Heather, my wife of several years, was waiting for me at the kitchen table when I got home from work.
“I want you to sit down,” she with a calm, but commanding tone to her voice.
“What’s up babe?” I asked trying to lighten what felt like her dark mood.
“Just sit down.”
Heather is a petite bundle of energy, quick with a smile and a joke. Her eyes dance with light and spirit. As pretty and kind hearted as she is, there’s also no messing with her.
She keeps herself fit with martial arts training and is as strong on the outside as she is on the inside. There’s no doubt about it, you really don’t want to be on her bad side. And it certainly felt like I was on it. All kinds of troubling thoughts began racing through my head. I sat fearing the worst.
“We need to talk.”
My heart sank. Nothing good ever came out of a conversation that began with those words.
“Okay,” my voice trailed off.
“I’m not happy,” she started.
If I’d felt bad before, hearing her say those words made me want to throw up. “We can talk, we can go to counseling….” I interrupted. I was sure that my worst nightmare was about to come true.
“That’s not what I want,” Heather said abruptly.
“What then? I’ll do anything,” I could hear the desperation in my voice.
Heather’s eyebrows shot up. An expectant look washed across her face. “Anything?”
“Yes. You name it. Anything. Anything at all.”
Her expression changed instantly. A gleam flashed in her eyes and a wry smile formed on her lips. She leaned forward, aggressively. “Good,” was her one-word reply.
We sat unmoving for what felt like hours; me on the edge of my seat, anxious, waiting, desperate to hear what my wife wanted of me. Heather was hunched forward like a predator about to swoop down on her meal.
“I’m not happy with your orgasms,” she finally said, breaking the icy moment.
My brain reeled. “What!?” I blurted out.
“I’m not happy with your orgasms,” she repeated.
My heart was racing, fueled by the adrenaline of my previous dread, but then yanked sideways by her unexpected declaration. It felt like I’d gone from speeding a thousand miles an hour to a sudden stop in a microsecond. A huge weight lifted off of me and waves of relief washed over me, but I was confused.
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
I began to relax, but Heather looked just as intense as when she’d first ordered me to sit down.
“I think you could, you should, have better orgasms.”
“I think they are pretty damn good.” I reached for her hand across the table.
She pulled her hand back slightly. “They should be better,” Heather said. Her tone left no room for any further argument from me.
“Okay. What do you want to do about it?”
Heather tipped forward and looked directly at me. “I’ve been learning about the male p-spot. Stimulating it is supposed to give you massive orgasms, very intense with lots of cum.” She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “That’s what I want.”
I’d heard about what Heather was describing, and it made me a bit anxious. I loved my wife more than I could possibly describe. I would do anything for and with her, but I wasn’t sure that I was ready for what she was hinting at. But it was clear that Heather wasn’t happy and she wanted more from me. And in the wake of my relief, I knew that I’d do anything for her.
“Okay,” I replied. “So what do we do?”
“It’s more like what you do,” she answered firmly.
“I found something called an Aneros. It’s a male sex toy, a prostate stimulator. That’s your p-spot in case you didn’t know it. It goes in your ass and presses against your prostate from the inside.”
That made me squirm even more. Like most guys, I’ve got a streak of homophobia, even if I don’t want to admit it. I’d always thought that putting sex toys up my rear was the kind of thing only “homos” did.
Heather sensed my budding unease. “You said that you would do anything.”
She was right, I reminded myself. I had said that and I’d meant it. Intellectually, I knew that my phobia was BS, completely unfounded, and based in stupid preconceptions. I’d do it for Heather even if it was “uncomfortable”. Besides, Heather had made it clear that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Yes I did, and I will,” I said out loud.
Heather smiled, pleased with my capitulation. “The Aneros website has a detailed series of lessons that teach you how to use it properly and get the most out of it. There are even videos. You’re going to do the lessons.”
I said the only thing possible, “Okay.”
Heather pushed a small black and red box toward me. “Here’s your Aneros. I bought it for you.”
Up to that moment it had been a conversation in the abstract. In my mind, Heather’s plan was going to happen someday in a distant future, or perhaps never. Not anymore. With the box sitting in front of me, I knew that someday was now.
“Go ahead and open it,” she said.
The cardboard box was elegantly inscribed in embossed silver writing. It looked like it should hold an expensive piece of crystal rather than an anal sex toy.
I lifted the lid and inside, nestled in custom-formed foam, was the Aneros. It was strikingly simple, yet somehow beautiful, and much smaller than I’d imagined. I was surprised to find myself admiring it.
“Here’s the website,” Heather pulled her laptop across the table toward me. The screen was filled with the Aneros homepage. “You’re going to go through it and learn all about it. We’ll do it together starting now.”
For next hour we surfed through the various links on the website, read all the FAQ’s, and skimmed over the lessons. We read a bunch of the forum messages and we laughed at some of the comments. I was surprised by how many “normal” sounding people loved the toy. I began to relax about Heather’s plans for me. Eventually we found the videos.
