Date: Sat, 20 Jul 2002 13:08:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tom Borden <tombor99@yahoo.com>
Subject: "The Barber Chair"

This story is fictional.  I have often found myself in this situation, as
many have, but I have never followed through on it.  It remains only a
fantasy of mine.  The story is another episode in the life of Roger
Thompson, whose classroom experience was detailed in the story titled, "The
Lectern" in this section.


The Barber Chair

My name is Roger Thompson.  I am one of those who has always enjoyed
getting a haircut.  To have a good looking barber's hands all over my head,
my ears, and my neck has always been a turn-on for me.  I just close my
eyes and let him go at it.

I admit that I go in for a haircut more often than I really need to, but
the barber I use is one of those men on whom dreams and fantasies are made.
His name is Henry and he's about twenty-five years old, married, with two
small children.  His hands are smooth and slim, and he has the most
beautiful arms, covered with a very soft layer of light brown hair.  Every
so often, his arm will sweep across my face, with the hair on them tickling
my skin.  When he sometimes stoops down in front of me to check that my
sideburns are even, his sensuous face is usually only inches from mine, and
it is all I can do to keep from lurching forward and kissing him.

Henry frequently leans against the arm of the chair as he works on my hair.
I discovered some time ago that if I rest my hand on the arm, I can feel
him pressing his body against it.  Luckily, the part of his body that I
feel with my hand is the rather ample package between his legs.  He always
acted as though he didn't know I could feel it, and I was always sure that
was the case.

One day, I was so turned on, and I had gotten so hard, that I thought I
would move my hand slightly across the arm, and thus across his package.  I
did it ever so slightly.  He must have felt my hand moving, but he didn't
pull away.  The next time when I came in for a haircut, I was determined to
be just a little bolder.  This time, I moved my hand a little more
vigorously across his package, and was surprised to feel that it was
bulging much more than it had the previous time.  I continued to move my
hand, knowing it could be nothing but obvious to him what I was doing.  He
never made a move to pull away.  He just continued to cut on that side of
my head.  In fact, I was sure I could feel him pressing harder against my
hand.

Suddenly, without warning, he reached down and pulled the edge of the cloth
that was over my lap up and placed it over my hand and brought edge up to
lay against him, covering his front as far up as his belt buckle.  By this
time, I was beginning to burn up with desire for this man and, with my
fingers, I fumbled around for the tab on his zipper.  He still didn't move.
I slowly lowered the zipper and put my hand inside to find his very hard
penis, now wet with pre-cum.  Since he was wearing jockey shorts, I had a
real time trying to get his penis out through the opening in his shorts.
But when I did, I was able to wrap my hand around it and start stroking.
There were other customers in the shop, but I had to fight the urge to
throw the cloth aside and go down on this beautiful man right there.

Henry continued to pretend he was cutting my hair as I stroked his penis.
I did this for about two or three minutes, when I began to feel his penis
harden even more.  I could feel the enlarging veins around it begin to
bulge.  I wanted so much to look at it and run my tongue around it.  Soon,
I could sense that Henry's body was tensing up and his breathing became
short and labored.  I looked up at him and I could see his eyelids
fluttering and his face becoming contorted as he tried to look composed in
front of the other customers.

Then the throbbing of his hard penis began, and the hot thick cum started
to shoot out in waves.  I could feel it on my hand, but I could also feel
globs of it drop onto my bare thighs, just below the hem of the shorts I
was wearing.  Henry could not help bucking his hips very slightly as he
went through his orgasm, and moaning very quietly.

As his orgasm subsided, and the flow of his sperm came to an end, Henry
stood there looking totally spent and breathing heavily.  As his penis
started to wilt, I did my best with one hand to push it back inside of his
jockey shorts and zip up his pants.  My hand was still wet with his sperm,
and I could feel his sperm begin to run down my leg.

When Henry finally finished my haircut, I got up and reached for my wallet.
Henry said, "It's on the house today, Roger.  You've paid me enough."

I was still terribly horny and my hard penis was making a very obvious
bulge in my shorts.  I asked him if I could use their restroom, and he
pointed the way.  I stood at the urinal and Jacked off.  I had been so
close the whole time I was in the chair, that I knew I would cum quickly.
But as I stroked, Henry walked in and thanked me for a great jerk-off.

I said, "I hope you don't mind my getting myself off like this.  Jerking
you off like that under the sheet was a real trip for me."

Henry said, "Many times before, Roger, I've leaned against your hand hoping
you would do what you did.  Why don't you and I get together sometime and
let me pay you back for today.  I've always liked to have mutual jerk offs
with other guys."

The idea of getting together sometime again with this gorgeous barber made
my head swim.  I told him that anytime he was ready, I was ready.


Comments?  Write me at:

Tom Borden
Tombor99@yahoo.com