This sadly is a true story about the reason I will always have a bald kitty....
In my early 20s I met a man who like myself was becoming curious about the many varied erotic fetishes that one can explore. We had great chemistry and felt comfortable with each other, so we set about experimenting. We role played, tried BDSM, had our first threesome together with one of my besties and more. For the most part it was a very exciting time for me and we were always trying to find new things to do.
One night, my guy shows up with a dozen or more candles, he wants me to drizzle hot wax on his body. My better judgement had me protesting I was afraid to cause injury but he assured me he had tried it on himself earlier and it was fine. He even lit a candle and demonstrated first on himself, then onto the back of my hand were it fell warm and soothing, my fears dissipated and the drizzling began.
At first it was super sexy, we had just discovered Enigma and had it playing softly. The flicker of candlelight complimented our young bodies in a soft sensual glow. I stood over him and slowly poured a slim line of wax down his chest to a pool in his belly button then onto his erection which quivered and jumped in pleasure. I was anxious for my turn.
We then switched position, only he sat beside me , rather than my standing straddling his body. I didn’t blame him as it was a very sexy stance for me to take, it only made him feel vulnerable. I lay there waiting as he let the wax build in the depressed canyon wall of the candle then he tilted and poured less than 3 inches from the the very center front of my pubic area. It scalded me immediately, I jumped up kicking the candle from his hand and crying, still unsure why I had been burned. Of course later figured out that the wax cools significantly from a more lengthy fall.
He felt terrible and helped me to take care of the blister that formed and then scabbed ( I know...ewwwww!) then eventually fell off to reveal a pinkish white scar that was barely dis colored than the rest of my skin. However it rendered a patch of skin that was shaped exactly like a Nike check symbol that would never grow hair again. It was years later when explaining to a new lover that the irony set in, at the end of my story he looked at me and repeated the Nike brand moto, “Just do it”.