Date: Fri, 12 Feb 2016 21:47:24 +0000 (UTC)
From: - - <mike.99999@yahoo.com>
Subject: Barber Boy

Always happy to hear from readers, and check out all my stories at
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Barber Boy

It was a busy Saturday morning. My dad took me to a barbershop, and I
waited patiently for my turn in the front waiting room area. It was mostly
older guys but some young ones like me. My dad was reading the newspaper
the whole time, and then he was kind of rude to the barber.

When it was my turn to get in the chair, the barber said I was very polite
and nice. He said I reminded him of his little brother from when they were
my age. He was nice, and the haircut looked good.

The barber was a little younger than my dad and kind of a big guy. He said
he started cutting hair in the navy. His arms and his hands were big and
muscled. I had been to other barbers that I didn't like as much as this
one.

About a month later, my dad took me there again. It wasn't so busy that
time, because it was during the day. We were headed to a wedding, and we
were both dressed up. The barber asked me why I was dressed up so nice, and
I told him.

He suggested that I take off my shirt and tie so I don't get hair down my
collar. My dad said it was a good idea, so I wouldn't be squirming and
scratching all day. I was a little shy about somebody walking in and seeing
me, but we were the only ones there at that time.

So I took my shirt off and walked to the back bare-chested and got in the
barber's chair. It was cold on my skin at first. Then he wrapped the cape
around me and fastened it tight around my neck.

It was a little strange, but it felt comfortable. And I liked that I didn't
get hair down my shirt. You know how you usually have to change shirts
after a haircut or deal with the loose hair.

So he gave me a haircut and was nice to talk to, and then he took off the
cape and I was half-dressed, and he had his hand on my bare shoulder as he
walked me back to the front to get dressed again.

After that, I was a pretty steady customer there. Every Saturday morning,
my dad would take me down there. It was always busy.

The barber didn't talk with my dad much, but one time, after about a year,
they were doing a little small talk. The barber mentioned that maybe I was
old enough to come on my own after school.

My school was close by, and he said that a lot of the guys walk over after
school and then catch the late bus, the one for anybody who had
after-school activities or detention.

So when I was due for a haircut, I asked if I could do that, and my dad
said it was fine with him and would save him having to haul me around.

So the next day I walked over after school and there was a few guys from my
school waiting. The barber said he was hurrying everybody through so they'd
be able to catch the bus.

It was quick. I was a little disappointed that it was so quick, 'cause I
liked talking with him.

I kept going there after school whenever I needed a haircut, and there was
usually a line. So then one time, when it was really busy and I was the
last one in line, I said I had to go or else I'd miss that bus.

I was saying how I wish it wasn't such a rush and he said him too. He said
he liked having a nice, polite kid like me as a customer. This was a
Friday, and I thought maybe I'd try to go back the next morning, but it was
always busiest on Saturday mornings.

He said, "Why don't you come after school on Monday? I'm closed, but you
can come to the back door, and I'll take you."

I said thanks and then on Monday I went around behind the building and
knocked on the door. He was ready for me, and there was nobody else, so it
was nice. He took his time, and I think I got a better haircut because
there wasn't such a rush. We talked about all kinds of stuff.

He normally wore a kind of smock, but this time he was just in jeans and
like a flannel shirt, and the top was open so I could see some of his chest
hair, and that was kind of interesting to me. I didn't have any yet and
thought about it.

When he was done, he opened the cape and dusted off my neck. Then he pulled
it off, trying not to let any of the hair fall off and down onto my legs
and shoes. He swept off around my knees where a little bit of hair
was. He'd usually do that when we were done.

Then he adjusted the chair so I was lying back. It reclined, so you could
put your head into this little sink that was there if you were getting a
shampoo, which I never did. So anyway, he reclines me back and then he gets
a hair dryer and blows any loose hair out, rubbing his fingers through my
hair.

I thanked him again for working on his day off. He said, "you're
welcome. For a nice kid like you, I'm happy to."

I said I'd see him soon and hopefully it won't be too busy. Then he said,
"Why don't you just come here the first Monday of each month? Just like
this."

He was so nice to do that. I said thank you and asked if he was sure. He
said he was. So then that became the routine. It was private and quiet, and
we got a chance to talk a lot. I felt like I really knew him well.

A couple months after that, I was wearing a button-up shirt, and as I sat
down before the haircut I was opening up the neck so the collar wouldn't
get in his way. He noticed how I was trying to fold it down, and he said,
"Why don't you just take it off?"

There was nobody else there, and I had done it before, and it would save me
an itchy evening, so I said okay and took it off. He hung it on a hook next
to his jacket.

