Wax on. Wax off.

When I was a student I did quite a bit of running and mountaineering and as a result I was pretty fit and had fairly muscular thighs. A down side of this was that if I went for a long run, or spent a couple of days hauling a rucksack up and down hills, miles from the luxury of a shower, the combination of sweat and rubbing thighs would lead to chaffing.

Having always been the sort of person who analyses problems, after some thought I decided the hair between my thighs and buttocks had to go.

Shaving was obviously a non starter as the inevitable stubble was not going to be any improvement. From browsing the Argos catalogue, I knew of the existence of electrical devices that would pull out the hairs at the root, resulting in slower, stubble free regrowth, which sounded ideal. So I reached for this laminated book of dreams and selected a suitable looking implement and set off to purchase one. At the collection counter I was treated with a smile from an attractive female sales assistant, who told me it was a lovely preset. (I wonder what she would have said if she’d know I was intending to rip the hair from my arse and groin.)

At the time I shared a flat with two other male students (and indeed a twin bedroom with one of them) and the only guaranteed privacy therefore was in the bathroom. But even so I was cautious to pick an hour when I knew I should be alone in the flat. This was not after all a manly pursuit.

One of the design features missing from this and similar devices, was the ability to run them off batteries. Fortunately there was a mains socket just outside the bathroom door, though I did worry about my flatmates returning, seeing a thin power cable leading into the bathroom, and hearing an electric motor buzzing away. Oh well. The hair needed to go, and it was only a small risk.

My chosen design of epilator had a spring that rotated, rather than the more common spinning discs, and worked pretty well. It was quite an awkward process but, with hindsight, surprisingly not too painful … except when the spring managed to grab at the skin of my crotch. Fortunately the motor was decidedly under powered and whilst this made me draw a sharp breath, no serious damage was done.

When I’d finished, my inner thighs and arse crack were really really smooth and I was surprised how good it felt. As feminine a pastime as this was, and whilst I felt it in no way reflected my sexuality, I was well aware of a certain sensuality.

Having gone for my first subsequent run, I regarded my initial ventures into removal of body hair as a resounding success. There was no chafing whatsoever, and I felt extremely comfortable. And although she never said anything, I am quite sure my girlfriend at the time noticed and, considering the increased attention she paid to the area, must have approved. So why I stopped and returned the epilator (Argos had a 15 day, unconditional returns policy at the time) is a complete mystery to me.

To add a little more context, at the time there was a student amongst my cohorts who was rumoured to enjoy mutual pubic shaving sessions with his girlfriend. This was unconfirmed, but met with both bafflement and hilarity from all those males who knew. Or at least in public.

Turn the clock on 6 or 7 years and for some reason I started to trim my own pubes, though I have no idea what inspired me to do this. Admittedly I was a regular purchaser of porn mags, and increasingly often, the pussies of early 90’s models were neatly trimmed (though baldness was not yet so common). But I don’t think that was a motivation for me. What ever sparked the idea in my head, I started cutting the hair on my scrotum increasingly short. It was always with scissors, and initially only on my ball sack. admittedly there were occasional small accidents but only minor nicks, and no major blood loss or damage. Over the next two or three years I trimmed more and more. The hair above my cock started to receive the attention of the scissors and my pubes got shorter and shorter.

It was a natural progression then, to ditch the scissors and reach for the razor. My pubes were heading towards a Brazilian, though I rarely shaved everything off and just trimmed a triangle above by shaft. (To be fair I hardly ever shaved everything off, but that, Dear Reader, is another story. But I’m sure you can wait for such salacious details.)

A couple more years passed and I happen to be watching a random documentary, and a contributor mentioned BCS waxing. This acronym was new to me but thankfully it was explained to the ignorant audience – Back, Crack and Sack wax. And a few weeks later I happened to catch Phil and Fern addressing the issue of male body hair on their TV magazine show, This Morning. In this item, they had recruited a member of the crew to get his back, crack and sack waxed live on daytime TV. Strictly speaking he was getting sugared rather than waxed, his “beautician” (if men have beauticians) being from the London salon The Sugar Shop. I watched the item with great interest, and as I was living in the same town at the time, I quickly made myself an appointment.