“Wow, he’s got a big cock,” Heather said as one image filled the screen. “It doesn’t look as nice as yours though,” she added stroking the back of my hand.
We watched about a dozen video clips of guys orgasming, sometimes without even being touched. Their moans and groans of ecstasy filled our kitchen. Each time a guy shot his load, Heather gasped, excited, clearly turned on.
“That’s what I want to see from you,” she said pointing at the screen. “Look how hard his cock is and how he’s dripping with pre-cum. And when he finally gets off there’s sooo much.” She squeezed my arm tightly. “I love it when you do that.”
I kissed her on the cheek.
“I mean it,” Heather said with a serious tone. “I really love seeing you cum. Jets of your silky semen shooting out of you like a fountain. It’s amazing. When I give you a hand job, I can feel it rush through your cock until it spews out like a geyser. It feels good on my hand; hot, slick and sticky all at the same time. ” Heather was breathing deeper and faster as she spoke. Her cheeks flushed red with obvious excitement.
“And when you cum in my mouth, it’s salty and thick as it splashes across my tongue. I can feel the heat rushing out of you.” Her eyes got a far away look. “You taste so good even if I don’t always swallow. Sometimes I like to let it just sit on my tongue so I can feel you in my mouth. It’s like your essence, your very manliness that you’ve released and given to me.”
I hadn’t seen my wife so worked up talking about sex. I felt my cock shift and begin to stir.
“And I like how it makes you smell after; all sexy and, and, and ….. cummy,” she stammered slightly as she struggled to find the right words. Her cheeks flushed an even deeper red. She began to shift in her seat, grinding herself against the edge of the chair.
“When you shoot all of that luscious cum up in the air, I want to catch it and rub it all over you.”
I squeezed her hand.
“Maybe I’d even want you to have some,” her eyes sparkled. “Would you do that for me?”
Her descriptions and obvious excitement was turning me on and making my cock hard. My pants were beginning to feel too small as my bulge grew. How could I refuse? Without really thinking about it, I nodded yes.
“Oh good,” Heather smiled. ” I want to be your cumslut and you to be mine.” Her smile grew even bigger. “You know what a cumslut is, don’t you?” her eyes flashed again and her smile changed into something more wicked.
I stared blankly at her and didn’t say anything.
“You already know all about cumsluts, don’t you?” It was more of an accusation than a question.
I sat frozen, quiet.
“Oh don’t be shy. You can tell me.” Heather poked at some keys on the laptop and quickly cycled through a series of webpages. There was one with erotic stories of women with a fetish for male ejaculation. Other pages were porn photos or videos of women servicing men. The laptop screen filled with images of men ejaculating. There were dicks of every shape and size spewing their loads onto women’s faces, into their open mouths, and across naked bodies. There were up-close photos of blowjobs, handjobs and every imaginable way that men get off. The one commonality to all the pictures was that they were all taken at the moment of a man’s final release.
“I found these and plenty of other web pages just like them when I was doing some house keeping on my computer, clearing out the history files. It looks like you’ve been having some fun.”
Heather kept her home computer in the kitchen and I kept mine upstairs. I knew that she didn’t mind me using her computer. So sometimes it was easier to pull hers out rather than walk up to our home office and get mine. Several days earlier I had used Heather’s laptop to do web searching for a work project. I’d gotten bored and had surfed onto some porn sites. It wasn’t like I was looking for anything in particular and it certainly wasn’t because I felt anything lacking in our sex life. It was excellent and fulfilling as far as I was concerned. And I didn’t feel bad about looking at porn. We’d done it before, sometimes together. For whatever reason that day I’d gotten fascinated reading about and looking at cum-shot porn. It was the kind of kinkier stuff that my wife and I hadn’t shared. I had spent hours surfing the web looking at it and I’m sure I had amassed a large computer history file.
“You must have really liked what you saw; you looked at enough pages of guys getting off, shooting their jizz.”
I felt my face flush red with embarrassment. The sensations emanating from my groin betrayed what I was feeling even more deeply; the ecstatic memories of glorious release when semen rushes up front my tense, laden balls and bursts forth from the end of my rigid cock. When I’d read those stories and seen the pictures on the web I’d re-experience that amazing moment. And on the faces of all the women in those photos (none of the sites had any homosexual pictures) was a burning look of lust and satisfaction at their partner’s ejaculatory deliverance. They seemed to revel in that moment. I had not gone looking for that particular porn, but I’d found it and had indeed enjoyed it. Heather was right, I’d had some fun. More blood rushed into my cock even though I felt like I’d been caught doing something wrong.
“It’s okay baby,” Heather said. She put her hand on my thigh. “I liked it too.”
For the second time that afternoon I felt a wave of relief and confusion flood over me.
“You did?” I said.
“Oh yes, I really did. I meant everything I just said. I love it when you cum, the more the better,” she stroked the top of my thigh, gradually working her hand around toward the inside and higher. “Just like in all those pictures and videos on those websites you found, I love fountains of hot, salty semen. I love it dripping over my hands, on my lips, into my mouth, on my skin.” Heather slid her hand over my crotch and grasped my hardon. “Reading the stories, seeing the photos, watching the videos, just made me realize what I’ve always felt deep inside of me, but never really admitted – I truly love cum, your cum. But it’s not just your semen. I love it when you cum; the moment when you tense up uncontrollably and it rushes up your cock and bursts out of you. All for me.” She tightened her grip on my aching cock. “You’re going to give it me too. Lots and lots of it,” she squeezed me again. “And I always get what I want.”
“I just wish I’d known all of this sooner.”
I wasn’t sure if she meant the websites, the fact that she’d discovered that I’d surfed them, or that she craved my seed.
“Better late than never,” Heather sighed, let go of my crotch, and sat back in her chair. With her other hand she pushed the laptop away. “You will learn how to use the Aneros correctly so we can get the maximum effect.” Her, voice had become serious again. “You will start tonight with lesson one. I will help.” She stood up. “And I’m going to make sure that you do it right, no shortcuts, no cheating. I want the full benefit. I want my full measure.”
With me sitting and Heather standing, her crotch was at eye level. I could see a dark spot on her shorts and the smell of her obviously wet pussy invaded my nostrils. My heart sped up again.
“If you’re a good boy, and do your lessons well, I’ll make sure that you get a reward.” Heather grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into her wet shorts. “As much as you want,” she rubbed my face into her. Then she leaned down to kiss me and as she did, she reached for my crotch and grabbed my now throbbing cock. “Mmmm, and I’ll get mine too.”
We held that kiss for a long moment before she broke away. “First thing first,” Heather said. “Lesson number one.”
I looked up at her expectantly.
“Get the car keys. I’m taking you to see Melissa.”
For the third time my brain and heart lurched and my anxiety spiked. I knew who Melissa was.
Like many women, Heather paid close attention to her appearance. She frequently visited a day spa for facial treatments, massages, and manicures. In addition, my wife regularly had her bikini area waxed to remove most of her pubic hair. “It hurts, but feels so good afterwards. Besides, I don’t want you to floss every time you go down on me,” she’d said.
More than once Heather asked me to get waxed. “You’ll like it. I’ll like it,” she had pressed. Needless to say, I declined. The idea of having the hair on my cock and balls ripped out by the roots made me cringe. No self-respecting guy would subject himself to that, I was sure. After some negotiation we had agreed that I’d keep my pubic area cropped neatly. An added benefit to me was that Heather volunteered to do all of trimming. “Men are such wimps,” she’d said.
Melissa ran the day spa and did Heather’s waxing. I knew exactly what my wife had in mind.
She glared at me. “I am going to get my full measure, just like I said and this is part of it. You said that you would do anything. You’re not backing out of that promise are you?”
I gulped and shook my head no.
“Good,” she said with a smile. “It will be fun, you’ll see.”
“Fun, yeah right.” I thought silently envisioning the torture chamber that lay in front of me.
“I suggest that you take these,” Heather handed me four ibuprofen tablets. “It will help, trust me.”
I took the pills hopeful that they would dull the agony that I knew lay ahead.
“And just because I love you and know that you’re scared, wash them down with this,” she handed me a glass more than half full with scotch.
I swallowed the pills and polished off the liquor.
Heather patted me on the shoulder sympathetically even though I could feel her thinking, “wimp”. She scooped the car keys from my hand and led me out of the house.
As we drove to the spa Heather chatted. “Your hair has to be at least a half an inch long for the wax to get a good grip on it. That way when Melissa pulls, it will all come off and not leave any behind.”
Her words did not make me feel any better as I visualized strands of my pubes being forcibly yanked from the sensitive skin of my scrotum. I’d seen the movie “The Forty Year Old Virgin” and remembered how Steve Carell had screamed in agony when his chest hair had been pulled off. I was positive that what I was about to experience would hurt way more than that.
Heather patted my leg. “Now you know why I didn’t trim you and let your pubes grow out over the past few weeks.” She turned the wheel and rounded a corner. We were getting closer to the spa.
I realized that my wife had been arranging everything for quite a while. Another thought occurred to me. “Did you tell Melissa about this ahead of time?” I asked.
Heather smiled, “Of course,” she answered. “I had to get you an appointment.”
“No. That’s not what I mean. Did you tell her why, and what else you have planned?”
She smiled again. “Beauticians are like therapists. We tell them everything.”
My heart sank. I’d taken Heather to the day spa several times and tolerated the typical male discomfort of sitting in the foyer with women waiting their turn for appointments. That waiting area was foreign ground, “enemy territory” for me. When I was there t felt like every female was secretly laughing about whatever “girly” treatment I was about to get. More than once I had wanted to stand up and announce that I was just there for my wife, but I knew that would make me look even more stupid. Now I was on the verge of entering that lion’s den so I could actually get one of those girly treatments, and my wife had told all. I yearned for another glassful of scotch.
