My girlfriend always keeps her legs hair-free. Was that because she liked the look, or because it was expected of her? I don't know, but it certainly appealed to me. Societal pressures can be powerful. As can socialisation. She has beautiful legs. I love looking at them. Pretty much as I would look at any woman's legs. But whether I liked her hairless because I had been conditioned into that frame of mind or something else, I have no idea. Anyway, we are what we are.
Shaving was one of her regular bathroom activities. "You never shave above the knee," I recall her saying one morning when I caught her in the bathroom. "That's a rule." I have since learned that was because the hair on your thighs is finer. It must be a female thing because I can't say that about my legs. Anyway, it would be a hell of a lot more work shaving a whole leg, and I expect it would be difficult to see what you were doing.
She must have got fed up with it as she began having her legs waxed regularly. Of course, I noticed even those fine hairs on her thighs were gone too. One of her old school friends was a beautician. She got good rates and had a regular appointment. I wouldn't have minded either way if she decided to go
au naturel
in terms of body hair. That would be her choice and that would have been fine.
One day she surprised me. I knew she'd been to the beautician, but this day was different. She's really good at keeping things quiet. I don't know how she does it. That evening as we put the light out in bed, she rolled over to me for a cuddle and I felt this new experience between her legs. She was smooth all over. I couldn't believe the difference. The feeling was out of this world. I had put my hand on her belly and was moving down. I should mention that we both sleep naked. I thought I was still on her belly when I started to feel her legs, and well, you've guessed it, everything else. I was between her legs and there wasn't a solitary hair.
She continued to get a Brazilian in addition to having her legs waxed from then on. I found it exciting. Of course, I told her how good she looked and how good it felt. She no doubt knew what I thought without me having to tell her.
There were other aspects of her new look that I liked. It's not that we walk around the house naked. Well, at least, not often. But there were always occasions when I'd see her walking between the bathroom and the bedroom or coming out of the shower, and her new look made her look stunning.
So, weeks later. Or was it months later? I can't remember. One Saturday morning she surprised me. We tend to lie in late on the weekends, but on that day she hopped out of bed before our usual snuggle and cuddle and came back with a towel, a can of my shaving cream and a razor, and she began work on me. I didn't mind. I like being pampered.
She had a go with the razor but was finding it hard going. My pubes didn't seem to want to leave my body. The scissors were called for, which got rid of the bulk of my forest. I have to say that her snipping had me on edge at times. She seemed way too casual for my liking, but thankfully there were no nicks. Then she was back to the shaving cream and razor. That felt quite pleasant. If you've ever been contemplating this but weren't too sure, well, I can recommend it as a beautifully intimate experience. I lay on the pillow and allowed her to pamper me. She was gentle and her rhythmic movements were relaxing.
"All done," she said, and I propped myself onto my elbows and scanned her handiwork. She had a broad smile on her face. I looked down and was pleasantly shocked. You get to know your body pretty intimately during your everyday activities, but when this sight hit my eyes it came as a surprise. It was a version of myself that had hitherto been hidden and the appearance stunned me.
I laughed at the sight of myself. "Do you like it?" she asked. I didn't know what to think, to be honest. I stared and then touched my skin. She had done a great job. The skin was soft and surprisingly smooth. She lent forward and kissed me just above my dick. She'd done that before. Maybe a thousand times. Each time she probably got a mouth full of hair, and I have to admit when she kissed me there I could barely feel a thing. But this time, I could feel her lips. That was new. So different. That kiss was a whole new experience. I could feel the warmth of her lips and her breath on my skin. Her kiss near made me shiver.
She straddled herself over me. She must have been wet. I slipped in easily and she lowered herself gently. I was in for a whole new experience. I could feel so much more of her. With my hair gone and her already having a Brazilian the feeling of intimacy was so enhanced. I had no idea how pleasant it would be.
The feeling when our hips touched with both of us having no hair was amazing. It was a sensual delight I could not have imagined. I don't know if I can adequately explain the experience. Imagine you've been spending your life wearing gloves. Typing, working, cooking, eating and then you remove the gloves and suddenly you can feel things. As though you were touching things for the first time. A whole new perspective on everything tactile becomes available to you. She moved slowly and I came easily. I lay on my back afterwards, touching my hairless groin in wonder.
She kept me bald for a few months, but eventually, the duration between treatments grew longer, and before I knew it I had returned to my old hairy self. Of course, she kept her regular appointments and I loved the way she looked. And felt. My preference for my own baldness, when I was bald, was mostly neutral, but I certainly loved the feeling. I also felt a bit guilty for allowing my hair to grow back because she said she liked the look of my hairless genitals.
So, when she asked me to come with her to be waxed in a double appointment I couldn't say no without seeming selfish. Though, the thought of being naked in front of a strange woman filled my mind with a whole lot of weird thoughts. I almost refused. When she put the question to me my mind instantly flashed, no way Jose, but before I thought too much I heard myself say, "Yeah sure." Too late. My response was out there.
She smiled lovingly and reminded me of the appointment day and time. I wasn't sure what I was letting myself in for. I'd heard stories of the pain of waxing. Though, I suspected those stories were probably exaggerated. Anyway, if she can put up with it then so can I.
The day of our appointment arrived and we walked into the salon together. I felt both excited and nervous. We were welcomed and invited into the salon. I followed Jenny. She knew where to go. The room was a bit like a doctor's surgery. The table, bench, or whatever you'd want to call it (torture device) dominated the room. There was a bench on one side with an array of pots, containers, and packages most of which were a mystery. On the other side were more benches, a sink, and a plastic rubbish bin on the floor in the corner, and behind the bench was a window that ran the length of the room with a view of a leafy garden. I hope it was private.
