Redrt66

Maybe this should be continued on the CHEM FICTION section for a larger audience & exposure? The writing, plot development and overall depravity deserves it! I can't wait for your future other stories! Moderator's Note: The poster realizes his error. He asked for this to be deleted, but since substantial comments have been made in response, it needs to stay up. Please note there is no need for additional comments about his mistake.

I have been off this site awhile ... so what a pleasant surprise to discover a whole new set of twisted and very talented Chem Fiction authors! SUTEKH - you have a skill with how you frame your words. The voice of the narrator is distinct, memorable, unique and best of all-depraved! That is not a simple technique to create with an authentic voice that must always retain the volley of word play, phrasing, dialogue and pace for this specific literary genre. The words must continue to keep the reader engaged and more important - aroused! The words surely are working on me! M O R E !!!

W H O A !!!! l haven't been on this site as much so thank god I logged in today! What a hoT fucking story! The eroticism is only enhanced by each Dad and their deep love to their sons. I love how you write of their intimate emotional connections! It's as arousing as the descriptive sexual chemistry. And speaking of chems...I can only salivate to how this scenario will play out! Please keep it coming EvilQueerPig ! You are inspiring me to finish one of my sTories here that has long been neglected for continuing chapters...

I hope there’s more...waiting for your other Top bud to show up and see where this goes...keep it coming!

Yes please continue...the scenario is my favorite!

WOW this has all the Ingredients of a hot nasty story that I prefer. I’m hungry for a pa just like this guy .... I can’t wait for Pa and Jack to introduce a booty bump to the boy’s pussy, getting it wet, juicy, hungry for dad and his buddies! I can’t wait for more ! It’s stories like this : well-crafted, hot, nasty, fall of raunch with hot , horned Dads Training his boy’s pussy to always be clean, ready to take anything dad and his buds provide him. Keep it filthy! I can’t wait for uncle to return... It’s stories like this that inspired me to write and submit stories to this site. I need to write more ...

I love Dad/Son chem stories! Great start ! Please post next chapters soon!

Oh yeah - MORE ! Your writing and hoT stories inspired me to write for this site! Give us more of these neighbors!!!

Welcome back Gymguy8! I'm liking where this is starTing - especially with the early booty bump! (Nothing hotter than starting a scene with that!) Looking forward to the ride with where you plan to take this. I'm a big fan of your work since discovering "Searching for Private Gonzalez" on nifty.org several years ago that lead me to breeding.zone. You and a handful of other writers inspired me to contribute to this site - so thank you for keeping up the writing!

That last slap HURT LIKE HELL!!! I cursed at him silently under my breath. But at the same time I was loving his unexpected assaults that seemed deliberate and paced. I don't think he was being forceful without reason. It dawned on me suddenly that I was so spun that his slaps were jolts back to reality. My mind was racing as fast as my heart. I wanted him to hit me again when I realized this and was about to whimper a request when the better part in my mind said to let go and let him control the situation. And as my mind raced off in this tangent, my head cleared up, the sting on my face from his double hits fading off quickly, replaced by the sensation of getting fucked. I was still kneeling on the chair, ass up with Harrison behind me. I blinked rapidly trying to gain focus, turning my head around to see Harrison's form blurring and sharpening, then blurring again until he came into focus. Beads of sweat formed on the top of his bald head, the edge of his scalp tinted in that sickening green haze from the fluorescent lighting overhead. The sweat trailed down his handsome face, settling on his beard, collecting into thicker pools of more sweat, dropping onto my ass as he pummeled me, the sweat running down my crack, settling into my hungry hole adding to what little lubrication was being used. This was all happening or I was imagining it in my current state. I shook my head to get some clarity as Harrison fucked me HARD. "Oh fukkk," Harrison groaned again. He pushed in and out, harder, faster, repeating the rhythm that everything before felt like some demented foreplay. I could only moan, my face slick with my own sweat, pressed against the seat, sliding forward and back on the worn leather. I had to turn away, close my eyes and enjoy the ride. At last, I was getting fucked. Harrison fucked with a great rhythm. He was one of those FFuck buddies I always looked forward to seeing. His long thick cock would slide in slow and take its time, as if examining the space it was entering. And once he was completely inside he would rock back and forth only slightly so that his shaft would pull out beyond my inner second ring. When his cock was past that point he would stop about an inch or so away from it. And then, gently, push back in. Then repeat over and over. My inner ring would dilate and contract at the welcome invasion. It was like some unseen magical massage. I was so spun from his father's constant feeding of Tina from earlier that my hole was more than relaxed and inviting. And yet, there was a slight resistance that I must have subconsciously been providing, but just a bit that Harrison could enjoy the little friction. He loved to fuck like this, this second ring tease, as he adjusted his rhythm from slow and gentle to fast and hard, pounding with such force it was hard to keep up with him as I would moan and grunt. And then he would unexpectedly pull out so fast it would take my breath away, the speed and volume of his shaft exiting my hungry hole. He would pause for a few eternal seconds as he knew its effect on me. I was breathing uncontrollably now, almost whimpering, catching my breath from the earlier action and longing for his cock to return. Instead, he pushed his head along my open hole, rubbing his head along the entrance. But he only did his for mere moments before he entered me completely. It was like the son following the father and his earlier cock head tease at the entrance of my hole except Harrison concentrated on my inner ring. Clearly my heightened state and sensitivity was only making this more exaggerated in my mind. I imagined his shaft inside me like a probe, pushing and pulling into a soft, moist tunnel. All the drugs were making me hallucinate to a certain level that visualizing the fuck as it was occurring seemed so natural to me. Sweat continued to trickle down my face, lubricating my cheek as it slid on the chair, my movements driven by Harrrison's thrusts. My face itched. My senses were so heightened the itch got stronger but I didn't have the energy to move or shift my arms to scratch myself. And as that thought passed inside my head, the itch jumped from my face to my left shoulder blade, annoying me in its sharpness and position, now even more unreachable. Harrison continued to fuck me, the long shaft pulling away from my inner ring, pausing for a millisecond before it would predictably thrust back inside me. I groaned in a combination of ecstasy and sharp pain, as the magnified itch now jumped to the back of my neck, the points of burning sharpness now flaring all over me as if sparks were dancing on a fire, erupting from one place to the next. I wanted so hard to stretch my arms, to scratch at myself but all I could concentrate on was the fucking. I groaned some more. The barber circled around me. I heard his footsteps faintly in the distance as if it were across the shop, on the other side of the avenue. Clearly my mind was playing tricks on my perception as I felt his presence in front of me as he grabbed my very short hair, pulling on it hard, grabbing with that large hand, so violently that my eyes blinked open suddenly. I looked at him questioning and silent, my eyes dazed, staring at him. Saliva drooled out of my mouth in slow motion as a thread of it dripped onto the leather of the chair, mixing with my sweat, glistening. My eyes shifted to the pool of my body's secretions on the seat, the highlights reflecting the sickening green sheen of the fluorescent lighting above. And as if on cue, the light overhead snapped again. Harrison continued to fuck me, so lost into his own pleasure that he barely noticed his father coming in between us, his left hand firmly grabbing my ass, the other hand positioning itself, palm-side-down, pushing hard between us with such force that Harrison fell back suddenly, his cock sliding out of my hole so fast it almost hurt from the speed and the unexpected emptiness. He caught his balance as he fell back, his hard cock bouncing up and down. The itch returned, like wildfire, spreading all over my back, neck and face. My heart raced along. "Get the fuck up Boy," the barber commanded. "You're a tucking mess." He stepped away from me, moving towards the corner. Harrison stepped forward and helped me slowly off the chair, as I stood up, trying to gain my balance and composure, facing the mirror across from us. I was a mess. My face and upper body had hundreds of black, tiny scratches, randomly scattered on my upper body. I blinked and my focus came back, the scratches glistening when my chest expanded and retracted from my fast-paced breathing. The scratches were all my trimmed hairs, stuck on my body from the earlier fucking on the floor with the barber. The heat and my constant sweating made my body like a magnet. The hairs were all over me. "Get your sweet ass over here," he commanded, as he stood by the shampoo sink station on the corner. Harrison helped me over with one hand, the other hand grabbing things from the counter. I stepped forward slowly, my balance was still off from all the drugs, the overwhelming sensations, everything. The barber had turned on the water as it poured down the central faucet on an old stained sink. He grabbed a small face towel from a shelf nearby and soaked it under the faucet and twisted it hard, squeezing the water out of it. He kept the water running as steam floated above, dissipating in the haze of the stiff air in the shop. "Come here," he motioned. I stepped cautiously again, not knowing if he would get unexpectedly violent again. I was now at the chair in front of the sink and turned my body around slowly, about to descend on the seat, when I felt that firm hand on my back. "NO," the hand was applying hard pressure on me that I could not move. "I didn't say you could sit. Stay there. Keep standing and stay still." My breathing became rapid again that all I could do was close my eyes. WACK!!! The slap was familiar and yet new. It wasn't his hand but the towel, moist and HOT. My sensations went into overdrive as the sudden burn of the the moist terry cloth texture slid along my upper back, the weight of the water that hadn't been squeezed out of the scratchy towel made it drop quickly down the center of my back, towards the top of my ass, a streak of fire and heat drawing behind its sudden descent. I gasped, eyes still closed, the burn of the towel mixing with my inner heat that had been building and building inside me and in my hole. He caught the towel before it could fall on the floor and ran it under the faucet again, squeezing the excess water out of it. This time he didn't hit me with it as I felt him place the hot towel on my back, the sudden heat now welcome and soothing as he firmly rubbed it all along my back, cleaning me, wiping away the hundreds of little sharp clipped hairs. He repeated this over and over that the moist roughness of the terry cloth material felt like a million tiny fingers scratching away the burning itch from before. I could only exhale in relief, opening my eyes, focus coming back as I saw Harrison fidgeting by the counter beside me. "Now you can sit," he held the chair as I carefully sat down, looking up at him for reassurance and some silent guidance as I realized the back of the chair was much lower than normal so that my upper body was at a 30° incline when I sat down. The back of my neck touched the cold porcelain of the sink and despite the heat and humidity of the shop, the sudden frigid sensation made me jump a little, almost like the earlier sensation when the sharp razor blade made contact with my sensitive skin around my asshole. His large hand caught me as I jumped up an inch or two and he firmly pushed me down, back on the chair, the back of my neck making contact with the cold, wet surface again. He grabbed the towel, moist and steaming, and placed it on my chest. The suddenness of the heat made me gasp as I swear my heart jumped. But it lasted a mere second as he firmly rubbed the hot towel on my chest and lower torso, cleaning me, wiping the trimmed hairs and the sweat from last few hours. My breathing started to pace back to normal as whatever pleasurable tension seemed to melt away. I stared straight up at the ceiling noticing the darkness seemed to gather at this corner. I saw his face loom overhead, a look of fondness mixed with disdain stared back at me. I felt the hot water now at the top of my head as his large hand appeared in the foreground, getting larger and larger as it approached, falling out of focus as I closed my eyes, the heat of the water, cupped by his hand, now pouring on my forehead. I felt Harrison grab my legs and lift them from the floor, spreading them wide as he rested my thighs on the arms of the chair. My ass was now exposed as I suddenly felt his cock enter me with such force that my head fell further back on the sink, hot water splashing on my face. The barber's large hand now poured the water on my head so I couldn't open my eyes. He washed away what hairs were on my cheeks, nose, my entire face. I felt a sudden burning inside me and realized Harrison had coated his cock with more Tina, providing a special delivery booty bump. He pushed in deep coating my inner tunnel then pulled out at the entrance of the second ring and gyrated his hips clockwise and counter-clockwise, making sure to coat my insides thoroughly. The heat inside me started to build quickly, that familiar burn magnifying that I realized he gave me a large amount of crystal with his feeding. It was slightly scary as I felt so drugged up already. It was also quite beautiful as that familiar wave started taking over me, wiping away whatever minor apprehension I was holding inside me, my legs spreading more, silently offering an invitation. My head relaxed, descending further into the sink. I could feel the water around the back of my head, a pool of warm water accumulating in the bowl. My eyes were still closed, now favoring the comfort of the warm water around my head and the other heat emanating from my hungry manhole. My head lowered another inch that I could feel water entering my ears. I could only hear the echo of the water from the faucet splashing around my head, the sound dulled and softened as if audio could blur. I felt the weight of my head increase as if my mass had suddenly doubled, my head sinking further under the water, warm liquid now entering my nostrils. His firm hand scooped me up from the back of my head and lifted me above the water's surface. I blinked my eyes open suddenly, coughing uncontrollably as I had taken water in through my nose. I blinked rapidly again, seeing his face, large and over me, the earlier look now replaced with silent lust and momentary concern. "Now open your mouth, and take several deep big breaths," he instructed. The brown bottle of poppers appeared, open and held by his other hand. He tilted my head up at an angle for me to do as he instructed. I looked into his eyes, blinked again, the heat of the water around my wet head comforting me, the heat in my hole taking over me. I sucked on the tip of the bottle without my lips touching the glass. "Do more," he instructed. I breathed in deep several times and closed my eyes. A second elapsed. My head descended, now weightless, back into the water, liquid filling my ears as I felt his firm hand guide me, control me, its strength now mixed with flowing water, making his hand soothing, relaxing. His other hand, now free, touched the bridge of my nose and pinched it tight as my entire head was now under the surface of the water. The sink was now filled with the warm soothing water and all I could hear was that blur I was imagining in my head. The sound of the water cascading from the faucet, splashing on the collected pool in the basin of the sink was creating what sounded like soft, rounded echoes. It was only magnified in my heightened state. I had taken deep breaths as he had instructed so being immersed completely under the water's surface was not alarming. On the contrary, it was soothing. It didn't hurt that the massive booty bump had now taken effect, rising from between my legs, climbing up my torso and washing over the rest of my upper body in the same way small tides of hot water washed over my sunken face. I breathed slowly and methodically, the poppers hits now adding an extra layer of sensation. I was breathing in and out of my throat, recycling what oxygen I had inhaled with the large hits of poppers, reusing the chemically-infused air that I could sense my head getting lighter and lighter. In between my legs the thrusting got heavier and more rapid, harder, more violent. I could feel my head rocking back and forth, the back of my neck sliding against the wet porcelain of the sink, the top of my head banging against the other edge. Hot water splashed all around me, hitting me on the neck and upper chest, sudden shock waves of liquid heat so hot it felt like a volcano exploding lava around me. And I was finally getting fucked. No more cockhead tease. No more inner ring massage. This was the real thing. Harrison fucked hard and rapid, random in his rhythm that my hole could not anticipate the next move. And everything felt so open and relaxed as if I were backfloating on the Pacific Ocean, warm waves washing over me. I felt my head sink further into the water, moving slightly from side to side and back and forth as Harrison continued to fuck me hard. My neck relaxed even more so my head titled further back that I could feel my chin rise from the water's surface. The sensation on my hole was nothing but pleasure, a vessel to receive what was entering it without restriction. His cock fucked me furiously as I lost sense of time, riding it and the waves I was floating on. And somehow in these long, eternal seconds I was still breathing from my earlier inhale. But then that oxygen ran its course and I instinctively felt the need to breathe. The barber's firm hands were still keeping my head under the water, the weightlessness now quickly fading as I tried to push up to the surface for air. He sensed my sudden anxiety and kept his firm hand pinching on my nostrils in place, pushing my head down with force so I could not get to the surface of the water. My eyes instinctively opened, blinking rapidly, stung by the heat of the water, a sudden panic taking over me. I closed my eyes in defense and tried to force my head up in vain. His hand was too strong. And in between my legs, another force, hard and continuous was causing a contrasting situation. Harrison's furious fucking was mixing with my heightening panic that the pleasure seemed to be folding into a strange sense of pain. And yet, I was enjoying this new evolving ache that was beyond my measure. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster and I could swear I heard it under the water, muted and softened in that strange echo. I tried to move my arms in protest but even that was in vain as Harrison held me down while he continued to fuck me hard with abandon. An all too familiar blackness suddenly surrounded me. My head and body now seemed weightless, sinking. The echo of the sounds under water seemed distant now, fading off beyond reach, like a vanishing whisper, muted by unseen shadows. F A L L I N G . Oh no. Not this again...

