I [F] cried from botching his [M] back waxing, and let him cum inside me because I cared about him.

*I dated a Punjabi man for several months. We were both in our 40’s. The first time we fucked was on our second date, with the sex good if rushed and insincere. However, our second time constituted a noteworthy if bizarre lovemaking round, an affectionate and unique experience that I still think about from time to time.*

We were seated next to each other, at my dining table, eating a meal he had prepared in my kitchen. The green salad was fine, and I guess I wasn’t supposed to use his cucumber raita as dressing. At least not as much as I put on. He had baked some really tender and flavorful chicken thighs that were marinated in a spicy masala sauce, and that had really won me over. He talked about how stressed he was that his son hadn’t talked to him since his divorce 6 years ago, and that every attempt he made to reconcile fell through. I couldn’t empathize due to my lack of children, but I could see the wear on his face, the pain in his sharp, hazel eyes.

“Sorry, I’ve been talking all dinner.” He said. I knew he needed to vent, and I nodded. *Don’t worry about it*. Taking a sip of water and swallowing, he finished. “You mentioned that you waxed yourself today?”

“Yes!” I replied enthusiastically. I had read an article at the nail salon about how self-waxing is not difficult if you have the correct machine. So, I bought a wax warmer on Amazon, some wax beads, and tried it out. The wax beads are hard, and melt together in the warmer, which you then apply on yourself. You wait 10-20 seconds for it to dry on your skin, and then rip it off yourself. I thought I had done a good job!

“Let me see.” He said. I lifted my legs and plopped them in his lap. He inspected my ankles and calves with his burly, calloused hands, admiring the smooth finish. Just as he lifted my dress up forward and reached up to my thigh, I stopped him.

“No! I didn’t wax everything.

“Oh, c’mon!” he laughed. “There’s nothing to wax anyway! You women are so particular. You should see me.”

“Where?” I was interested.

“Hey…” he had a curious grin on his face. “Would you want to wax my back? I have a patch on my lower back that bugs me all the time.”

“Yes!” I exclaimed. The truth of the matter is that I wanted to wax, exfoliate, moisturize, whatever I could to his entire back.

We didn’t even clean up the table and he was on my bed, stomach down, shirt off, pants off, boxers folded down just past his crack. The wax took awhile to heat, so in the meantime I gave him a little back massage, even though I had no idea what I was doing. So, he may have pretended to enjoy it, who knows.

Once the wax was ready, I applied it with the wooden dipstick, and he squirmed at the heat. “Sorry.” I pleaded. “I’ll blow on it a little next time.”

He had two small patches of thick dark hair on either side of his spine on his lower back. The grain pointed down to his crack, his butt also having hair, if thinner and sparsely populated. I applied more wax, knowing it was cooler, and then another and another until I had all of the hair covered.

The wax was ready to pull, so I urged him to not wince at the pain. “This may hurt.”

“I’ll be able to handle it.”

I pulled the wax with the grain, and yet he still jerked his body as if I had ripped a layer of skin off. He didn’t want to show his pain, but I knew he was immensely uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry!”

“No, it’s ok. Let’s get it over with.”

I pulled off the other four pieces and each time he winced and clenched his fists.

“I’m sorry!” I felt so bad. “Are you ok, honey?”

He got up and played it off like he was fine, but I knew he wasn’t. I had the witch-hazel ready as an astringent. We walked to the bathroom and the entire area was bleeding, and hot to the touch. Clearly, I had hit a sensitive area, and his body was reacting. The hair follicles were noticeably inflamed already. He snatched the witch-hazel from me, moistened up a paper towel and dabbed all around his lower back. I rushed to the freezer and got an ice pack.

“Do you think I could take a cold bath? I think that’ll feel a lot better.” He reassured me. “That hair is really thick. I should’ve warned you.”

I ran the bath and could sense my eyes were welling up. I didn’t want him to see. I filled up the tub, he took off his boxers and immediately stepped in, lowering himself with his hands and sighing relief as he laid. Even though I turned away, he could see in the reflection of the mirror that I was crying.

“Are you ok? Don’t cry.”

I wiped tears with my fingers. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” I cried. “I don’t like seeing people in pain.”

“Come here.” He said. “It’s not bad at all. I just don’t want my follicles to get infected. I’m not in pain, seriously.”

