Seduction at the Beach Time Salon

The sensuous nature of her final touches left me fully hard ... and bewildered. My condition amused her and while she acknowledged that most men become erect, she admitted she was probably responsible for making it worse. I felt bold enough to ask her to make it up to me but she would not finish me off; not then or after any of the dozens of other times she waxed me.

When I learned several appointments later that Gloria waxed herself, we discussed the similarities and differences of waxing females. I asked for a visual demonstration of the specifics with a tongue-in-cheek 'for educational purposes' excuse. She surprised me by exposing her vulva inches from my head, pulling her labia and clitoral hood aside to show the delicate places where hairs grew on her sex. I was mildly aroused seeing her bald pussy but settled for the factual observation and nothing else.

I went to Gloria exclusively at first because she earned my patronage. If only she would have jerked me off, I would have remained loyal. Even the promise of healthy tips didn't sway her. She refused to risk the loss of her license or job over what amounted to performing a sex act for money.

As I began to sample other estheticians, I realized Gloria did the best job. While I didn't find a better waxing, I found some happier endings. Two girls seemed to finish me off as a normal part of their job, giving me a casual and distracted handjob at the end without being asked. Over roughly six years, I encountered about a dozen other girls who made me bust a nut. Some enjoyed working on a fit young man with a big cock so much that I received special handling that led to not-so-accidental discharges. Disregarding the risks for whatever reasons, some agreed to extra treatment exchanged for nicer tips. I even hooked up with one babe a few times.

Sadly, none of the willing providers proved to be worth their poor waxing results. I remained one of Gloria's regular customers until I left the big city and its northern climate three years ago for the sand and sun of our country's southernmost beaches. Through similar sampling, I found a mature black woman who did the best job but she was no-funny-stuff legit. I used a few 'handy' girls on occasion when I wanted a good time. Naturally, I was always on the lookout for the best of both worlds in one provider.

I looked up from the magazine I was browsing when Sandy got out of her pedicure chair and put on her sandals. I saw her take a credit card from her purse and follow Lee to the counter, noticing the oddity of leaving her purse behind. Both of them looked at me; Lee took another quick glance, Sandy a long stare.

Because I like to show off and have practiced it for so long, in public, I'm always situationally aware of what's showing and who's looking. Always ready to oblige, I give interested voyeurs an easy opportunity and plenty to see. Sitting sideways to the front window, sunlight was spotlighting my stage so I raised the curtain.

Looking down and lifting the magazine halfway to my face as if reading, I held it away from my chest enough to see for myself what they could see. My cock is a show-er, not a grower. In a flaccid state, it is about ninety percent its erect size. The bell shape of my circumcised glans presents an obvious outline under thin material such as the shorts I wore. Using peripheral vision, I saw Sandy boldly facing me from the counter five feet away while Lee processed her payment. I knew she could see it lying on my thigh; I could feel her eyes on it.

When she turned to sign her receipt, Lee used the moment to lean her head for a quick peek around the cash register. One of them giggled after a whispered exchange. Sandy returned to where she left her purse; after putting her card away, she took out her cellphone to check messages or something.

Lee came out from behind the counter and called me by name. I glanced up and took a good look at her. She was short and slender, about thirtyish. Her thin legs were clad in capris pants and a baggy, nondescript blouse draped her chest. She was stunning with classic Asian facial features. Thin eyebrows arched over brown eyes; a wide smile exposed white teeth contrasting her golden skin. Her black hair was pulled back into a bun, making her face look narrow.

Tossing my magazine aside, I stood up and noticed her eyes zero in on my crotch. Sandy looked up from her phone ... and stood waiting. I understood her actions now; she made sure she was still around to watch me parade by. With two gawkers focused on me, I flaunted my goods for them.

Because of its length, my cock bounces naturally when I walk. I can subdue its movement if I choose or exaggerate its swing as I did for Sandy and Lee. Lee turned to lead me toward a door at the back of the narrow salon. As we passed Sandy, I heard her say, "Enjoy." I thought she was giving me cheeky advice but then I saw Lee wave her hand in possible acknowledgement. To whom was her suggestion directed then?

The door in the rear corner of the main salon area opened to a back hallway. Two doors led off the hallway, and I could see an open break area and a bathroom at the rear. After closing the passage door, Lee opened the first door and led me into an absurdly small room. A waxing table filled one side of the room, almost touching three walls. A cabinet with a countertop filled the other side leaving a space in the middle barely large enough for both of us to stand and swing the door closed.

The room appeared seldom used, having collected boxes of supplies on the treatment table and a stack of towels on the countertop. Lee stacked the clutter in a corner and told me to get undressed. She didn't leave the room but turned her back to me to turn on a wax warmer. I didn't hesitate to whip off my shirt and shorts, ending up standing naked behind her while she continued organizing items she would use. When she squatted to retrieve something from the cabinet, her ass bumped my leg.

"Excuse me," she begged as her head turned, halting when she saw my cock hanging a foot from her face. "Oh, you're ready," she remarked casually before her eyes took a slow, three-second scan down my cock. "Ah, you can get on the table. Lie on your back until I take a better look."

'Better than the long, admiring look I just watched her take?' I questioned myself. I didn't know much about this attractive young woman but I already liked her approach to her work and I looked forward to any exam she would perform. When she came to stand at my hip moments later, her hands remained busy folding tape from a roll and cutting it into short strips. Her eyes appeared to glisten as she silently looked down at my groin.

"I see that you were waxed recently. How long have you been getting waxed?"

"About ten years now."

"Great! That means you're here for a legitimate treatment and I can expect you to act like a gentleman."

She didn't say it in so many words but I understood she was telling me she didn't give happy endings. Not only did she preempt my asking, she nixed half my exhibition game. I was disappointed that I misread her first reactions and imagined that I was in for a heavy dose of modesty with the treatment.

She bent down to inspect me more closely. She hadn't put on gloves yet when her fingers reached out to stretch my skin near a mole. It wasn't near my cock so I considered the touch no big deal. Then the back of her hand pushed my cock aside and she pulled my nutsacks around to see every surface. While the incidental bare hand-to-cock contact and ball-rolling were unexpected, they still weren't that out of the ordinary and I didn't show an overt reaction.

Her exam took a surprising direction, one that changed my expectations about everything to come. One hand grabbed my cock to lift and hold it up. I could feel the surprising warmth of her skin, her fingers wrapped firmly around just below my glans. She pulled and turned my cock in all directions, at one point using her other hand to probe and rub a spot on the underside of my shaft near the base. I started to get hard.

"Did you know you have a skin tag here?"

"Yeah, on my left testicle."

"No, I saw that one, too," she responded and paused to touch my nut to indicate its location. "You've got one here on your penis, too." She tilted my stiffening cock toward her, twisted it to expose the underside, and pulled some skin with her thumb and forefinger to show me. As hard as I was, there wasn't much loose skin. She had to squeeze my cock to maintain her grip as she twisted it and her thumb was pressing on the sensitive underside.

"I didn't know that." I chose to remain a gentleman by not mentioning that I liked her barehanded touch. I didn't have to mention what it was doing to me. My member was being a typical dick and making a monumental spectacle of itself.

I heard the passage door open and close, and then a male voice spoke from the hallway in their foreign language. Lee turned toward the door and responded in kind. As they alternated speaking several times, I noticed her hand never let go of my cock. I was probably imagining things, but she seemed to squeeze and tug my cock as she spoke. Was it deliberate or absentminded? I couldn't fully enjoy the stimulation because I was worried that he would come through the unlocked door and see what was going on.

"Is everything okay?" I asked when they finished.

"Yes. My husband just told me there are no customers so he's going to eat his lunch."

So, he is her husband! I couldn't believe she didn't let go of my erect cock in reaction to him being close by. She didn't seem worried he would come in the room. Maybe she didn't care if he discovered her hands-on technique, maybe because he already knew about it. The kinky situation turned me on but her marital status created a conflict for the ideas already forming in my brain.

Finally, she released my cock, and with a wry smile, looked at it standing free over my belly. "Get on your elbows and knees, Brett. I'll start with your backside."

