuggling against my bundled-up erection. Fighting urges to caress her, I was close to losing my gentleman status.
I managed to cage my still raging cock in my shorts before following her out into the salon, keeping her positioned in front of me to block the sight of my bulge. Her husband was painting the nails of a different woman, another was soaking her feet waiting for a pedicure, and a third woman sat in the waiting area. Lee greeted all the women by name as she passed them. Her husband looked up at her as we passed but not at me.
Wanting to show my appreciation and my generous nature, I calculated how much to tip her. Their listed price for Brazilian waxing was seventy-five dollars, making a standard twenty percent tip come out to fifteen dollars. I considered paying her even more but I worried that her husband would question the large tip. I solved my dilemma by paying in cash so she could report any amount to her husband that she chose. Handing her a C-note, I left the counter before she could hand me change.
She called after me, "Thank you, Brett. See you in a couple of weeks." I was pleased that she invited me back.
* * *
I had a steady girlfriend back then, steady as in regular but not significant or exclusive. Over the next ten days, we had dates and good sex but I thought about Lee when I was lying in bed at night. Remembering her sensual touch was my masturbation fodder. I usually imagined seducing her or her seducing me at the end of a session; the idea of fucking her gave me intense orgasms. Fantasy fucks is all I'd really get from her, though; I wasn't going to fool around much beyond handjobs with another married woman.
Lee had given me a business card with the salon's number. On the back, she had filled in the first of ten slots with the date of my waxing and her initials, S H; it struck me as odd that there was no L for Lee. I was anxious to get another waxing from her, waiting for my new growth to be long enough. I called a couple days short of two weeks to make an appointment. It was Monday; they were closed.
I called Tuesday. Lee sounded happy to hear from me. I wanted to come that day but Tuesday was a bad day of the week for her to be tied up with one customer for almost an hour. Tuesdays are busy for them with repairs to weekend nail tragedies and newly arrived vacationers wanting pretty toes for the beaches. I made an appointment for noon on Wednesday. That became my usual time slot every other week.
When I walked into the salon fifteen minutes early, Lee wasn't there. Her husband was taking payment from the only other customer. He acknowledged me with a nod and then exchanged goodbyes and a hug with the woman, addressing her by name.
He flashed me a friendly smile. "Welcome back, Brett."
What a nice touch, knowing customers by name. I felt at ease talking to him despite both of us knowing the purpose of my visit.
"You're early. Lee stepped out to get us burgers for lunch. She'll be right back. My name is Dan." He reached his hand out to shake mine. His grip was firm.
His name sounded like Dan but slightly different. I couldn't catch the subtle nuance in his pronunciation. He quickly gave up trying to teach me; calling him Dan was good enough. Except for his name, he spoke American English as Lee did, with hardly a trace of foreign language influence.
Almost the moment I sat down to wait, Dan said he could see Lee returning. I looked out the window to see her flying through the parking lot in a flat-out sprint. When she burst through the door, she saw me and approached. She was wearing capris pants and baggy blouse similar to the ones she wore my first visit. Her comfortable clothing was probably common work attire.
I rose from my seat to receive a polite hug and her personal welcome, noticing that she wasn't winded from exertion. She was willing to start my waxing immediately but I insisted that she shouldn't miss her lunch just because I was early. They ate leisurely together at the back table, finishing before my appointed time.
As soon as we entered the treatment room, Lee turned to me, putting her hand on my arm. "Brett, that was very sweet of you to let me eat lunch first. Let me give you another hug."
This time, she pressed herself sublimely against my body, her cheek against mine, lingering for several seconds. Her greeting was more than friendly; it was deliberately sensual because she tilted her hips to press her mons against my bulge. Such actions suggested she had interests in me that she didn't want to exhibit in front of her husband, yet was willing to make them known to me, interests I was tempted to exploit.
The waxing proceeded exactly like the first time with plenty of barehanded contact. This time, her touch didn't surprise or arouse me beyond control. Distracted by engaging conversations as well, my cock reactions were subdued.
"If you don't mind me asking, is Lee Korean or Chinese?"
She pressed her hands together and spoke in a cartoonish voice. "I am Siamese, if you please."
"You're Siamese? Siam like 'The King and I' ... I believe that is Thailand now."
"Bonus points for knowing that. Are you a smart man?" She could have said I was smart, or gushed flattery another way to make me feel like a special customer. Instead, she cleverly opened up my personality and learned some of my background.
"I have a college degree in finance. I've studied history because I like it. I enjoy the Arts, too."
"Do you work in finance?"
"I make and manage my own investments now. I live comfortably."
She said she liked my straightforward answers. I had nothing to hide and told her so; the truth was easy to remember. I didn't feel any need to impress her with boasting or con her with bullshit. In return, I learned some candid details of her personal background.
I mentioned how easily I understood her English diction. I learned she was born in California to parents who emigrated as children during the Vietnam War. Growing up bi-lingual, most of her English was learned from other Americans, especially in school. She went to Southern Cal on a track scholarship, played softball for the Trojans too, and graduated with a bachelor's degree in business. She met Dan there and they married after graduation. His Thai background is similar to hers.
I asked how she got her first name. She confessed her full name is Sumalee, a name of tradition given to many in her family. To be distinguished from cousins, everyone has always addressed her as Lee; she seldom hears her full name spoken anymore.
They worked in her family's salon business for years, saving their money. When it came time to start their own salon, they left the saturated market in California. In her words, they chose southern Florida because it had lots of people who wanted to look pretty and could afford it. They liked the warm climate, too.
We got to talking about waxing when Lee asked me, "Who waxed you before me?"
I told her about the salon three blocks from my home that had a mature lady I went to. I admitted she did a great job and only charged sixty dollars because I was a regular. Lee asked where I lived. Silent for almost a minute, she thought about my answers.
"What you're telling me doesn't add up. You drive half-an-hour past a salon you can walk to, then pay me fifteen dollars more to do the same thing? What aren't you telling me?"
"Well, she's old, in her late-fifties. I'd say the years have not been kind to her. You are young and beautiful."
"Are you trying to schmooze me? All things being equal, you might choose me for that reason but not over a big difference in money and convenience. I think there's another reason. Be honest. Tell me what brought you back here to me."
I told the truth but in a backhanded way. "I've been looking for someone else. She's stern, not a real pleasant person. She acts afraid to touch me ... despite wearing gloves."
"Now, I'll buy that answer because I hear what you're really saying. It's not that she wears gloves but that I don't."
"Well, you are the first to wax me without gloves. Your hands feel awesome," I admitted.
