Haircut

byyoubadboy©

First Time

My daughter came home with her hairstylist gear after starting at a hair cutting school. There was a potential wait, and a test. It was my idea, in that I knew she needed something to get her through life now she was out of high school. I heard the door slam and then her screaming, "Ahhhhhh!!! I got in!" What she does when she gets excited. It got my attention.

I was laying on the couch, doing nothing, when her eyes fixed on me with her bag of supplies, "Daddy! Thank you thank you thank you." She was clearly excited. She set her bag down and looked at me, "You need a haircut!"

"Now? You really think that's a good idea? Shouldn't you take some classes first or something?" I was amused.

"I been cutting hair for like forever! I already KNOW how." She was so excited, I thought what the hell, and agreed. Now, my little girl does have a pretty cute body, and while it is not something I think about, it is there. A thought that sort of nestles in the back of my mind. She's not tall, around five foot three, black long hair, and brown eyes, cocoa/mocha skin. She has a great smile and the whites of her eyes just sparkle. So, even though she was my daughter, her looks register with me.

She took me in the guest bedroom and laid a sheet down on the floor, set a chair in the middle and placed me there. I docilely following along. Definitely not a barber shop experience. It was just a normal padded folding chair, so as she worked on me she had to move around the chair with my head coming up to about her middle, meaning she had to bend over a lot. Whenever she was bent over her top fell away giving me quite a show - and it was having quite an effect on me, totally uncontrollable! Also, it was HOT, like over 90 degrees, and the room we were in was closed off from AC. I had been wearing shorts and a T shirt, and before she got started I took my T shirt off. She eyed my chest as I did that, I don't know but something sparked between us in this room. My skin was wet with perspiration as she worked on me. At one point she walked over and closed the door.

She was wearing shorts and a little halter top, and she was definitely hot (both in the sense of her body and the temperature). I could look straight ahead and basically get an eyeful of her cleavage, each time she bent over me. Wow! Little rivulets of sweat giving a little sheen between her breasts. The fabric began clinging to her skin, turning almost transparent, her pink skin and no bra.

So there we are in this hot room, stripped down to almost nothing. I could see her starting to nip out through the halter which was getting damp from her sweat. As the fabric moistened it also took on the rosy glow of her skin beneath, and I could make out the outline of her aureole. My God! The dark color against her skin and the point of her nipple in the fabric. "This alright?" she breathed out at me. I just nodded my head, taking her all in was really getting me aroused. As she cut my hair, circling, her breasts brushing my arm, it gave me a hard on. I could tell she didn't really know what she was doing, but at this point I did not care.

She was having trouble with the front of my hair, cutting my bangs, getting them even and blended. Feathered, she called it. The angle she was working at was wrong, and she finally began to straddle my knees still standing over me with her legs wide. As she worked, she was bending down lower and lower. Her breasts inches from my mouth, and she was just about sitting on my lap. She was so much smaller than I was, perhaps by 50 or 60 pounds, bouncing up and down holding herself above my knees.

Finally I said, "Why don't you just sit on my lap to do this?"

She looked at me, "Really?"

"Yes."

When she lowered herself slowly down, her lithe little body squirmed into place on my lap and I could not help it but sigh. She ignored my obvious pleasure, and continued working on me, as we sat there face to face. My cock was pointing straight down my pant leg and she had to have felt it pressed against her thigh. I could feel her squirming around so that she was basically rolling back and forth over my cock and it was putting me in an agony. Was she doing that on purpose, or just trying to get comfortable? A case of the princess and the pea. HA! Then, I noticed it, an impish sparkle in her eye as I believe she realized what it was poking her. She said nothing, but she sure seemed to be taking a long time, and was now rolling over my thigh agonizingly slow. Back and forth back and forth, oh such sweet agony! Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I rested my hands at each side of her, trying to move her back. But the effect was different, it felt more like I was moving my hips in rhythm with her wiggling bottom, as my cock slid its length between her thighs. Ahhhhh! And then, she kept herself positioned back over my pole, as I tried again.

God it felt good!

She then managed to position herself so that her legs were spread very wide, resting the front of her pussy mound, the soft cushion between her legs right where her clit would be, over my bulging cock! Too much! And with one more wiggle I thought I might cum. We stopped, frozen in place. Once more, I grasped her hips, but this time pulled her a little closer watching her eyes close in reaction. She licked her lips, but still no acknowledgement of our dry hump action.

