Ah, summer weather. Time for beach blankets, bikinis, and boobs. Well, and that painful ritual of waxing. Getting a Brazilian, as we euphemistically say.
Our local spa/salon is run by a family of Thai ancestry and the entire Asian-like ambiance is very relaxing. Each muscle in my body starts to release as soon as I enter the door. There is an entrance foyer so the street noise and the coming and going of others does not intrude on whatever spa experience the customer has come for. A small fountain, water cascading over smooth stones, soothes as well. This oasis is the place I come to for my summer preparations.
D, on the front desk, greets me and tells me J will be ready for me shortly. She is preparing the room, tidying up and so forth after her last client. Beautifully proportioned and petite, of course, D must be no older than her mid-thirties but she is, I think, the matriarch of the salon. The other women who work there seem to defer to her, and she keeps things so smoothly running that the "business" of this business does not intrude on the experience of the clients, something this client appreciates very much. She wears street clothes, whereas the others wear a sort of uniform, and has her dark black chin length hair is glossed with red highlights.
D receives an indication that the room is ready, and opens the door between the foyer and the hallway for me. I know where to go, J uses the same room each time I am there, and what to expect, at least I hope I do.
The door to J's room is open, the lights dim, an atomizer releasing the pleasant scent of white tea and ginger, and a quiet piece of music that seems to be primarily made up of different tones of a chiming temple bell greets me. J ushers me in, welcoming me in a way that makes me feel I am a familiar friend, not just a client. "A waxing today?" she confirms, and I agree that that is what I have come for.
"Please disrobe then," she gestures to the rice paper screen that is there for modest clients to move behind if they wish, but I am not one of those and a slight smile hovers at the corners of her lips, for she knows me very well.
My black tee shirt is the first to come off, and I fold it on the woven chair beside the massage/waxing table. My bra next, and it feels so good to have my large breasts free of the confinement that, after I place it too on the chair, I can't help myself. I cup my breasts with my hands and stroke underneath while I lift them up. Out of the corner of her eyes, I can see J is watching me, a sparkle showing me she appreciates the "show". I can already feel the trickle of juice between my labia; my anticipation of J's pre and post waxing ministrations are worth the pain of being pube free and I enjoy the exhibitionism of undressing in front of her. Knowing that I have an attentive audience, I take time with unbuttoning and unzipping my tight black jeans, then wiggling my hips to help them slide down more easily. I step out of my jeans and place them too, on the chair, and then hook my fingers under the elastic of my lace panties.
Again, I can see by the tilt of her head, her stilled body language, that J is watching, and slowly I pull down first one side, then the other, of my panties until they are down far enough that I can let go and they drop from my legs. I raise one foot, panties hooked on it, and know that I am exposing my hairy bush for J's eyes only. It escalates my erotic anticipation and my body responds accordingly.
When I am fully naked, J turns to me, gestures, and murmurs that I am to get onto the table, which I do, the cool white sheets are a blissful sensation against my summer heated skin. I can see that J has heated the wax she will use to strip the hair from my pussy so that it is as clean and open as that of a very young girl. She comes over to the side of the massage table, puts down the bowl of hot wax, the brush leaning against it in a small saucer, and then takes my hand.
"We will work on relaxing you first," her voice runs like honey over the surface of my skin, and, bending, she begins to kiss my breasts. Small, delicate brushes with her lips that simultaneously tingle and soothe. I sigh. She picks up her energy and the kisses are firmer, ending with a lick of her tongue or an inward suck of her cheeks.
"MMMM," my voice seems to crack with the moan and I can feel the sweet engorgement of my labia as my entire body responds to the eroticism of her touch. She continues to increase the firmness and the strength of her kisses until at last she is firmly sucking on my nipples. As usual, I am dripping with my own natural lubrication at the point, and she smiles as she sees the glistening drops. J picks up the bowl of wax and her brush again. While she was loosening me up, so to speak, she had placed it on a warming element and I could see a slight wavering in the air above the bowl as the heat rose from it, carrying the sweet scent of the honey from the beeswax.
"I will be as gentle as possible," J assured me, and I knew there would be pain but that her touch would attempt to ameliorate it.
"Please, open up," she encouraged, and I angled my knees away from each other, feet pressed together, sole to sole. Her hands were cool as the first gentle nudge of her fingers stretched out the skin of my pussy slightly and then the brush, loaded with hot wax, softly stroked me. It was delicious. The silky strands of the brush coated with hot honey-scented wax, a gentle stroke back and forth as she made sure she had enough wax on my skin to do the job, and then a few taps with her fingers ensuring the wax had ensnared my pubic hair, and a sudden searing wrench as she tore the wax from my skin, ripping hair follicles and leaving the skin of my pussy screaming, momentarily, in agony. Prepared, as always, J quickly covered my on fire skin with a cool cloth, and that did help me recover, somewhat, but even better were the fingers of her other hand as they parted my labia and began stroking my wet clit.