"You like bare skin holding your cock, huh?"
So earthy and direct, I was stunned by this educated businesswoman saying the word cock. "No, I mean the thing you do with your palm to take the sting away. That feels real good."
"Especially on your cock, right?"
She boldly continued to ask in sexual terms, so I felt inclined to give a sexual answer. "Since you insist on asking, yes, especially on my cock. Your hands are very warm. Feeling you pressing both hands on my cock got me going, then pulling and rubbing it was more than I expected, but I'm not going to complain."
She laughed. "No complaint, yeah right! Are you ready to admit you came back to feel my hands on you again?"
"Okay, I'm here for that, too."
"Getting you to make some sort of admission first is important to me. If I believe you'll tell me the truth, I'll be honest with you, too. We're adults. We are both aware some workers in this business do certain things. It comes with the territory because working with a man's sex organ can get him worked up for sex. We're right there on top of it. It's easy to help him out a little. If you know Asian culture from your history studies, you'll understand that women providing men outside their family with a little gratification is not a big deal. Do you catch my drift?"
I nodded. She was admitting to me that she gave handjobs to customers; her husband probably knew she did. Such an arrangement didn't surprise me and eased my mind about what she did with me with him nearby. I was interested in finding out more about her 'certain things.'
"Why don't you use gloves?"
"I hate wearing gloves while waxing. They don't fit my hands, wax sticks all over them, and they're a pain to put on. In school, they showed us what disease signs to look for. I'm diligent about hand washing and using sterile supplies. My after-wax lotion has a disinfectant mixed in it. Altogether, I'm smart about deciding when I can work without gloves. We aren't likely to transfer a disease with external contact. The main risk a customer faces is getting bacteria in an open pore that would develop an infection. The gloves only protect you from the skin of my hands, which is the least likely source of bacteria anyway.
"But you know, I wear gloves more often than not. I wear gloves the first time with every new customer until I know how they'll behave and react to contact. Some men don't come back, some I won't accept back. Customer hygiene is important. I will never touch dirty dicks ungloved no matter how often I wax them."
"If you're so selective with customers, why take the gloves off at all? Do you hate gloves that much or is there another reason? Maybe you prefer having your full sense of touch when you're working on a man. Be honest now."
"I really hate gloves. I would never wear them if possible but I'm not stupid. What other reason are you getting at?"
"You like feeling a man's cock touching your skin. Admit it. You like that part of the job."
"No, I d..." Her voice stopped in mid-denial. She looked at me with a crooked smile before returning to waxing. "I admit I like playing with cocks, feeling them get hard. With bare hands, I can feel it twitching. I can also feel cum shooting through it. I get a kick out of making a man come. That's why I do it. I've never admitted that to anyone before. Does that answer satisfy you?"
"Very much, but would you explain something? You didn't wear gloves my first time. You said you always do for new customers."
"Well, I examined you and saw how ... healthy you looked so I waived your quarantine waxing."
"I think you couldn't wait to get your bare hands on my big cock."
"You nailed it. I couldn't wait to play with the biggest cock I've ever seen."
I was getting conflicting hints about the scale of her business. With her attitude and willingness, she should be attracting men in droves yet the condition of the treatment room suggested lack of recent use. I decided to solve the mystery. "You must get a lot of customers for Brazilian waxing."
"No, very few. Counting the two guys I did during training, I'd say I've done only ten men in the four years I've done waxing, about ten women too. During the short time I ran ads on Craigslist, I got mostly the wrong kind of customers. Men can make this business a hassle. Too many assume waxing and massages advertised on Craigslist are fronts for prostitution. Even if I worded the ad carefully, they thought that was just for deniability with law enforcement.
"Most are looking for a handjob and even though I'm willing to do that for my regular customers, I have personal boundaries. I was groped and propositioned so often, I had to get defensive. Just based on intuition, I've turned away half the men who asked and kicked a few rude and inappropriate jerks out in mid-treatment. I may be prejudiced against young men because of a few bad experiences but that's what affects me. Old fat men are the most cooperative, and the most appreciative of their reward.
"I don't advertise waxing except the window sign and on our salon's website. Yelp lists me now but there is no negativity associated with them. Those who seek Brazilian waxing can find me. Walk-ins are rare."
"How did I pass muster with you?"
"Politeness got you accepted. Remaining respectful as best you could showed me you are a gentleman."
"As best I could?"
"You had a hard-on the whole time but never made an issue of it. That impressed me."
She had just begun waxing my cock by then. The conversation had distracted me to where I hadn't popped a boner yet. No painful moments required a palm treatment either. Everything changed when her fingers curled around my cock near the head and pulled to stretch the skin. She spread on some wax and then slapped a piece of tape over the wax like always but she used a different technique to rub the tape. Two of her fingers stayed on the tape surface, but her thumb and two outside fingers slid on bare skin alongside the tape, deliberately stroking my cock. Her technique produced the expected results.
She worked around my cock in quarters. Making up for lost time, her grip on my cock was unrelenting, never letting go as her hand twisted my cock around. She was doing the last side when she spoke. "Hey, Brett, you were chatty the whole time today but suddenly stopped. What happened? Cat got your tongue?"
I looked at my cock straining upward in her grip. "That's not my tongue you've got there, kitty."
She laughed so hard, she had to stop working. Humored by the affect my wit had on her, I chuckled with her. As she finished the waxing and tweezed hairs, she meowed like a cat and giggled to herself. I was purring with pleasure, getting ready to roar.
Lee began applying the soothing lotion. What makes her application method so sensuous is the slow and caressing pressure of her fingers. In my experience, other estheticians always made a haphazard effort in their haste to finish and would flick around the base of my cock as briefly as possible to avoid arousing me. Lee made this step the crowning glory of her treatment with deliberate intention to pleasure me sexually.
At first, she worked around my cock with only brief slides up the shaft, making sure she covered every inch of pelvic skin more than once. The rest of the application concentrated on my cock, not just the bottom third of my shaft that was actually waxed, but the whole length including the head. Using both hands firmly wrapped around me, she slid up and down in slow, exquisite strokes, twisting and squeezing. Her thumb and forefinger rubbed and pinched my glans until I was oozing pre-cum which she smeared around the tip.
I've had gloved happy endings that were nothing more than vigorous stroking performed with unconvincing enthusiasm or obvious distraction. Such favors produced ejaculations efficiently but devoid of excitement. I've had girlfriends give me handjobs that were better but they too acted like rough handling and fast results were the goal. Lee took her time, working me with gentle teases, concentrating on making the journey full of pleasure and the climax explosive. Far and away, her handjob was the best I've ever received.