"SO HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW EACH OTHER?!?" He yelled, that boom of a voice filling the small shop. It caught us all by surprise. He looked at his son first and then quickly at me as he pushed aggressively into my hole. "Lock that door, son," he said, sternly. The command was back in his voice. Harrison was still in shock staring at his dad who's huge dick was now pummeling my hole. He shook his head and blinked but the situation remained the same as I groaned louder as his father's cock would pull almost all the way out before plunging back inside me, hard and deep. I had been waiting for this fuck for what seemed like an eternity and I wasn't going to let this surprising family situation get in the way of all the sensations I was longing for. Harrison quickly turned around and secured the lock on the shop door. "We're fuck buddies," I stammered in between his thrusts. "Remember that hook-up I told you about earlier?" I tried to look at his reflection in the mirror. "Well it was with him," I nudged my shoulders as if somehow they were pointing to his son. "But then he cancelled on me at the last minute." I tried to straighten up to continue the conversation, but he hit me again unexpectedly with his left hand-WACK!!!-as he plunged balls-deep into me. "Uh yeah Dad," Harrison approached us. "Remember we were supposed to get together tonight after you closed the shop? You didn't show. I kept texting you for the last hour or so but you never replied." Harrison looked around the shop, seeing my parTy kit on the counter. "I even called a few times," he was talking slower now, looking at my overnight travel bag on the floor, the contents of my parTy kit alongside some used razors on the counter, and at us. "...but your damn phone kept going to voicemail." He saw the glass pipe and lifted it, turning it side to side, looking in the bowl, then at us, fucking in the cracked mirror reflection. "What the fuck." Harrison looked at me, my head turned to the side on the chair, trying to follow through in the conversation in this very surreal situation. His father was lost with the biTch and kept fucking me as if this was just what you did when your grown son came for a visit at your place of business. I continued to groan. "So wait a minute...I cancelled on you," he pointed the glass pipe at me as if it were another digit in his left hand. "And he was a no-show," Harrison pointed the pipe at his dad now, "and somehow you BOTH are here and parTyjng?!?" "LIKEWHATDAFUKKK?!?" Now it was Harrison's voice booming in the shop. "Let me try," I started to reply in a broken stance, "...to explain," I groaned again, trying to twist my upper body slightly so I could face Harrison. WACK!!! Another hard slap and this one STUNG bad that I turned away quickly, feeling him push and pull harder, faster, sudden pain wiped away by intense pleasure that I forgot Harrison was even with us. "SHUTDAFUKUP BOYS!!!" His voice was deafening, commanding, controlling. "Harrison it don't matter how we met. I don't even care how you two met! All I care about is this fuckin' amazing manpussy he got and what it is doin' to my dick!" He pushed in hard. "Now quit playin' with that pipe and light it up!" He did as his father commanded. Harrison added a few big shards to the glass pipe. They were too large to fit inside the tiny hole of the top of the bowl so he slid them into the long stem, until they rattled into the bottom curve of the glass bowl, making the tiniest of noises that only I seemed to hear it in my heightened state. I turned my head, staring. He carefully lit it with the torch, rocking the bowl back and forth as his dad was oblivious to all of this, his cock getting harder inside me. I was surveying the situation, lost between the actual sensations of finally being fucked, being so spun from all the booty bumps and incessant cock teasing from earlier, and this bizarre unexpected twist to the summer evening. The bowl transformed from being partially clear to a small sphere of mist, lovely grey and white condensed clouds forming inside. Harrison took slow deep breaths, inhaling carefully as the smoke rapidly moved down the stem and into his mouth. Everything appeared magnified to me as if my eyes had magically adjusted into micro-zoom. I could see details of the bottom of the bowl, partially discolored from previous over-heating. Part of the stem nearest the bowl was caked with dried crystal almost casting it completely that it became opaque. Harrison continued to feed on the pipe, practicing slow inhales that seemed endless. Finally he lowered the pipe and walked over beside us, leaning down near me, grabbing my chin firmly, his face approaching mine, his eyes closing. I turned my head up and our lips met, his soft lips pushed against mine, opening them silently with a gentle force until his mouth completely covered mine. And then the magical mist, unseen, thick and heavy, entered my mouth. I breathed in deeply, so deep and concentrated that I inadvertently contracted my hole for a moment and felt his father's massive thick tool roughly fucking me. It hurt for a second, but only for that mere moment, as the effects of the shotgun smoke started to have effect quickly. Harrison and I exchanged the smoke back and forth several times, slowly, softly. Finally he pulled away from me, my lips parted wider, wanting him back as he stood up, head cocked back, mouth open, as the sinister fog floated from his mouth to the ceiling, almost in slow motion, glowing a faint light green from the fluorescent lighting. "THAT'S MY BOY!!!" He yelled again, startling us. Harrison turned his head suddenly looking at his father. His eyes looked dazed. The bITch was now with the son and the father. He smiled at his dad. It was a mischievous grin that I was all too familiar with having played with him a few times since we met earlier in the spring. The son disappeared in front of me and in his place was my FFuck buddy, standing beside us rubbing his crotch with a growing bulge. "Ain't that manhole special, huh Dad?" Harrison continued to massage his bulge. The earlier sense of shock and surprise in his voice had faded, now replaced by a lazy, soft tone of acceptance. Harrison spoke with a wrapped edge of anticipation. "FUKKKYEAH!!!" His dad replied. "I've been preppin'his hole for the last hour or so. Gettin' your friend here.." WACK!!! Another sudden slap on my ass stung me hard. "...all loose and open to take my Daddy dick! And he sure is a hungry muthafukka!" He pushed in HARD. "Oh fuck yeah," Harrison moaned. He started to peel off his tshirt, tossing it aside, unveiling his body, a slightly lighter toned version of his father, but a bit more muscled and hairier. His chiseled chest was covered in a dense fur of curly black hair with a ripped torso. His face was clean shaven with a strong square jaw resembling his father in many ways except for the fact that he had a shaved head. He kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his