I’ve already hinted at the fact that I was not entirely unaccustomed to being waxed, but this was my first time in a salon. And considering this was a male only salon that apparently catered mainly to the gay market and, if my gaydar was to be trusted, was exclusively staffed by gay men, I was in uncharted territory. Never before had I been naked, knelt on all fours on a table, with my butt cheeks spread wide, while a very camp man smeared hot sugar syrup over my genitals and ass. Well you’ve got to try everything once, haven’t you. It was all very congenial, and in no way did I feel sexually compromised or embarrassed. Other than when I was directed to pull my penis or scrotum in one direction or another to stretch the skin tight, my genitals were never mentioned, nor were there any references to sex of any nature. It was just like going to the barbers. Except that I was naked, knelt on all fours on a table, with my butt cheeks spread wide, while a very camp man smeared hot sugar syrup over my genitals and ass.

To any man considering a BCS I would, at this point say a small cautionary tale follows. When I got home I was in a little discomfort. The area that had been depilated was red and burning. And over the next couple of days the skin of my scrotum went dry and cracked, and this stung like hell in the shower. But this was the first time my ball sack had been so brutalised, it recovered in just a few days and was left, along with my ass crack, cock and mons, beautifully smooth, save for a landing strip. And most importantly I never had such a problem again. When I say landing strip I may be over stating the case a little – I’m not familiar with the typical hair cut in gay circles, but it was more of a landing tuft. My personal preference would have seen the hair extend right to the base of my shaft, rather than stopping nearly an inch above it, it would have extended upwards for more than an inch and a half, and would have been a little wider than an inch. But I’d not looked down till it was too late – I wanted to trust my beautician, and I wanted him to know that, and I was a little too inhibited to look at my cock while another man did unusual things to it. And the hair was gone and wasn’t coming back for a month or more (I knew not how long) so all I could do was live with it, and enjoy it.

And enjoy it I did. The sensation was fantastic. My skin felt so smooth, especially my sack and crack (I am not a particularly hairy man, so there was only a small area of my back – above my ass crack – that I felt needed attention). And I quickly came to love the look of my cock and landing strip. As for properly hair free masturbation, it was a whole new world, and one I instantly resolved to inhabit for the forseeable future.

A year or so later I stumbled across another men’s salon, Nickel, and as variety is the spice of life, I thought I’d give it a try. Their prices were about 25% cheaper, and I prefered the setting – more mood lighting and pampering. Add to that, I could choose a male or female beautician. I had never been uncomfortable being waxed by a man, and I was under no delusions that there would be anything more sexual about having your hairs ripped out by a member of the opposite sex, but I have to confess the idea of getting waxed by a woman sat a little more easily with me. And the women in question were more attractive to me than the men I was used to. And friendly and attentive. And their idea of what constituted a favourable male pubic aesthetic seemed to concur with mine. And despite the sale pitch for sugaring, I also found it more a comfortable process, leaving less (temporary) redness. So I switched salon, and until I stopped working locally remained loyal to Nickel.

But times and lives change. As did our home location, and my professional arrangements. (As you may have learned I am 90% professional dad and house husband.) So the search started for a local salon that would do men’s waxing. Numerous salons would do backs, shoulders and chests, occasionally advertising arms and legs, but when it came to pubic hair, I had a problem. I can’t count the number of times I was told they did all men’s waxing, but when I asked for a male bikini wax I was told no. I understand why – not all women want to be confronted by a cock as part of their job, and men are still blindly regarded all to frequently as sexually predatory. So I understand. But it was frustrating as hell. When ever I phoned another salon, I was careful not to be crass about how I asked – you can be too up front about asking someone to tend to your bush – but I found myself needing to be more and more specific in my interrogation of those taking bookings. To the point of being blunt. “Do you do mens waxing for all body areas? … You do? Great. Will you definitely wax all the genial and buttock hair? … No? … Ok, thanks for your help. Goodbye.” But finally after months of searching, thanks to some lateral thinking I googled male waxing training, and I found someone who said yes. And seemed unphased by the idea. Hurah!

