Page 39 of Bad Husband

It’s official. She needs to quit.

“How often do you do this?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She looks up at me and then shrugs. “Maybe once a month.”

“And you hold their dick in your hand?”

“Well no, I make them do it.”

“So you’re holding mine because you want to?”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she pulls the fucking wax strip off my balls and pain shoots through them immediately. It feels like someone has taken a branding iron to my nuts. She might as well have kicked me because the feeling is somewhat similar.

It’s emasculating to have your wife waxing your balls and having you scream like a girl. I don’t like it.

When she’s finished with the second strip, I sit up and hold my sore burning-like-lava-has coated-them balls. My breath comes out in short gasps. “No more. Stop that.”

She’s raising her hands from me, laughing like this is the funniest shit she’s ever seen.

“Goddamn,” I scowl at her and then struggle not to bite through my bottom lip. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being such a baby about it.”

A fiery stabbing sensation rushes through my crotch and I dream of tea-bagging and a brick of ice for relief. “Well, you wax your clit, and we’ll see how you feel.”

She reaches for the wax again and pushes me back with her hand on my chest. “My clit doesn’t have hair on it, smart ass. And, I have waxed my lady bits before and didn’t scream at all.”

“Well, give you a fuckin’ medal.” I stare at her, my heart pounding. “Who waxed you?”

If she says a man did, I’ll kill him.

“Lindsey does it on occasions.”

Thank God.

The last strip she applies and rips off like it’s just a piece of tape is by far the worst. I can’t even explain what it feels like except it’s similar to when you rip off a toenail. I’m 90 percent sure she took off my first layer of skin.

Madison can’t stop laughing when I fly off the table and yank my jeans on. “No more! I can’t handle it.” I’m pacing the tiny room, and it makes it look like I’m going in circles. “I don’t care if you have more to do, leave it like this.”

“It’s done.” She raises her hands, still laughing hysterically and I can’t remember the last time she’s laughed this hard. Probably last night when I broke my ass on the tile floor in the bathroom. And then her laughter dies off, and her eyes move to my crotch. “I have to say, it looks nice.”

Say what?

I didn’t look. My balls feel like they’re on fire right now and I don’t want to look but my curiosity gets the better of me, and I peek inside my jeans.

Moving my dick aside, I see red balls. Bright red balls that are screaming “fuck you, motherfucker” at me as tiny pin-drop sized blood coats the skin. I’m fucking bleeding. Told you she took off skin!

But they’re smooth and strangely make my dick look bigger. Not that I needed any assistance in that department, just so we’re clear, but, I see the advantages.

I shake my head. I think I’m… I don’t know… upset with myself? Disappointed maybe? “I can’t believe I did this.”

“Neither can I,” Madison says, watching me carefully as I button my jeans and reach for my shirt. We stand there staring at each other when she asks, “Why did you make an appointment?”

My throat tightens and I swallow, attempting to push away the pain raging in my pants to what I came here for. Her. To ask her out on a date. I’m a little mad at her at the moment for skinning me. “I came here to ask you out, and I didn’t know how to do it.”

Her brow pulls together. “What are you talking about?”

“On a date.”

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