Seduction at the Beach Time Salon

When I walked into the salon fifteen minutes early, Lee wasn't there. Her husband was taking payment from the only other customer. He acknowledged me with a nod and then exchanged goodbyes and a hug with the woman, addressing her by name.

He flashed me a friendly smile. "Welcome back, Brett."

What a nice touch, knowing customers by name. I felt at ease talking to him despite both of us knowing the purpose of my visit.

"You're early. Lee stepped out to get us burgers for lunch. She'll be right back. My name is Dan." He reached his hand out to shake mine. His grip was firm.

His name sounded like Dan but slightly different. I couldn't catch the subtle nuance in his pronunciation. He quickly gave up trying to teach me; calling him Dan was good enough. Except for his name, he spoke American English as Lee did, with hardly a trace of foreign language influence.

Almost the moment I sat down to wait, Dan said he could see Lee returning. I looked out the window to see her flying through the parking lot in a flat-out sprint. When she burst through the door, she saw me and approached. She was wearing capris pants and baggy blouse similar to the ones she wore my first visit. Her comfortable clothing was probably common work attire.

I rose from my seat to receive a polite hug and her personal welcome, noticing that she wasn't winded from exertion. She was willing to start my waxing immediately but I insisted that she shouldn't miss her lunch just because I was early. They ate leisurely together at the back table, finishing before my appointed time.

As soon as we entered the treatment room, Lee turned to me, putting her hand on my arm. "Brett, that was very sweet of you to let me eat lunch first. Let me give you another hug."

This time, she pressed herself sublimely against my body, her cheek against mine, lingering for several seconds. Her greeting was more than friendly; it was deliberately sensual because she tilted her hips to press her mons against my bulge. Such actions suggested she had interests in me that she didn't want to exhibit in front of her husband, yet was willing to make them known to me, interests I was tempted to exploit.

The waxing proceeded exactly like the first time with plenty of barehanded contact. This time, her touch didn't surprise or arouse me beyond control. Distracted by engaging conversations as well, my cock reactions were subdued.

"If you don't mind me asking, is Lee Korean or Chinese?"

She pressed her hands together and spoke in a cartoonish voice. "I am Siamese, if you please."

"You're Siamese? Siam like 'The King and I' ... I believe that is Thailand now."

"Bonus points for knowing that. Are you a smart man?" She could have said I was smart, or gushed flattery another way to make me feel like a special customer. Instead, she cleverly opened up my personality and learned some of my background.

"I have a college degree in finance. I've studied history because I like it. I enjoy the Arts, too."

"Do you work in finance?"

"I make and manage my own investments now. I live comfortably."

She said she liked my straightforward answers. I had nothing to hide and told her so; the truth was easy to remember. I didn't feel any need to impress her with boasting or con her with bullshit. In return, I learned some candid details of her personal background.

I mentioned how easily I understood her English diction. I learned she was born in California to parents who emigrated as children during the Vietnam War. Growing up bi-lingual, most of her English was learned from other Americans, especially in school. She went to Southern Cal on a track scholarship, played softball for the Trojans too, and graduated with a bachelor's degree in business. She met Dan there and they married after graduation. His Thai background is similar to hers.

I asked how she got her first name. She confessed her full name is Sumalee, a name of tradition given to many in her family. To be distinguished from cousins, everyone has always addressed her as Lee; she seldom hears her full name spoken anymore.

They worked in her family's salon business for years, saving their money. When it came time to start their own salon, they left the saturated market in California. In her words, they chose southern Florida because it had lots of people who wanted to look pretty and could afford it. They liked the warm climate, too.

We got to talking about waxing when Lee asked me, "Who waxed you before me?"

I told her about the salon three blocks from my home that had a mature lady I went to. I admitted she did a great job and only charged sixty dollars because I was a regular. Lee asked where I lived. Silent for almost a minute, she thought about my answers.

"What you're telling me doesn't add up. You drive half-an-hour past a salon you can walk to, then pay me fifteen dollars more to do the same thing? What aren't you telling me?"

"Well, she's old, in her late-fifties. I'd say the years have not been kind to her. You are young and beautiful."

"Are you trying to schmooze me? All things being equal, you might choose me for that reason but not over a big difference in money and convenience. I think there's another reason. Be honest. Tell me what brought you back here to me."

I told the truth but in a backhanded way. "I've been looking for someone else. She's stern, not a real pleasant person. She acts afraid to touch me ... despite wearing gloves."

"Now, I'll buy that answer because I hear what you're really saying. It's not that she wears gloves but that I don't."

"Well, you are the first to wax me without gloves. Your hands feel awesome," I admitted.

"You like bare skin holding your cock, huh?"

So earthy and direct, I was stunned by this educated businesswoman saying the word cock. "No, I mean the thing you do with your palm to take the sting away. That feels real good."

"Especially on your cock, right?"

She boldly continued to ask in sexual terms, so I felt inclined to give a sexual answer. "Since you insist on asking, yes, especially on my cock. Your hands are very warm. Feeling you pressing both hands on my cock got me going, then pulling and rubbing it was more than I expected, but I'm not going to complain."

She laughed. "No complaint, yeah right! Are you ready to admit you came back to feel my hands on you again?"

"Okay, I'm here for that, too."

"Getting you to make some sort of admission first is important to me. If I believe you'll tell me the truth, I'll be honest with you, too. We're adults. We are both aware some workers in this business do certain things. It comes with the territory because working with a man's sex organ can get him worked up for sex. We're right there on top of it. It's easy to help him out a little. If you know Asian culture from your history studies, you'll understand that women providing men outside their family with a little gratification is not a big deal. Do you catch my drift?"

I nodded. She was admitting to me that she gave handjobs to customers; her husband probably knew she did. Such an arrangement didn't surprise me and eased my mind about what she did with me with him nearby. I was interested in finding out more about her 'certain things.'

"Why don't you use gloves?"

"I hate wearing gloves while waxing. They don't fit my hands, wax sticks all over them, and they're a pain to put on. In school, they showed us what disease signs to look for. I'm diligent about hand washing and using sterile supplies. My after-wax lotion has a disinfectant mixed in it. Altogether, I'm smart about deciding when I can work without gloves. We aren't likely to transfer a disease with external contact. The main risk a customer faces is getting bacteria in an open pore that would develop an infection. The gloves only protect you from the skin of my hands, which is the least likely source of bacteria anyway.

"But you know, I wear gloves more often than not. I wear gloves the first time with every new customer until I know how they'll behave and react to contact. Some men don't come back, some I won't accept back. Customer hygiene is important. I will never touch dirty dicks ungloved no matter how often I wax them."

"If you're so selective with customers, why take the gloves off at all? Do you hate gloves that much or is there another reason? Maybe you prefer having your full sense of touch when you're working on a man. Be honest now."

"I really hate gloves. I would never wear them if possible but I'm not stupid. What other reason are you getting at?"

"You like feeling a man's cock touching your skin. Admit it. You like that part of the job."

"No, I d..." Her voice stopped in mid-denial. She looked at me with a crooked smile before returning to waxing. "I admit I like playing with cocks, feeling them get hard. With bare hands, I can feel it twitching. I can also feel cum shooting through it. I get a kick out of making a man come. That's why I do it. I've never admitted that to anyone before. Does that answer satisfy you?"

"Very much, but would you explain something? You didn't wear gloves my first time. You said you always do for new customers."

"Well, I examined you and saw how ... healthy you looked so I waived your quarantine waxing."

"I think you couldn't wait to get your bare hands on my big cock."

"You nailed it. I couldn't wait to play with the biggest cock I've ever seen."

I was getting conflicting hints about the scale of her business. With her attitude and willingness, she should be attracting men in droves yet the condition of the treatment room suggested lack of recent use. I decided to solve the mystery. "You must get a lot of customers for Brazilian waxing."

"No, very few. Counting the two guys I did during training, I'd say I've done only ten men in the four years I've done waxing, about ten women too. During the short time I ran ads on Craigslist, I got mostly the wrong kind of customers. Men can make this business a hassle. Too many assume waxing and massages advertised on Craigslist are fronts for prostitution. Even if I worded the ad carefully, they thought that was just for deniability with law enforcement.

"Most are looking for a handjob and even though I'm willing to do that for my regular customers, I have personal boundaries. I was groped and propositioned so often, I had to get defensive. Just based on intuition, I've turned away half the men who asked and kicked a few rude and inappropriate jerks out in mid-treatment. I may be prejudiced against young men because of a few bad experiences but that's what affects me. Old fat men are the most cooperative, and the most appreciative of their reward.

"I don't advertise waxing except the window sign and on our salon's website. Yelp lists me now but there is no negativity associated with them. Those who seek Brazilian waxing can find me. Walk-ins are rare."

"How did I pass muster with you?"

"Politeness got you accepted. Remaining respectful as best you could showed me you are a gentleman."

"As best I could?"

"You had a hard-on the whole time but never made an issue of it. That impressed me."

She had just begun waxing my cock by then. The conversation had distracted me to where I hadn't popped a boner yet. No painful moments required a palm treatment either. Everything changed when her fingers curled around my cock near the head and pulled to stretch the skin. She spread on some wax and then slapped a piece of tape over the wax like always but she used a different technique to rub the tape. Two of her fingers stayed on the tape surface, but her thumb and two outside fingers slid on bare skin alongside the tape, deliberately stroking my cock. Her technique produced the expected results.

She worked around my cock in quarters. Making up for lost time, her grip on my cock was unrelenting, never letting go as her hand twisted my cock around. She was doing the last side when she spoke. "Hey, Brett, you were chatty the whole time today but suddenly stopped. What happened? Cat got your tongue?"

I looked at my cock straining upward in her grip. "That's not my tongue you've got there, kitty."

She laughed so hard, she had to stop working. Humored by the affect my wit had on her, I chuckled with her. As she finished the waxing and tweezed hairs, she meowed like a cat and giggled to herself. I was purring with pleasure, getting ready to roar.

Lee began applying the soothing lotion. What makes her application method so sensuous is the slow and caressing pressure of her fingers. In my experience, other estheticians always made a haphazard effort in their haste to finish and would flick around the base of my cock as briefly as possible to avoid arousing me. Lee made this step the crowning glory of her treatment with deliberate intention to pleasure me sexually.

At first, she worked around my cock with only brief slides up the shaft, making sure she covered every inch of pelvic skin more than once. The rest of the application concentrated on my cock, not just the bottom third of my shaft that was actually waxed, but the whole length including the head. Using both hands firmly wrapped around me, she slid up and down in slow, exquisite strokes, twisting and squeezing. Her thumb and forefinger rubbed and pinched my glans until I was oozing pre-cum which she smeared around the tip.

I've had gloved happy endings that were nothing more than vigorous stroking performed with unconvincing enthusiasm or obvious distraction. Such favors produced ejaculations efficiently but devoid of excitement. I've had girlfriends give me handjobs that were better but they too acted like rough handling and fast results were the goal. Lee took her time, working me with gentle teases, concentrating on making the journey full of pleasure and the climax explosive. Far and away, her handjob was the best I've ever received.

When I started to moan, she put one hand over my glans to cap the impending eruption and stroked my cock at moderate speed with all her fingertips sliding on the sensitive underside. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensations. The warmth of her skin, the slippery lotion, and the movement on my skin made my cock feel like it was inside a vagina.

My pleasure built up to incredible heights as I imagined my cock fucking her. The burn of my orgasm started deep in my gut; I tried to hold back, to edge just a little bit longer. My hips rose off the table as I strained to lift my cock deeper into her squeezing pussy.

The spasms of release struck with such intensity, I declared my feelings in breathy gasps to my imaginary lover. "Oh god, Sumalee! I love fucking you."

Her pussy gripped me tighter, milking my rod as it squeezed through her warm flesh. Her words drifted out of the darkness, "Your cum feels so hot shooting inside me. Give me all you've got, baby."

I seemed to spurt out cum endlessly at her urging, until I felt myself floating in a dreamy euphoria. A voice called to me but I couldn't respond. I didn't want my blissful repose to end.

