A Bad Haircut

I've been going to the same barber shop for years -- a little one-woman storefront in my neighborhood run by an old lady who works cheap, chain-smokes, and cusses like a sailor. All her customers call her Granny.

I went in late on Tuesday this week. Granny was getting ready to close up shop. But I was pretty shaggy and needed a trim badly. As Granny was explaining to me that she "just can't fucking stay late" because her ex-husband had "some kind of fucking thing" (I don't know what she meant) a young lady walked out of the back room and stole one hundred percent of my attention.

She was gorgeous -- petite and bouncy, wearing a light sun dress that swung playfully across her tanned, skinny thighs. She had hopeful blue eyes, a thin nose, and long, looping blond locks that fell over her shoulders and the spaghetti straps of her dress. She walked toward us.

Granny followed my gaze and said, "This is my granddaughter, Eloise."

She nodded and offered me her delicate hand.

"Hi Eloise," I said, but held onto her hand longer than she expected. She looked at me with a little surprise and then her eyelashes fluttered and she looked away, smiling.

Granny said Eloise was in training, and that she might take over the shop some day. The young beauty seemed to force a smile in response to that.

I asked, "Well, Granny, if you have to go now, could Eloise cut my hair?"

"Oh, no. She's still pretty shitty. Best to come back tomo--"

"I can do it," Eloise interrupted. Granny looked surprised.

"I've been watching you all day. I think I've got the hang of it," the beauty said.

Granny frowned.

"And he definitely needs it. Look at the back of his neck," Eloise said. She reached up and touched my neck, delivering a shock of excitement through me.

Granny looked at her watch. "What the hell," she shrugged. "Lock up when you leave." And then on the way out the door she turned to me and said, "No fucking refunds!" Then she left.

"Sorry about Granny's language," Eloise smiled. She stepped to the door, locked it, and turned the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED." Then she switched off the lights in the waiting area and gestured further back where the shop's only barber chair was.

"Oh, I'm not offended. That's just Granny," I smiled, following her and sneaking glances at her tight little ass. "So you're taking over the family business?"

"Well, yeah, maybe. Or at least for a while? I'm not sure." She swept off the chair and put a hand on my shoulder as I sat down.

"You didn't seem too eager when Granny mentioned it."

"You noticed?" She looked at me in the mirror, reached around my neck and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt and folded it back. She paused briefly and I saw her bite her lower lip. Then she undid two more buttons and pulled at my shirt until my pecs were mostly exposed. "Just getting this out of the way so I can get the hair off your neck," she said, rolling the shirt back and replacing it with one of those white collars.

Her movements were soft but purposeful. This close, I could smell her perfume, which was lovely. I decided I was really going to enjoy this hair cut.

"Yeah, I noticed. You don't want to be a barber?"

"I mean, who does?" She exhaled, as if saying it out loud was a load off. "Maybe for a while? Maybe until we can sell it or hire someone else. I want a career in business, not cosmetology. I've been talking to Granny about updating, adding more staff and new services."

"I don't know. People love Granny because she offers a good hair cut for a good price. And a shave, too, if you need it."

Eloise felt my chin and cheek as if deciding whether I needed it. Regrettably, I had shaved that morning.

"What else do guys need from a barber? Nails and waxing?"

She punched my shoulder playfully. "Hey! Some guys like those things! And all the big chains do shampoos, beard trims, eyebrows, shoulder massage..."

"True. That's true. Got to be competitive, I guess. Smart of you to study the market."

She grinned and unfurled the black cape that settled down over my lap.

"Now," she said, running her hands through my hair and looking at me in the mirror, "Are you sure you want a hair cut?"

It was an odd question but I answered it. "That's what I'm here for. I like it tight. A number one on the sides and maybe an inch off the top?"

Her hand in my hair was pleasant but I could see her frowning. She kept playing with my hair, not really making progress.

"That's how Granny cuts it," I prodded.

"Yeah," she said, a little more nervous than she seemed before. She kept running her fingers over my scalp.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, sure. I can do this," she said the last part almost to herself. "But I should tell you, you're my first."

"Your first?"

"I've never actually cut hair before."

I let out a nervous laugh. "You seemed so confident when you told Granny--"

"Sometimes I can be overconfident," she admitted.

"Oh, it's fine. Go ahead. If it's not perfect, I won't even notice. I'm not that vain."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. And I wear a cap most days anyway. Just do your best."

"Thanks."

