Christopher is at his station, deeply engrossed in typing something on his phone. He’s wearing a blue t-shirt and low slung jeans. A few pieces of damp hair are falling into his emerald eyes.
“Hey!” he looks up, putting the phone in his pocket.
“For you.” I hand him the drink. “No wait, that one’s mine.” I laugh and hand over the other one.
“Thank you.” he leans in and kisses my cheek as I wrap my arm around his neck.
We unwind and exchange a flirty glance, my hand resting on his shoulder, his on the curve of my waist. The eye contact we share feels like more than eye contact between two friends, and I enjoy it more than I let on.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Good. Yeah, I’m really good. How are you?” he steps back and sets his drink down on his station.
“I’m well. Things at work are insane, but otherwise, you know, living the dream.” I take a seat in his chair and cross one leg over the other. I place my latte and purse on the ledge in front of the mirror and pull the elastic that’s holding my carefully fashioned bun into place.
He watches my chestnut hair fall past my shoulders, spilling over my chest in giant waves.
“I just want a trim.” I say, knowing he’s well aware of this. I’ve been uttering the same words every appointment for the past year after he talked me into something shoulder length and I hated it.
He rakes his fingers through my heavy mass of strands and steps back. I’m quiet as I watch him think. He pushes my hair forward, pulling on the layers in the front. “What do you think about taking these shorter?
“Sure.” I shrug. “As long as I can get it in a ponytail I don’t care.”
“Yup. Ok. Come on back.” his foot taps the lever on the back of the chair, unlocking it.
Christopher has been cutting my hair since he graduated from beauty school some ten or so years ago, and I’ve followed him around the city from salon to salon since. In recent years our relationship has gone from the usual stylist-client variety to a friendship, to me harboring a crush on him.
I follow him to the shampoo bowl, admiring his shoulders and the nape of his neck. I notice the little hairs trailing down from his hairline, beneath the collar of his t-shirt. I want to touch him there, feel the fine, downy hairs beneath my fingertips.
I take a seat in the shampoo bowl closest to the wall. I perch on the edge, and scoop my hair up in a ponytail as he places a towel around my neck. His fingers brushing my skin as he guides me backward into the bowl. I hear the rush of water turn on behind me. I steal a glance at him as he surveys the shampoo selection above the bowls, and he catches me.
He smiles, and I smile back before closing my eyes.
The delicious sensation of water rushing over my hair mixed with Christopher’s hands scrubbing and massaging the citrus scented shampoo into my scalp eases me into a trance that I only experience with him.
He rinses the shampoo and applies conditioner, his nails sliding across the top of my head before picking it up and massaging my neck. He works on it longer than usual and I find myself so relaxed that my lips part, my eyelids become lax and rolling sensations of pleasure make their way down though my belly as he places my head back in the bowl and turns on the water.
Once he’s towel dried my hair and we’re back at his station, I part my knees a little as he drapes a huge black cape over me, fastening it around my neck, sending a trail of tingling sparks down my spine.
He combs out my hair, parts it to the left how I like it and picks up his shears. I straighten my back and look down when he places his hands on the sides of my head, directing me to do so.
I feel his steady tension as he pulls each section of hair before cutting it. My skin is hot under the cape and my breath is shallow as I decide to touch myself.
Careful as to not disturb the cape, I gingerly slip my fingers under the hem of my dress, slide them up my inner thigh, and press them against the lips of my pussy. As slowly as I can manage, I work myself with tiny circles just above my clit.
He pulls my head upright again and walks around to face me to cut my layers. My cheeks flush pink as I glance at his crotch imagining the shape and feel of his cock in my hand.
“So work is insane?” he asks.
“Yeah, but it’s just this week because so many people are on vacation. What about you?”
“Things are steady, nothing crazy. My client after you canceled and after that I’m booked until closing.” he says as he makes his way through another section of my hair.
“What do you do when that happens?” I ask, barely able to form words as I stroke my clit.