He said I looked bigger and stronger since the last time he saw me like
that. I liked that, especially coming from him. He was big and strong.

After the haircut, he opened the cape and brushed off around my neck and
used his hand, lower on my bare back and shoulders. Then he swept the cape
off to the side and swept off my pant legs.

I don't remember exactly how it happened or what we said, but that also
became the routine. It was much nicer not getting hair all in the fabric of
my shirt by not wearing one.

Any hair would just brush off my skin when we were done. He'd sweep it off
with his brush, and he'd rub his hands around my neck and ears to get any
little ones left. Like I said, we were close, and I liked him. I didn't
mind him resting his hand on my shoulder while I paid, before putting my
shirt back on.

As I got taller, the chair wasn't so big, and I'd rest my arms on the arm
rests. With him standing around me and leaning over me, he'd press against
my arms or my elbow. He wore a smock, and I was looking ahead, so I
couldn't really tell if it was his leg or his stomach or what part of him
exactly was pressing against me.

At first it was a little strange, because we were like touching, but I got
used to it. I didn't mind it. I can even remember one time where he was
kind of pressing against my hand on the end of the arm rest.

That was how I got my hair cut. I'd go to the barber when nobody was there,
and I'd take off my shirt, and we'd talk while he gave me a haircut and I
felt his body press against my arm or his leg against my leg if he was
standing in front of me. And he was this nice older guy that I liked
spending time with.

One day, I came in wearing some new slacks. I guess they looked very new,
because he noticed. He said, "I bet you're not allowed to get those dirty,
huh?" He was right. I had been told to keep them looking nice and not get
them messed up right away.

I was standing there, bare chested, and the barber suggested I take the
slacks off too, so I don't get hair on them. I thought he was joking at
first, but we had this real casual situation, and he opened the closet and
got a hanger for me.

So I sat on this bench off to the side and undid my shoes and unbuckled and
unzipped my slacks and pulled them down while he waited, not really
watching. He handed me the hanger, and I neatly put my slacks on them and
then I handed them to him. He put them back into that closet.

I stood in only a pair of white Fruit of the Loom briefs, not sure what to
do, while we looked at each other. Then he said, "Well, have a seat."

He draped the cape over my nearly naked body, my ankles and toes stuck out
at the bottom. The cool padding felt strange against the skin on my thighs
and legs, different from the back of the chair on my back.

We talked like normal, but after a while he said, "You always wear those
tighty-whities?"

We talked about how guys my age change to boxers. I said I liked briefs
better. I tried boxers, but they got bunched up, and I didn't like the hole
in the front. I said I kept falling out. He laughed.

I asked him if he wore boxers or briefs. He said, "I don't wear underwear,
see? No line." He was wearing dress pants and showed me how there was no
line from briefs across his butt and no line from shorts at his thigh. It
made me think about how you can see what underwear guys are wearing
sometimes, even in jeans. It also made me think about the barber's body.

His body pressed against my arm, and I thought about his legs and his belly
and his dick and balls with nothing between them but that soft slacks
fabric. I started picturing his body as it touched me. I was imagining what
he looked like naked, and then I felt his skin on mine, his hands on my
neck.

Because of the way the barber's cape was shaped, it left my sides
exposed. My bare skin felt the air in the room, and my bare legs felt his
chair, sort of sticking to the material.

I realized I had a boner straining in my briefs, and I pulled my arms in
and reached my hands in to adjust myself. I did it without thinking. It
felt better after I adjusted it, but then I thought maybe he knew what I
was doing.

He was just cutting my hair as normal. My hands were still pulled in, and I
could feel the bare skin of my arms on my chest, the bare skin of my legs
on my hands. I held my hard dick, and then I pulled it out, free from the
tight briefs. I pulled my balls out too. It was an exciting little secret
for me.

I found myself thinking about taking off everything and being completely
naked under the cape. I thought about jerking my dick. I thought about
handing him my briefs, so he'd know I was naked under there.

I just let my mind wander, but then he asked how it looked, like he was
done. I quickly tucked myself away. When he pulled off the cape, I found
myself keeping my back to him, but still seeing my front in the mirror. It
wasn't obvious that I had a boner. He got my pants from the closet, and I
took them and got dressed, bashfully.

Then we had a few haircuts that were less eventful. I showed up on the
normal schedule, took off my shirt as normal, maybe got a little more
touching on my shoulders and neck than normal and maybe got a little more
pressed against than normal, but it was basically our regular routine.

Then I showed up and there was no answer. I waited. About ten minutes went
by, and I was about to leave, but he showed up and said he was sorry he
wasn't here. He was dressed up in a suit. He opened the door, and we went
in.