jeans, quickly pulling that off with his underwear. He was now completely naked, stroking himself. "Fuck that hole," he said, cheering his father on. The father pushed in harder and with force that my body jerked foreword again. He pulled almost all the way out quickly, and then just as suddenly, dived back inside my hole so deep, that I felt his balls slap against my ass. Hard and fast, hard and fast. His pace continued like this for awhile and my hole and my head were getting so lost in the incredible sensations that the shop seemed to go all dark, covered in shadows, the tint of the green fluorescent lighting fading away. My eyes seemed to be shutting itself slowly in response. And then he pulled almost all the way out again. But instead of plunging back inside my hungry hole, he stayed there with just the head at my entrance. The bulbous uncut head seemed enormous now. He seemed to be pulsing his cock. He wasn't cumming. It was a deliberate motion to get the slightest increase of girth of his dickhead. And I felt every amazing moment of it as my sensations were so heightened. His pulsing of the head and the slight and slow movements of his dick head going in and out of my hole was unbelievable. It was like a sequel to his earlier teasing but now he had gotten my hole accustomed to it that I started to play along, contracting and loosening my hole as he pulsed his dick. We were both groaning. "See how he likes that?" He motioned to his son, almost pulling the head all the way out before he carefully pushed it in my hole, just past the ridge of his uncut head. I opened my eyes and turned, observing Harrison who was now approaching us closer on the chair. He repeated the careful strokes a few more times. "Fuck Dad!" Harrison exclaimed, all excited. I looked at his eyes and recognized thaT hunger inside him. "Look how his manpussy asslips wrap around your cock when you pull out!" Harrison leaned in even closer, his hand reaching over. I looked in the mirror and he started to gently caress my asslips that were all slick with my manhole juice. He licked his fingers and brought it back to us, slowly touching my very sensitive asslips with the tip of his moistened finger, gliding it around, feeling how soft and turned on it was. Harrison licked his fingers. "Fukin' beautiful," his dad declared. And then he pulled out so rapidly that I didn't have to time to adjust to the sudden shock of being empty. He pulled away from me, stepped off the chair base platform and stood up straight on the floor of the shop. It all happened so quickly. I was still staring in the mirror and could see my manhole was so open, like a small mouth, pulsing, like it was trying to speak...begging silently to be filled. Before I could actually say anything, Harrison stepped onto the chair base platform, adjusted himself and pointed his dick at my hole. He pushed slowly at first, that I groaned, both in excitement and silently also in disappointment, my mind flashing in an instant that the son would be like his father and torment me further with more cock teasing. And just as that thought was stretching into some other unspoken mental tangent, Harrison PLUNGED IN HARD. OHFUKYEAHHHHH.... He went in hard and deep, rapid and furious, so fast and rigid that everything that had occurred before with his father seemed like some planned set-up. But I knew that was just the paranoia of the biTch settling in for a moment. I let the thought pass quickly and deliberately as the pounding on my needy manhole took all of mind's attention, the sudden shift of nervous thoughts to excited sensations overwhelming me. "Oh fukkk," Harrison moaned, continuing to pummel me with such force that it looked like an assault in the mirror. His father stepped around us, now holding the glass pipe, carefully lighting it as he observed us in action. "THAT'S MY BOY!!!" He yelled again, then took a deep, slow drag from the stem. He continued to walk around us, smoking from the pipe casually, leaning in every now and then to observe his son's long cock fucking me. And then he was in front of me, leaning in abruptly, his head appearing to grow larger and larger as he neared, his right hand grabbing firm on my head, pulling me to his face, his large mouth consuming mine, a heavy dense smoke exhaling into my lungs. I could only close my eyes. It was the only sense of control I had. His face never disengaged from mine. I exhaled the smoke back to him and he kept it in his lungs for a long moment, my mind wandering, so spun, that time had faded. His mouth was like a vice that I could not separate from him so I instinctively breathed through my nose, taking in rapid breaths, inadvertently pulling the smoke back into my mouth as his son stretched my hole. WACK!!! Another unexpected slap, this time hard on my face that I coughed hard, the thick smoke coming out of my mouth in one large exhale, so thick that his crotch faded behind the clouds. "Stay with us Boy," he commanded, he grabbed my chin with his free hand firmly, staring into my glazed eyes. "The fun is just startin'." WACK!!!

He grabbed me almost violently, yanking on my jock waistband as if it was a leash attached to a pet collar. He pushed and shoved my body forcefully, rearranging my position on the barber's chair, so suddenly, that I hadn't realized I had been standing for a second before I was pushed HARD back on the chair. He manhandled me, arranging my elbows so they were now resting on the seat, my upper body parallel to the cushion, my chest pressed on the leather, my head facing forward. I saw it before I felt it. It was in the mirror a foot or so way from me but it may as well have been a telescopic vision as it looked obscenely large, as if that was even possible. The head seemed fatter and engorged. Had it gotten bigger since it had been in my mouth moments ago? Or how long ago was THAT? The warm still air in the shop, mixed with the scents of our sweaty bodies with the antiseptic and grooming product aromas lingering around us, seemed to be playing tricks on my perception. We both were sweating profusely, beads of perspiration trickling from me, adding another layer of sheen to the worn leather of the chair. I looked at him in the mirror and from my viewing angle, the reflection of his head was cut in the diagonal crack in the glass. His left eye appeared normal, the other eye on the face was off centered with the iris and pupil appearing to be consumed in black. The thick uncut cockhead entered without any restriction. I am not even sure I felt it as my hunger had been building for quite a long time now that I wondered if this was really happening or some deranged wishful thinking. His thick dick slid into my hole, sans spit or other lubrication other than my own natural manhole juice I was creating from my hunger. I turned my gaze from the mirror and tried to balance myself in the forced position on the chair. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at his strange reflection anymore. I wanted to savor the sensation of his thick dick throbbing at my hole, in the blackness of my mind, unobstructed by my visual distractions. My heartbeat seemed to be getting louder as I took a deep breath. "You been askin' for THIS, huh Boy?" The dick head remained where it was at the entrance of my very hungry manhole. "How it feelin'?" "Fuck!" I exclaimed, my eyes still shut. "It feels great! It feels so thick, nice and fat!" I squirmed a little wanting to get more of that shaft inside me. "PUT IT IN!" I yelled, daring him. He grabbed the waistband of my jock, pulling again on them tightly with such FORCE that my back and upper body suddenly jerked. "DON'T BE FUCKIN' TELLIN' ME WHAT TO DO!!!" He yelled angrily. "I told you earlier : you ain't makin' the rules here. YA HEAR?!?" Outside a car on the avenue seemed to swerve as I heard the sounds of tires running hard and violently against the road surface. The summer evening humidity creeped in from the street, under the locked shop door, crawling on the linoleum floor and up the barber"s chair. He yanked hard on my jock again and then with his right hand shoved my upper body forward that my weight crashed on itself, my elbows unfolding, my chest hitting the warm seat of the chair. My left arm slammed against the hard metal side of the chair. A sharp intense pain came over me. I felt his thick cockhead trace against my asslips again and any discomfort I had just experienced seemed to quickly evaporate. He carefully moved his dickhead against my opening, just slowly, up and down, up and down but with a little pressure so it felt as if the bulbous head would enter at any moment. All he had to do was push. But he didn't. Instead he repeated this tease over and over, toying with me. I squirmed as it all felt magnificent. Suddenly, he shoved his thick shaft into me HARD and swift. And as open, as hungry as my hole was, it still took me by surprise, the roughness of the entry mixed with his sudden forcefulness and change of tone. But I didn't care. A feeling of exasperation and fulfillment came over me as if the inner heat from the large booty bump from earlier was finally subsisting, like smoldering sparks of a raging fire finally settling down. But the heat was still there. He stayed in his current position, barely moving. I finally opened my eyes and turned my head to gaze at our reflection. His head was cocked back, his arms extended, holding on to my waistband of my jock. His eyes were closed now and I could see he was muttering under his breath so low, that I barely heared him. I was only aware of it as I saw the slow movement of his thick lips in his reflection. "Muthafukka...muthafukka...," he whispered to himself. There was a slight sensation of rocking as I sensed his thick dick head sliding inside me but barely an inch was entering me, in and out, in and out. My hole was just so sensitive that everything felt MAGNIFIED. I was rolling my head uncontrollably on the chair, the cheek on my face rubbing against the leather. The dampness of my sweat made the leather feel slick. His subtle fucking continued at this slow pace. I was satisfied that he was finally inside me. I looked at the mirror again and was surprised to see most of his thick shaft OUTSIDE of me. The cock head was sliding in and out of my hole, stretching my asslips as he would pull out, the soft flesh swollen and clinging to this thick shaft, sliding in and out. He was b a r e l y in me. And yet I was feeling completely turned on by his limited entry. The thickness of the cock head, his deliberately slower pace, and the constant pushing and pulling at my asslips was providing a new sensation. It was like the stretch when someone was fisting me but less so and yet more intense at the same time. He kept going, slowly, methodically, in some studied rhythm. I kept watching our reflection, impressed at his skill and how he was making my hole feel with just the limited entry. I could sometimes see the edge of his foreskin wrapped tight and pulled back at the rim of his forehead as he pulled out carefully. And then it would disappear as he would plunge back into my willing and hungry hole. Whatever fire that had been subsiding earlier seemed to slowly creep back in as the effect of the booty bump would rise and fall, like a tide washing in. The engorged dark shaft appeared larger again. The heat in the shop and inside me from all the drugs were all playing with my perception. The fact that his cock was only partially inside with just the head carefully going in and out made his shaft appear longer in the mirror. It was like a camera trick and yet what I was experiencing between my legs only seemed to substantiate it. His skill made my hole so content and filled, even if it was only a few inches of his bulbous cockhead entering me. I didn't want it to end, it felt so good. I could have stayed in this position forever. The shaft pushed and pulled slowly, quickly, slowly again and then VIOLENTLY. Every now and then he would shove HARD all the way inside me. My body would jerk forward by the sudden assault, the shock and surprise of the feeling of his mass and volume completing me. And before I could really savor it, before I could relax my inner muscles of my hole to let him gain more entry, before I could mentally visualize it all inside me-he would pull out quickly. "How's that special pussy feelin' now?" He suddenly spoke, the deep voice penetrating the silence and warm, still air in the room. He pushed in carefully and pulled out in the same fashion. I moaned. It was all I could utter in response. He lunged in HARD again, shoving my upper body forward on the chair. I caught my breath, but barely had time to feel his thickness and mass inside me again before he suddenly pulled all the way out. He retreated so quickly and violently that if felt more criminal that he would leave me so empty, so void. The unexpected emptiness was almost painful as my manhole pulsed from the shock, my heart beat coming back in a loud drum, louder and louder as if it was a soundtrack to the sudden turn of events. I looked in the mirror. My face couldn't conceal my silent disappointment, my hunger. He pulled away from the chair and grabbed the poppers bottle that he had set aside earlier on the counter. "Get up Boy!" He commanded. I took a deep breath and slowly applied pressure on my arms to push me upwards from the chair. I took another careful, deep breath. My heart was beating faster and faster. I swear the sound was thundering in the room. His left arm suddenly grabbed me by my jock waistband as he helped me off the chair. I stood in front of him, trying to regain my balance from the change of position and dizziness. "Get that broom and dustpan," he motioned to one corner of the shop. What?" I was puzzled, confused and still dizzy. "You heard me Boy." I walked to the corner, leaned down to the floor and grabbed the dustpan with my left hand and stood straight and