She continued to trim, as her crotch pressed down on me, rocked over me, and my hard cock was lining up with her. I could feel her pussy lips spreading apart, feel my heart beat on the head of my dick. AAAhhhh, god. Fucking god. She was not even cutting my hair, and I'm thinking is this happening? The full weight of her on my lap now, I looked in her eyes.

All she said was, "I'm done."

Her cheeks all mottled, and while looking away from me, she did not move for another beat. Her halter was damp, her nipples poking out, and the fabric almost see through. Her waist was moist with sweat.

I leaned in slow, she could get up anytime, would she? My chest brushing her breasts as I said, "OK," as I moved closer, closer. My lips almost touching hers. The thought of kissing fluttering around in my brain.

"OK?" I said it again. I could feel her breath and then she got up from me, backing away. We both turned to the side, avoiding eye contact.

Both of us, utterly aroused.

**************

Later that evening with Lily

Lily lay in her room wondering if something was wrong with her. All she could think of was her daddy, sex with daddy...

her legs squeezing tight around her hand, as she lay naked on her bed. Oh god, the exquisite ache she felt all day long.

Sex with her daddy. Her cheeks felt so hot, the ceiling fan cooling her hot skin. Her fingers working faster, feeling her touch, her fingers play, so nice inside her belly. God to have that cock up inside my belly, she lay her other hand flat over her concave abdomen. Imagining it there. Rocking her hips, feeling the space between her hand at her navel, and the fingers wiggling around deep inside.

Remembering. Going over the day. First was - the Haircut - and what she felt, his hardness, so big between her legs. How she looked into his blue eyes, and how he let her rub against him, his beautiful eyes looking right back. The window opening between them, there was a smile. She felt it. He was moving close to her mouth, so close. She could taste it.

Later that evening they watched a movie. I sat next to him, leaning in close. Would anything happen again? He was stiffer, more careful then, and I didn't want to push it. I leaned against the sofa with my legs spreading wide, twirling my hair in my fingers. Did he notice just how short my skirt was?

He looked. I saw him look, was he thinking about my panties?

And my secret daddy? I wasn't wearing any, but not brave enough.

Oh and how my body arches. 'Sick, sick, sick', as that familiar stern voice chides inside my head, but it only causes my fingers to increase their fevered rubbing.

And I moan out loud, "Fuck me Daddy!" My eyes go wide! How loud was that?

I pause for a second, looking at the door, wondering if he heard me. And deep down, in the pit of my stomach, this wave of excitement. What if he did? And my pussy throbs and twitches, the pit of my stomach trembles, as I listen. My pussy, electric pulsating sparks and my fingers clinging to my clit. Oh god, stretching out languorously like a cat.

My fantasy clicking in. I wonder if he is outside my door? Is he listening to me? Can he hear anything? I think of all the times I lay on my bed doing this. His room right next to mine. Does he know? Does he know what I want? What I have wanted for so long?

I imagine him outside, looking at the door again, he could be stroking his cock behind the closed door right now. I will the door to open. 'Open it, come inside.' I wish he would open it, see me, take what is his. 'Do anything' I would say. And now, rubbing furiously, I say it again, louder, testing myself. "Oh, oh, oh, Daddy, fuck me, fuck me, please Daddy. Fuck me, FUCK me, fuck me!!"

Listening to the quiet house. Feeling all brave. But no response. I continue masturbating furiously, desperate for release. But my kitty remains defiant. I know what it is, how I want more. After the haircut, what I felt, what we did. I know, I want more, and my fingers no longer do.

My pussy felt his cock, it wants HIM. I let my fingers slow, let them slip out of my body, shiny with my wetness. I lay there with my hand up by my hair, unmoving, naked on my little single bed. Laying there in the dark, just my fan spinning, the cool air on my skin. Laying in the darkness, wet, just feeling hungry and aching, and tingling up in my cunt.

I close my eyes, bending my back and arch across the mattress.

I say to no one, "I'm wet daddy." Reaching down I grasp my little light skirt in a ball in my hand and pull it over my hips, topless, no panties, just my skirt.