I walked over to him, my eyes swollen and wet.

“Do you want to join me in here?”

“Run more warm water.” I laughed, still teary-eyed.

I undressed to nude, put my hair in a bun, and stepped in. It was still a little cold, but the faucet water was like slightly hot so I knew I would acclimate. “Come here.” He comforted me, and I snuggled in the bath, laying my head on his shoulder as he stroked away the hair dangling on my forehead.

“Don’t feel bad.” He said. “Please, I’m totally fine.” His finger trailed around my small breasts, whirling around my ribcage and stomach and then just above my groin. I looked down at his penis and scrotum, which were relatively shriveled by the cold water, now lukewarm. He could see me looking down there and smiled.

“I know, weird right?” He laughed. “It’s like the have a mind of their own. But watch them loosen up once the water gets warm.

And they did just that as the water reached a steamy, comfortable warm. I fondled his testicles with one hand, admiring how much they had expanded as I dangled them in between my fingers. His penis was semi-erect from just being next to me, and as we began lovingly making out, I could feel his penis growing to full erect. With extreme care I stroked his glistening cock from the base, which had sharp trimmed pubes, all the way up the shaft to his head, feeling all of the veins on my palms and fingers and sensing myself getting wet from how hard his cock was and how labored his breathing had become into my mouth. The water droplets from my hand hitting the bathwater echoed throughout the bathroom like a tiny fountain.

He grasped my cheeks with his hands and pulled me in for an even lovelier kiss, our tongues and lips sloppy and soft. When he pulled away, our eyes were locked entirely, as if no peripheral vision was possible. I was near gushing at this point, feeling a strong rush all around my pussy and a pulsation at my clitoris.

“I wanna fuck you.” He said. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He picked me up, and without drying ourselves off, took us to the bed and laid me carefully on the bed. I didn’t particularly want my duvet to get that wet, but I let it go for the moment. He licked my lips for a second and rubbed my clit, but I stopped him by pulling his hair. “I want you inside me.”

He obliged, holding himself up by his arms as I directed his hard cock inside my pussy. I gasped with my mouth left open as his head entered, stretching me out slightly, before plunging in gradually and completely. I stared into eyes and held his cheeks, feeling his jawline with my fingers.

“Wrap your legs around me.” He instructed and I followed, my legs locking just under his butt.

He barely thrusted, preferring to leave me filled up with a slight pressure applied to deep dick as much as he could. It was the first time I had ever felt a pure, uninterrupted sensation of fullness inside me, his gentle thrusting working me towards orgasm. Our hips were locked together, his gyrations moving us in unison. We kissed on the lips again, and again, and again, but never making out.

“I’m about to cum.” I said, shocked at how quickly I lasted. Those lovely orgasm tingles rushed all around my body, up and down my spine, down to my pussy and back up all over my limbs and down to my feet, which were cold and slightly sweaty. He picked up the pace, pulling out more and more, and consequently pushing in deeper and deeper. As I clasped his shoulders, I began cumming, feeling it creamy all over his cock. He was breathing hard, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my face. Even though I had already cummed, knowing that he was close kept me in a sensation of near-euphoria, maintaining the fullness that I found irresistible.

“I’m close.” He said.

“Cum inside me.”

He slowed down, pushing as deep as he could and releasing. I could feel his semen inside me, and I felt as womanly as ever. I could feel his cock flexing as he pumped more inside. He kissed my neck over and over again before pulling out and collapsing to the side of me on his back.

“I haven’t cummed inside a woman in years.” He said. “I forgot how fucking good that feels.”

“Don’t lay on your back, sweetheart.” I said. “Your back!”

“Oh, right” He flipped over on his stomach.

“We should put more witch-hazel on it.” I suggested. I got up and went to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet, feeling and hearing his cum drip out of my pussy into the bowl. I flung some toilet paper squares off and wiped up thoroughly. I put my head in my hands, exhausted from the pleasure and the entire night, slowly inhaling and exhaling.

I patted more witch-hazel on his back, slapped his butt and stroked his hair as he looked lovingly into my eyes. We had an undeniable connection, most definitely as a result of us both being older, experienced in life, divorced and relieved.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ifi0a7/i_f_cried_from_botching_his_m_back_waxing_and_let