Sexy Haircut -We were in our junior year at a fairly competitive Christian college, stress levels were very high, and money was definitely tight. We lived in the same building, women upstairs and men downstairs, sharing a common kitchen and living room with a dozen other students. Because we had the same major, it so happened that we always had at least one class together every semester. Add to that the fact that we spent Fridays evenings together at work, and it is not at all surprising that we became fast, true friends. But I was determined not to get involved with women until after graduation, having decided as a teenager that I was not going to play the dating game. After all, isn’t dating without intent of eventual courtship and marriage simply a training ground for breaking up? And so it was as a twenty year-old I had never been on more than an obligatory date to the occasional group banquet with a handshake good-night, never been kissed, certainly never caressed, and not in the market for any romance, thank you.
And she had recently come off a breakup with another student a few months ago, and was clearly not ready for any new relationships. But boy, was she a great friend. We could–and did–talk for hours on end about anything and everything (except romance). We studied together, our grades actually improving the more time we spent together. Her eyes would light up and literally shine with a glow all their own, and she delighted in acting silly in the fallen leaves of autumn and the later snows. She’d make it clear without saying it that she accepted me and liked me–as a friend of course–for who I was, and I never felt a need to pretend otherwise.
And so it came to be that this penniless college student desperately needed a haircut to prepare for a choir performance. No money for a barber, and since he would be on stage in public it just wouldn’t do for him to do his habitual self-mirror-trim! What to do? “I know how to cut hair.” Her eyes were sparkling more than ever, her round green orbs shining like a cat’s. How could her face look so radiant, she never wore any makeup at all, how come I never noticed how pretty she is compared to all the other co-eds? “Trust me, I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Why I assented I do not quite know. But within minutes I was sitting shirtless on a straight-backed chair in the kitchen, and she was pinning a sheet around my neck. The movements of her delicate hands were quick and sure, patting my chest and shoulders, tucking the sheet in here and there in a brisk professional manner as if she were a licensed barber rather than a college junior majoring in foreign languages. Reassured that perhaps my hair would survive this ordeal after all I made an effort to relax. And then…
And then she started cutting. Wordlessly she stroked, combed, and smoothed my hair and scalp. Over and over, rhythmically, sometimes short strokes, sometimes tugging a little harder. Every nerve fiber in my body was suddenly as tense as they had ever been, and my heart started to pound loud and fast. Relax? Out of the question. I had never felt a female’s touch on my head before, never the caresses, never the–gasp–clash of cold steel against my scalp as she snipped away the shafts of hair which was become to me a very sexy haircut.
The erection I experienced was sudden, unbidden, too unexpected to be accompanied by lustful thoughts–and painful under the sheet. I froze, horrified, barely able to breathe. Surely she had noticed and would hate me forever! But no, she kept at her task, combing, stroking, smoothing with her sure hands, using the scissors now and then, unaware that with every snip she causing a primal impulse deep in my testicles. This was becoming a very sexy haircut to me. The looseness of the sheet around my torso proved an effective shield.
Before long a small crowd had gathered to watch her handiwork, with the occasional helpful comment, a little harmless banter. And the stroking, combing, smoothing, snipping continued, in a rhythm touching me at that core of my libido. I remained stock-still as instructed by my barber–hands on the armrests, feet planted firmly on the floor, breath coming in little gasps, my thoughts now roaming dangerously close to lust territory. A pious Christian would have leapt from the chair at that moment in order to flee youthful lusts. But the curious audience and the enormity of my pent-up erection made that impossible. I could feel a little bead of pre-ejaculate forming.
As the little pile of hair clippings grew on the surrounding floor, so grew the ardor in my jeans. Sometimes hair would fall into the sheet, and she’d efficiently brush it away, her fingers never lingering any longer than necessary against my bare collarbones. And the smoothing, combing, snipping, stroking, now combined with brushing my face with her fingers…infernal heaven!
“You look really nervous, why don’t you close your eyes for awhile as I cut the front?” The green eyes sparkled and shone like emeralds in the sun. She had to lean in a little to get the bangs properly cut, and I could feel the sweet breeze of her breath, take in her unperformed pure female scent, feel just the slightest hint of the front of her blouse’s fabric brushing against my shoulders. All very innocent and chaste. All the while smoothing, stroking, combing, snipping, brushing, and now blowing the stray hairs off my face. I could absolutely not believe what was happening in my groin.
I .must … not … lust … must … get. .. flaccid … think … of … something … nasty … and … gross … I … must … lose … this … erection … must … not … lust…
And then with another innocent movement in a long succession of chaste touches, my personal barber leaned in–just for a second, no more–to even off the opposite side of my bangs. In that brief instant her right bosom pushed gently against my left cheek and her pelvis leaned against my elbow. For the first time in my life–if only for a moment–I experienced the touch of a woman, however unintentional. And yes, that pressure of her soft body against me was just enough to set off the most painful orgasm of my life. Sitting there with eyes closed and hands resting on the armrests of the chair, my penis convulsed and spurted through its bent shaft into my underwear, me not moving a muscle from the waist up, my breathing slowly coming under control as she finished my haircut. Which, by the way, I couldn’t have cared less how it looked.
Gathering the sheet around my waist I made my way to the bathroom, trying my best not to collapse or tremble too much, in order to survey my scalp, and to clean up. And to make some important decisions. This sexy haircut was not just a sexy haircut, it was a life changing event.
Within months we had begun our courtship, and were married around two years after my sexy haircut. We were virgins on the honeymoon night, and yes the wait was worth it. I never told her about the climax under her unknowing touch until months after the wedding.
Twenty-four years ago.
And yes, she still gives a sexy haircut!
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