Which brings us to the present. I have been getting waxed by Zara (name changed) for about 18 months now, a very friendly woman who runs a salon just a few miles from home. I shall not mention the name of the salon because I have not asked her permission and as much as I’d like to plug her business, I’m not sure she’d want to know about the rest of my sex life. She does a very good job, and (although she has the advantage of follicles weakened over several years by other practitioners) she gives me the most comfortable waxing I’ve had from anyone. It’s not a perfect job as she seems reluctant to go too near my anus and a little hair always gets left and I have generally prefered to do the final shaping myself with microwaveable wax, but I’d highly recommend her … if only I felt I could. (Maybe I’ll ask.)

As regular readers will know, my Wife and I have not been the most sexual of couples. So it may or may not surprise you to know that my She does not know I get waxed. She’s aware I trim my pubes and on one occasion (maybe 5 or 6 years ago) did comment on my smooth sack, laughingly asking “you don’t get waxed?” I laughed off the question and didn’t really answer. And I have invariably made a point of almost hiding my baldy pecker (a phrase I learned from toilet wall graffiti many years ago) from her when freshly waxed. At least visually. However, in our newly intimate phase, I think I shall try something different. I don’t think I’ll go as far as kneeling astride her, bollocks swinging in her face and asking what she thinks of my newly polished nethers, but when I get waxed later this week, I may well flaunt my landing strip a little more proudly in front of her. I hope she asks. I hope she plays. I hope she enjoys. And I hope I am able to tell her. Wish me luck!

12 Responses to “Wax on. Wax off.”

  1. Gillian Colbert Says:

    If only all men were as considerate …

    • I assume by considerate, you mean in the context of blow jobs? Or do you mean aesthetically? I have sympathies with both: I’d rather go down on and feast my eyes on a hairless pussy, though my preference for women’s pubes is much as my own – short and neat on top, smooth underneath. But although my lovers have probably benefited from my hedge trimming, my motivation has been selfish – I like how it looks. I like the increased sensation when I have sex. I like that it feels cleaner. So not so noble in this case I’m afraid.

    • Gillian Colbert Says:

      The end result is the same as far as I’m concerned. I like a neatly trimmed pubic region too and, yes, ultimately I do it for me, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still considerate to your partner as well.

      I think a lot of guys don’t do it over the “manly” stigma and I just don’t get it. Overgrown hair is not attractive. And hair in your mouth is just a turn off.

    • Gillian Colbert Says:

      P.S. You and I are going to have to have a sit down on how ready you are to be hard on yourself. Everything, no matter how noble, is selfish at its essence. It comes down to semantics and connotation of the word again.

      If you do a nice thing for someone else, the act is unselfish, the motivation is selfish at its essence … YOU WANT to be a nice person.

    • I don’t think I’m being harsh on myself. (Yes, self deoprocation is a speciality of mine but not in this case.) Just because an action has consequences, doesn’t mean these reflect in any way on the motivation. If I’m waxed I also feel more confident and sexy, which probably puts me in a better mindset and makes me a more attentive lover. But I don’t wax because it makes me a more attentive lover.

    • Gillian Colbert Says:

      I hear ya

  2. You are a brave man to get the BCS. I got waxed (just bikini lines) and I nearly died. There is no way in hell I’d get my labia or ass crack waxed. I think I’d faint πŸ™‚

    • I don’t think the first time took a bit much bravery. The second did for obvious reasons. But it’s got easier and easier. The hair folicles get weakend progressively and although I wouldn’t class it as a comfortable process, if you get it done by someone competant it really shouldn’t be that bad.
      If you shave (and my guess is that if you’ve tried a bikini wax you probably do) I can’t recommend it highly enough. If I could justify the expense of laser hair removal I would go for that, but the smoothness, stublelessness and infrequent need for “treatments” far out weighs a razor. Give it another try, your partners will love it!

  3. That sounds so painful! Personally I like a bit of hair down there. One guy I slept with totally waxed and while it made a BJ a bit more appealing, I thought his balls looked a bit odd. I’m too scared to wax so I shave, and I still do. The difference in sensitivity is mind blowing. I hope your wife likes it! πŸ™‚

    p.s. – I can’t believe you returned that epilator haha

    • It’s uncomfortable for no more than an hour a month … or more. Unlike stubble which is uncomfortable every other day. No contest for me.
      And don’t worry. The epilator got replaced eventually – it’s the easiest way to get the bits Zara misses which I can’t see without a mirror.

    • I guess stubble vs no stubble isn’t a hard choice to make πŸ™‚

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: