Wax Play, I Wish!

In one swift move, she tore the cloth off my left labia. Up until Sir made me come with the huge dildo inside me, pushing it in to increase the pain, letting that pain become pleasure, I flinched. Not this time. If you haven’t read Pain and Pleasure, my last writing, it is a treat.

I lay there waiting, knowing what came next but this time was different.

Unexpected heat coated my labia. It spread to the opening of my pussy, and then tingling shot deep inside me. Whatever I or she had been talking about fled my brain.

I sucked air into my mouth as quietly as possible. I tested the sensation working its way inside my body and clenched my pussy. My need increased. I lay my hand on her arm.

She stilled.

“Oh my freaking goodness.”

Grooming my body is one of Sir’s protocols is for me. Waxing my pussy is what I love the most. The Brazilian. It leaves a small triangle above my clit, the rest bare, including my backside.

I’m not shy. I’ve had my butt hole area played with all my adult life. But the first few times I got it waxed was a different experience, and I was unsure.

There are several types of wax, hard and soft. You need this information for the story. She uses a soft wax on me. For my hair and skin, it just works better. Soft wax is already in a soft form before it’s heated into a liquid.

At times she ladles some into a cup before spreading it on the spot. Other times she dips a tongue suppressor, the type a doctor uses, maybe a bit wider, directly into the wax and spreads it on my skin.

I had my regular appointment a few weeks ago. The weather was cool and damp, on top of that, our washing machine quit. My dresses and skirts were all dirty, so I wore leggings and a top to my appointment.

Mmmm. The friction of the cotton material between my thighs after the appointment. Sorry, I squirm in my seat. As I write this, I have a butt plug up my ass that Sir required for the day. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of my story.

It’s strange that there are months no hair grows inside my labia. And other times, it does. That was the case with my last appointment.

She pulled aside my left lip and applied the wax. The heat hit my tender flesh. It slid along the inside of my pussy lip, soft, smooth, bathing that spot in warmth like a hot breath.

“What? Is the wax too hot?” She turned her face toward me. Still bent over, fingers holding the now throbbing body part.

“No.” I forced my eyes open, shook my head from side to side, laughing, and looked at her. I refrained from saying how good it felt, to ask her to do it again, though it wouldn’t have embarrassed her or creeped her out. “No, no. I almost came.”

She laughed, called my name, and said, “That’s new.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“At least I didn’t burn you.” She went back to work.

We moved on to other conversations, and she finished the job. It was funny that the sensation didn’t repeat itself on the right side of my pussy. Too bad, Still, it was all I could do to keep the orgasm at bay.

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