For the next 15 minutes the conversation was effortless. She was interesting and smart, a little giggly. She was curious about me. She laughed at my dumb jokes.

She had a much more physical style that other barbers. She touched my arms and shoulders. She put a hand on my chest. When she would square up my head in the mirror, she would leave her hands on my face and run them over my neck. She pushed my head to one side so that she could use the clippers on the side of my neck, and when she finished she blew off the clippings with her mouth instead of a hairdryer.

At one point, angling for better access to the very top of my head, she threw one leg over the chair and sat in my lap, straddling me. That got my attention. Before that, I had been telling myself not to read too much into her flirty attitude. Maybe that was just her personality. Or maybe when you're that hot, everyone always imagines you're flirting with them. But this was an unmistakable signal.

"You're too tall," was her excuse, looking up to the top of my head. "I just want to get at the very tip of your head..." She lifted both hands to the top of my head, putting her supple, petite torso right in my field of vision. I tried to be modest but she pushed my head forward. "Look down," she said,"And pulled me within inches of her bust.

I could see much of it because her flower-printed sun dress gapped loosely as she worked, and because -- I was surprised I hadn't noticed before -- she wasn't wearing a bra. Growing harder, I shifted in the chair and she half-giggled. She leaned severely and put her tits against my face. I'm not sure she did anything to my hair but she played with it a moment and then pulled back.

"There," she smiled.

After that, there was more snipping and more soft hands on my neck. More teasing conversation. But if the banter was easy, the barbering was difficult. She paused often and scowled at my head. She switched from scissors to clippers and back to scissors, and seemed unsure of both. She made little noises. Once I thought she cursed under her breath. And the longer she worked, the more worried she looked.

Finally, she stepped back and crossed her arms and looked despondent. I thought she was about to cry. "I'm sorry," she said.

Surprised at the change in mood, I said, "What for?"

"This is really bad." Her flirty air had escaped, and she seemed deflated.

"Oh, I'm sure it's fine. Maybe you just need to find the right angle again," I said patting my lap.

"No, really. I feel awful." She spun the chair around to face the mirror and handed me a hand mirror.

She was right. I looked ridiculous. In some places, she had almost shaved to my scalp. Other places looked like she hadn't cut them at all. Nothing was even.

"Well..." I searched for something positive to say.

She put her face in her hands. I reached out and touched her arm. "It's ok."

"Full refund," she said, looking up with resolve. "I'll give you your money back."

"Granny said no refunds. And I don't want to get you in trouble."

"And she took the cash till. Can I Venmo you?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it. It'll be fine."

"You're just being nice. And if I'm going to be a business manager, I can't leave customers looking like this with no refund or anything."

"Hey, it's not perfect. I'll admit. But--" I touched her shoulder -- "I really enjoyed talking with you."

"I wish I could fix it. Do you need any product? Or a shave? Or a shoulder massage, or...." She seemed to have an idea and looked at me with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Well, one of the services I've been thinking of adding is manscaping."

"Manscaping?"

"Body hair," she said.

I touched my chest. "I'm not a very hairy guy."

"Not on your chest..." and instead of finishing, she grabbed my hand and led me to a back room where there was a massage table.

"Thinking of adding massage too?"

"Yeah. If Granny will agree. Undress and lay on your back. Here's a towel to cover up. I'll be back in a minute."

That was very disappointing. Where was she going? And if this was developing as I had hoped, why would I need to cover up? I followed instructions, but tried to mentally prepare myself for the worst.

Luckily, my anxiety was relieved a moment later when Eloise returned carrying a set of sculpting clippers and wearing nothing but a mischievous grin. Her toned body looked as luscious as I had imagined it would -- perky round boobs with hard nipples, tiny waist, narrow hips, and a shaved pussy.

My rod jerked a little involuntarily, moving the towel.

"Whoa there! Easy, boy," she smiled. She stepped toward me, looking fantastic. She pulled the towel off and admired me.

The night before, feeling frustrated with my love life, I had jerked off to some Rikki Six porn. Now, I was glad I had because my cock was only half hard, giving the impression that it's always that long. She ran her fingertips through the hair around the base of my shaft like she had done in the hair on my head.

I started to make a joke about trusting her with clippers down there after what she had done in the barber chair, but decided she might not think that was funny.

"Hold still," she winked. Then she flipped on the clippers and began maneuvering them gently around my crotch, holding my dick to keep it clear. I looked at her while she looked at her work. I imagined she admired my cock. I imagined she might be getting wet.

