Oz Beach Boy Naked In The Salon

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"]

As I walked off down the street with my muscled torso exposed, my t-shirt tucked into the back of my shorts, and the warm feeling of sexual arousal spreading through my body, I heard a female voice ringing out through the hot, fetid air behind me. I thought the experience was over, but I was wrong.

"Hey, boy," said the thickly accented voice. "You can't just walk off like that."

I turned around to see the blonde hairdresser on the street, just outside the front door leading into her salon. She still clutched her scissors in her right hand, and had a warm but clearly confused look on her attractive face.

"Sorry, what's that?" I asked, slightly concerned that I'd perhaps offended or upset the women in the salon by peeling off my t-shirt in front of them on the street.

"You can't take off t-shirt like that and just walk away," the hairdresser said with a strangely knowing, slightly naughty look on her face. "You can't show off beautiful body and just leave. You tease, huh? You like, um, flasher, yes?"

"Um, no, it's just really hot and humid," I stuttered nervously. "My t-shirt's wet with sweat and I wanted to take it off. I feel better now. I'm not a flasher! It's just a t-shirt!"

"Is okay," the hairdresser smiled. "We have air condition in salon. You come in and cool off...say hello to ladies too, yes? They like when you take off shirt. They like body...all muscles. Come say hello now, young man. Yes?"

I couldn't believe how this was panning out. I'd indulged in a little naughty fun by peeling off my t-shirt for the ladies in the salon, and now the hairdresser had taken it to the next level by inviting me inside to talk with them and introduce myself. I couldn't refuse the offer...I was too aroused by it. I was, however, a little nervous.

"Um...yeah, okay," I said, and started walking back towards NT & Co Salon. "I'll come in and say hello."

"That good," the hairdresser smiled and waved me in with her right hand, still clutching her scissors. "They be happy you come back. They like meet you...have better look at you. Nice body...big muscles."

"Thanks," I smiled, and walked toward the door of the salon, "that's very kind of you to say. Are you from Russia?"

"Yes, Moscow," the hairdresser replied. "You know?"

"No, no, just from your accent," I smiled, as a shiver of excitement shot up my spine. "It's very nice."

"Spaceba," the older woman said. "Australia better...I like here very much."

Many months previously, I'd had a shocking, game-changing sexual experience at a deserted rocky headland near the ocean when four female Russian tourists aggressively talked me out of my Speedos and then took wholly salacious advantage of me. [See Story: "Oz Boy Owned By Russian Tourists"] Ever since, Russian women have driven me totally wild.

I smiled in anticipation. The hairdresser stood aside to let me through, and ushered me in with her right hand, before gently placing her long-nailed fingers on my right shoulder and very softly pushing me inside. I felt an electric shock of pleasure race up my spine at the older woman's surprising touch.

As I walked into the hairdressing salon, the three women inside clapped, cheered and loudly laughed while all intently looking at my bare torso. I felt like a stripper arriving at a hen's party. I could feel their eyes raking all over my muscular body. I raised my right hand and gave the three seated women a lame wave.

"Hi, I'm Matt," I smiled as warmly as I could. "This lovely lady wanted me to come in and say hello...I couldn't say no."

"I am Nadya Tarasova," the hairdresser said firmly as she moved through the front door and back inside the salon. "This my salon...we do hair styling, wash, nails...you know, the usual things, yes?"

"That's great," I smiled. "It looks lovely."

"You look lovely too," howled the woman with the foils in her hair in a slight accent, perhaps South American of some kind. "You do a little show for us on the street, huh? Taking off your t-shirt while we all look? Naughty boy, huh? You like to show off?"

"No, it's just really hot out there," I replied quickly. "I was just trying to cool down."

"What a coincidence!" giggled the South American woman. "You stop to take off your t-shirt right in front of a salon filled with women. How convenient, huh? You're a naughty boy show-off, Matt. I know this."

"I don't care reason, Lupe," added one of the women at the wash-basins in a very thick European accent, pointing at the South American woman. "I just happy he do! Nice boy...he look good! Very nice!"

"Yes, Mojca," Lupe replied to the European woman at the wash-basin, "he is very nice, yes. Big muscles...I like, yes. You like, Dorota? What about you? You like him?"

"Oh, yes," giggled Dorota, the other older woman at the wash-basin, also in a European accent. "He like, young people say, hunk."

As this suburb and the general area surrounding it are richly multicultural and populated by people from diverse racial backgrounds, I wasn't surprised to discover that all of the women in the salon were from non-English-speaking backgrounds. It was a turn-on.

"Would you like cold drink, Matt?" Nadya asked me with a smile. "Cool down more?"

"Oh, yes, please, that would be great," I replied, and Nadya poured me a plastic cup of water from a cooler machine at the back of the salon.

As I gulped the water down, Mojca and Dorota looked at me intently, their eyes moving up and down my body as they spoke quickly in a foreign language I couldn't instantly identify, but which was definitely European.

"Nadya, you should put Matt to work," the obviously forward and very naughty South American Lupe giggled. "Get him to wash hair and sweep up without his shirt. He could be your sexy helper. Galina is sick today, ci? Get Matt to fill in for her!"

"This very good idea, Lupe," Nadya laughed. "I like! Matt, you busy today? I pay you fifty dollar to stay and wash hair for Mojca and Dorota, sweep up salon, help me with Lupe hair...what you say? You keep shirt off while you do...what you think, Matt?"