Heather looked over at me and saw the blood drain from my face. “Don’t worry,” she said with genuine compassion. “Melissa and I are friends. We tell each other all kinds of stuff. There are things that I know about her personal life that would make you blush. Trust me, not only has she heard it all before, she’s either seen it or done it too.”
The car turned another corner and we got even closer to the spa. I didn’t feel any better.
“Besides,” Heather continued, “she thinks it’s really cool that you are the kind of husband who will do this. It’s not every man who will so completely satisfy his wife’s needs and desires.”
That made me feel better. I really loved Heather. Our connection with each other ran very deep. We were truly soul mates. Anything that she wanted, I wanted for her and if I had an opportunity to be an instrument of her satisfaction, I was going to grab it. A feeling of calm determination settled over me. I was about to do something for my woman, and damn it I was going to do it the way she deserved.
“We’re here,” Heather announced as we pulled up in front of Melissa’s spa. She leaned over and kissed me softly on the cheek, “I really love you.” Then, she threw open the door announcing, “Now get your ass, the one that you promised me, moving.”
I stepped out of the car.
Despite my prior resolve to do whatever my wife wanted, the walk from the car to the spa entrance seemed like it was miles long. I was filled with dread. Heather threw open the front door and led me in with a smile on her face. I glanced quickly around the foyer area counting the women calmly waiting, positive that they somehow knew why I was there. I was certain every one of them could see directly through me, were silently measuring my manliness, and judging me inadequate.
“We have an appointment with Melissa,” Heather said to the receptionist. She ever so slightly emphasized the word “we”.
“She’s expecting you,” the lady at the desk said. To my relief, she added, “I’ll take you right back to your treatment room.”
Heather squeezed my hand as we walked down the hall to the agonizing fate that I was certain awaited me. With that simple move, she reminded me of my powerful desire to be the man she wanted me to be, the one that I knew I could, and should be; the kind of man strong enough to please his woman the way she wanted. I calmed down and picked up my chin physically and mentally.
The treatment room looked a lot like a doctor’s exam room. It was relatively small, brightly lit, scantly decorated, and spotlessly clean. A small exam table sat in the middle and a row of cabinets lined the back wall. What looked like a crockpot sat on top of the counter surrounded by jars of uncertain objects. Music played softly and a faint aroma of incense wafted from somewhere unseen.
“Get undressed from the waist down and put on the paper gown,” the receptionist said without directing her comment to either one of us. “Have a seat on the table, and Melissa will be in shortly.” She left the room closing the door behind her.
“I strongly suggest that you take off your shirt too,” Heather said to me. “Melissa is very careful, but if she accidently gets any wax on it, it will be ruined.”
I looked blankly at her, then stripped off my clothes, hung them on a wall hook, and put on the short paper gown. It opened in the back leaving my butt exposed, just like at the doctor’s office. I was completely naked and barely covered by the thin paper. Once more, I thought how much I wanted another scotch.
“You can do it honey, I promise,” Heather said. “I do it all the time. The very first one is the hardest, then it gets easier after that. ”
I took a deep breath and settled myself with my wife’s reassurance.
“And the hair that grows back is softer and thinner, so the next time, it will be much easier.”
“What!?” I thought. “You mean I’m going to do this again?” I didn’t have a chance to actually say anything out loud because Melissa entered the room.
The beautician was about five foot nine inches tall, trim and very fit looking. Her long brunette hair was pulled back in a tight pony tail. Behind her scholarly looking eyeglasses, brilliant blue eyes looked directly at me as she held her hand out in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. Her grip was firm, but not oppressive. “I’ve heard so many great things about you. I’m glad that Heather has you in her life. A woman like her deserves a man like you.” In an instant Melissa put me completely at ease, well somewhat at ease.
My wife, who was standing next to me, squeezed my shoulder and smiled.
“Heather has told me pretty much what she was thinking for you, but I’d like to know what you want,” Melissa said.
I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Umm. I’ve never done anything like this before, I don’t know what to say.” I answered honestly. “I guess whatever you think is right.”
“Okay then. Let me take a look and I’ll let you know my opinion,” She pulled out the little shelf at the end of the bed so that I could lay down flat. “Is it okay with you that Heather is here, or would you like her to step out?”
I really liked the way that Melissa was giving me the illusion of control. I said, “She should stay.”
“Excellent,” the woman said. “I think you will get the most desirable results if she does. And I’ll be able to use her help too. Please lie down.”
I laid flat on the bed and folded my hands over my chest. My eyes fell instantly to the poster of a serene forest glade that was tacked to the ceiling.
“Let’s see what we have here,” Melissa pulled the paper gown above my waist folding it under my armpits so that it stayed up. “Spread your legs as wide as you can,” she prodded the inside of my thigh.
Heather stroked my arm and smiled at me. It was both a comforting expression and one of control and power; as if silently saying to me, “Be a good boy. Do what you’re told.”
I never considered myself a prude, nor that I was particularly shy. I’d been to nude beaches and strutted around completely naked. Heather and I had even enjoyed some discrete public sex. But I’d never been in quite this position before, spreading my legs wide in front of a stranger while she carefully examined my genitals. I felt like a specimen in a lab.
“The length is perfect for me,” she said running her fingers through my pubic hair starting at the base of my cock and down over my balls. She lifted my sac and explored my perineum, the area between my scrotum and anus. “Yes this will be just right,” she said approvingly looking at Heather. They had obviously discussed this before. “I assume that you want all of this gone,” Melissa traced her fingers over my balls, up the length of my cock and all around the base.
“Absolutely,” my wife answered before I could even begin to think of a response.
Melissa looked down at me questioningly.
“Sure,” I answered her unspoken question whether or not I agreed. “I will do whatever you both suggest.”
Heather patted my shoulder again.
“I would trim all of this very short,” Melissa tugged at the pubic hair above my cock. “You don’t want him looking like a child, but I don’t think bushy looks very good.”
“I don’t like it up my nose when I’m down there,” Heather said indirectly announcing how she gives me blow jobs.
“I don’t either,” Melissa said. “What about here?” she asked running her hand down my perineum and toward my ass. “Based on what we talked about, I assume you want all of this gone too.”
“You bet,” my wife said. “And all the way back.” Her fingers joined Melissa’s as she ran them as far back toward my anus as she could with me lying on the table. Heather pushed on my butt cheek encouraging me to roll on my side.
I obeyed and turned so that my rear was fully exposed. I was glad to be facing away from the women so that they couldn’t see my face turn red with embarrassment.
“I want this area baby smooth,” my wife said drawing her fingers along the full length of my crack to the very top where it blended into my spine.
Despite being on a sterile exam table in a strange office, and being inspected like a hunk of prime rib, I was unexpectedly beginning to find the experience a bit erotic. My fear was slowing ebbing and being replaced with arousal. My cock twitched.
“Men don’t bend like women do,” the beautician said to both of us as she prompted me to roll onto my back. “I can do your front half just like I do Heather’s with you in this position. When I get to your back side, I’ll need you on your knees.”
I remained silent, trying my best to suppress the provocation I’d felt. The last thing I wanted was to pop wood in front of Melissa.
“Since you’ve never done this before let me explain some things,” Melissa tugged on the back of the table so that I was sitting upright. Even though the flimsy paper gown was still bunched up under my arms and my groin was full exposed, I felt slightly less vulnerable than I did laying supine.
“First I’ll put talcum powder on you. That helps the wax stick to the hair and not to the skin so that when I pull it off, only hair comes out. Let me assure you that you will not lose any skin,” she smiled. “I’m not going to lie, it hurts. But that’s only for a second. I pull off the wax very quickly then I put my other hand against you. That pressure makes the sting from the depilation go away very fast. I’ll need to pull your skin as tight as I can before I remove the wax. That is very important and will keep it from hurting so much. So you will feel my hands on your scrotum and on your penis. I will be pulling quite hard.” She looked at me gauging my reaction. “Don’t worry, in all the time that I’ve been waxing men, I’ve never damaged anything,” Melissa smiled. “I’m also going to ask you to hold and put tension on your skin. Be sure that you pull as hard as you can, it makes a very big difference.” She paused making sure that I understood what she was saying.
“Heather can help out too, the more the merrier, and it will be easier if we have multiple hands. Do you have any questions?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Okay then, let’s get started.” Melissa pulled on a lever and the table went flat.
I stared at the poster on the ceiling bracing myself for whatever was coming next.
Talcum rained down on my groin coating me from pubic bone to the tops of my thighs. Four hands then flitted over my skin distributing the powder evenly and brushing away the excess. It actually felt quite good and I relaxed at the pleasant stimulation. Melissa took a hold of my right leg, bent my knee, and pulled it outwards. I was in a semi-frog leg position. The next thing I felt was the warm wash of liquid wax over the side of my scrotum and the crease between it and my upper thigh.
Melissa took my left hand and had me grasp the end of my penis, “Pull in this direction,” she said directing me to draw it up and left.
I did exactly what she said remembering her admonition to do it hard.
“Heather you pull here.”
Two hands touched my right thigh and stretched my skin tight.
A third hand (Melissa’s I assumed) wrapped around my scrotum and tugged it to the left. A fan whirred quietly as the beautician directed it onto the warm stripe she had painted on me. The wax began cooling.
“The secret, as Heather knows,” Melissa said with a chatty tone, “is to get the wax to just the right temperature before removing it. Too hot and it doesn’t pull off well. That leaves lots of residue and doesn’t take off the hair. Let it get overly cool, and it sticks too much. The hair will come off,” there was an almost threatening tone to her voice, “but it can also take skin with it.” She tapped on the wax with her finger assessing its readiness. “Get it just right,” Melissa paused ever so slightly as she said that. Before I knew what was happening, she hooked her fingers under the top edge of the strip and jerked it forcefully and quickly down and away from me.
There was what sounded like a loud ripping noise, as if a large piece of paper was being torn in two. At the same time a tongue of flame lit up my flesh where the wax had just been. I was sure that something terrible had happened and that I was going to be permanently disfigured. I didn’t have time to scream out the agony I felt because in a flash Melissa placed her free hand where she’d just yanked off the wax. The intense pain instantly went away, just as she had promised.
