Pinkie's Salon

I had met my boyfriend in a gay club. We knew straight away from first sight that we were going to end up in bed together that night. Sure enough, after sticking our hands down the other's trousers and feeling each other up in the club, by the early hours of the morning we were inside his apartment, naked on his bed, sixty-nining.

That was four weeks ago and although we are in no way in love yet I would say we have more than just a physical attraction. There is activity outside of the bedroom as well as in it. We visit places, we eat in restaurants together, we've introduced each other to our friends. An activity he has recently arranged for us is a joint visit to a salon.

We are both somewhat effeminate men but not overly womanly. If you saw either one of us walking down the street you'd identify us as gay. Yet a salon visit was new to me. I had been to gay-friendly barbers before who gossiped the happenings on the homosexual underworld and who gave me cuts which we either gay or androgynous leaning, but a salon visit was uncharted territory for me. But my boyfriend assured me that this salon visit would be nothing like I had dreamt of before...

We walked down the street hand-in-hand from his apartment and about ten minutes later we were outside a shop front. The sign above it was pink and the wording, in gold lettering, read 'Pinkie's Salon'. Signage displayed on the window exclaimed the services offered - 'Cuts, styles and custom jobs - exclusively for men.' It couldn't have been less thinly veiled if it tried. It was a gay salon. Behind the window and the glass in the door were pink satin curtains that prevented anyone on the street from looking in.

My boyfriend pressed a buzzer on the door and after a few moments the door unlocked. We walked in, down a short corridor, no doubt to prevent any nosy individuals on the street from looking in on the actual interior itself. We walked through another door and entered Pinkie's Salon proper.

Naked or lightly dressed men were throughout the salon. The vast majority of customers were effeminate or more sub-leaning gays. Mirrors lined the walls. Pink and gold was the prevailing colour scheme throughout. A man in a white smock greeted us as we entered.

"Welcome to Pinkie's Salon, gentlemen. I am Pinkie. I believe it is a joint booking for two, close together?"

My boyfriend confirmed this.

"Of course, right this way, gentlemen."

We followed Pinkie to a changing room. We undressed. As we re-entered the salon floor we reached down and gave a quick tug on the other's penis. Pinkie then led us to two salon chairs, situated armrest to armrest.

"Now, gentlemen, would you prefer a back passage accessory today?"

I looked to my boyfriend who stated that we would.

"Excellent, gentlemen."

Pinkie clicked his fingers and a few seconds later a young employee arrived holding a briefcase. He open it up. Inside were an assortment of dildos. My boyfriend picked for us the seven inch smooth pink plastic phallus.

"An excellent choice, gentlemen."

The employee secured the seven inch dildo to the seat of one of the salon chairs. He left and returned a moment later to attach an identical dildo to the other chair. He placed a bottle of lube on an armrest and left.

"I will give you gentlemen a moment," said Pinkie, as he turned and left.

The procedure of what happened at Pinkie's Salon had been explained to me earlier by my boyfriend so although none of this came as a shock it still made me course with anticipation and excitement. Just by looking at the chairs and the seven inch dildo I was expected to sit on during my salon visit had already got me hard. My boyfriend reminded me to calm down. To 'saviour' the experience.

We lubed up our respective dildos and butt holes and took our seats. Slowly I eased myself onto the slippery dildo. I felt my cheeks hit the soft cotton fabric of the chair. My boyfriend had chosen well - just the right size and fit to be comfortable, enjoyable and gently stimulate the prostate. We joined hands.

As if already I was having a hard time to control my cock, looking around the salon made it worse. Naked, fit men were dotted around, getting hair appointments - the more feminine ones were getting make-up and eyebrows done. But there were was also sexual activity. Men being sucked off in the corner. Men taking it up the arse as they watched themselves in the mirror. Men watching other men. Men watching us in our chairs.

A few moments later Pinkie returned. He began to run through which hair styles he had planned for us. As he approached my chair he could see I was hard as a diamond and already leaking pre-cum. He whispered discreetly into my ear.

"Would sir like a hair bobble?"

I confirmed I would. Pinkie reached into his pocket, removed a hair bobble and handed it to me. As he continued to explain what hair styles he had in store for us, I placed the hair bobble over my balls and wrapped it around them twice. Hopefully this would prevent a premature ejac.

My boyfriend and I stated that the styles - short with thick curls - sounded ideal. The right balance between masculinity and femininity.

Pinkie placed over each of us a pink satin stylish cape. It was flawless - not a mark or wrinkle in sight. Pristine and clean. As the cape took the shape of my body I could both see and feel the cape on my cock. It was all such a perfect image. I could see from under my boyfriend's cape his cock was becoming progressively harder too. I had to wrap the hair bobble around my balls another time to stop myself cumming.

An employee, under the guidance of Pinkie, began working on our hair. Fifteen minutes later the work was done - our hair had been cut, was in curlers and Pinkie instructed us to be placed under overhead hair dryers. The employee brought them out for us.

"It will be another fifteen or so minutes, gentlemen. In the mean time, would you like a Pleasure Boy to be brought out for each of you?"

My boyfriend stated that we would. A few moments later two young men were led out from a rear room. They each had pink collars on with leashes attached. Pinkie had hold of the leashes and led them over to us. These 'Pleasure Boys' were a sight to behold. They were young men. They were naked. But the most striking and instantly recognisable character trait about them was that they were hairless. Every part of their body had been shaved. There was no hairs on the arms, legs, armpits, chests, pubic areas, arses, faces, eyebrows or on top of the head. They were completely smooth from head to toe.

