Haircut
by Jay Wilson
Copyright © 1999 Jay Wilson. All Rights Reserved.
blow job," Marie said, working shampoo into my hair
and scalp with her fingertips.
I was uneasy, and her casual statement nearly threw me
out of the chair. This was back in the days when you
had barber shops and you had beauty shops. Guys went
to barber shops; women went to beauty shops. I was in
a beauty shop. Even worse, Marie's shop had a big
picture window in front and people driving by could
see in.
And I was uneasy because of Marie. She was a total
knockout. She wasn't very tall, but her figure was
perfect. She had just the right amount of breast, a
slender waist that I thought I could enclose with my
hands, and a bottom that made a guy want to reach out
and pat it, just to let her know how much she was
appreciated. And everything was so round! Her breasts
looked like somebody had cut a baseball in half -- or
maybe something a little bigger -- and glued the
halves to her chest. Her buttocks were another pair of
perfect half globes that had a way of moving that
caused my eyes to want to cross.
I wasn't used to being around women that pretty.
I'd been to Marie's place once before. My ex-wife had
taken me, back in the days when we were still
painfully married, saying that Marie cut a lot of
men's hair, that she did a good job. This time I was
alone. We were alone. The shop was actually closed.
Marie was behind schedule. Marie was talking about
blow jobs.
I'd never discussed blow jobs with a woman before.
After all, begging, whining and pleading don't count
as discussion. Hell, I'd never discussed blow jobs
with a barber either, come to think of it.
"So what do you think?" she said as she massaged my
scalp. "Does it feel better than a blow job?"
"Um, well, I wouldn't know," I said, my discomfort
rebounding off a cloud somewhere around ten thousand
feet.
"Oh, you poor baby," she replied.
I wondered what the hell she meant by that. Was she
saying it was a shame that I'd been deprived like
that, or was she just teasing me?
"Up you go," she said, wrapping a towel around my
head.
I climbed out of the chair and followed her to her
work station. She really did have a nice ass, and I
lagged behind her a little to get a better view,
watching those globes of flesh undulate in a way that
seemed to violate every law of physics. She turned a
little quickly when she got to the big chair and
caught me leering. "Watch it," she said.
I wasn't sure what she meant by that either. Watch it?
I had been, hadn't I?
The hair cutting started. In beauty shops and styling
salons they seat you facing the mirror, unlike a
barber shop where they always seem to cut your hair
with the mirror behind you. I don't understand the
reason, but I think I like it better having my hair
cut without having to contemplate my ugly mug for a
half hour. This time it was okay, though, because I
could peek at Marie as she worked. She was wearing a
red silky tailored blouse and it hugged her breasts
nicely, accenting their wonderful shape. As she raised
and lowered her arms, I could see her breasts moving
underneath. I'll admit I got a little turned on, just
watching this.
Marie worked quickly, efficiently, with a lot of
confidence. She didn't say much at first,
concentrating on her work. After a few minutes,
though, she rested her hands on the back of the chair
and looked at me in the mirror. "Did I embarrass you?"
she asked.
"Embarrass me?" I really knew what she meant; I just
played dumb, hoping somehow the subject would
magically change to something like calculus or quantum
physics.
"About the blow job. Was I being too forward? Jimmy,
my boy friend, tells me I tease men too much."
"Oh. Um, no, you didn't embarrass me. I was just
surprised."
"Sorry," she said, resuming her cutting. "I guess I
get what I deserve."
"How's that?"
"Jimmy's probably right. I do tease men too much. And
then they're always hitting on me."
"Oh."
"Believe me, I've got all I can handle with Jimmy. I
don't need any other men."
"Oh." As always, my brilliance was startling.
She snipped for a minute or two more, then stopped and
looked at me again. "Were you telling the truth?" she
asked.
"About what?"
"About blow jobs. You don't know what it's like?"
"Uh, well, not -- Sure, I know what it's like." A guy
doesn't like to admit these kinds of things.
"Liar." She started cutting again.
"I've had -- I'm not lying."
"Your ex-wife, she wouldn't do it for you, would she?"
She was seeing right through me. "Once. After that she
refused. I quit asking," I confessed.
"What happened?"
"She puked."
"I'm not surprised, you know."
"That she puked?"
