The Mankini Experiment

I have often taken a “Sure, why not?” approach to new or unique situations or opportunities.

Once when I was at university in Montreal, I participated in a police line-up simply because a random policeman on the street asked if I would be interested. “Sure, why not?” was my response. How that night ended up with my friend Serge, two policemen and me in a gentleman’s club is stuff of legend. Definitely a story for another time.

“Sure, why not?” can lead to epic adventures, but it can also lead to some experiences you’d rather forget. Which brings me to my Sunday morning this week.

I got a call out of the blue from my friend Natasha, stating first up that she had a personal question for me.

An attractive young lady asking a personal question? Sounds great!

She asked, “Have you… shaved?” Her emphasis on the last word alerted me that she wasn’t talking about my face.

“No,” I said drawing out the word.

“Great,” she said, “I have a friend that does mankini waxes. She has a training session this morning and is looking for a model to work on. Can you do it?”

Even though I had never heard the term mankini before, I guessed what it was and said, “Sure, why not?”. I was due for some manscaping anyway.

So ninety minutes later I’m in the waiting room of a salon. Eventually I was called into a private room and told by Kelly, the pretty aesthetician, to change and she’d be back momentarily with the trainee.

The room consisted of a specialised bed, a sink, a table filled with various products and two chairs. I began undressing while looking around for a robe or whatever I was to be changing into. I was still looking when Kelly returned and enquired why I wasn’t ready. When I explained that I hadn’t found a robe she laughed and said, “No, no. You need to be naked and lying on that bed. You like you nervous.”

I laughed and admitted I was indeed nervous while removing my underwear. As I lay down on the bed, the trainee came in: another attractive young lady. I hadn’t been naked in the presence of two young ladies since my 20’s.

Kelly told me to put my legs up in a diamond formation while the trainee began telling me about the procedure and the products she would be using. I heard very little because I was distracted by the realisation that I was naked in a baked-fowl position in front of two young ladies I had just met.

Kinda like this

So the trainee starts by wiping off my nether regions with one of the products she must have just described to me. Even in the cool air-conditioning and the ridiculous situation in which I found myself, the old boy down there was starting to stir a little. This mild awakening continued as she applied the warm wax to one corner of my pubic region and then pressed on the first strip. She then ripped it off in one quick motion.

Any erotic thoughts and reactions disappeared immediately. I was not ready for the sudden sharp pain. I had been positive that the wax application would loosen the hair or something, making the process less painful. I had clearly forgotten that scene in The 40 Year Old Virgin.

The pain disappeared almost immediately, however, and I figured I was ready for the next strip.

Wrong!

Each rip catalysed a brief unexpected agony, no matter how I braced.

The trainee asked if she was hurting me and I lied and said it wasn’t too bad. I am a man dammit!!

That is until the procedure reached the plums. The peaches. You know, the family jewels...

The plums!!

As she applied the wax, I spoke up. “I know you’re going to be gentle down there, right?”

She assured me she would as she pulled the skin taut and applied the strip. It was only when Kelly laughed and said that I sounded as if I was in labour that I realised that I was breathing out sharply through my mouth in anticipation of what was to come. I was chuckling at that comment just as the trainee ripped the strip off.

I have seen many a woman’s toes curl in ecstasy (yeah I have) but now I felt my own curling against my will with nary an orgasm in sight.

This was a new type of pain. A different, more aggressive breed of pain.

On another day I would relish the idea of a young lady grabbing and manipulating my junk to get to optimum locations, but I barely noticed. There was just pain.

The only thing that made the entire experience less than torture was that the pain disappeared almost immediately each time. But even knowing this, I just couldn’t prepare myself for the next rip. How women go through this on a regular basis I will never know.

After 50 minutes or so, Kelly came over and inspected her trainee’s work - manipulating my parts as needed to see the nooks and crevices. I still didn’t find this erotic in the slightest.

“Great job. You’re really coming along well,” she said to the trainee.

Before I left, Kelly informed me that a wax like the one I had would take four to six weeks to grow out, and enquired if I wanted to make an appointment for that time.

“Not a shite of that,” was my response.

Natasha called later to find out how things went. I gave her the summary to which she said, “Wow. I’ve been thinking about getting one but I never got around to it.”

I don’t think I can have Natasha as a friend anymore.

I have to say though, I like the end result. The lack of hair has made everything down there seem much grander in scale.

Like a tourist attraction