As I flipped over, she squirted lotion onto a ball of cotton and waited for me to get situated. Before beginning, she directed me to spread my knees wider and stretch my arms above my head to lower my shoulders onto the table. Positioned with my ass sticking in the air, cheeks flared, she had easy access inside my ass crack -- and I'm sure a clear view of my balls and cock hanging almost to the table.

I felt the warm fingers of her empty hand handling my flesh as she worked. She applied the desensitizer slowly, taking care to avoid getting any directly on my anus. She spread the lotion on a portion of my cheeks, the back and inside of my upper thighs, and the area between my butt and balls.

She remained gloveless as she began waxing. I've read about and seen videos of estheticians that work without gloves, but of the dozens in my past, none did. I recognized experience in the brisk pace of her work and training in her techniques. She would stretch the skin, butter on some wax, slap a tape strip on it, and rub the tape surface. Holding the skin stretched with one hand, she would yank the tape away with the other.

I was fixating on feeling her touching me, reveling in its intimacy, ignoring the discomforts that normally kill an erection. My swollen cock hung heavy and started to tingle. I wanted to rub it. Better still, I wanted her to rub it! I tried to tell her by telepathy. My answer came in a burning sting on my sensitive inner thigh; I jerked and winced loudly.

"I'm sorry, Brett," she cooed as she dabbed twice with the tape at some residue. Suddenly, I felt her warm palm covering the stinging swath of skin for several seconds. Sweet mother of relief! Remarkably, my sense of touch nerves overrode the pain signals quickly. I was convinced a gloved hand would not work as effectively, making up my mind immediately that Lee was now my favorite. Thereafter, any little jerk or complaint from me caused her to provide another palm treatment. I shouldn't be faulted for seeing a way to take advantage of her responses.

My backside waxing ended with her spreading a soothing lotion containing aloe over the waxed areas. She wasn't shy around my anus with this lotion, smearing across it several times. Previous applications with gloves paled in comparison to the personal sense of empathy Lee created with caressing-like movements. I couldn't wait to turn over and get the same treatment on my front.

When she had me flip over, I was hard as a rock. Getting stiff happens; being stiff already and staying stiff through all the discomfort had never happened before. To happen this time, when I wanted to be a gentleman, cast doubts that my treatment would end pleasantly. To my relief, she didn't seem to mind the elephant (trunk) in the room because more than half the time, she had her hands on it. Despite wanting to lose my woody, everything she did kept me hard.

Working in a radial pattern around my cock, she stretched my skin, usually by holding my cock in some way. She didn't hold lightly with fingertips, but rather a mid-cock grip that reminded me of holding a baseball bat. My cock remained hard for so long, it started to drip pre-cum. Lee noticed when she got some on her hand. Nonchalantly, she used a cloth to wipe her hand and the oozing tip of my cock.

I was closer to blowing my load than I wanted to be so I decided not to fake pain when she worked on my cock to get a palm treatment on it. The hairs that grow on my cock are on the lower half, leaving the business end for her to hold. She had the warmest hands I've ever known. I keep mentioning that because that warmth wrapped around my swollen glans made her touch impossible to ignore.

She waxed the top side of my cock first, having to bend my hard-on toward my legs to do it. Rubbing the tape on the wax effectively rubbed my cock. She squeezed my cock to hold it when she ripped the tape off. Instead of killing my boner, the sting resonated down into my gut and I felt the tingle start. Oh, no!

She pushed my cock to the side away from her and held it down forcibly, pressing my cock against my hipbone. The heat from the wax excited me. Her fingers stroked me through the tape again. I was fighting my arousal until she yanked the tape off. Searing pain caused all my muscles to tense up.

Her palm covered the irritated spot on the side of my shaft immediately. She leaned on her hands, applying pressure with both directly to my cock. The agony and the ecstasy were getting to be too much. I moaned. She thought I was still hurting so she rotated her palms, firmly massaging my cock. My orgasm was getting out of my control.

Holding my cock against my belly, the tip of my glans was pointed into the center of her palm. Rubbing the tape with her other hand, her fingers stroked the bulging underside ridge where I am most sensitive. That was all I could take.

I gasped out a warning at the last second. "I'm sorry, Lee." My semen started shooting into her palm.