My fantasy.

I imagine myself walking up to him, "Do you know how wet I am daddy?" He sitting on the sofa, as I lift my skirt over my hips, looking at the ceiling. Just do it, like that "Let me show you." Exposing myself, imagining his eyes on me. I feel myself, running my fingers through my dark bush, resisting the urge to squirm. I say it out loud, deep in my imagination, "It's OK, you can look at me."

I open my legs a little wider on the bed, having pulled my skirt up. I could sleep like this, raise my knee. Open nice and wide, my skirt over my hips. Oh my pussy hurts. Let him look in at me, leave the light on. He would open the door to turn it off. Innocent. I just fell asleep. God he could stand at the end of the bed and look at me, I would just lay here and try to breath slow. Come into my room daddy.

I sit up on the bed, tugging my skirt down my legs, let it fall over the edge and walk over to the mirror. A sheen of sweat on my body, my black hair falling in thick messy waves around my flushed face. I examine myself in the mirror, and even though I'm short, I am proud of my body. I grew up learning ballet, gymnastics. The way I can move, and stretch and bend. He has watched me in those little costumes, he knows what I can do. I am proud how my body never lets me down. I run my hands across my streamlined flat stomach, inside my lean, strong thighs.

I'm not allowed to admit to any of the things I am thinking or wanting. I love my body, love making it feel good. The feel of an orgasm washing over me. I love the tear drop shape of my breasts, I love the shape of my ass, my pussy. How sensitive my clit is. The tight little bush between my legs. I like how I look and I like the attention that being considered beautiful brings. I like touching myself a lot. I love sex. I love fucking. I have wanted to fuck my Dad since I knew what fucking was.

Of course it was never easy for me to admit that, not for a long time. Not about any of these things. Even now, the feeling, so overwhelming, gives me doubt. Guilt, shame, insecurity, right there in the background. Should I be feeling all these things? I suddenly feel insecure at my lack of insecurity. I WANT this? But...Would I after? Could it ever really happen? I remember the haircut, the way he looked at me. The feel of his breath on me, his body. His erection, and the way I rocked on his knee. Feeling him right between my legs. Oh god. Was it for real? Was it a one off?

I have been settling for men who look like my father but could never be him. Tall, hulking, handsome blue eyed, blonde haired boys, who thought I should be happy with blowing them in the front seat of their car, or fingers pushed roughly inside as they watch a movie, or awkward fumblings in their single bed.

Their repeated insistent question, "Did you cum?" translating to 'Please say yes, so I can be finished, since I already did.' Boys who didn't even know what they want. Shyness turned them off yet taking the lead in sex meant I was a slut. I was done with Boys. Boys who didn't call back, who were indifferent to your feelings or who were so political correct you felt stifled.

I want it directly, go after what I want. Want. Desire. What is IT? What did the only man I only loved and felt safe around want? What did HE want? Does he want this, and I cradle my bush, walk back to my bed and lay down, lay on my front this time. Holding my hand between my legs, lifting my ass and shoving a finger inside and rock myself languorously over my hand. I wished it was the same thing as me but I doubt that and the idea of him not feeling the same makes me feel so depressed and frightened.

I'm suddenly scared.

Finding my clit I rub myself fast and hard. Planning, thinking of what I can do. Sneak onto the couch with him in my little skirt, nothing underneath. Then, let him see. I WANT him to at least see me. Run from the bathroom to my room naked. I can do that. Scared of what would happen if my Dad knew how I felt. The fear really turning me on now, the idea I would. Yes. I would, do this. Whatever happens. And it had happened. The haircut. It was real, it did happen. We could at least do it one more time, me on his knee rocking over him. I could live with just that for the rest of my life.

My hand hits home and my breath goes ragged, the reality settling in, I am so fucking aroused. How I have wanted this. How I have searched for advice on the net, tried cuddling routines, climbing on his lap, short outfits, walking around wet with nothing but a towel and it never worked. But the haircut! Until that, he was oblivious.

Oblivious.

I had felt him hard, and my body exploded in an orgasm imagining him pressed up inside me. I stretch out on the bed as my orgasm runs up into my belly, soft and warm, wet and sticky. Oh god, daddy! I know he was aroused. I know. I saw it. My body settling, I roll onto my back. The sheen of sweat covers me.

