NOTES: This is a CFNM story featuring a slightly submissive 25-year-old male, and a group of women in their mid-fifties and early sixties. It includes voluntary male nudity, female-of-male body worship, fondling, groping, mild humiliation, and a one-on-one older woman/much younger man sex scene. All characters are over eighteen. Though essentially a work of fiction, this story was inspired by a personal experience.
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It was a grey, hot, overcast, horribly humid summer's day in Sydney, Australia. I was horny, as always, and looking for any opportunity to take off my clothes, also as always. I found my chance in a decidedly unlikely place.
I'm a sex addicted 25-year-old Aussie male exhibitionist, and I get my kicks from stripping off my gear for women that like to look. I spend hours running, swimming and training in the gym to get my body as ripped and muscular as I possibly can, principally for the purpose of getting female attention.
A narcissist to the bone, I pay regular visits to a beautician to keep my toned body waxed, smooth and almost completely free of hair. Though some women obviously prefer a manly covering of body hair, in my experience, most ladies gain real pleasure from a slick, well-groomed male.
I like to show off and put myself in potentially sexy situations whenever I can, and I've had many very, very sordid, curiously kinky, and wonderfully salacious encounters with members of the opposite sex.
On this horribly steamy day, I was in an unfamiliar suburb far from my home, and far from the coast, where I spend much of my time, strutting and posing for the presumed enjoyment of only obviously interested women at Sydney's various beaches and secluded bays.
Dressed in black denim shorts, sneakers, and a tight-fitting red t-shirt, I strolled down the fairly quiet main street of this unfamiliar suburb, checking out the shop windows and casually looking around the area after completing the on-site half-day work assignment that had brought me there.
I strolled past a variety of fast-food joints, a physiotherapist, a butcher, a post office, a grocer, a massage parlour, and various other businesses until I came to NT & Co Salon, a small, quaint, old-style hair and beauty business with a double glassed frontage that allowed passers-by to see right in from the street.
I peered in inquisitively as I walked by, and noticed a few mirrored hairdressing stations, some hair-washing basins, waiting chairs, magazine racks, product displays, and a counter at the front of the salon.
There were two wet-haired women seated in chairs with their heads tilted back into the wash basins, and another seated woman facing a mirror with a mess of colouring foils in her hair.
Moving between them all and clutching a pair of scissors was a tall, curvaceous woman likely in her mid-fifties. Her long blonde hair was pulled together in a loose bun, with strands of hair charmingly tumbling down around her face.
The woman wore very large gold hoop earrings and heavy make-up, and looked to be perhaps of Russian or Eastern European heritage. She was strikingly sexy and very attractive, and I assumed she was the chief hairdresser, and likely the business owner too.
I love all kinds of women -- older, younger, big, small, dark, light, funny, serious, rich, poor, conservative, radical...the lot -- and this much, much older woman instantly sparked up my already idling libido. She was hot, and I was undeniably excited.
As I walked past the salon's glass windows, the sexy hairdresser caught sight of me, smiled, and almost gave an impressed nod of her head, seemingly noting that she liked what she saw. The hairdresser quickly said something to the woman with the foils in her hair, who then hurriedly turned her head to look in my direction. They both giggled.
I safely assumed the hairdresser was unashamedly checking me out, and that she hadn't hesitated in telling her customer to have a look at me too. I work hard on my body, and I've been told I'm handsome, so I do get looks from women, even when I'm fully clothed.
I absolutely love being objectified by members of the opposite sex. Nothing excites me more than a woman, or even better, a group of women, leering at me, and these women in NK & Co Salon appeared to be doing just that.
As well as being an undiagnosed sex addict, I'm also slightly submissive, and I love dominant, sexually aggressive women. I'd really tapped into this recently after coming into the orbit of a beautiful 52-year-old dominatrix called Allegra Von Brockhaus. [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy And The Dominatrix"]
Barely concealing the fact they were checking me out, these cheeky older ladies in this suburban hair and beauty salon were instantly appealing and arousing. I was completely and happily on the hook.
I desperately wanted to show off for the four older women, and then check the hoped-for looks of amusement, surprise, and possible lustful appreciation on their faces, which I would immediately file away as fodder for my near-chronic masturbation habit.
On a suburban street far from the coast, the only slightly salacious thing I could do was take off my t-shirt. At least the weather was hot, sticky and humid, so I'd have some vague kind of excuse for peeling off in public. My shorts, unfortunately, would have to stay on.
With all four women in the salon now watching me, some openly and others surreptitiously, I stopped in my tracks, and then slowly slid my tight t-shirt up over my torso, peeling it over my rock-hard, deeply ridged abs and marbled pecs before pulling it over my head. The women in the salon were all watching me open-mouthed and with slight smiles playing across their confused faces.
As I wrenched my t-shirt down off my bulging biceps and rippling forearms, the women in the salon began to giggle and animatedly talk to each other. One of the women at the wash-basins even pointed at me while she laughed, not trying to hide the fact she was ogling me.
I quickly ran my hands over my bare torso for effect, wiped at the sweat under my arms with my removed t-shirt, and then tucked it into the back of my shorts. I pushed my longish, sandy brown hair out of my face with my fingers, and then proceeded to walk off.
While hardly illegal or even offensive, stripping off your t-shirt and walking around bare-chested on a suburban street nowhere near the ocean is a bold move, but I was glad I did it.
The women in the salon really appeared to enjoy my little half-strip, and I knew I'd be jerking off while thinking about it as soon as I got home, or even in a public toilet if I got to one first.
If I don't get any sex, I usually jerk off a few times daily, and I'd already come twice that day. I'd shot my load first while fantasising about going down on Odessa Prince, a beautiful, brunette, big breasted young woman who'd recently moved into my apartment complex.
We'd had a truly orgasmic but hands-free sensual experience together [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy & Odessa Play Poolside"], and I was almost certain that Odessa had sent me a very candid (and very hot) letter for Valentine's Day. [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy's Sexy Valentine"]
I'd come for the second time while drooling and furiously wacking off as I mentally replayed my very arousing recent therapy session with 48-year-old sexologist and
Married At First Sight
TV star Alessandra Rampolla. [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy & Alessandra Rampolla"]