I started taking off my shirt, and I noticed that he was also taking off
his. I watched as his shirt came off, revealing a muscular chest and hair
trailing down to his waist. His shoulders flexed as he hung his shirt on a
hanger and pulled his smock out, laying it over the back of a chair.

I sat down in the barber chair and watched as he kicked off his shoes and
pulled a pair of jeans from a shelf in the closet. He told me he'd be just
a second, and then he faced the closet.

His slacks came off and down, revealing his bare ass, toned and muscular
and flexing as he changed. I just stared. It was quick, but it really
grabbed my attention.

Wearing just jeans and pulling his shoes back on, he took his slick smock
and put it on. It was tight on his bulging arm muscles.  As I sat there, I
realized that we each had basically seen the other almost naked. I just
kept replaying the image of his nude back and backside. It made me think
about how I'd like to look like that when I got older. It made me think I'd
like to see him like that again. It made me think I'd like to see the rest
of him.

As I was thinking about his dick, I realized that I was feeling it. It was
definitely that part of his body, and it was definitely pushed up against
my arm while he leaned over and cut my hair.

He'd hold my head in place or position my head pointing down. It's kind of
a weird situation for a guy to have another guy so close to you and in
control of your body, and you just letting him.

I was hard, and my dick pressed tight against my briefs and my pants. It
made me wonder what it'd feel like to be like him, no underwear. It felt
loose and floppy like that when I occasionally wore boxers. I had a few
pairs in my drawer still.

I wanted to pull everything off and be naked under there. I wanted him to
be naked too. I felt his hands around me and his body against me and the
buzzing clippers on my skin.

I spent the whole time with one hand holding my boner and the other arm on
the armrest so it could press against the barber's body.

When he was done, he swept the cape aside and brushed off my neck, my back,
around my knees, across my face again.

The next month, I realized it was the first Monday as I was getting dressed
that morning.

I also realized that I was overdue to do laundry and had no clean underwear
except for the boxers that I never wore anymore. I also realized that I
only had those dress slacks to wear today.

They weren't quite brand new anymore, but the barber still pointed them
out. He asked if I wanted to take them off, asking if he should grab me a
hanger. I could've said no, but I said yes.

As I took them off, he said, "Back to boxers today, huh?" I told him there
was nothing else clean. I was very conscious of how they fit and how I was
almost naked again and how the damn fly on boxers always gaped open.

I never wore them, so I never bothered to search out the kind with a button
there. I looked down, and the fly was kind of wrinkled into a half-open
eye. Anyway, I sat down pretty quick, and he draped the cape over
me. Again, the silky fabric felt nice against the bare skin on my chest and
legs.

I put my arms up onto the armrests and looked ahead as he started. He
fastened the cape tight around my neck, and I felt his bare fingers on my
skin. He ran his fingers through my hair and put his fingers on my chin,
positioning it down. Then he took clippers around my ears and on the back
of my head.

The buzzing tingled, and he stood close to my side, pressing against my
arm. My mind wandered again, thinking about his body and about my body.

Then I looked down at my body, and the cape was tented up in the middle.

"Got a candle on your lap?" he asked.

I froze, my hands still gripping the arm rests and my head still down. I
couldn't move, and I couldn't say a word.

I slowly realized what was happening. Underneath the barber's cape, I was
wearing just a pair of boxers, and I had gotten hard, and my dick was
pointing straight up through the fly.

I didn't say anything in response to his joke. He just said, "That's
okay. Don't worry about it."

Then he just kept cutting my hair like normal.

Looking down at my hardon with the barber's cape draped over it got me even
harder. I could kind of feel the fabric on the very soft tip of my
dick. The feel of the barber's body pressed against me kept me hard too.

I watched some snipped hair fall down my chest and rest in the lap valley
below my mountain cock where normally it would've slid down between my legs
to the floor.

The barber said, "I know that feeling, being squeezed tight, and how good
it feels when you let it out."

Still looking ahead as he snipped my hair, I responded, "yeah."

He continued, "Even without the underwear, sometimes you get squeezed in
there and need to let it out." Then he paused, stepped back, and said,
"See? Like this?"

I turned and looked. He was showing me a bulge in his pants. I just stared
at it.

He said, "You mind if I let mine out, too?"

I just stared at it, then up at him. "...sure"

With scissors and comb in one hand, he reached down, unzipped the fly, felt
around, and pulled out his hard cock. It pointed straight out, like a
shelf.

I looked. He looked. We looked at each other. My hard dick twitched under
its tent. He pulled his balls out, too. He said it felt better. Then he
went back to cutting my hair.