grabbed the broom with my other arm. I looked at him, still bewildered. "Now get over here and get on your knees and sweep all that mess of your hairs around us." "You can't be serious," I instinctively replied, almost sarcastically. He suddenly stepped forward and slapped me HARD with his free hand. It happened so fast and unexpectedly that I dropped the dustpan, the metal banged on the floor and seemed to echo for a moment until it was enveloped by the air in the room that seemed to be getting hotter and hotter. In between us, on the ceiling, the fluorescent light snapped away again, almost on cue to that moment, the lighting in the room getting dimmer in an instant. "I ain't gonna tell you twice," he said slowly, sternly. I looked at him, almost angry, my heartbeat getting louder and louder. He wasn't smiling or moving. I looked at his thick uncut shaft, still erect and glistening from my hole's juices. I saw the firmness in his stare so I bent down again, this time with my whole body, kneeling on the linoleum floor, collecting the dustpan with my left hand and holding the broom with my other. "You know what to do," he instructed. This wasn't easy. For one, I was very high. Whatever fire I had inside me seemed to have been quickly reignited with the unexpected slap on my face. It still stung on my cheek, his sudden explosion on me. But it burned even more in the emptiness between my legs. I bent forward with my upper body so it was angled lower to the floor with my legs spread wide for balance as my arms tried to sweep the tiny black needles of my clipped hair that was scattered all around us. I couldn't use my arms to support my balance so I spread my legs further, using the weight of my lower body for support, my ass in the air. I heard him step behind me. I was too low now. I didn't have the advantage of the mirrors around us to observe the situation at this level. He paced around me as I could only see his bare legs and his big feet still wearing the beat-up sneakers. I saw the base of the barber's chair behind me and the other chairs around us. Somehow the light from the ceiling didn't seem to penetrate down this deep so the room from this perspective seemed darker, dirtier. He continued to step around me slowly until he was behind me. And then he bent down and I felt part of his large mass and weight of his upper body on my back. "I want those floors spotless," he leaned into my side, whispering in my right ear. Suddenly his hands were around my head, one hand holding the poppers under my nostrils. "You know what to do," he repeated. I breathed deep, deeper than I thought possible. And as alarmed as I was from his unexpected assault earlier, I still wanted to please him. He positioned the bottle under the left nostril, then the right. My breaths were long and focused. And then he placed the bottle one last time on the left side again. I took an even larger breath and inhaled as long as I could as my heart seemed to want to come out of my chest. I felt as if I was spinning even more as my head, now lower to the floor, seemed to accentuate the chemical fumes entering me. His weight on my back released itself from me as he positioned himself behind me. I heard him take his own deep, long breaths from the bottle and then a sound that made me realize he was inhaling the sharp, nasty air into his mouth. I heard him quickly seal the cap and set the bottle aside on the floor. "Sweep, Boy!" He yelled, his voice suddenly muffled as his mouth enveloped my hole, his hands at my ass cheeks, pulling them apart obscenely wide as he exhaled the poppers into my burning hole. It was like throwing a lit match into a pool of gasoline. My hole erupted in a new layer of heat, hunger and anticipation. I tried to do as he commanded but it was impossible. The haze of my earlier poppers intake, my body angle made me even more dizzy and unbalanced, and this new sensation on my manhole was too much to bear. I was trying to please him but regardless of how I tried I could barely get any of the mess of tiny hairs on the floor in the dustpan. One moment I would manage to push the broom to collect and push the tiny shreds of hair. The next moment, my daze and condition would take over me and I would spill the contents back on the floor making more of a mess. "Muthafukka...," he muttered, in between breaths, his tongue diving deep into my my now even, hungrier hole. Beads of sweat rained down from my head to the floor. How was it that it was hotter down at this level? Wasn't heat supposed to rise? Or maybe it was : from my head to my ass that was higher in my kneeling position. I was sweating so much that miniature pools were being created on the floor surface, my tiny black hairs floating and gliding around in the perspiration. The hairs appeared to multiply and take over the tiny lakes of sweat on the floor, almost like the blackness consuming his eyes from earlier. He devoured my manhole. He was like a madman speaking an unintelligible language in between my ass. The poppers we had shared was hitting me hard. My upper body-angled lower on the floor-only accentuated the intense dizziness and floating experience I was going through. And of course there was the massive booty bump from earlier and his uncut cockhead teasing that seemed to have gone on for an eternity that added to whatever I was now feeling. It was as if everything he did was some prolonged extra-sensory experience, some expected and heightened more than I was used to, and some completely unexpected, unscripted. I only wanted more. His fat tongue glided slowly up inside my hole. I could feel the thick tip of it enter me, licking on my upper manhole wall. There was a rough coarseness to his tongue that I could sense that contrasted to the soft, moist textures of the inside of my manhole. All my sensations seemed so heightened that I wasn't surprised I could fathom this. And then the tongue would exit, yet continue to lick away, the roughness sliding along the freshly shaved smooth skin around my pulsing manhole. There was the addition of his beard which was surprisingly stiff and bristling. It felt like a rake against my hole. Every movement of his mouth around my hole would illicit a mix of sharp intense prickling pain like hundreds of tiny needles stabbing my sensitive shaved skin. His saliva was mixing with the layer of sweat in between my hole and balls causing so much moistness I could feel it run down my inner thighs, thin rivers of sex sliding down my legs, connecting with the pools of our perspiration on the floor, my tiny black shreds of hairs sailing on the surface. And then he would pull his tongue into his mouth for a moment, wetting it with more with his saliva. His entire mouth would consume my hole and he would suck on it slowly. He sucked with a gentle force to create a vacuum. And then he would release it quickly so that a puckering sound, moist and wet, would come from between my legs. And then he would kiss my hole again with that