An Appointment for Sex

As I have frequently said before, my appointments for a body wax are the time stamps through which my life seems to run and revolve around.

I've been going to them for a number of years and whilst I have continued to experience dysphoria about my body and the amount of hair growing on it, there is, it seems -- or at least, I would like to think -- increasingly less, that growth is ever slowing through continuous sending of messages to the roots of each and every single follicle each and every time it is getting pulled out, making it weaker and weaker.

This was, at least, the conclusion when I arrived for my last appointment. Sure. I had hair growth and wanted rid of it, but absolutely none of it ended up being removed at this one.

On arrival -- early as usual -- I was soon in the winter-chill lifting warmth and familiar surroundings of the treatment room, spa music playing, the treatment table freshly laid with towels and a paper sheet.

I had soon somewhat excitedly stripped off before hovering over the heater in the corner of the room, my naked bum making the most of the warmth which rose up into the room.

It wasn't long before he came in, and sought to establish what part of my body needed waxing on this occasion. As it turned out, nothing was ready for waxing. A sign of progress -- perhaps.

The necessity for hands to roam across my body to check hair growth quickly morphed into something more sensual and sexual once more, and merely akin to a sub being used by its mentor. His utterance of a prior intention to be "good" that day, evaporated equally quickly, seemingly finding my presented, naked and evidently available body, language for which not so much spoke, more screamed to be used.

The hours in the build up to the appointment had not included a text to hint at the inclusion of other, new or previous cocks this time around. At the appointment, as the intensity of the moment built, the subject was broached.

The need for discretion with staff in the rest of the site and, in any case, the non-availability of said other cocks was made clear but there was reference to an enquiry having been made as to the interest level of a new discreet cock, and a reportedly big one at that, plus the return of the two cocks with whom I had enjoyed my first ever group sex session back in November. There was also emphasis on provision of cocks per se, going forward.

I made suitable approving noises to indicate my interest, no, willingness for circumstances to align in my favour.

The hands of his fully clothed body continued to roam across my naked submissive and ever more willing body.

I was standing with my back to him, facing the treatment table. Fully clothed, he moved closer behind and dry humped me a few times, almost a precursor to what might be ahead. I responded by pressing my bum against his crotch to feel his ever building hardness, all the while with his hands roaming, holding my hips, and reaching around to caress my upper torso and flick my nipples, or to reach down to my legs and inner thighs.

Waxing was becoming a necessary but less important part of my appointments, which, over recent months; have become appointments for sex, or, to be clear, my submissive body to be used for sex.

I made some remark -- the exact phraseology now forgotten -- about looking forward to sucking cock increasingly more so these days, and specifically, his.

This utterance was a sea of green lights to him and, as a result, he said that I had better do just that then. Previously, he'd have unbuckled his belt and slid his trousers and undies down, but the work of a power bottom was evident, by his leaning against the wall, a clear indication that, as I wanted his cock in my mouth, I was going to have to get it myself.

For a moment, once I had undone his belt, I worried as to whether I would be able to undo his jeans button which, let's be honest, would have offered some hilarity.

The struggle was brief though and with a brief utterance from me of an upwards inflected "Hmm!?", his button was popped, his zip was down and his jeans had fallen to the floor.

I don't remember his undies being pulled down. All I know is, I was soon sliding my hungry, warm mouth over his shaft and beginning work to service him once more, kneeling submissively beneath him.

This wasn't just about the mouth work but what my hands could do too, cupping his balls with one, appreciating his smooth bum cheeks with the other. Occasionally, I would change position ever so slightly so as to take his length in more fully, to ambitiously deep throat him, all the while, my tongue allowed to swirl around his frenulum, cock tip and slit. Up and down, back and forth, kissing, sucking, licking, grabbing his hips, or reaching up under his top to play with his nipples.

Occasionally, I would pull off to take one of his balls into my mouth and gently suck one, releasing before kissing and nuzzling my way to the other, and throughout the servicing of his cock, offering submissive eye contact -- holding the gaze until he looked down to watch me looking at him as my mouth bobbed backwards and forwards.

Every now and again, he would treat the cumslut working below him to drips of pre-cum, pre-empting the imminent feed to make sure his cumslut was ready to take it. It certainly was, the slut relishing the regular treats it was getting more of these days as reward for the skills it was regularly told it had.

Several minutes had passed in deep and concentrated cock service, when he suddenly instructed me to get to my feet, elaborating that he was keen to rest my knees from the hard laminate flooring.

He sat on the edge of the treatment table, his cock pointing firmly up towards me but instead, he drew me in closely, and, without words, indicated me to join cocks together, his rock hard, recently sucked, next to mine, only able to muster a semi, and encouraged me to frot them. This didn't happen for long as my mind was very firmly on getting his firm cock back in my mouth. I had soon stood to one side and bent over to take him again. His hands continued to roam around my body, feeling my backside, reaching under to play with my cock and balls whilst, all the time, relishing the service his cock was being given.

Ever the slut, I raised the leg nearest the treatment table as I worked, allowing him more room to use his submissive, fingering it, and, using a few held together fingers, patting my hole to loosen it up further.

Minutes later, my mind wandered towards penetration. I lifted up, turned my back to him and drifted very closely in front of him, feigning dropping on to his still rock hard and protruding glistening cock, but instead, wiggling my bum seductively, and spreading my legs before leaning up against the wall, arms spread above, bum stuck out towards him.

