Hobbling out of the salon with tears in my eyes, I have to ask - does waxing hurt MORE if you've just had sex?
I'd be inclined to say that it really, really does, as I remember the waxes I've had in far more vivid details than most of the sex I've had. This waxing session will haunt me for the rest of my life.
I'd had a little shag and a nice orgasm in the morning, then popped out for lunch, and stupidly decided to see if my local salons had any walk-in's available. I'd noticed that they had started doing vajazzling last time I was in there, and was really keen to get another one - I'm not a vajazzle virgin anymore, so have the chutzpah to make gungho decisions like walking into a salon and getting her bits ripped apart after a nice burger and chips lunch.
The hair was too short to grip to the wax properly - OWCH
Wax is also very hot - OWCH
She had to rewax some areas more than once as hairs failed to come out - OWCH
Any left-over hairs were threaded out - bits of cotton pulling at individual hairs - OWCH
The got out the tweezers once the threading had reduced me to tears - OWCH
Finally, she rewaxed with the cream wax to clean it up - OWCH
...Before pressing down hard on the vajazzle sticker to make it stick - OWCH OWCH OWCH
My skin has literally been flayed, my poor, poor little pussy is swollen, with angry looking bumps all over it that will probably cause some nasty spots and ingrowing hairs in the future.
The vajazzle sticker isn't even in quite the right place, it's more thigh than vaj, and the twinkles it gives off are bouncing of the red raw skin. Even the crystals don't look right as they are not sitting on an enticing trimmed lady garden, but balanced precariously on a ferocious undulating tide of angry growler.
I'm sure that because my bits had been excited a few hours previously - lets say three - that it reacted with a vengeance once I put it through so much pain. My poor pussy was probably all snuggled in the dark womb of my comfy French knickers, enjoying having been licked and loved, safe in the knowledge that I wouldn't be getting her out again till nighttime, where she would be squeezed into some sticky, stretchy nylon G-string, with a dental floss behind which sweated up my ass crack. I'm sure she was very happy - that is until my brain randomly came up with the crappest idea of the century AKA hot wax, hair pulling, extra-strength glue and not a minute's warning.
No wonder my faithful friend is now sulking right royally, and will probably develop an itchy rash once the swelling, burning sensation has subsided, just to really make sure that I get taught a lesson here.