When I started to moan, she put one hand over my glans to cap the impending eruption and stroked my cock at moderate speed with all her fingertips sliding on the sensitive underside. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensations. The warmth of her skin, the slippery lotion, and the movement on my skin made my cock feel like it was inside a vagina.
My pleasure built up to incredible heights as I imagined my cock fucking her. The burn of my orgasm started deep in my gut; I tried to hold back, to edge just a little bit longer. My hips rose off the table as I strained to lift my cock deeper into her squeezing pussy.
The spasms of release struck with such intensity, I declared my feelings in breathy gasps to my imaginary lover. "Oh god, Sumalee! I love fucking you."
Her pussy gripped me tighter, milking my rod as it squeezed through her warm flesh. Her words drifted out of the darkness, "Your cum feels so hot shooting inside me. Give me all you've got, baby."
I seemed to spurt out cum endlessly at her urging, until I felt myself floating in a dreamy euphoria. A voice called to me but I couldn't respond. I didn't want my blissful repose to end.
"Earth to Brett. Your journey is over. Are you with me again?" I mumbled a non-committal answer. "Where did you go, baby? You seemed to have an extreme experience."
I snapped back to reality, suddenly feeling remorseful about imagining having sex with a married woman, in her presence no less. She was standing there talking to me, her hands still holding my cock, one awash in my semen. In reality, I did have sex with her. "I'm sorry, Lee. My thoughts drifted."
She grabbed a towel and started wiping her hand. "Now you call me Lee again. I liked it when you called me Sumalee."
"Oh, no! Did I say that out loud? Anything else?"
"You love to fuck me."
"I don't know what to say."
" You gave me all your cum, baby. Say I was fucking awesome."
"How did I not offend you?"
"You had the most intense orgasm I've ever witnessed. It made my toes curl and I'm not the one who came. That I have that effect on you is a wonderful compliment. Your thoughts didn't violate my space. So say it."
"You were fucking awesome, Sumalee."
She stood at my shoulder, having wiped up all my cum. "I love the way you say my name. I want you to call me that."
"Sumalee is a pretty name for a pretty woman."
She bent her head close to mine and stared in my eyes. "You're the only one to speak my name." Her eyes glanced at my open mouth and then her lips pressed tenderly on mine. Our kiss was brief and friendly without tongue action but I felt a spark of real desire for her. Suddenly, she pulled away. "I shouldn't have done that. Forget that it happened."
"You ask the impossible. I can't forget your kiss."
"You say dangerous things. I have to be careful with you."
She had me wait while she retrieved a wet cloth to clean me further. She was coolly businesslike but stayed to clean in the cramped room while I dressed. We talked about calling her Sumalee at all times rather than be secretive. She waited until I was clothed to hug me in a way that avoided intimate groin contact.
Before collecting my payment, she put my mind at ease about her intention to continue treating me by making an appointment for me two weeks hence. I increased my tip to fifty dollars, the 'going rate' for happy endings; I put all of it on my debit card, figuring the amount did not need to be hidden from Dan.
* * *
I had problems that were of my own doing. In finding an amazing woman to wax me, she became the focal point of my sexual urges. Day and night, I was thinking of her, masturbating to her, wanting her. My honest desire to fuck her was at odds with my intention to stay away from married women. She showed signs of losing control of her desire that led me to believe I could seduce her if I tried. If she bent any of her rules with me, I would take advantage. If I let myself get into situations I should avoid, thinking with my dick would push me to go for more.
I had left the salon feeling as though I had actually fucked Sumalee, drained of passion and totally satisfied. When my satisfaction faded, I wanted more from her. When a man obsesses like that about a woman that he just met, he reacts instinctually to opportunities. I feared I would pursue a sexual relation with her against my better judgment.
About a week later, I took my girlfriend out for a romantic dinner. Good food and good company set an amorous mood and I took her to my bed. When I had trouble having my orgasm after five of hers, I had to resort to thinking about Sumalee spreading her legs for me. My girlfriend thought I was awesome but I saw the inevitable end of our relationship. In fairness to her, I let her down as gently as I could but she was devastated. I was free, but in deeper trouble.
When I arrived for my third appointment, Sumalee gave me a friendly hug. Because of the distance I traveled, my habits allowed extra time in case traffic delayed me. As usual, I arrived early as she was having lunch so I waited again while she finished her noodles. I noticed she was wearing a knit dress that clung to her petite figure, accentuating her femininity better than the shorts and loose tops she wore previously. Her dress dipped low enough to display cleavage but nothing outrageous when she had to bend over. She wore dark, opaque tights under the short dress hem.
Entering the treatment room, she turned to me immediately for another hug. She felt so good in my arms; I held her tight and whispered in her ear. "I've been looking forward to seeing you again, Sumalee." Her head pulled back and we stared nose to nose for a moment.
Impulsively, I leaned forward to kiss her. She did not resist. The instant I felt her lips respond, I pushed my tongue in her mouth. Her tongue fenced with mine in a passionate duel. With her groin leaning against me, her breasts pressed to my chest, and our kissing getting passionate, my cock stiffened.
I pushed her backward against the table. Her arms around my neck and her backward lean pulled her dress hem up out of the way, allowing me to grind my hard-on against her pubic mound through her tights. Her legs relaxed, opening briefly to let me wedge my bulge against her slit.
Her hands pushed me away. "Stop," she gasped. "That's too much. I can't let you get me excited."
I let her go. "I'm sorry. I kissed you the way I've dreamt about kissing you. I was too aggressive."
"It's okay. I let you and I kissed you back. I can't criticize you afterward."
We managed to get to the waxing task but with a sexual tension affecting our interactions. Conversations sputtered and died as they inevitably turned to sexual subjects that she declined to talk about. Contrarily, her hands held and pulled my cock nearly the entire time. Trying to avoid sexual arousal on my part was futile with my constantly erect cock reacting to her warm touch.
The treatment table was necessarily short and narrow to fit in the small room. I hardly had room for my hands next to my hips. To keep them out of the way, I would fold them behind my head or on my chest. To counter muscle fatigue, I would occasionally stretch my arms along my side with my hands at the table edge, fingers curled over the side.
With her working close to the table at the same location, she had bumped into my hands on occasion during my previous treatments. She had always adjusted her stance before to stop the contact. This visit, she did not. She leaned against my hand as she worked and it caught my attention.
I looked down where my hand was contacting her farthest thigh. Her dress hem extended just inches below my hand but I estimated her sex was at table height level. I felt her thigh muscle flex as she moved and reached; her position shifted just enough for my knuckles to feel the edge hem of her panties. When she moved away briefly to grab more sticks and tape strips, I bent my elbow to shorten my reach by two inches. I picked an opportune time to move.
She began working my groin on the side away from her. Reaching the extra distance, her shoulders pulled her dress hem higher before she leaned against me again. With the back of my hand against her tights, I could feel the soft flesh of her mound pressing on me. Shifting as she worked, the back of my fingers detected a heavy thatch of pubic hair and bumped across the top of her slit.
She had to feel my hand there yet didn't back away. Knowing her dislike for customers who groped her, I passively let her be the instigator. Any move I attempted would have to be subtle. I wasn't groping her; she was rubbing her sex on me. I wondered how much contact she would cause and for how long.
When she stopped leaning for a moment to get more wax, I turned my wrist to extend my knuckles out further. She settled back on my hand, now with two knuckles against her slit between her legs. Her hips wiggled and pressed down; my hand resisted. The movements massaged her labia apart, letting my knuckles reach her clit and rub it through her tights and panties. I could feel the warmth of her sex; I sensed when dampness developed. She stopped waxing. Her eyes closed and her breath came in pants. For ten seconds, she ground her sex forcibly on my hand.
Abruptly, she jerked away. "I can't be doing that. I have a job to do."
She went back to waxing me, finishing without any contact with my hand when it rested at my side. Perhaps deliberately, her hands kept up constant sensual contact with my cock, keeping me at the threshold of an orgasm and producing copious amounts of pre-cum.
As she cleaned her hands in preparation for applying the final lotion, she asked, "Aren't your arms getting tired like that? Why don't you put them down?" They were behind my head. I took her suggestion to mean she wanted mutual stimulation again for the ending. I quickly positioned my hand at the table edge. Within seconds, she was humping on my hand while pumping my penis.
I was on the edge of orgasm before she started, but hoped to hold off long enough for her to get off, too. She had other plans. In hindsight, I know she didn't want to come. When her excitement rose too high, she stopped stimulating herself until she regained control.
Focused on my state of arousal, I didn't recognize her tactics. She had control of me through my cock. She probably kept me edging during the waxing so she could push me over the top easily. That is what happened anyway. I splashed in her hand in short order, stopping the mutual masturbation before she had her happy ending.
While she cleaned me up, I asked her, "What was today all about? It seemed to be against your groping rules."
"You weren't groping me. I was touching you in another way. The truth is, I'm a woman, not a machine. I get excited playing with your beautiful cock. Seeing you get excited and have pleasure makes me want to have some too. Receiving my pleasure is like helping you, no big deal."
"So your husband agrees to that?"
"We haven't discussed it. It hasn't come up before. It's my interpretation, how I justify what I did."
"If it hasn't come up before, I must be the first to have the privilege. I'm honored and willing to help you, but twice you had a chance to come but you didn't."
"I can't let myself go totally. I might make noises my husband would recognize."
"You should be able to receive as much as you give. I'm with you on that. I respect your boundaries because I have them, too. Mine are because you are married. I don't want to cause your marriage trouble."
"How noble, but why are you so willing to play with fire?"
"I come for the best handjob in the world. I've made promises to myself about not going too far, but in your presence, I get amnesia. I'm afraid I would do anything you'd let me do."
"Me, too. This is new territory for me. Your understanding ways and politeness tempts me to do more than I intend."
We didn't share a sensuous hug, even after I dressed. I did receive a polite hug at the counter after I paid. I had my next appointment already scheduled when I left.
* * *
Because of a stopped train, I was almost late for my next appointment. Dan was there to greet me when I walked in. Sumalee was not in sight, but I noticed the door to the back area was open. The room temperature inside the salon seemed higher than normal, most likely due to the blazing heat outside.
"Welcome back, Brett." He extended his hand for a handshake. "Lee is getting her things ready. She'll be out in a moment. I apologize for how warm it is in here. Our air-conditioning isn't working right. We called for service but they won't be here until tomorrow because they're swamped."
After two weeks dealing with guilty feelings, I was glad he was the one to greet me. Pressing flesh with him provided a last second reinforcement of my resolve to avoid any further inappropriate contact with his wife.
I looked up when I heard Sumalee speak my name. As she walked toward me, I noticed an odd hitch in her steps. During her short hug, my hands on her back failed to feel the sturdiness of a bra strap. I looked over her revealing clothing as I followed her to the treatment room. She wore cute short-shorts and a sleeveless, button-front blouse. Her white camisole showed through the thinness of the blouse material.
In the treatment room, I undressed immediately. I didn't notice she had unbuttoned and removed her outer blouse behind me until we hung our clothes on hooks at the same time. She apologized for the air-conditioning problem as well before stating that she needed to remain cool while working.
I certainly didn't mind the view as we faced each other. Her firm, young breasts jutted out proudly against her camisole, unhindered by a bra. Her large, dark areolae showed through the thin material. She stood patiently for a moment as I ogled her chest; her nipples stiffened, enhancing the conical shape of her breasts.
Eventually, she crouched down to pull a portable fan out of the cabinet. As she straightened up, she grimaced and grabbed the back of her thigh. I asked if she had a leg problem. She mentioned she was sore, having run a half-marathon on Monday.
I asked whom she went to for massages. She didn't have a friend in the trade and her husband wasn't skilled. I mentioned that I've received compliments on my informal technique and I offered to give her a little relief.
"Can I trust you to be a gentleman?"
"Always," I declared. Rather than have her get on the table, I squatted naked in front of her while she remained standing. I started on her calves. She immediately remarked that my pressure and movements were wonderful. I worked my way up to her thighs. Her largest muscles were tight masses that received the majority of my attention, but I also worked over the flexors outside her hips and the tender flesh of her inner thighs.
Her shorts hung loosely; the cuffed leg openings flared free of her legs allowing me a glimpse of her pure white panties contrasting against her caramel skin. The delectable view stirred my desire. My hand rubbed up the back of her thigh, stopping under her shorts when I reached her panties. Following the edge of her panties over her hip to the top of her thigh, my hand then turned down and slid out.
"Mmmmm. That felt nice."
I looked up to see her eyes closed, a blissful smile creasing her face. Her reactions seemed to urge me to proceed. I began kneading her hamstring, working upward. I slid under her shorts again, this time continuing under her panties until my whole hand could give her cheek several strong squeezes. My fingers began rubbing back and forth around her hip under the panty's waistband. The force of my pushing and pulling rocked her body.
I turned my hand to lead with my fingertips, pushing inward from her hipbone until I felt her bush. My fingers did little surging rubs in place. Moving down an inch, I rubbed again. I was inching toward her sex but she didn't stop me. By reaching in from the front, my hand lifted the fabric of her shorts and panties, but at the same time blocked my view. Two moves from clit-mate, I withdrew my hand.
Peeking under her shorts, I saw her panties remained pushed over, caught in the trough of her sex. I could see a dense strip of coarse pubic hairs and one of her puffy labia. So soon, my resolve had disappeared. I really wanted to reach back in there. I'm sure she wouldn't have stopped me but I'm a man of my word. I said I'd be a gentleman. I felt if I proved myself worthy of her trust, I would be invited to touch her there again eventually ... and do other things.
I stood up. "Did that help?"
She blinked her eyes. "That was incredible. My legs do feel better. I can't believe you didn't learn that somewhere. You are a natural."
"We should trade massages sometime. I give happy endings, too."
She laughed sharply. "That's only fair." She opened her arms. "Hug please."
Our bodies met in a tight embrace. Her abdomen pressed against my naked cock as usual but the new sensation was her soft breasts mashed against my chest. As we kissed with hungry passion, my hands went under her camisole at her waist. Slowly lifting, I pushed the material upward without objection from her. My cock standing against her stomach was the first to feel her bare skin. She didn't raise her arms to let me remove it entirely so I left it bunched at her shoulders before my arms pulled her tight again. Her mounds were soft and warm, an exquisite sensation I enjoyed for uncounted heartbeats.
I'm the one who broke off our kissing and hugging when my conscience nagged. Knowing that sooner or later, my advances would be thwarted by her husband in the other room, I had to stop torturing myself. I was pursuing a woman that wasn't mine to have. We couldn't even share orgasms.
If some condition enabled it and I succeeded in seducing her, I would be responsible for her infidelity. That didn't work out well for me the last time when the pleasure wasn't worth somebody's heartache. Yet even as my conscience held me back, my libido urged me onward. I found her irresistible. She acted as though I affected her the same way. Sparks were flying.
She had a treatment to provide; to make up time, she worked quickly. Despite the fan blowing on us, her pace heated her up enough to perspire. Without a word, she turned to lock the door, put her camisole on a hook next to her blouse, and continued waxing topless. Despite the temptation, I cooperated by leaving her alone and keeping my hands out of the way.
At the end, while she spread the soothing lotion around my groin, she let me pluck at her nipple. Before she began working on my cock, she took my hand from her breast and placed it on the table next to her sex. Instead of offering my knuckles through her shorts, I turned my hand palm out and extended my fingers into her leg opening. I pushed them further, sliding under her panties and into her bush.
As she stroked me, I tried to rub her clit but I could barely reach it from the side. She didn't give me a chance to change my angle. While my fingertip was able to dance on her button at times, she could control the intensity enough to keep herself from getting too excited.
She made fast work of drawing out my cum. I was helpless as I watched her give me a tittie fuck. I went off even quicker than she anticipated and hit her boob with a rope of come before she capped my gusher with a hand. My cum dripped off her nipple as she finished me.
Cleanup was more involved as she had to clean her chest before putting on her camisole. She opened her shorts and shoved a towel inside her panties to wipe her pussy. Only then did she leave the room to get wet washcloths to finish clean up.
While I dressed, she asked if I was interested in a massage. I certainly knew I'd get a happy ending. We realized we could schedule it for the following Wednesday, a week before my next waxing. I made both appointments.
* * *
My massage appointment began like the others, arriving early, and waiting for her to finish lunch. She appeared dressed special for my appointment. Under a gauzy over-blouse, she wore a floral halter-top. Cream-colored, cotton shorts hugged her small butt like a second skin without hint of panty lines.
The difference began when we entered the larger, second room. The room was long enough to center a larger table with a head-ring. There wasn't a base cabinet to take up floor space; two wall cabinets on one wall were storage space for sheets, towels, and oils. An old-fashioned boombox positioned on a shelf provided relaxing nature sounds at the push of a button.
Her second hug was brief and happened before I undressed. She had little to do to get ready but stayed in the room watching me undress. When I dropped my shorts, she asked, "Are you always commando?"
"People can see your cock swing when you walk."
"That's the idea. I've learned to flaunt what I have. Women like to look."
"We sure do."
She had me start on my stomach with my head in the ring. Draping wasn't even considered. I couldn't see much in that position except her feet when she stood near my head. Knowing she would allow my touch, I rubbed her calves when I could.
My problem with good massages is that they relax me too much; I fall asleep during half of them. Sumalee was an excellent masseuse and I started to doze off. After about ten minutes of silence, she broke into my reverie. She probably usually let customers determine the amount of conversation but she had something she wanted to discuss that couldn't wait.
"Why do you get waxed?"
"I had a girlfriend that started shaving me. She liked the bare look mostly. She didn't like getting hair in her mouth when she sucked cock but that didn't matter in my case. Like most girls, she couldn't get down to where the hair grows."
"Do you mean some girls can get your whole cock in their mouth? I don't think I could get my lips around you. I've never tried deep throating, even with average or small cocks."
Cocks plural, meaning more than just her husband. I was intrigued to know more. "You never wanted to try? Were any hairless?"
"I never saw one hairless until I started waxing. I was inexperienced when I started college. I didn't know about deep throating."
"You've never tried with your husband?"
"He is so small, his cock probably wouldn't reach my throat. But the truth is, I've never once sucked his cock."
The remark about lacking oral sex with her husband was mind blowing. I wanted more information that I might use to seduce her. "Pardon me for asking, but why not? Did you decide you didn't like giving blowjobs?"
"I loved sucking cock, feeling it shoot in my mouth, swallowing too. But my husband is very backward about sex. Oral sex is something he won't do."
"I'm sorry to hear that. It must be frustrating for you."
"No, I accept where we are with sex. I married him knowing the way he is. I love him for hundreds of other reasons."
"What happened to make your sex life so bad with him?"
Having admitted the first of their sexual shortcomings, she was willing to reveal them all.
"Sex never was good for us. He was a virgin when I tried to teach him the basics of sex. He is self-conscious about his cock size and is almost impotent with sexual hang-ups. He is biologically immature with the penis of a boy and no sexual drive. We are lucky if we have sex once a month. I can't remember the last time we did.
"He's so shy about our bodies, he's afraid to touch me or let me touch him, afraid to see me naked or be seen by me. He kisses without passion so nothing gets us started. Hugging is his only display of affection, from customers and friends to relatives and me. Oral sex of either kind is repulsive to him. The noises of my orgasms embarrass him so I have to masturbate when he can't hear me. That's why I can't come here at the salon. If a customer ever heard me, he would die of shame."
I couldn't believe the scope of her confessions. Telling me all their secrets must have eased an immense burden for her but why tell me anything? She could have turned me away as dangerous, kept me within her old boundaries, or use me as a living dildo, all without my knowledge of her situation.
So many possible reasons existed, some to proceed, some to stop. She could be absolving me of blame, or showing me her vulnerability so I would go after her. She might be preparing me for discontinuing treatments entirely or establishing a new boundary. Even if she gave me permission, I wasn't certain fucking her was in my best interests.
"Why do you want me to know these things about you and Dan that are so personal? Are you thinking of giving up on your marriage?"
"You're single, free to get involved with anyone. If you want a married woman, you should know her whole story. I would never leave Dan, even for wild sex with a treetop lover with a big cock. Our marriage is about love. We've bonded in ways you can't threaten. He knows I'm not satisfied sexually but he won't try to meet my needs because he doesn't believe he can with what God gave him. He is generous enough in spirit that I believe he would accept it if I had an affair, but I've never wanted to before."
"It's not just you that I don't want getting hurt. What you said makes me think Dan deserves better than me coming here to mess with you."
"If the truth about us tells you to run away from me, then it was right to tell you. From the start, we have been totally honest with each other. We've talked about everything, that's why we're here. I would be tempted only by someone as open as you are. If we continue, any decision we make is with full understanding of all the issues."
I had gained some insight into her fascination with my big cock and our sexy treatment room interaction that made me want her even more. She had confirmed what her actions suggested; she was nearing total surrender to our passion. Despite my protests, my reservations about her marital status only existed when I was away from her. If I didn't stop seeing Sumalee, my cock would be making my decisions.
She wished to learn a few more details about me. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
"What are you doing about having sex?"
I held up my hand. "Well, there's always mother palm and her five daughters."
She giggled. "I've never heard it said that way. Is that it? Only masturbation?"
"No, I have regular sex with a pretty woman every Wednesday at noon."
"Cute, but a handjob is really only masturbation. You need to do more to keep your tool in shape."
A few minutes later, she popped another question. "You like blowjobs, what man doesn't, but do you like to please a woman by going down on her?"
"I do. I wish I could show you how good I am. Did any of your college boyfriends dine at the Y?"
"Be careful what you wish for. A few guys did. The first couple were clueless. I didn't think being eaten out was all that great until I met a guy who was awesome. He took my virginity too. Given that you get waxed, do you prefer bare floors on a woman? I'm sure you've seen that I'm full bush."
"There's something to like about all pussies no matter how they appear. Like cocks, they come in different shapes and sizes. I like to explore them all. I'm sure I'll enjoy yours."
"My college days were more than ten years ago. I hardly remember what it felt like but I'm getting goose bumps thinking about you licking me down there."
Forty minutes had gone by while she worked my backside. When I turned over, I noticed she had removed her blouse. I wasn't sure her halter-top was meant to be outerwear but I enjoyed the way she looked in it; I'd never complain. I complimented her on it and asked what else she would show me.
I had an inkling what she intended to do when she stepped to the door and locked it. Facing me, her hands slid her shorts off, revealing a strip of fabric in the same floral pattern. I silently signaled with my finger to turn around. She spun around to reveal the T-back design and her gorgeous ass.
When she faced me again, I rolled my finger in a keep-going gesture. She pulled her halter off, exposing her perfect titties. I held my finger across my lips as if in contemplation and then gave her another keep-going signal. She peeled the T-back down, letting it fall to the floor.
Her body was as beautiful as her face. Her black pubes formed a dense triangle. A two-inch thigh gap allowed me to see her labial folds. Reaching out my hand toward her, I crooked my finger to urge her closer. She took one step forward to put her pussy in my hand. My finger slid over her clit and back into her folds that were warm and already wet. I could see her body shiver at my touch.
I brought my finger to my mouth and sucked her juices off. "Mmmmm. Delicious. Come here. Let me have a big taste."
"No baby, you'll make me come. I can't take the chance that someone will hear me."
She managed to pull away. She returned to the table to finish my massage but remained naked as a visual treat. Working first on my chest and shoulders from next to my head, she stayed out of reach of my hands. Seeing her heavenly portal so close to my face set my mouth to watering and my dick to swelling.
She did my feet and lower legs from the end of the table. When she did my thighs, she came no closer than my knees, reaching from there to knead my muscles and occasionally grab my cock for a squeeze. I patiently waited my opportunity, assuming I would get one during the happy ending.
She brought a different bottle of oil to the table and stood at my hip. She began her sensuous handjob in the usual fashion except I noticed she oiled only the lower half of my shaft. My hand slid up the back of her leg and over her ass. I caressed all that I could reach. When my hands moved up the inside of her leg, her stance shifted to afford my hand more room. Her hips twisted her backside to an easier angle for me.
I reached through to her mound to comb her pubic hairs with my fingernails. Pulling back, my fingers rubbed and pinched her clit and puffy labia. Pulling back again, my fingers found her opening between inner labia hanging out. Her sex was hot and dripping wet. I pushed three fingers into her easily; she had room for a big cock.
While her hands pumped my cock, she was squirming and moaning as I fingered her. I watched her head bowing lower as her body rocked. Her eyes were open in a glazed stare at the head of my cock. I twiddled her clit vigorously, causing her mouth to open as her moans turned to gasps. I could feel her breath panting on the head of my dick.
I rammed four fingers knuckle deep into her gaping hole. She winced but her body pushed back, her head dropping lower, almost mouthing my cock. Was she going to?
It was my turn to gasp as my cock disappeared through her lips. Sumalee's sensual technique was the epitome of how to give head. To have only a few experiences and none in a long time tells me she must be a natural cocksucker.
Everything her mouth, lips, and tongue did produced incredible sensations. Her two hands gripped my shaft like a baseball bat while her head slowly and repeatedly lifted off with her lips closing on my glans the way one eats an ice cream cone. Adding to her perfect technique was the look on her face that declared she thoroughly enjoyed what she was doing.
I intended to finger her to orgasm if I could but I soon lost focus on my actions as my cock gave into the demands of her hungry mouth. Her tongue licked my most sensitive places until my floodgates burst open.
"Sumalee," I called with a cry in my voice.