She didn't let go. Rope after rope of cum was squirting into her hand and gushing onto my belly in an epic orgasm. Her other hand continued to rub the underside of my cock through the tape, encouraging the flow. I worried that I had ruined my chances for future visits but she was smiling as she stared at gushing cock. As she grabbed a towel and started wiping up my jizz, I apologized again.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not upset. You're not the first guy to have an accident." After a long pause, she added with a hint of laughter, "But you're the first before I finished waxing."

She emphasized the last point by grabbing my cock, grabbing the tape still on my cock, and ripping it off. After waxing the remaining side, she was done. Lee inspected her finished work, dabbing off some wax residue, and tweezing off a few hairs.

She sensually applied the soothing lotion, first avoiding but teasing my soft cock. Taking a fresh handful of lotion, she smeared it on my cock from the base all the way to tip. Her hand made six or seven long, slow slides to the end of my cock to work the lotion in. Each time, her thumb and fingers played with my glans. I got hard again, not enough to cum, but enough to bubble up a milky drop which she spread over my glans with her fingertip.

I would have shot my wad right there if I hadn't minutes earlier. Maybe she was showing me how she ends her waxings. I knew I would be back for more if she didn't turn me away. She told me to dress but stayed in the cramped room cleaning up as I got off the table. She saw my cock sticking straight out, but neither of us mentioned my accident, even with a gossamer of cum hanging from the tip. Without prompting, she used a towel to wipe off the dribble so it wouldn't visibly stain my shorts. Still feeling remorseful, I apologized a third time.

"You can stop worrying about that, Brett. I told you I'm okay with what happened."

"But you asked me to be a gentleman."

"You were. You didn't get grabby with me. That's where some guys get out of line. I like to become friends with my customers, so please give me a hug, Brett."

"Okay, but while I'm like this?" Still naked below the waist while we spoke, I tilted my hips to bring attention to my stiff cock between us.

Her answer came when she stepped forward, draped the towel over my standing cock, and put her arms around me. She didn't give me a polite, arms-length hug; her whole body pressed against me. I held her firmly for several seconds, enjoying her breasts against my chest, and her hips snuggling against my bundled-up erection. Fighting urges to caress her, I was close to losing my gentleman status.

I managed to cage my still raging cock in my shorts before following her out into the salon, keeping her positioned in front of me to block the sight of my bulge. Her husband was painting the nails of a different woman, another was soaking her feet waiting for a pedicure, and a third woman sat in the waiting area. Lee greeted all the women by name as she passed them. Her husband looked up at her as we passed but not at me.

Wanting to show my appreciation and my generous nature, I calculated how much to tip her. Their listed price for Brazilian waxing was seventy-five dollars, making a standard twenty percent tip come out to fifteen dollars. I considered paying her even more but I worried that her husband would question the large tip. I solved my dilemma by paying in cash so she could report any amount to her husband that she chose. Handing her a C-note, I left the counter before she could hand me change.

She called after me, "Thank you, Brett. See you in a couple of weeks." I was pleased that she invited me back.

* * *

I had a steady girlfriend back then, steady as in regular but not significant or exclusive. Over the next ten days, we had dates and good sex but I thought about Lee when I was lying in bed at night. Remembering her sensual touch was my masturbation fodder. I usually imagined seducing her or her seducing me at the end of a session; the idea of fucking her gave me intense orgasms. Fantasy fucks is all I'd really get from her, though; I wasn't going to fool around much beyond handjobs with another married woman.

Lee had given me a business card with the salon's number. On the back, she had filled in the first of ten slots with the date of my waxing and her initials, S H; it struck me as odd that there was no L for Lee. I was anxious to get another waxing from her, waiting for my new growth to be long enough. I called a couple days short of two weeks to make an appointment. It was Monday; they were closed.

I called Tuesday. Lee sounded happy to hear from me. I wanted to come that day but Tuesday was a bad day of the week for her to be tied up with one customer for almost an hour. Tuesdays are busy for them with repairs to weekend nail tragedies and newly arrived vacationers wanting pretty toes for the beaches. I made an appointment for noon on Wednesday. That became my usual time slot every other week.