I cup my breasts.

I could give him another haircut. A trim. That's it. Maybe I am projecting my fantasies. Maybe what had happened had existed only on my end, inside my head. Maybe....

But I know better.

A trim.

I wanted to open the door of his room, walk into his room naked, climb in his bed... but that is being too hasty.

I would wait.

**************

The Trim

Well, we let that go by. But after that encounter I could not get my little girl out of my mind.

About two weeks went by, when she pokes her head into my den and says, "You need a trim?"

It was a question this time, and with its implication I felt my face quickly flush. Felt my heart begin to pound.

Another 'trim.'

I tried to stay calm, "OK."

"K. Meet me downstairs." She seemed nervous as well, and I knew I should have said no. But couldn't.

It was the same guest room, sheet laid out, chair in the middle. I was wearing a pair of shorts again but I had slipped out of my underwear before coming down. I wanted to feel everything. Shit, what was I thinking? And I left my T shirt off.

And my little girl?

Oh, my god!

She was wearing the lightest little sun dress that came up high on her thighs. If you didn't know you would think it was a shirt hanging down around her legs, buttons down the front, and cinched in at the waist. She still looked nervous as she eyed me sitting down. We were silent as she moved in close, leaning over to give me my trim, the top of her sundress falling away from her chest! Fuck. Already! Feeling myself grow stiff. I could see right down her top, her perfect breasts swaying as she moved. Only her nipples were hidden out of view. I was hard, and had kept my cock flat against my thigh so it would run down my leg.

As she trimmed my front, she was straddling me again.

Meeting my eyes she asked, "Do you mind?" Her cheeks were already pink.

"No." Was all I could manage.

She positioned herself right over my thigh, same as last time, settling down right over my hard cock. It took no time at all, and I was in an instant aroused agony. I had on just these thin shorts and her dress flaring around my legs, she was pressed to me with just her panties!

Without waiting I reached out and held her hips, and let my hands wander softly along her delectable thighs, forward and over her knees. When my hands slid back up they stayed on the bare flesh of her thighs. Her dress rising higher, my hands disappearing a little ways beneath the hem. What was I doing? She made no movement, no indication I was touching her like that. She held her lower lip in her teeth as she cut my hair. I rubbed around the sides of her cute little hips, lifting my fingers along her side until I brushed against her panties at each hip. It was a pair of little string bikini panties! In response, all she did was waggle her hips slow, back and forth, over my cock.

Fuck!

Was this happening?

I brought my hand around and scratched my nails lightly across her abdomen, just below her navel. Watched her eyes flutter. She moaned softly, and when her eyes opened, they looked glazed, unfocused, like a birds, until she met my eyes. She held her gaze, looked deep into me. This zing running up my spine. No smile, nothing. But those eyes, pure desire.

Permission?

All she said, was "Tickles. Now hold still." My hands still on her warm bare skin.

So there we were facing each other, her panty clad puss pressed right over my cock, and my hands caressing her tummy at her navel. Feeling braver, I brushed my hand lower over the front of her panties, and felt her breathing change. Waggling again she said soft, "I'm trying to get this even." Her scissors were working, but she just was not getting it right. I do not believe she was thinking about my hair. Perhaps I was distracting her?

I began stroking the crotch of her panties, ever so lightly, lower and lower over the little fabric, each time giving a little more pressure until her head dropped down, and she closed her eyes. Her hands falling to her side, not moving. No pretense of trimming my hair anymore. She also reacted by undulating her hips, forward and back now, sliding her puss up along my cock. Rocking herself on my thigh. The wetness of her crotch making her slippery as she moved along my length.

I let go of her, taking my hand out from under her skirt. She continued and I sat back watching her hips undulating over me, before holding her by the waist. Holding to her, and she began leaning back from me. Sort of falling back into my hands as I held her, cradled her. She was riding me now.

"This is naughty," she cooed with her eyes closed as I held her back, and she lay supported in my hands. Neither of us moved for a moment. It felt so fucking good in this hot quiet room. I could feel the moisture of her body in the fabric of her dress. Her female smell. I knew how wet she was. The moment passed and she lifted up, was sitting on my lap again, opened her eyes as if from a deep dreaming sleep.

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