My body convulsed in rhythm with my spurts. She stayed on me until the very end, swallowing every drop. When I was done, my body was limp, drained of semen and energy. My hand released her and fell to my side.
In a dreamy state, I watched her dress. I was thinking about what would happen next. I was ready to do it all with her. My goal was to give her the sex that was missing in her life, all the sex. I didn't feel I was forcing myself between them but rather completing her life.
"Sumalee, I want to give you satisfaction like I just experienced. I want to go down on you."
"I know, baby, but you can't, not yet. You know why."
"This isn't fair. Being unable to make you come makes me feel selfish having all the pleasure. I have so much to offer. Will it ever be your turn to enjoy?"
"Soon. I'm working on something. I wasn't sure until just now that I wanted to go through with it. I have to make some arrangements first but don't have time to do it now. I know there are customers waiting for me out there. We are getting into our busy season and even Wednesdays aren't good for devoting an hour to you leaving Dan out there alone to handle it. We won't make another massage appointment for you before you leave but you will have one by tonight. Trust me."
Following a long, sweet kiss, she told me to relax a while, then dress and come out. She left to start on another customer.
When I entered the main salon, I understood their plight. Dan was doing the nails of one woman, another sitting at a second table soaking her fingers, awaiting his attention. Sumalee had one pedicure soak in progress and she was starting a second. As I walked to the payment counter, a fifth woman walked in the door. As predicted, we didn't make another appointment for me but she did ask for my telephone number.
As she hugged me, she said, "Goodye, Brett. I'll talk to you later."
* * *
My phone rang about four hours later; the display said the call was from the salon.
"Hi, Brett. I promised I would call before the end of the day. Would you believe I've been busy non-stop since you left? Well, I've come up with a solution to provide time for your treatments that won't conflict with walk-in customers. Can you come in at one o'clock on Monday?"
"Yes, Monday is fine for me but ... aren't you closed on Mondays?"
"Yes, the salon will be closed except to you. I'll meet you here."
"Dan won't be there?"
"No need for him to be."
"We'll be alone?"
"Did you discuss this with him? He agrees to this?"
"We talked in Thai right after you left. Customers didn't know what we were saying. They were the ones I didn't want to find out I would be here on an off-day. Dan thinks it's a great solution that can be used for all your treatments. He likes the money I make with you but time has been a hassle."
"Does he agree to the other thing? Me being alone with you?"
"In the way you mean, I don't think that concerns him. I've come to terms with my decision. Unless you have concerns, we'll proceed."
"I'm looking forward to Monday. I'll see you at one."
* * *
I stopped jerking off on Friday. Never have I wanted a weekend to pass faster. I was ready to do her, all objections left behind. My intentions were honorable, if only on a secondary level, to help her fill a missing piece of life.
Monday morning, I ate a full breakfast so I could delay lunch. I didn't want to be hungry or full. I showered thoroughly, shaved closely, and trimmed my nails. Cargo shorts and a golf shirt replaced my usual basketball shorts and sleeveless-T. I spritzed cologne lightly on my neck.
No way would I be late, I arrived twenty-five minutes early. I didn't think she was there yet. I had no idea what car she drove. A solitary pickup parked in the aisle in front of the salon wasn't likely hers. She could ride a bus to work for all I knew. With my comings and goings, she probably knew my car, so I parked behind decorative plantings two rows over. I wanted to see her arrive.
At ten to one, a silver Prius parked next to the pickup. I saw a woman driver but something about her was different. When the driver climbed out, I realized it was Sumalee with her hair down to her shoulders. I only caught a fleeting view of her dancing toward her salon but it left me breathless.
She wore a short sundress, white with large flower clusters, with a hem that flared daringly as her hips swished. Walking on heeled sandals rounded the calves of her runner's legs. Her whole body bounced with excited anticipation in a skipping walk. I knew what that walk meant; she was going to get laid.
After she went out of sight through her door, I realized I had boned-up over seeing her remarkable body adorned for me. I figured I would wait five minutes to give her time to ready whatever was needed before parking over in front. I tried not to think about sex so I would be able to walk normal when I needed to.
I waited for two shoppers to pass the salon before I got out of my car. As I got to the sidewalk, I saw her white dress coming out of shadows in the unlit salon. She bowed to me as I entered. She locked the door and pulled me around past the counter.
As she turned to me, I saw she had applied makeup. Golden eye shadow with gold sparkles brightened her eyes. Her lip-gloss was a rosy pink matching the blush applied to her cheeks.
"Welcome back to Beach Time Salon, Brett." When she gave me a polite hug, I detected her floral perfume.
"You smell like a bouquet of flowers, your dress has flowers on it, your hair makes your face look like a flower. Altogether, they make you a beautiful flower today, Sumalee."
She threw her arms around my neck and pulled my head down for a hot, passionate kiss. After the kiss, she turned her head to my ear while shifting into another hug. "Brett, do you know what my name means?"
"Beautiful flower, I looked it up weeks ago. I picked up on the theme of your appearance."
"Nice catch. You are a perceptive man."
She hung on my arm and escorted me to the passage door, her body tight against my hip. "My, you look handsome today. I like your cologne, too. I'm going to take good care of you, baby."
We entered the massage room, lit by a small lamp and two scented candles. She directed me to undress then she stood waiting, watching me with obvious interest. Instead of slipping out of my clothes in a few seconds as I can, I did a bit of a striptease that lasted more than a minute. With her eyes focusing on my groin, I lowered my shorts slowly, revealing my cock inch by inch. Her eyes widened to saucers as she took in the show. When the head of my cock popped into view, allowing my cock to swing free, her wide smile flashed her brilliant white teeth.
"My goodness, you have a beautiful cock. It's so big and perfectly shaped. I'm impressed every time I see it."
When I turned to hang my clothes on the hooks, I saw her fidget in my peripheral vision. Turning back toward her, she was standing in the same place, smiling coyly. My eyes drifted down from her face to her breasts, to the short dress hem on her thighs, to her white panties wrapped around her ankles.
"What happened to your panties?"
"They just fell down on their own." Yeah, right. Somebody was anxious to start.
I gathered her in my arms and kissed her deeply. My fingers found the zipper running down the back of her dress. With a quick pull, her dress opened so my hands could rub her bare back. Keeping our mouths pressed in a kiss, we parted our bodies so I could slip the straps off her shoulders and let the dress to fall to the ground.
When I pulled her body back against me, her soft breasts pressed delightfully on my chest. My cock was sandwiched between our bodies; its head nestled on her furry mound. Her hips shifted, snuggling my cock with her sex, her pubic hairs brushing my cockhead until it began to swell.