“And the wax comes off perfectly, in one piece along with all that pesky hair,” Melissa finished the sentence she’d started moments before. “Like that,” she announced triumphantly holding up a long piece of yellow material in front of my eyes. Attached to it was a thicket of what had once been my pubic hair. “That worked very well.” Melissa seemed pleased with her handiwork.
Soft fingertips danced gently over my newly denuded skin. The sensation on my hypersensitive flesh was electrifying. I’d never felt anything so intensely arousing before. I gasped in pleasure.
“What do you think sweetie,” Heather asked as she stroked me. Her eyes were dancing with delight.
“Wow is all I can say,” I replied.
“Ready to go again?” Melissa asked. Not waiting for answer she positioned my left leg in the same position as my right and smoothed another wide swath of wax onto the left side of my scrotum and groin.
I immediately grabbed my flaccid cock (no worry about an unwanted erection given the pain I knew was coming) and pulled it to the right. Heather drew hard on my groin like she had before. Melissa stretched the skin on my scrotum and began cooling the wax with her fan. The same flare of pain shot through me as she stripped it off, but relief was seconds behind as she placed the palm of her hand against me. And once again my hairless skin sent jolts of pleasure through me.
“This is cake,” I thought to myself. “Sure it hurts, but not it’s not so bad. It’s way easier than Heather made it sound.”
“This next part stings a little more,” Melissa said. She covered the front of my scrotum with the gooey liquid.
It felt much warmer, almost painfully hot, than what she’d put on my groin.
“Pull your penis as hard as you can right here,” she had me wrap my hand around the base of my cock and guided me to stretch it toward my head. “Heather you pull right here as hard as you can. This skin is much more mobile than yours, so you have to pull hard to get it as taut as possible.”
My wife drew the skin on my scrotum very hard to the left.
Melissa did the same to the right side. My balls were jammed tightly and painfully against my body. The fan hummed and the wax began to cool.
“This area on a man is analogous to a woman’s inner labia. It’s one of our most sensitive areas. That’s why it feels so good when you play with it. But being sensitive and pleasurable, also means that it hurts a bit more when I,” Melissa didn’t finish talking. Instead she jerked her hand.
If the prior two times she’d pulled the wax off felt like flames, what she just did felt like she’d put a freaking blowtorch to my balls, a blowtorch and nails. The pain was incredible and for a brief moment I thought that I was going to pass out. But like before, Melissa quelled the fire, and the pain vanished as she put her palm over my bare sac. And just like before, the sensation on my nude skin was amazing. Even the slight puff of air that wafted over me when she moved her hand away sent shivers of delight through me. Despite the searing pain, I immediately knew it was worth it.
“Very good,” Melissa said approvingly. “You really did well, much better than most men I take care of.”
Heather released my skin and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. “You’re really gonna love how it feels when I get a hold of you,” she whispered in my ear.
“There’s one more spot that’s pretty uncomfortable, but after that the rest of it will be easy for you.” Melissa had me spread my legs wider and lifted up my sac. Then she smoothed a large swathe of wax over the underside of my scrotum and onto my perineum. At her direction Heather pulled my skin as she pushed my testicles upward and stretched the overlying skin tight.
The pain that hit me as she pulled off that wax and the underlying hair was pretty bad, but not as much as when she denuded the front of my scrotum. I flinched but didn’t move.
“That’s the worst of it, ” she said. She was right. I’d thought that waxing my shaft would hurt really badly, but surprisingly it didn’t. I’m sure it was because she and Heather kept a good grip on my cock and pulled it firmly each time they stripped me clean. It didn’t take long before I was completely hairless.
“Time to roll over,” Melissa said. “We’re to the part that made Heather decide that you really needed to do this.”
My wife had implied that she’d talked with the beautician about her Aneros plans. Now I was sure she’d told her everything. I turned over onto my hands and knees once more glad to be facing away from my wife’s friend.
“It works better if you get down onto your elbows,” Melissa said and pressed on my shoulders encouraging me to bend even lower onto the table.
My back arched and my butt rose high into the air.
“Legs a bit wider please.”
I spread my legs as far apart as the table would allow. My butt cheeks opened. I couldn’t imagine being in a more vulnerable position.
“Perfect.” She spread the warm glop over the inside edge of my right butt from the very top down to the area she’d just stripped clean. Heather pulled on my cheek opening me even wider and tensing my skin. The fan hummed again cooling the wax, and I felt Melissa tapping on it getting ready to yank it off.
I braced myself for another intense flash of pain.
Melissa picked at the edge of the semi-hard wax, getting a good grip on it. Then the ripping noise once again sounded as she pulled the it (and a bunch of hair) off, but the spike of pain wasn’t too bad. It hurt, but nothing like what I’d already experienced. Like before, her hand against my skin took away the burning pain.