"Earth to Brett. Your journey is over. Are you with me again?" I mumbled a non-committal answer. "Where did you go, baby? You seemed to have an extreme experience."

I snapped back to reality, suddenly feeling remorseful about imagining having sex with a married woman, in her presence no less. She was standing there talking to me, her hands still holding my cock, one awash in my semen. In reality, I did have sex with her. "I'm sorry, Lee. My thoughts drifted."

She grabbed a towel and started wiping her hand. "Now you call me Lee again. I liked it when you called me Sumalee."

"Oh, no! Did I say that out loud? Anything else?"

"You love to fuck me."

"I don't know what to say."

" You gave me all your cum, baby. Say I was fucking awesome."

"How did I not offend you?"

"You had the most intense orgasm I've ever witnessed. It made my toes curl and I'm not the one who came. That I have that effect on you is a wonderful compliment. Your thoughts didn't violate my space. So say it."

"You were fucking awesome, Sumalee."

She stood at my shoulder, having wiped up all my cum. "I love the way you say my name. I want you to call me that."

"Sumalee is a pretty name for a pretty woman."

She bent her head close to mine and stared in my eyes. "You're the only one to speak my name." Her eyes glanced at my open mouth and then her lips pressed tenderly on mine. Our kiss was brief and friendly without tongue action but I felt a spark of real desire for her. Suddenly, she pulled away. "I shouldn't have done that. Forget that it happened."

"You ask the impossible. I can't forget your kiss."

"You say dangerous things. I have to be careful with you."

She had me wait while she retrieved a wet cloth to clean me further. She was coolly businesslike but stayed to clean in the cramped room while I dressed. We talked about calling her Sumalee at all times rather than be secretive. She waited until I was clothed to hug me in a way that avoided intimate groin contact.

Before collecting my payment, she put my mind at ease about her intention to continue treating me by making an appointment for me two weeks hence. I increased my tip to fifty dollars, the 'going rate' for happy endings; I put all of it on my debit card, figuring the amount did not need to be hidden from Dan.

* * *

I had problems that were of my own doing. In finding an amazing woman to wax me, she became the focal point of my sexual urges. Day and night, I was thinking of her, masturbating to her, wanting her. My honest desire to fuck her was at odds with my intention to stay away from married women. She showed signs of losing control of her desire that led me to believe I could seduce her if I tried. If she bent any of her rules with me, I would take advantage. If I let myself get into situations I should avoid, thinking with my dick would push me to go for more.

I had left the salon feeling as though I had actually fucked Sumalee, drained of passion and totally satisfied. When my satisfaction faded, I wanted more from her. When a man obsesses like that about a woman that he just met, he reacts instinctually to opportunities. I feared I would pursue a sexual relation with her against my better judgment.

About a week later, I took my girlfriend out for a romantic dinner. Good food and good company set an amorous mood and I took her to my bed. When I had trouble having my orgasm after five of hers, I had to resort to thinking about Sumalee spreading her legs for me. My girlfriend thought I was awesome but I saw the inevitable end of our relationship. In fairness to her, I let her down as gently as I could but she was devastated. I was free, but in deeper trouble.

When I arrived for my third appointment, Sumalee gave me a friendly hug. Because of the distance I traveled, my habits allowed extra time in case traffic delayed me. As usual, I arrived early as she was having lunch so I waited again while she finished her noodles. I noticed she was wearing a knit dress that clung to her petite figure, accentuating her femininity better than the shorts and loose tops she wore previously. Her dress dipped low enough to display cleavage but nothing outrageous when she had to bend over. She wore dark, opaque tights under the short dress hem.

Entering the treatment room, she turned to me immediately for another hug. She felt so good in my arms; I held her tight and whispered in her ear. "I've been looking forward to seeing you again, Sumalee." Her head pulled back and we stared nose to nose for a moment.

Impulsively, I leaned forward to kiss her. She did not resist. The instant I felt her lips respond, I pushed my tongue in her mouth. Her tongue fenced with mine in a passionate duel. With her groin leaning against me, her breasts pressed to my chest, and our kissing getting passionate, my cock stiffened.