While our lips were engaged again, she turned slightly and her hand reached between us to take hold of my cock and begin slowly stroking it. When it became stiff enough, she poked and batted it all around her sex, eventually teasing it along her slit. I could feel the warmth of her building arousal in her labia dr*ped over my cock.
While she played with my cock, one boob was uncovered. Taking advantage, my hand tweaked the nipple and squeezed the soft flesh of her nubile breast. I broke off our kiss so my mouth could take over sucking her nipple. She mewed in response to the sensation. My hand was free to rub her clit. When I did, I noticed that her pubic hairs against my palm felt different. I tilted my palm away and peered down from her chest. In the dim light, nothing looked odd about her black triangle.
Spotting her clothes under our feet, I stooped to pick them up. With my head level with her pussy, I glanced at her while I gathered her clothes. I could see her pubes were trimmed. While hanging everything out of our way for her, I asked, "What did you do to your pussy?"
"I like that you noticed. No one has shown an interest in my pussy in a long time. I let it get a bit unruly so I thought I'd trim it for you. Do you like it?"
"Let me take a closer look. Sit on the table please."
I helped her hop back onto the table, sitting near and facing one end. She leaned back, propping up her body with her arms behind her. She spread her legs until her feet dropped over the sides of the table. I stood at the end of the table. Her position offered an unobstructed view of her feminine charms.
I leaned close, resting my forearms on her thighs so my hands could rub and probe. Starting in her pubes, I raked fingers against the lay of the hairs. They were short and of uniform length, able to lie untangled. I didn't see signs that she shaved. The hairs around the edge were clipped to form straight lines.
"Your pussy looks neater now, not thick and tangled. The cute fan pattern is my favorite look."
I rubbed my thumbs along her soft outer labia, pinching them together against the bundled bump of her clit. Her hips squirmed in reaction and she whimpered. Looking further down, I saw her inner folds protruding in a wavy wall of skin, hiding the opening to her vagina.
"Let's see what's hiding in here," I suggested as I grabbed a fold in each hand, pulling them apart. Wetness glistened in the recesses. "Yep, just as I suspected, wetness is building up in there and your pussy lips feel swollen. Are you getting excited?" She bit her lip and nodded.
I turned my hand palm up and slid my middle finger into her hole as far as it would go. Entry made her gasp. I bent my finger and searched for the pad of her G-spot. Rubbing it caused her to take several sharp breath intakes. I pulled my finger out and held it up in front of my face, turning it to inspect the wetness. I put it to my nose and sniffed. Finally, I slid my finger into my mouth and sucked her juice off, tasting her like a fine wine.
"Yep, you're getting excited alright. Let's see how your clit is doing." My fingers worked in concert to pull her labia apart and lift her hood up to expose the whitish mound. I bowed my head and licked my tongue across the sensitive dome, drawing a sharp squeal from her. "Your clit seems ready, too. I haven't seen one more beautiful or one I want to have as much as yours."
"Oh baby, that was so erotic. I've never had a man look at me like that. You made me feel beautiful and desirable like never before."
"Do you want me to show you what I can do to you?"
"Baby, I'm begging you, do everything to me."
As my mouth closed around her clit, she let out a long sigh. Her arms stopped bracing her body, letting it fall back on the table. Her hands reached for my head to caress me as I took her to heaven.
I used my best techniques, concentrated on what brought her the most pleasure, and worked tirelessly to bring her multiple orgasms. It wasn't a difficult task. Having her display her ecstasy uncontrollably rewarded me more thoroughly than any words of praise. My pleasure stemmed from seeing her intimate beauty and tasting her excitement.
Her concerns about making noises were well founded; she was porn-star loud when coming. Her mews and whines rose to cries and screams at the peak of her bliss. She was energetic physically, too. Her body caused the table to creak as she thrashed and bucked.
I made sure I made up for a decade of abstinence. She had three major orgasms and several more minis as I ate her out for thirty minutes. Each time, her cries increased to a crescendo and her pussy bucked against my face. Her hands would grab my hair and hold my face down until a flood of juices gushed over me. She had the wettest female orgasm short of squirting that I've ever encountered.
After her third big-O, she told me, "Brett, that was wonderful. I knew it could be like that. I'm ready, baby."
I stood up, causing her juices to run down my neck from my chin; my chest had a wet spot too, somehow. When I reached for a towel to clean up, Sumalee stopped me, "No, I want my sent on you."
I was about to climb on the table with her when she stopped me again for a new idea. She jumped off the table and asked me to help her push the table sideways against the wall. Pulling a bolster and slim pillow from a cabinet, she used them to create an angled backrest against the wall.
"Okay, what's that for?"
"I want to see you going in. You are the perfect height to do me standing."
What a wild and creative woman she was. I broke her chains. Why would I deny her sexual whims? My cock was the last to get with the program changes; I was soft. She sat on the edge of the table in front of her backrest and opened her arms to be hugged. As we kissed through her juices, she stroked me and I fingered her. When I got hard, I grabbed my cock and laid the head in front of her open gash.
"You look so big, baby. Be gentle."
She was so flexible, she folded herself into a reverse crab position. Her feet were behind and above her head, her hands on the table below her ass. Her pussy opened upward, her head closer to her sex than her knees were.
Her position pulled her lips wide open, enough to see inside her vagina. I moved my cock to her opening again, this time touching her wet folds. I thought she would be tight so I surged forward gently. Half my cock slipped inside her like it was sucked in. Oh lord, was her cunt hot and wet! She was tight but not like I thought she'd be with my size, her petite body, and not having an adult-sized cock in her for a decade.
She howled with surprise when my cock took its initial plunge. Her hands came up to my waist to pull my hips closer, urging me deeper. She had remarkable inner flexibility too. I pushed deeper in surges without pulling back until I bottomed out with only a little bit to go. I've never had a girl take that much on the first penetration.
I started slow, full-length withdrawals and plunges. It was as if I was fucking a dog's squeaky-toy. Every plunge produced a high-pitched 'eep' from her mouth. I was watching from high above, seeing my cock disappear in her flesh. Soon, my entire cock was going in, but how? It should have been poking holes in her back at the angle I entered her.
I could tell from her noises and the flood churning out of her that she had another orgasm five minutes into the fuck, but that wasn't the half of it. With me inside, I learned that her cunt convulsed as she came, squeezing me, trying to milk the cum out of my cock. The walls inside her became noticeably hot as if a wet heating blanket was wrappe