Fifty dollars to strut around without my shirt for a group of excited, obviously interested older women? This was a sex fantasy come to glorious life, and I didn't hesitate in responding to Nadya's enjoyably lurid suggestion. A big smile played across my face.

"That sounds great," I said. "But don't worry about the fifty dollars...I'm happy just to do it for fun."

"This great," Nadya smiled and moved up close in front of me. "Matt...you have underpants?"

"Um, yeah, I have underwear on," I replied in surprise, and Nadya moved in even closer. "I don't go commando."

"Maybe we take off shorts," Nadya smiled, and then pulled open the belt on my pants while looking me right in the eye, "and you do job in underpants, yes?"

"Um, okay, sure," I replied quietly. "Just in my underwear..."

As the women in the salon looked on and laughed, I stood placidly immobile while Nadya ripped open the button on my shorts and then aggressively yanked down the zipper. With a dramatic flourish, the blonde hairdresser pulled my shorts open and then wrenched them down my smooth, muscled legs, effectively pantsing me in front of her customers.

I stood with my shorts puddled embarrassingly around my ankles, now clad in just a pair of black, extremely figure-hugging fitted boxer shorts. The bulge of my enormous cock was clearly visible, while the tautness of my butt was accentuated by the thin fabric of my revealing underwear.

As the three older female customers all cheered, clapped and laughed, Nadya stood smiling with one hand on her hip and the other pointing down at my feet and my humiliatingly puddled shorts.

Nadya then held out her hand, and I gave her my shorts once I'd clumsily pulled them off over my sneakered feet. My t-shirt was bundled in amongst the shorts too, meaning that the Russian hairdresser was pretty much in possession of all my clothes. She folded them gently over the back of a chair at one of the vacant hairdressing stations.

With her cool blue eyes, stern European features, and tall, curvaceous body, Nadya was indeed a fearsome figure. Her big breasts lightly heaved under her black shirt dress, which was buttoned up down the front and held together with a wide, red, gold-buckled belt.

"Take off shoes and socks...looks silly...just keep underpants...nothing but underpants," the sexily confident Nadya said firmly, and then pointed directly at my crotch for effect. "No shorts...look more sexy. You look good, Matt. We like."

"Thanks," I smiled, and pulled off my sneakers and socks. "What would you like me to do first, Nadya?"

"Maybe sweep floor," Nadya said, and handed me a broom after she'd kicked my sneakers and socks over with the rest of my clothes. "Get up all hair, thank you."

With all of the women watching me intently, I gripped the broom handle tight with both hands to make my biceps bulge, and then flexed all of the muscles in my abdomen.

I swept the floor vigorously, and I could feel my muscles rolling and undulating as I worked. My enormous cock and balls jiggled slightly inside my tight, figure-hugging underpants.

"Are you ladies all regulars here?" I asked as I swept. "You know each other?"

"Yes," Dorota replied from the wash-basin. "We come here. Nadya fix our hair. We know each other...have talk. We laugh."

"It nice here," Mojca added. "We love Nadya...very nice lady for us."

While the smiling Nadya worked on Lupe's hair foils, the cheeky South American -- who looked to be in her late fifties and spoke the most lightly accented English of the four -- stared at me as I swept, and then comically licked her lips.

As I bent over dramatically to sweep all the loose hair from the floor into a dust pan, I heard all the women laugh, obviously enjoying the view of my tight backside. I instantly reacted by tensing and flexing my glutes.

"Nice butt," Lupe giggled, and Mojca and Dorota talked to each other animatedly in their native tongue.

I brushed the hair out into a large rubbish bin, and Nadya moved up beside me. She placed her warm hands on my bare shoulders, and brought her face sensually close to mine. The hairdresser then sexily dropped her right hand onto my hip.

"Good job, Matt," Nadya said quietly. "Now can you please wash hair of Mojca and Dorota? I already wash and condition once, just need one final wash. Thank you, Matt."

Nadya then slid her hand down from my hip onto my right butt cheek, cupping it for a moment, and then gave it a solid squeeze. I shivered with pleasure, and I heard the other women giggling. The confident Nadya almost seemed to be sending a signal to them that it was okay to touch me. I was getting excited.

I moved over to Mojca, who gave me a very naughty smile. The European looked to be in her early sixties, and she had sparkling blue eyes with prominent Slavic features. A smock covered her body, so I had no idea about her shape, though she appeared diminutive and compact.

As she made strange cooing noises, I rinsed Mojca's already wet shoulder-length hair, working my fingers into her scalp, and then applied some shampoo from a small table next to the wash-basins. I lathered it up and worked it in, concentrating on the task at hand.

I then felt a hand brushing sensually up against my tensed butt, and I looked down to see that Dorota had reached across from her chair and was stroking me with her fingertips.

Likely in her early sixties too, Dorota also had a decidedly Slavic look, but her eyes were a curious pale green colour. She smiled naughtily as she felt up my butt, and thirstily looked my body up and down.

I unintentionally spread my legs a little as I continued to wash Mojca's hair, and Dorota used the opportunity to push her hand through the gap and then jiggle my balls around with her fingertips. I opened my legs wider and the older woman gave my ball-sack a sexy, gentle squeeze.

As I continued to work the shampoo through Mojca's hair, the sixty-something then slid her arm around her chair, and started to rub her hand up and down the inside of my right leg, feeling the smooth flesh with her fingers.

When she couldn't get any further up my leg by reaching around her side, Mojca boldly put her hand over her shoulder and then started to lightly brush my cock through my underpants with her fingertips.