With his dick out, he stood around me in the chair. He grabbed his clippers
and leaned close to me, straightening my sideburns and pressing against my
arm as usual. Only, now, his thick cock slid across my arm and down to rest
on top of my hand.

I wanted to hold it. He stepped away, setting down his clippers. Then he
returned and stood by me again, now trimming the top of my head. He stood,
facing me, close, with his cock hovering over my arm and hand.

Some clipped hair fell down and landed on his cock. I looked. He noticed,
too, and grabbed his neck duster and playfully brushed the hair off his
dick, smiling.

Then he stood close again, with his cock by my hand. I rolled my wrist and
opened my palm, and his cock rested in my hand.

I saw him smile as he stepped closer. Without looking, he placed it in my
palm. I slowly closed my grip around it. He moved slightly, it pulled
through my fingers, and I could hear him breathe in a little and almost
make a little sound.

He said something like, "Is that close enough on the sides?" and moved a
little to look at the mirror. Still with his hardon in my grip, I looked at
my hair and said it looked good.

The fact that we were still making barber-shop small-talk like this was
surprisingly hot to me.

"You see that game last night?" he asked, as he stepped back, sliding his
dick out from my grasp. I did, and we talked about it, as he stepped around
me, cutting the hair on my other side.

Then I felt his dick graze my side, near my armpit, through the open side
of the cape. It kind of tickled. It felt amazing to have his big dick
touching not just my hand but actually my body.

For some reason, my mind went back to the thought of taking off the last
bit of clothing I had under there and handing it to him. I didn't know why,
I just felt like I had to, like if I didn't that I'd always regret it.

Still looking ahead, still getting my hair trimmed, I reached my arms in
under the cape, pulled the waistband of my underwear down, felt the padded
plastic under my butt, slid the boxers down my legs and held them out to
the side, looking at him.

He smiled and took them from me. He hung them on a hook next to his jacket.

I was naked, completely naked, and completely hard at the barber's, my dick
poking up and tenting the cape.

He kept trimming my hair, pressing his exposed cock against my arm. If he
got close to my hand, I opened it and held his dick loosely.

Then I could tell the haircut was about over. He opened the neck of the
cape and dusted around my ears, neck, and back.

Then came the usual flourish as he pulled the cape off my body and to the
side, like a magician.

I saw my whole body, naked, with a hard dick pointing up at the ceiling. I
saw myself in the mirror.

The barber came over and brushed some hair off my feet, off my knees,
brushed around, and tickled my cock with the duster's soft hairs. He got
closer, examining my dick.

Finally, he leaned down and took it in his mouth. I had never felt anything
like it.

One hand was on my leg, and even that felt so intimate and special. I felt
his wet mouth and tongue up and down shaft. I heard him moan with pleasure,
and it made me moan back at him, still wordlessly getting closer and closer
to him, alone with him.

He sucked and moaned and groaned until I knew I was close to coming. I
didn't know what to do. This wasn't like being alone in my room or off in
the woods.

"I... I'm almost going to..." I said.

He looked up at me, still in my lap, and said, "Just go for it, buddy."

I relaxed, my hands still gripping the arm rests, my feet pushing up
against the footrest. I felt a wave come over me and jets shoot out from me
into his mouth. He let them come, and when I looked down, he had my cum in
his mouth, stood up, and spit into the sink that was next to us. Then he
rinsed it down with the little shower nozzle.

I felt so good, so hot, I felt like I had exploded. My butt felt stuck to
the seat.

He reached down and reclined the chair. I was lying back, my cock now
fallen to my stomach. It felt nice to lean back after that.

His hands came to my head, as they do when he's cutting my hair, and he
positioned me so I was facing the side. Then he stepped closer, his hard
cock still pointing out at me. I was right next to it.

I looked up at him, and him down at me. I opened my mouth and let him put
his hard cock inside. It was big. It felt warm. I licked it, and he slid it
in and out slowly.

He held my face and fucked my mouth. I loved it. He jammed in and out,
rhythmically grinding into me. I had never felt anything like that. I was
still recovering but starting to get hard again.

It was amazing. I wondered how long he had thought about it. I watched him
watch himself in the mirror. I watched us too. I loved it.

I let him fuck and groan and yell. He pulled out and shot into the sink.

I wasn't sure if I wanted him to jizz in my mouth or shoot all over my
naked body in his chair. It was actually really hot to watch him shoot and
pump it out of his cock. I wanted to see him naked.

He rinsed the sink. He brought the chair up. We both got dressed. We said
some kind of small talk, like an everyday, average barber shop.

Then that became the routine.