"Excuse me, gentlemen."

Pinkie approached me and lifted up my pink satin stylist cape to attach the leash of one of the Pleasure Boys to an o-ring between my legs on the stylist chair. The leashes were no more than a metre in length and the Pleasure Boy was basically forced to kneel in front of me to be comfortable. Pinkie attached the second Pleasure Boys' leash to my boyfriend's chair in the same manner.

When explaining Pinkie's Salon to me, my boyfriend had described who and what the Pleasure Boys were. They were volunteers, here of their own free will and free to leave whenever they wished. They were not paid a salary but could chose to accept tips from clients if offered. They often answered Pinkie's adverts placed in gay clubs or were directly asked at homosexual gatherings to be a Pleasure Boy. Pinkie himself ensured the boys knew what was expected of them if they took the role - to remove all hair from their body before a shift, to be available to clients and ensure that the client's wishes were granted. Pinkie often got them to practice on employees or each other to ensure that their techniques were suitable for the high standards expected at Pinkie's Salon. If they weren't, Pinkie would often demonstrate himself on the prospective Pleasure Boy what techniques to use. The role of a Pleasure Boy was entirely consensual and Pinkie ensured that no abuse or unwanted acts of any kind were ever bestowed on either clients or Pleasure Boys.

The sight of a young, hairless man knelt before me as I sat with curlers in my hair, under a hair dryer, a satin pink stylist cape on, with naked men around the room, some performing sexual acts, holding my boyfriend's hand on the arm rest and a seven inch phallus inserted right up my posterior was all proving too much. I had to wrap the hair bobble for a fourth time around my balls. I could feel the pressure building within them.

My boyfriend turned to face me. I faced him. We leaned in towards one another and began to kiss. Our wet lips locked, our tongues exploring the other's mouth. Very briefly, I opened one eye to see my boyfriend gesture with his free hand for the Pleasure Boy to approach. I saw the Pleasure Boy get on all fours and crawl under the stylist cape. I took this as a sign to also gesture my Pleasure Boy to approach.

I could feel the cape being lifted and the Pleasure Boy putting his hands briefly on my thighs to steady himself. He took my cock in his hand. A moment later I could feel tip of my cock being kissed by his soft lips. My head went past his lips and I began to feel his tongue on my shaft.

These were called Pleasure Boys for a reason. Whatever techniques Pinkie had taught them was miraculous. My cock had never felt such a smooth, pleasurable and perfectly edged blowjob. Every movement of their tongue and lips and the contracting of their throat was heavenly. I felt the base of my cock hit the Pleasure Boys lips. Despite having my entire cock in his mouth and deep throating me, I don't believe he gagged once. He had been trained expertly.

Despite my cock already having been on the edge of prematurely ejaculating, my Pleasure Boy understood almost instinctively which movement of his lips, the use of saliva and the quickness of his sucking he should use to edge me for as long as possible.

His sucking was divine. My slight gyrating in the chair was stimulating the dildo up my arse. The kissing of my boyfriend was stimulating my mind. It was a full on assault of my sexual pleasures. I began thinking that there were a least a dozen gay, fit men throughout the salon watching this event occurring, which made me hornier even more.

Almost as if by permission from the Pleasure Boy, I came. I began to moan and groan through my kisses, causing, I believe, my boyfriend to reach his pleasure threshold and to cum at the same time. I could feel my cock deep inside the Pleasure Boy's mouth, half-way down his throat. My cock had never came before whilst being deep-throated. I pumped cum directly down the Pleasure Boy's throat. Even here he didn't gag or attempt to move away. Expertly trained. I couldn't help imagine that as my cock has been taken into the Pleasure Boy's throat that when I came I was sending cum directly down his gullet. It turned me on to think that the Pleasure Boy had wanted my cum to run down into his stomach.

Finally, after a few more moments of our cocks being stimulated, my boyfriend and I broke out of our kiss and leaned back in our chairs. Sure enough, there were several men watching us. I saw a few of them smile - I think they could tell I was a first time visitor and had really enjoyed my stay.

The employee arrived back. He took away the hair dryers and removed the curlers. Our hair was, of course, perfect. The employee removed our pink stylist capes. I looked down. I was impressed by the fact that their wasn't a single drop of cum in sight - the Pleasure Boy had taken it all.

Pinkie arrive back with us. He enquired if we were finished with the Pleasure Boys and we stated that we were. We jointly decided to offer the Pleasure Boys a generous tip but both of them refused. Pleasure Boys were not permitted to speak unless spoken to. I asked the Pleasure Boy who had worked on me why he refused the tip. He stated that 'the only tip he was interested in had already given him what he wanted.'

I smiled at that as he and his fellow Pleasure Boy was led away back into a rear room by their leashes.

Me and my boyfriend stood up, easing ourselves off of our seven inch dildos. We gazed at each other for a moment - I believe at this moment I saw the very first true spark of love in his eyes.

We returned to the changing room and dressed. We paid at the counter and Pinkie thanked us for our business.

"I hope you choose to make use of our services again"

We assured him we would. We left the salon and walked hand-in-hand back to my boyfriend's apartment. We could barely contain ourselves once we got in and stripped naked, beginning to make out. Within a few minutes we were on his bed again, starting to sixty-nine.