So, my wife Annie’s latest article is about wax play and yeah, excuse the pun, it’s hot.
I still remember the very first time she introduced it into one of our scenes. I was tied to a chair, already feeling pretty vulnerable while she spent time teasing me with different sensations. Then she lit a candle. I assumed it was just there to set the mood. Instead, without saying a word, she let the first drop of warm wax fall onto my skin.
I jumped.
Not because it was unbearable, but because it was completely unexpected. It was this sharp flash of warmth followed almost immediately by the wax cooling and hardening. Before I could even process what had happened, another drop landed. Then another. Annie just watched me with that grin of hers, studying every reaction like she’d just discovered a brand-new toy.
The funny part is my body figured out I liked it long before my brain did.
She uses candles made specifically for wax play, so the wax is hot enough to create a really unique sensation without causing burns when it’s used correctly. As she kept working, I realized I wasn’t dreading the next drop. I was anticipating it. There was something about the mix of heat, surprise, vulnerability, and knowing she was completely in control that just got into my head.
Apparently it got into the rest of my body too.
One thing Annie has learned about me over the years is that when she pushes certain buttons, my body’s response is almost automatic. She’ll laugh because while I’m squirming and telling her she’s evil, my erection is telling a completely different story. She loves pointing it out.
“Look at you,” she’ll say. “I drip a little hot wax on you and your body thinks this is the greatest idea I’ve ever had.”
She’s not wrong.
I’ve joked with her that apparently my body’s defense mechanism is to draw its sword. The more she keeps me guessing, the more she teases me, the more she mixes just a little discomfort with complete psychological control, the more obvious my reaction becomes. It doesn’t make much logical sense, but that’s the way I’m wired. My brain is still deciding whether I’m being tortured or spoiled while the rest of me has already cast its vote.
Of course, Annie being Annie, once she realized this she leaned into it. She’ll pause with the candle hovering above me just long enough for me to wonder where the next drop is going. Sometimes she’ll deliberately avoid the spots I’m expecting just to keep me guessing. Other times she’ll smile and say, “Don’t move,” knowing full well that anticipation is doing half the work for her.
And yeah, it sends me into a whole new level of pain-pleasure confusion when she drips that hot wax on my erect cock. I might scream a bit at the shock, my cock almost always gets even harder if that’s possible, and Annie smiles and continues her work.
The picture here was taken after one of our sessions, and we both loved it. She had used red and blue wax, layering the colors until it looked more like abstract art than the aftermath of a BDSM scene. We actually spent a few minutes just admiring the patterns before starting cleanup.
And yes, cleanup is definitely part of wax play. It gets everywhere. The chair, the towels, the floor, and especially me. By the time that session was over I was covered in colorful little pools of hardened wax, physically exhausted, mentally floating, and wearing the biggest stupid grin on my face.
Annie looked at her handiwork, smiled proudly, and said, “See? I knew you’d like this.”
As usual… she knew me better than I knew myself.
Beautiful Zeek i love
wish would be with You getting the best photos i can for this artwork