“When they cancel? Depends on what time the appointment is and how much time I have. Sometimes I try to fill the slot and other times I go out for coffee or food.”
“What are you doing after me?” I look up at him.
“I haven’t decided. Why? You have something in mind?” he asks, combing out another section, a clump of wet hair hitting the cape with an audible thud as it lands in my lap.
“Nothing.” I reply with a mischievous tone to my voice. I extend my foot, rubbing the inside of his lower leg.
He stops cutting and looks at me again as if he’s wondering if I meant to touch him.
I move my hand more under the cape so he gets the idea of what’s happening while I watch his expression, challenging him to say something.
Surprise and curiosity sprint across his features, his hands and my hair suspended in the air neither of us speaking or moving save for my hand.
“How’s everything else? Besides work.” I ask, my voice papery thin as I feel an orgasm teasingly making its way to the surface. I’m enjoying every second of this, of touching myself, and watching his confused but interested reaction.
“Um, it’s great.” he stammers. I uh, are you…” he trails off.
I draw in a sharp, deep breath as I come, sparks of sensations darting through my clit and down my thighs. It’s over almost as fast as it started, leaving me wanting another one.
“I think we should let my hair air dry while I fuck you.” I say as my body relaxes again.
Christopher finishes up the other side of my layers and applies a dollop of lightweight lotion to the ponytail part of my hair. As he steps away to wash his hands, I pull the cape off.
“One sec. I’m just going to lock the door.” he says as he walks to the front of the salon, drying his hands on his jeans.
When he returns, he’s standing in front of me, brushing a piece of hair away from my forehead like he’s done a thousand times during my haircuts.
I imagine he thinks I’m going to stand and kiss him but I reach for his jeans, unbuttoning them. I find his dick is already hard as I retrieve it from his underwear.
I delight in seeing him watch me wrap my fingers around it. I lick the tip, my eyes meeting his, before I wrap my lips around it and pull a little. I press my tongue against the underside of the shaft as I make my way down until my lips meet my fingers.
He slides his hand down the back of my head, taking a handful of damp hair as I focus on the soft texture of his skin. I suck harder, alternating with gliding my tongue, open-mouthed along the shaft to the tip.
I glance up at him to see his eyes are closed, his features relaxed as I suck him, receiving my own pleasure from the taste and softness of his cock against my tongue. He pushes his hips against my mouth making me take more of him in. My hand slides inside his shirt exploring the faint ripples of his abdominals, fingers tracing the rigidness of his breastbone before sliding down to his hip.
Christopher places his hands on my shoulders, pushing me so my back meets the chair. He kneels and lifts the hem of my dress to my waist. I watch him plant delicate kisses along my inner thighs, making his way to the top of my crevice where he lingers there, his lips brushing against it before applying light pressure with his tongue.
I open my legs wider and he pushes his arms underneath my thighs, pulling me into him. His tongue splits me open and collides against my clit. I reach up and hang on to the back of the chair as I kick off my shoes. I dig my heels into his back delirious with the decadence of being consumed.
I shift my hips up, his tongue dipping inside of me, his nose pressing into my clit. I move my hips up and down against him.
I watch his reflection in the mirror, his head half buried underneath my dress. His arms still wrapped around my thighs, the heel of my foot pressing into his back, the other rubbing his side, then pushing against the top of his thigh.
He looks up, his mouth wet with his saliva mixed with my arousal. I run my fingers lazily through my hair as he pulls my legs open wider and licks me with short, brisk strokes. My thighs twitch and shake. I squirm against him, breaths coming out in sharp, agitated exhales as I grab his hair and pull. He pushes my knees toward my chest and keeps dragging his tongue along my cunt.
The sensations are so strong I can barely breathe. As my thighs attempt to involuntarily close, he pushes harder to keep them open, his head rocking back and forth. I finally give in to the intensity and let it be there. I unclench my tightened jaw, and part my lips, filling my lungs with deep, expansive breaths. I wrap my hands around my knees and squeeze them as his relentless tongue fucks me.