“Good, good,” she cooed and brushed another large quantity of wax onto me. This time it covered my anus and the left side of my butt crack.
Like before the pain that hit me when she pulled it off was tolerable and I relished the feel of her hand against me afterward.
“That’s it,” Melissa announced. “All done.” She patted my butt cheek. “For a first timer you did remarkably well. We finished very quickly since we didn’t need to stop for you to rest.”
I flopped onto by back and looked up at the two women. I appreciated the compliment and felt proud that Melissa said that I’d done so well.
“The next time you come back, it will go even more quickly. The hair will be sparser and thinner and will come out more easily, plus you’ll know what to expect.”
I stared up at her thinking as I had before, “Next time?!”
Melissa must have read my expression, or my mind. “Oh yes. Heather got you a whole package. A year’s worth of waxing. ” she touched me on the shoulder with a combination of sympathy and encouragement. “You’ll want to come back. Once you learn how good it feels, you’ll never want to be furry again.
Somehow I knew that she was right.
“Heather, I want you to apply the post treatment oil. You know what to do.” Melissa then looked at me. “It’s important that you apply this at least twice daily for the next few days to all of the surfaces that I’ve treated,” she paused making sure that I understood what she said. “It prevents ingrown hairs and promotes good skin healing.” She turned to my wife, “It’s the same stuff I give you and is safe on all surfaces so be very liberal with how you use it. And take your time, there’s no rush at all.” She looked down at me again and said cryptically, “The walls are sound proofed, don’t worry.”
“Why is she telling me that now?” I thought.
“See you next time.” Melissa breezed out of the room. “Have fun,” she said cryptically over her shoulder. The door clicked closed behind her.
“So what do you think?” Heather asked. Her eyes were lit up.
“Wow,” I repeated.
“Wow, that hurt, but not as badly as I thought it would,” I answered. “And wow, I think that it’s going to feel good,” I finished.
Heather gently stroked along the front of my newly hairless scrotum. Unbelievably intense waves of pleasure burst from the tips of her fingers and rushed out in ripples that rapidly spread over my entire genital area and up into the rest of my body. I gasped and shook violently, overwhelmed with the sensation.
“I know that you’re going to like it,” Heather said with a huge smile.
It took me a second to recover from the powerful feeling she’d just triggered. But Heather didn’t give me time to fully settle down. She did it again triggering another surge of ecstasy that washed over me. I shuddered a second time.
“Part one of lesson one complete,” she announced with a self-satisfied grin. “I need to put on the oil. Like Melissa said, it’s very important.”
A dribble of cool wetness cascaded over my cock and trickled down over my balls. Heather directed another stream of the liquid onto my pubic area so that it ran down the band of skin that had been waxed on either side of my scrotum. It felt like something between a tickle and a caress as the oil oozed over my skin. It was great and I wished that it would last forever.
My wife carefully spread it over me. “I need to cover every spot,” she said. Her tone of voice was at once serious, playful and authoritative. She was up to something more than just applying a skin treatment, and I knew that I was going to love it.
More bolts of pleasure shot through me as she gently pressed her slippery fingers against me. Blood poured into my groin and my cock quickly grew.
“Mmm,” Heather purred on seeing my erection. She continued to spread the lotion, pulling it down over my sac and then up and down the length of my now very hard shaft.
I moaned. The sensations were way more intense than anything I’d ever felt before.
She cupped her palm around my roiling balls and massaged them firmly.
I squirmed and spread my legs wider, giving her more access to me.
“Now you know how good it feels to have bare skin for me to play with,” Heather wrapped her fingers around my pole and slid her hand upward with a twisting motion. At the tip of my cock she caressed the head, then ran her hand back down continuing the motion until she had my balls back in her palm. All the time she was stroking and caressing my incredibly sensitive skin. “Part one of lesson one complete,” she said again.
I suppose that I should have wondered what she meant by “part one”, but I was too overcome by the amazing feelings coming from my fully exposed skin. The erection she’d triggered seemed bigger and harder than any I’d ever had before. My balls felt swollen, laden and about to burst. I didn’t care what she might have meant, I was too busy luxuriating in her oily massage.
“It’s time for part two,” Heather said quietly. “Bend your knees up and put your feet here,” she pushed them to the edge of the table and pulled my hips forward.
I slid to the end of the bed with my legs spread wide and my pelvis tipped up. I was as fully exposed, balls, perineum and butt, and anus as possible. More oil dripped onto me and Heather spread it downward pushing it between my cheeks, covering the freshly stripped skin at the pucker of my hole.
“Now that you’re clean and smooth we can both enjoy this part.” Heather kept rubbing her slick fingers over me. “It’s time for you to learn about your p-spot,” she murmured and stroked the rim of my now exquisitely sensitive anus.
My wife and I had explored anal play a little and I’d enjoyed the feeling of having that area stimulated. But we had never done more than some mild external rubbing there. As Heather spoke she put firm pressure on the hollow of my pucker and gently pried it open. The feeling of the slippery oil and the pressure of her finger on the hypersensitive, hairless tissue at the entrance to my rectum, was breathtaking. I gasped again.
“It feels good doesn’t it?” She pressed harder and the pad of her finger slid into me. “It’s going to feel even better when I get to your p-spot.” Heather pulled her finger part way out of me then pushed back in deeper than it had been before.
As good as it felt to be rubbed the way that she was doing, the deeper, more powerful thrill came from knowing that my soul mate was doing with me what she most desired. Being vulnerable, pushing boundaries, opening up to her both mentally and physically was what she so clearly wanted; and I yearned to give all of that and more to her.
Heather pushed past my last barrier and buried her finger deep into me calling out, “Yess!”
I groaned unintelligibly as she filled me up.
“You’re so tight,” she said moving slightly back and forth in me. “Nice and tight.” Her hand grasped my now throbbing hardon, “and here you’re so hard.” Then she rotated the finger in my butt so that the pad was pointed up toward the front of my body.
More waves of bliss surged through me. Extraordinary pressure seemed to build inside, pushing me toward what I knew was my inevitable climax. Heather pressed her finger against my prostate and another erotic rush hit me. I shook again and moaned loudly.
“You like that?” my wife said rhetorically. She pressed harder. “That’s you p-spot.” Heather stroked her finger along the bulge on the inside of my rectum. “I’ve read that p-spot orgasms are more intense than any other … and much juicier.” She rubbed me again. “We’re going to find out.”
As Heather said that she gripped my aching cock with her other hand and began stroking me. At the same time she pumped her finger into my rear pressing hard on my prostate. In seconds I was on the brink of a bigger climax than I’d ever thought possible.
“That’s it,” Heather said, one slippery hand jacking my cock and the other thrusting into my butt. “Cum for me! Cum for me!”
My orgasm hit and it was if a dam burst. A flood of cum propelled by Heather’s handjob and prostate massage roared up the length of my cock and erupted like a volcano from the tip. The first huge glob of hot, white semen shot up in the air and landed with a wet smack on my chin and neck. My wife didn’t stop and kept probing and stroking me as more and more spewed from my rigid pole and showered onto me. It felt like it went on for blissful hours with gallons shooting out of me. It was indeed the biggest, most powerful orgasm that I’d ever had. Too soon the spurting jets fell off into dribbles that oozed down the length of my deflating erection, over Heather’s hand and onto my groin. She pressed a few more times on my prostate, milking the remaining drops of cum from me before withdrawing her hand. It was then that I heard the loud, low, animalistic moan of ecstatic release coming from my open mouth, the one that accompanied my amazing climax. I was glad that the room was soundproofed as Melissa had said.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Heather shouted happily. “Look at all your beautiful cum.” She quickly wiped off the finger she’d had inside of me with a Sani-wipe then reached both hands toward the puddles on my chest and stomach. “Oh my god that was so good,” she spread her fingers into the wet, sticky goo on my body. “Didn’t you just love it?” She rubbed my slick seed between her fingers and smeared it over my skin. “I did,” Heather announced and raised one hand toward her lips. Sticking her tongue out, she carefully and deliberately licked her fingers clean finally putting two into her mouth and loudly sucking on them. “I’m a cum slut and I love it,” she grinned at me. A spark flared in her eyes.
I love it when that glow burns in Heather’s gaze. Whether it’s sexual or not, it’s the light of her soul and my heart soars every time she shares it with me. I’d do anything to be part of that.
She raised her other hand. “You’ll be a cum slut with me, won’t you?” She put her dripping wet fingers to my lips. Her fire blazed as she locked eyes with me
I rushed headlong to join with her and opened my mouth wide.
Heather groaned in ecstasy as loudly as I just had as she pumped her fingers in and out of my mouth. I, in turn, enthusiastically sucked her sticky fingers clean. With each swipe of my tongue she squirmed and spasmed as if having her own orgasm. At last she pulled slowly out of my mouth then leaned down to kiss me. As she did her cheek touched the big glob I’d shot onto my chin. In a flash she slurped it up, thrust her lips against mine, and pushed the viscous mass into my own mouth. Our tongues slithered back and forth together, intertwining, sharing the salty essence Heather had wrung out of me. At last we both ran out of breath and pulled back gasping for air.
“Oh my god!” Heather gushed. “That was so hot!” She grinned. “You are the best, sexiest husband in the whole world.”
I was speechless, drained from the intense experience I’d just had with my wife.
Heather seemed energized. “That was part two,” she said sitting upright on the edge of the bed. “learning about your p-spot. How was part two for you?”
I chuckled. “Pretty damn good.” That was an understatement.
“Excellent,” she said. “I knew you would love it. I definitely got my full measure just like I wanted. And I’m sure there’s plenty more there, enough to satisfy your cum slut,” Heather smiled wickedly and stroked my soaking wet cock. “But there’s only one way to find out. So tomorrow we’ll get started on the next lesson, the first one on the Aneros website. ”
“I can’t wait,” I said with a big smile. “Anything for you babe. Absolutely anything,” I added and I meant it.