He was like a moth to a flame, quickly reaching for some cream, deftly and quickly smearing it down my bum crack and hole to prepare it for the onslaught it had seemingly earnt or was just going to get as a presenting slut anyway.

The word 'slut' falls ever more regularly into my vocabulary these days and would be evident in the minutes to come.

He took his sub again and began attentively fucking it bareback as had been the case many times before. I made approving noises and implored him to "fuck me" but otherwise kept a focus on feeling every thrust. I was loving it. This, I reasoned, was my true place, my inner most secret desire as I began descending into another fuck slut bottom fuelled haze.

I thought to myself that I could take any amount of being fucked, for as long as possible, but, his cock had been well and truly serviced before he began fucking me and, he had already fed me with plenty of pre-cum in the minutes before. He was therefore close.

He pulled out for a few seconds before being seemingly unable to resist taking me again with ease. A few minutes later, he pulled out again saying that he was about to fill me with his load and what would have been the first ever load to have been pumped inside me.

"To hell with the consequences" I brazenly and carelessly thought but my reply was one of saying that it really was about time I was filled with cum. It was just not destined to be his, for him, the continuing and very hard line over doing that, as hard as his cock.

He had soon stretched out on the treatment table, his still hard cock pointing straight up. I didn't need asking and plunged back down on him again, ass to mouth, intensely and intently working him in every conceivable way, shaft licked, tongued and sucked, balls patted, base occasionally gripped when I wasn't deep throating him.

The cock serving freshly fucked slut was on fire, openly telling him in the brief moments that I was not sucking him, that I was now a "slut", "cum slut", "cock slut", and a hungry "bottom" that had, in fact been pursued by several cocks on line in the days previous (via the site he had suggested I signed up to in order to service more cock), that meets seemed to getting ever closer and that one of the pursuing cocks wanted to rim me at an anticipated meet.

Twice, in quick succession, in the throws of being serviced, he almost seemed to implore me to "Be careful". The two words were sufficient for me to understand yet insufficient at the same time. "Hmm?" I replied, filing the subject matter for a point in the aftermath in order to read up. Either way, he didn't elaborate but he was being distracted by having his cock intensely serviced and there was still a load to be collected.

As I worked, one of his hands was reaching down to play with my ever so slightly stimulated but mostly limp and ever more useless cock. He was making me cum and quite quickly too and I didn't want to do so as my focus remained very clearly on bringing him off into my hungry mouth. I drew away from his hand which indicated, rather bluntly that I wanted him to stop but this was solely out of the aim to fully service him.

In a moment at which my mouth was not on his cock, he began almost desperately masturbating to reach his end. I hovered my mouth above and told him not to waste it and where I wanted it.

He knew though. He knew alright. He knew the cum slut wanted its reward -- every single drop of his load -- swallowed.  He pledged to let me know when he was about to cum and moments later, he instructed me to take him back into my mouth and suck slowly.

Seconds later, his body convulsed and his load powered out and into my enveloping mouth. Every possible sensation was strained to feel it hit the back of my throat and rain back down as I continued to plunge up and down his still hardened shaft. His body continued to convulse as the load reached its end. I remained close by his cock tip, watching it closely and reattaching to collect every single last drop, licking the last drips from him -- absolutely nothing allowed to be wasted.

Pushing these boundaries of his senior years compelled him, the mentor, the top, the arguable Dom, to once again fall to the use of the previously agreed but often forgotten safe word. The utterance of this word to his freshly fucked and cum happy slut instantly lifted a fair proportion of my drive to service his cock, but as he began to recover, I sensed he was paying significant attention to me as I began working my still mostly flaccid cock, hunger for semen yet to diminish. After a few moments, I told him that I was going to cum and, determined not to let a single drop fall to the floor, focused on keeping my hand cupped and my fingers held together.

Stimulated by previous days of being lingerie clad, locked in chastity and plugged, with only drips of pre-cum having left my balls to be licked up and swallowed, the mind also regularly stimulated by explicit videos seen on social media, and so with a heavy pent up load, I came heavily and prolonged, jet after jet, into my hand. 

In his prostrate position, recovering from his prolonged period of having his cock serviced, this time, he was in no way able to reach for any tissue. He knew better. He had, over time, helped to create a cum slut and that very cum slut was, without any hesitation, swallow every single drop of his load. Absolutely nothing was wasted, my hand licked clean, attentively in between the fingers, rolling the hand over to collect anything that had run on to that side. No paper towel was needed. The cum slut was, once again, for the time being at least, satiated.

Now able to get to his feet, he once again said that there was money to be made from my cock sucking skills and referenced the other cocks he had in mind before leaving me alone in the room to dress and join him in reception.

His focus was on the next already booked appointment a month away. However, I, on the other hand, had my calendar open on my smart phone and made no secret of the fact that I was seeking something sooner than that, knowing that absolutely no waxing had been done that day and that I would definitely be ready, but that, today N it merely been an appointment for sex.

With tones hushed, he reiterated the options for cocks to be strategically brought in when discretion and privacy could be assured and found a date in the interim, waxing to be done of course first, but as much as possible in available time -- before those cocks arrived.

The lines of crossdressing and chastity have never crossed into salon time. He may suspect but it has never been talked about. As he no longer waxes my bits, thoughts have turned to going into a future appointment locked in my tiny chastity device. After all, as a submissive, my cock was of little use today, so might as well be locked up next time.