What wasn't imagination was the sensation of the vibrating clippers and the soft touch of her hands. When she gently buzzed the fuzz off my balls, I let out a little "Mmmmm." Felt nice. She smiled.

I grew harder and longer under her gentle care, and her eyes seemed to register my increasing girth.

Finally, she seemed satisfied. She brushed away some clippings, then bent over and blew some away with her breath. She gently put down my shaft. I was so hard now that it ran up the length of my abdomen to my belly button.

"I'll be back," she cooed again.

"Dammit! Why does she keep leaving?" I thought.

She came back with a hot, damp towel. She touched it to my stomach. "Too hot?"

I shook my head.

She wrapped it around my cock, rubbed my balls with it, and used it to clean away all the clippings. When she finished, I felt clean as a whistle and hard as steel.

"There," she said. "Smooth as silk. Your wife will be thrilled."

"My wife?"

"Yeah, no more hair in her mouth when she--"

"I'm not married."

"Oh, well, girlfriend then."

"No girlfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

I shook my head. She looked pleased but unsure. Her eyes went from mine, to my shorn cock, and back to mine.

"You're thinking all that hard work and no one to appreciate it?"

"I mean it's so smooth now. And hard. And the size and shape are..." she raised her eyebrows and nodded approvingly with a sigh.

"It would be a shame to waste your effort," I said, putting my hands behind my head confidently, giving her a good look at my chest and biceps.

"And I'm still new. My work needs to be inspected," she said, earnestly.

"It's quality control."

"Qualify control."

Thus decided, she bent over and kissed the tip and then ran her tongue down the length of my shaft and around my balls.

"Mmmm, very smooth," she said. "Perfect for kissing."

My dick twitched in anticipation.

She grabbed the base and hoisted it until it was pointing skyward, a towering tribute to her sexiness. Turning her head, she slid her mouth to the top and back down several times. She teased her tongue around the base of my dickhead, licking at the tender spot on the underside and smiling up at me with eager blue eyes.

Then with an earnest look in her eyes locked on mine, she took my head into her mouth and sucked. Her smooth face looked gorgeous with my dick in her mouth. It felt like heaven and I sucked in air.

She looked pleased that she had me writhing already. She swallowed more of me and bobbed her head up and down on my pole. Then she pulled away with a "pock" sound and caught her breath, stroking me.

The next round was even deeper and I somehow managed to get even harder, filling her throat. She took a break and stroked me with both hands.

Then she went down again, this time showing unreal ability to open her throat. She swallowed me whole, almost down to my balls, my dick heaed squeezed inside her long, slender neck. I groaned and moved my hips.

She popped off, panting. But she kept stroking me and slid her mouth down to suck on my balls. She fondled and sucked each one and then managed to get them both in her mouth and pull hard while she stroked me.

"Ohhhh fuck!" I groaned.

Then it was more deep-throating. More tip-teasing. More ball-sucking. I lost track of all the ways she pleasured me. The room started spinning. My face felt flush and my breathing was uneven. She could tell I was nearing climax and she had one last surprise to send me over the edge.

She bobbed on my cock, continuing the face-fuck. With one hand, she squeezed the base, giving me that satisfying, balls-deep feeling. And with the other hand, she massaged me below my balls and then slipped the tip of one finger into my ass.

I grunted and exploded on cue. Filling her beautiful mouth with hot jizz. She held on tight with her hand and kept her mouth on my throbbing rod. I grunted and spurted and watched my nectar slip out the corners of her mouth and run down my shaft.

I came for several hard, full squirts and she never let me out of her mouth.

Finally, when I caught my breath, she pulled her head up slowly, sucking as she went, and slipped her pursed lips off the tip of my member. She looked at me to make sure I was watching and then she swallowed and smiled at me.

She cleaned up some of the escaped cum from my balls and thighs, licking it up greedily and swallowing it with a grin. "Mmmmmmm" was all she said.

She retrieved the damp towel, still warm, and started cleaning us both. Finally able to speak, I tried to sound flirty. "So, how did you do?"

"A perfect job," she smiled and licked her lips.

"I agree."

She wriggled quickly into her sun dress as I got dressed and she let me out the door, blowing me a kiss.

"Come again!" she said, as I walked away.

I will. In fact, I'll probably go get this mess on my head fixed tomorrow, but I'll be back to Granny's shop late next Tuesday, whether I need a trim or not.

And I hope Eloise never learns to cut hair.