I lean my head backwards feeling it meet the back of the chair. I’m full, bursting with desire to have him inside of me but not wanting him to stop licking me.
He slows down, swirling his tongue tip around my clit. My breath becomes steady and solid again. He slips a finger, then two inside of me and pushes in and out, his tongue sweeping over my clit, alternating with teasing flicks at the top of it.
I reach down there, where his tongue was and I push against myself, applying steady pressure to the fleshy part of my body above my clit. I move my fingers in circles again, his tongue making occasional contact with my fingertips, making me want him more.
It’s delicious, all of this. These bright, tingly sensations sparkle like glitter through my limbs, lighting me up makes me want to stay here in this blissful state forever.
The more I concede, the faster my orgasm comes. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It takes over my entire body. I hear my voice cry out loudly in a way it’s never done before. It’s like being shot out of a cannon, out into a starry abyss, then floating back to the physical world, back to my body, back to this moment where I open my eyes and see him there, placing little kisses along my crevice, before moving over to my thighs.
I trace my lips with my tongue and look down at him, my eyes feeling bigger and brighter.
“I think I saw God twice.” I laugh, extending my legs feeling the blood rush through them as he stands and reaches for my arms. He helps me up to standing, and we smash together, lips locking with such ferocity that I am taken aback, still reeling from coming so hard. As the feeling subsides I am filled with desire grabbing him, pressing myself against his erection.
I lift my dress and wrap a leg around his waist, grinding against him. I push him against his station hearing the bottles of products shake against each other from the force of his body.
He grabs my ass, pulling me into him harder. I envelop his face with my hands, wanting to crawl under his skin, wanting to consume him, wanting to get as close to him as humanly possible.
He pushes his mouth into my neck, devouring it, the expression of his desire for me drenches my cunt all over again.
I sink my teeth into his shoulder, inhaling his clean laundry scent that reminds me of rain and fresh air all mixed together. He licks my throat, places a light kiss on my chin before meeting my lips again.
I reach for his cock and ease him inside of me. We rock against each other, arms wrapped tightly around each other’s bodies while I stand on my tip toes as he thrusts against me. Time, and our surroundings fade as I slip away into his eyes.
The tips of our tongues meet and playfully explore each other. I taste myself and coffee on his breath. I trace the underside of his upper lip with my tongue. He scrapes my lower lip with his teeth, his hands grazing the sides of my breasts.
“Turn around.” he whispers.
I ease myself down to the flat of my foot, his cock sliding out of me. I walk behind the chair and he follows, pulling up my dress and entering me from behind. I ease my hips back, my body consuming his cock.
My head lowers, as my hips rhythmically move forward and backward against him. I ease myself over the back of the chair, the pressure of it pushing against the lowest part of my belly, the sensation competing with the force of his cock thrusting in and out of me.
My hair spills forward, the coolness of the strands rubbing my cheeks as he fucks me. The muscles of my thighs tense and shake with every thrust, the confines of my cunt stretching every time he pushes into me. I rise onto the balls of my feet giving him deeper access.
His hand clasps the back of my neck while the other grips my hip, the strength of his thrusts increasing and I feel he’s going to come.
“Pull my hair.” I tell him, my eyes meeting his in the mirror.
He grabs a handful of it and pulls gently at first and then gradually pulls harder. I close my eyes and exhale as the feeling dances along the line of pain and pleasure.
“Yes.” I whisper.
He leans forward and wraps his fingers around my shoulder, squeezing it as his other hand still has a firm grip on my hair as I feel him let go inside of me.
I watch him come, his eyes shut tightly for a few seconds before releasing, his features settling into an idyllic state as his body slows to a stop.
He lets go of my hair and shoulder, his cock easing out of me. I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, lips teasingly touching until I open my eyes and grin.
“Maybe I should come back in four weeks next time.”
“Or tonight.” he grins.