"That she wouldn't do it. She always seemed like that
kind of woman. Up tight, you know? She probably didn't
like sex very much either, did she?"
"Not really." I was having trouble meeting Marie's
eyes, and wondered if it would be impolite to close my
own. Maybe that would stop her questions. I decided to
keep my eyes open, not sure I wanted to stop the
questions.
Marie sprayed some water on my head from a little
squirt bottle.
"When was it? While you were dating?"
I should have closed my eyes, I thought. "We were at
my parents' house. She lived pretty far away, and
sometimes she'd stay overnight. She slept on the
couch."
"Were you doing it? Were you having sex?"
"That night?"
"In general. Were you doing it with her?"
"Yeah, but not that night. It was late."
"So how'd you get her to do it?"
"Basically I just begged."
"On the couch? You sat there and begged her?"
"Well, it was something like that. She was ready to go
to sleep. My parents were upstairs. I was getting
ready to go up to my bedroom, and I -- I just talked
her into it."
"And she puked."
"Big time."
She grew quiet. It was a good thing. I needed a break.
My mind was having trouble dealing with three or four
things at once. First of all I was still watching
Marie's breasts, and they seemed to getting bigger and
rounder and generally better looking by the minute.
And if that weren't enough, I had to keep answering
her questions, and all of them were too blunt, keeping
my uneasiness at an all-time high. On top of all that
was the subject matter. I was sitting there with a
woman I didn't know very well, a beautiful sexy woman,
talking about blow jobs.
Oh. That wasn't all. I was getting a real solid hard-
on.
"So you wanted to find out what it was like," she
said, after a couple of minutes.
Was this ever going to stop? "Something like that," I
said.
"Did she ever give you... You know, did she ever do
you with her hand when you were dating?"
"Never."
"When you had sex, did you use protection?"
"What is this?" I asked. "Are you running a sex clinic
here?"
"Sorry. I'm just nosy, I guess." She grew quiet for a
while, snipping quickly with her scissors.
After a few minutes, she stopped and looked at me in
the mirror again. "So, did you?" she asked.
"What?"
"Did you use protection when you had sex with her?"
"Of course. I didn't want to make her pregnant. We
were just kids."
"Maybe she didn't know what to expect. Maybe you
surprised her when you -- Well, you know what I mean."
"Could be. I never thought about it like that."
Marie was standing beside me, combing my hair. I could
see in the mirror that her breasts were very close to
my head. I could have just turned my head and gotten a
mouthful. My boner grew some more. I was glad I was
under the plastic drape, even if it did have flowers
on it.
"You poor baby," she said again, grinning at me in the
mirror. I decided she really was teasing.
She started cutting again, this time working more
slowly and carefully, evidently putting the finishing
touches on her work. My erection could have started to
subside at this point, but it didn't. Her head was
very close to mine and I could smell her perfume.
I decided I wanted the conversation to continue. I
decided this was fun, discussing sex with a woman who
was pretty much a complete stranger. "You know," I
said, "I've heard that in Bangkok you can get a
haircut and a blow job all at the same time."
"Don't get any ideas," she said. "I know I'm a tease,
but it's innocent."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I blurted. "I didn't mean that."
Yeah, right.
"I shouldn't have teased you that way," she said. "I'm
sorry." She cut some more, trimming carefully now. "Of
course, that would probably improve business here,"
she added, grinning at me in the mirror again. Her
lips seemed to glisten and I started thinking about
what they could do.
"I'd come back often," I said, grinning back.
"Come back? Come back? Was that a double entendre?"
"Oh, no. Well..."
"Would you get your hair cut every week if you could
get a blow job with it?"
"Would daily be too often?"
"Your hair would dry out," she said.
"Really? Blow jobs give you dry hair?"
"The shampoos, silly," She said, trimming some more.
"Well, enough of this witty repartee," she added. "I
need to finish you off -- oops, I mean I need to
finish your hair -- and get home. Jimmy's waiting for
me. He'll probably try to get a blow job tonight.
Oops, sorry, there I go again. I didn't mean to get
into my personal sex life."
"Well, we've certainly spent enough time on my
personal sex life," I said. "Fair's fair, I guess."
"I guess. He won't get it anyway."
"He won't? You don't do it either?"
"I used to. Not any more."
"Why's that?"
"It's called the 'blow job principle. ' A customer
named Celeste told me about it."
"The what?"
"If a woman gives you a blow job, you need to make her
glad she did it. That way she'll want to do it again."
"So... I guess that would be my second mistake?"
"You surprised her, you didn't make her glad she did
it. I'd say that pretty well sums it up, my friend."
There it was: incisive, penetrating sexual advice
from my hair stylist. You just got love America, don't
you?
"Your boyfriend doesn't follow the principle?" I
asked.
"I even told him about it. He forgot, I guess. No
matter, though. Sex is still pretty good for us. I've
still got all I can handle. He just doesn't get his
lollypop licked any more. No more lip service for that
guy," she added, smiling with those same lips. Those
soft lips. Wrapped around my... Forget it, I told
myself.
She put down the comb and scissors and got a brush and
began brushing my hair into place. I watched in the
mirror. She was still standing beside me, and it
looked as if her breasts were even closer to my head.
I could see them moving in profile as she brushed, and
I noticed her nipples had asserted themselves, tiny
bumps under the silky fabric. My hard-on seemed to
perfect itself. I decided it might not be a good idea
come back to Marie any more.
She got the blow dryer. "All he'd have to do is eat me
every now and then," she said, turning on the dryer.
"Huh?"
"I said he should just eat me now and then," she
shouted over the whine of the hair dryer.
"Oh. You poor baby," I shouted back.
"Touche," she replied, shouting even louder. "Did you
ever eat Patty?"
"Sometimes." I must have been as hard as a piece of
reinforcing steel by then. There's just something
special about shouting about sex with a woman you
don't know very well.
"Did she like it?"
"When she was really drunk. She was never interested
when she was sober, and she never remembered it
afterward."
"So you just wasted your time when you did it."
"Well..."
"You liked it?"
"Well..."
She turned off the dryer and walked around in front of
me. Her nipples were jutting out like a couple of
jelly beans. "Really?" she asked, licking those lips
again. "You didn't mind the taste?"
"Well..."
"You're kidding me, aren't you? You really liked it?
Jimmy told me it was awful."
"I wouldn't call it awful. I -- I did like it,
actually."
"You did? You're lying, aren't you?"
"Honest. I liked it so much I always... Well, never
mind." I couldn't say it.
"What were you going to say?"
"Nothing."
"Tell."
"I always... You know, I came when I did it," I
blurted.
"You mean you played with yourself while you were
doing it?"
"No. I just came. No hands. It happened almost every
time."
"You're kidding! Wow, you must really like it!"
"I guess."
She turned the dryer back on and walked to the side of
the chair, reaching across me to brush my hair back on
the side. Her breast grazed my cheek, but it was such
a brief touch she probably didn't notice it. I
certainly did. My cock jumped like a startled dog.
"Do you like it?" I shouted.
She turned off the dryer again. "Beg your pardon?" she
asked.
"Do you like it?"
"Being eaten? Oh, yes. It's nice."
"No, I mean -- "
"Blowing?"
"Blowing."
Her face seemed a little flushed. She looked at me for
a second or two before answering. "It's kind nice, I
guess," she said, finally, with those lips.
She seemed to have withdrawn a little. Afraid I'd
pushed things too far I shut both my mouth and my
eyes. Marie finished drying my hair and blasted hair
spray on me. Then she spun the chair and held a hand
mirror in front of my face so I could inspect the
balding spot on the back of my head. I looked briefly,
but by peeking around the mirror I could see a breast
and spent a few seconds staring at that instead.
"Nice," I said, finally.
She put down the mirror and picked up her scissors
again. "Your eyebrows need a little trim," she said,
and I felt her snipping on them. I kept my eyes
closed, but I could feel her breath on my face. "Did
you want me to do your mustache?" she asked.
"Sure," I replied, opening my eyes again. She was
looking down, concentrating on my mustache as she
trimmed it and I just watched her face, imagining her
soft lips wrapping around me.
She stood back, inspecting her work briefly, and then
she unfastened the plastic drape and removed it,
careful to catch the hair clippings so they wouldn't
get on my clothes. I still wasn't ready to be
uncovered. I was wearing sweats and no underwear and I
knew my cock was sticking up like a flagpole.
She stood in front of me, looking me directly in the
eye for a sobering moment and said, "Pubes?"
"Huh?"
"Pubes. Do you want your pubic hair trimmed?"
"You're kidding."
"Well, we do give bikini waxes, and sometimes we trim
things up a little for the ladies. I guess we could do
it for men. I've been thinking about offering it as an
extra service. Do you think men would pay extra for
it?"
"I dunno. Why would a guy want it done?"
"It makes you look bigger, for one thing," she said.
"Do you ever watch porno movies? Most of the men in
them have their pubic hair cut real short. That's why
they look bigger, and they look a lot neater. Besides,
a girl doesn't like a lot of hair tickling her nose
when she's working down there."
"Well, I don't have to worry about anybody getting her
nose tickled in my pubic hair," I replied bitterly.
"I guess not," she said. "Yes or no?"
"Well, I'm -- I've got a -- "
"I saw that," she said. "Don't worry, I'm a
professional. It won't bother me. Don't let it bother
you. Follow me," she said, turning toward a doorway at
the back of the studio.
I followed her, gazing at her wonderful ass, my sweat
pants spiked out like a Bedouin tent. She led me into
a small room that was lined with shelves containing
supplies: tubes and cans of lotions, sprays, dyes and
the other implements of her trade. In the center of
the room was a padded platform about six feet long and
waist high. At one end was a sink. "This is where we
tint hair," she said. "We also do waxing in here. It's
a little more private. Get your pants off and heist
your hiney up here."
I stood for a moment, unable to believe what was
happening. "You're kidding, aren't you?" I asked.
She put a hand on a cocked hip. "Get up there," she
said. "It's getting late."
I dropped my pants. My hard-on bobbled around,
embarrassing me, but Marie had her back turned,
looking in a drawer, giving me a chance to get on the
bench and try to arrange my shirt to cover it.
She approached the table and grabbed my shirt,
flipping it out of the way. My misbehaving cock jumped
again.
"Sorry," I mumbled. You'd think a guy would be happy
in this kind of situation, but I wasn't. I was feeling
pretty much the same way I do when I'm waiting for the
doctor to do the finger up the ass part of a physical.
"You'll have to keep it out of the way," she said.
"That's not part of my job."
I grabbed my cock and pulled it to one side, cupping
my hand over it to hide it. She began by trimming the
hair around my pubic bone. I watched her face. The
flush was still there, and her lips were still moist.
"You're really a disgrace," she said. "You've got
enough hair here to make a sweater for a fullback.
Move it to the other side."
I did. She trimmed the rest of the hair on top. Then
she moved to my balls and I pulled my cock up, front
and center.
"I'll have to touch you a little," she said. "Hope you
don't mind. It's nothing personal."
"Ok," I muttered.
She clipped quickly, pushing my balls around with her
fingertips, from one side to another, then up and
down. Every few minutes she would stop trimming and
brush away the clippings with her fingertips, touching
me all around my balls and thighs. The sensations were
amazing. It tickled a little, and being handled this
way was very arousing. My boner got harder than ever.
"Stop squeezing it," she said. "Are you playing with
yourself? You're only making things worse, you know."
"This is very... I don't know, weird, I guess," I
said.
"I'm a professional. Just remember that." She brushed
my balls again and stepped back to inspect her work.
"That's a lot better," she said. She got a mirror and
held it so that I could see. I was amazed with what I
saw. My balls now looked the way they must have when I
was a teenager, and I immediately understood what
she'd meant about being tidy and well-groomed. It was
a big improvement.
"I need to check something," she said. "Don't get any
ideas, this is purely professional." With that, she
pulled my hand off my cock, grabbed it in her fist,
and leaned forward, swallowing it, all the way to the
back of her throat.
I gasped with surprise. "Shit," I said.
She released me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.
I just had to make sure a girl wouldn't get a face
full of hair. You still need a little more trimming."
With that she held the tip of my cock with one hand
and started snipping with her scissors again, right
around the base of it. "Missed a few spots here," she
said. "I'll just check it again." She checked me more
thoroughly this time, gripping me with a fist and
bobbing her head up and down several times before
plunging all the way down until her nose touched my
pubic bone. She quickly released me, just as I was
getting ready to groan.
"That's better," she said. "What do you think?"
"I think..."
"Yes?"
"I think you'd better check again."
"Well, I don't want to create a situation or anything
like that. This isn't Bangkok, you know."
"Check again, please? I want it to be perfect."
She took me into her warm mouth again, her tongue
flickering around the end of my cock. I raised my hips
toward her face and she pulled back.
"You're right," she said. "You're not done yet." She
snipped a little more, sliding her hand up and down my
cock as she moved it around. "I'll just check one more
time," she said. "This isn't part of the service, by
the way," she added, her voice serious, "but I'm a
perfectionist. I have to make sure I've done a good
job. "Her head went down again and her tongue flipped
around me again before she took me into her throat.
This time the groan did leak out of me.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, pulling away and snipping
and stoking some more. "I hope I'm not making you
uncomfortable. I just can't seem to get this just
right. Not enough practice, I guess."
I was ready to grab her and throw her on the floor.
Her mouth felt so wonderful on me that I almost cried
every time she took it away. I waited anxiously as she
snipped, and sure enough, she took me into her throat
again. This time she licked me a couple of extra times
on the way past.
I groaned again. "Oh, please," I said. "Please,
please,"
"Be patient," she said, stroking and snipping some
more. "I'm real close here."
"I am too," I said. "And it's very important to me to
be well groomed. I never realized how important it
was. Please make it perfect. Please check again."
"Of course," she said. "I'm a craftsman. Craftsperson.
I won't stop until you're perfect." She slipped her
warm lips over the head of my cock again, pausing
there for several seconds as her tongue worked around
me. I raised my hips a little and she lowered her head
to meet me, her mouth engulfing me completely.
I was out of control and grabbed her head, thrusting
my hips up, and it took only a few more bobs of her
head before I was gasping, and seconds later I
erupted. She stayed with me, swallowing hard, until I
was calm again. Then she let me go.
"I'm sorry that took so long," she said. "I just
wanted to make sure I'd done a good job."
"You did an excellent job," I gasped, still
breathless.
"Thank you. I take great pride in my work."
"And proud you should be," I said. "Now, I guess I owe
you."
"You mean..."
I jumped down from the table. "I mean. Principles are
principles. Get up here. I'll make you so glad you did
that you'll want to do it again immediately."
"Oh, please do," she said. "Then I won't feel so
guilty about taking so long with your trim."
I grabbed the waistband of her slacks and yanked them
down, revealing a wide patch of neatly trimmed curly
black hair. She got on the bench, planting her
beautiful ass right in the middle of the scattered
pile of pubic hair she'd left there.
I knelt on the bench, between her legs. She eagerly
scooted herself forward, presenting herself to me, and
I could see the puffy lips of her pussy waiting for
me. I slipped my hands under, cupping her wonderful
ass and lifted her to my face like a big piece of
watermelon. I immediately pressed my tongue deep
inside her, not taking the time for any preliminaries.
She was very wet; her taste was laden with her
passion. I lapped up between her labia and found her
budded clitoris and traced my tongue around it,
opening my mouth wide and breathing heat on her as I
did.
She raised her hips, pressing against my face. "Oh,
thank you for being patient with me," she moaned. "I
know I took too long to trim you. I can't tell you how
guilty I would have felt if... Ooh, that's good.
You're so enthusiastic! Ohgod. Don't stop, please
don't stop, please. Ooh..."
I felt my cock rising. I continued to work at her,
surprised at how fast I'd responded. Her hips were
rocking now and I worked at her clitoris in earnest,
trying as hard as I could to keep her intensity going.
"Ooh," she moaned. "Ooh, thank you -- Oh, right there,
do it right there! More! Oh shit, more! More! Oh shit,
fuck... I'm... Here I go..."
I felt her coming. She was quivering under my mouth
and as soon as I felt it I started spurting again,
into pile of pubic hair on the bench under her ass.
I still go to Marie's place to get my hair cut. In
fact, I go every two weeks. In the past I never went
less than six weeks between haircuts, but a guy's
gotta be well-groomed for success these days, and it's
amazing how fast your pubic hair grows.
Haircut copyright © 1999 Jay Wilson. All Rights Reserved. Do not reproduce or distribute without the expressed written consent of the author.
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