We didn't have long to wait and I was introduced to Cheryl. As expected she was the same age as Jenny. She was very pleasant. Easy to talk to. I immediately felt comfortable with her. I suppose if Jenny had kept the friendship up all the years since her school days they probably had similar interests and outlooks on life. She asked who was going to be first. I shrugged, but immediately Jenny chipped in saying, "He's having a Brazilian and it's the usual for me afterwards." I silently gulped a swallow on hearing her. I discovered later that she spoke up because she thought after seeing what was involved she feared I might back out.
Cheryl asked me to remove my clothing and get onto the table. She turned her back to me as she attended to her equipment on the bench. This was nerve-racking. Jenny took my clothes as I undressed. She suggested I pull my T-shirt up to prevent it from getting stained. I complied. Then she surprised me by saying, "No, take your top off. You can have those chest hairs done as well."
"Yeah, okay," I said, and handed her my T-shirt. So, that's it, I was naked in a room with two women; one I'd only met a couple of minutes previously. I wondered if I should be feeling like I was in heaven, but I wasn't getting any kind of feeling like that.
At that moment Jenny's phone rang. Cheryl turned to speak to her. "There's not much of a signal in this part of the building. You're better taking the call in reception." She headed for the door, piled my clothes at the end of the bench on the way out, and left the room, which left me naked on a table with a stranger looking down at me. "Are you okay if we start with your chest hair," and not waiting for a reply said, "I'll just give you a bit of a trim first," and the room filled with the buzzing sound of an electric razor.
Jenny popped back in and gave me the news. There was some drama at work. She'd have to leave and help sort it out. It was unlikely she'd be back before I was finished. She, kindly, asked if I wanted to make the session for another day. I figured I was already committed and said as much. She smiled, and off she went, blowing me a kiss from the door.
Cheryl asked me if I would like a towel to cover myself, which was thoughtful, but I figured she was going to be pretty intimate with me soon enough, so I declined.
She was halfway through my chest with the trimmer when I heard a noise from across the room. One of her staff had entered. I don't know how long she'd been there. She got a blast from Cheryl and was told to get out. She apologised and left quickly. She'd come in to collect the bin. Cheryl apologised for the intrusion. I think she was more upset than me.
So this was it. The big moment. My first experience of waxing.
A pile of strange, stringy, goo was plastered onto my chest with a wooden stick. It was warm. Maybe a bit warmer than warm, but definitely not hot. Then using the stick, she swirled the goo in figure eights or a similar pattern. There was almost an artistic flick of her hand as she manipulated the wax. This goo was the wax. It's nothing like wax in the traditional sense. So, I don't know why they call it wax.
Then, another stick with another heap of goo piled on it was brought to me and plastered onto a new spot on my chest, and the same swirly action took place. Both patches were close to one another, parallel, longer than they were wide, but they didn't touch.
She patted and poked the first patch. Probably testing if it was ready. Then with her thumb and finger began to prise up an edge. She glanced at me, and I returned the look, wondering what was happening. She was leaning on me with one hand and with the other, in one swift movement, tugged, and the whole strip came away.
Wow! Fuck! The shock of it. I'd never felt anything quite like that before. It almost took my breath away.
"How was it?" she asked, as she pressed her gloved palm on the area she had just done. I have to admit that despite the initial what-the-fuck-have-you-done experience or have-I-still-got-skin-attached thought, it wasn't actually too bad. My jaw may have opened. I know I didn't say anything. I was stuck for words. She smiled monetarily then moved back with a new wooden spatula with another pile of goo on it.
"I don't suppose it was too bad," I said as she coated a new area on my chest. While she was swirling the wax I was looking at my new bald patch. There wasn't a solitary hair standing. So quick and it was gone. Quite amazing.
So that's how it went. Alternating between applying wax and pulling it off. I also got a dusting with talc every now and again. Before she discarded the second strip I asked to look at it. All my little hairs were embedded in the wax. Some standing straight, but most on an angle. Like some kind of tiny crop sprouting from a miniature farm, all with little blobs on the ends that were the hair roots.
She continued and worked down my belly. I was getting used to the experience. You couldn't possibly say it was pleasant, but it really wasn't so bad. Once I was over the initial shock and knew what to expect, each subsequent one was okay.
Quite mechanically she continued on to my pubic hair. A quick trim with the electric razor then, as before, and the wax was applied. She used the same pattern of strips that were longer than they were wide, but in comparison to my chest, the amount of wax used was much smaller. She continued the swirly action here too.
Then straight away she applied another patch of wax in the same area but separated from the first. Without hesitation, and as casually as you please, she grabbed my dick and pushed and held it flat. Almost roughly, but she didn't hurt me. Then as she'd done before she teased an end of the first wax strip. I could feel that. I think she was snagging some hair. Not so pleasant. Probably because it was happening slowly, I suppose.
I have to say that I was expecting it to feel the same as it did on my chest. No, not so. My vision clouded slightly as the sensation brought a tear to my eye. But I have to say, that the pain lasted only when she was pulling the patch of wax off. The discomfort was just at that instant; that second. But, boy, it was intense. It was the worst. I have to be honest about that. But I also have to say that once you know what to expect, when it's no longer a surprise, the sensation isn't so bad.