big mouth and suck some more, creating the vacuum again and release it as suddenly as it had started. He repeated this over and over, the smack and wet noises getting louder, nastier, almost like a sordid rhythm. My manpussy was singing. It was driving me crazy with the dizziness in my head from everything. And just as I was really getting into the intense sensations, his tongue and mouth would suddenly retreat. It was like he knew I was riding on the feeling, almost at its peak, and just before I would hit that high note he would suddenly stop. It felt deliberate. It felt calculated. It felt fucking great. His hands would pull my ass further apart like he was tying to rip me in half. My hole felt wider, bigger. His fat tongue would invade me again. Harder, tougher, pushing with force to gain more entry. The fat, rough tongue would suddenly lap at my burning manhole, furiously flicking at such a pace that every lick felt like a moist stabbing at my hole. I was shaking uncontrollably from the over-stimulation. He was groaning as he ate my manhole, muttering under his breath. "Muthaaa..." The fat tongue would lap rapidly on my hole. "...fukkaaaa...." The tongue would dive deeper, harder. It was too much. I was on hyper-stimulation overload. I dropped the dustpan, the loud clanging of the metal hitting the floor rang in the shop. Little black hairs littered the floor. "WHAT THE..." His mouth pulled away from my hole, his hands pushing away from me. I turned my head slightly to see him suddenly kneel straight up, pulling away from my backside. "DIDN'T I SAY TO CLEAN THIS MESS?!?" His voice boomed in the space. SLAP!!! The sudden sting of his hand hitting my ass took me by surprise. He hit me with such force that my body jerked forward slightly from the assault. SLAP!!! Another swing on my other cheek. My heartbeat was back in the forefront, the rhythm beating faster, louder. The residue of the slaps on my ass burned. I sensed the heat building again as my manhole was left vacant of any activity. It seemed to protest the lack of tongue, dick, and fingers by burning more intensely. "Look at this fuckin' mess!" He complained, getting up now and circling around me. I adjusted my upper body, lifting it from its current lowered position. Suddenly I felt his right foot on my head, the dirty beat-up sneaker pushing on me. "Did I say you could stand up, Boy?" His foot applied more pressure, pushing my head lower and lower to the floor. I could not speak. The burning between my legs was getting more intense that I couldn't comprehend a reply. I nodded my head slightly in response as he continued to apply pressure with his foot, my head so low now that my left cheek was brushing against a pool of perspiration on the floor that was covered with my shredded black hairs. "You disappoint me Boy!" He removed his foot from my head and I heard him walk around me, kicking the broom away from us as it banged against one of the barber chairs and resettled against the corner floor. I lifted my head slightly, careful to not offend him. I so wanted to please him so he could continue with my burning, needy manhole. He lunged forward unexpectedly, his left foot now on my head, pressure applying itself until my face was again at the floor. I groaned. I was hating it and loving it at the same time. My manhole pulsed from the excitement. He grabbed the dustpan away from me and suddenly released his foot from my head. I exhaled a deep breath and turned my gaze silently watching him approach the counter, the dustpan in one hand, his thick uncut monster cock swaying as he moved. I tried not to look. I didn't want him hitting me again although the sudden assaults did excite me. I could feel my hole pulsing, needy for his attention. I heard water running from the shampoo sink station and wondered what he was doing. The water shut off and from my angle I could see he was approaching the counter. He was fumbling through my parrTy kit. He approached me again, the dirty best-up sneakers were now near my head. "You stay right there, Boy," he instructed. His right foot lifted and settled on my head again, more pressure this time that the side of my face was pushed to the linoleum surface, my cheek flattening parallel to the floor. He stood over me, his feet facing my shoulders, leaning forward as he bent down, getting on top of me so that his heavy cock and balls were resting on the back of my neck. I could smell the mustiness between his legs and my hole pulsed some more. He squatted over me as the mass and weight of his body pushed me further onto the floor. I felt one of his hands grab at my ass, roughly pulling my cheek aside. "What a fuckin' beautiful shaved pussy you got there," he said, proud of his work. I felt a new pressure on my manhole. It was thick and heavy and it was going inside me slowly, methodically. I was still dizzy and all his weight on me wasn't helping to comprehend the situation. I knew it wasn't his dick since his body was turned around in its current position. Like -WTF!?! And then I felt the BURN. O H F U C K. He was giving me YET another booty bump. Was he intentionally planning to get me so spun that I would be out of control? Clearly I had already went past that point much earlier. My head was crunched on the floor. My face was itching from the tiny needles of my trimmed hair that was now sticking to my cheek, my chin. I wanted so much to scratch my face yet I couldn't move as the BURNING between my legs only intensified. I stared across the room trying to gather some focus, some sense of normalcy to the situation that was far from normal. And all I could see across from me were shadows setting itself against the corner and slowly approaching, covering the shop further in the dimmed lighting. The mass and volume at my hole pressed in further, pushing the burn of the booty bump deeper. It was thick and felt wet and cold. As it got in deeper, the girth decreased so that any earlier tension dissipated. But yet the burning MAGNIFIED. I closed my eyes, the weight of his lower body seemed heavier on my head. I could feel his thick hard-on throbbing even more on the back of my neck. I now realized he had coated the tip of the rubber handle of the dustpan with Tina that he was pushing slowly into my hungry, burning hole. "FUCKIN' BEAUTIFUL!!!" He shouted unexpectedly. He pushed the handle of the dustpan carefully into my hole. And then he would pull it out at the same pace. He repeated this over and over, taking his time, playing with the rhythm, the speed, the pressure. I was groaning louder uncontrollably, the intensity of what was happening mixed with the continuing graduation of the Tina burning further inside my tunnel. As he pulled out the widest part of the handle would dilate on my hole, the sense of the stretching so dramatic it was causing me to hallucinate, my mind running away from me, visualizing some other scene of a crater expanding in slow motion, a surreal pictorial metaphor inside my head. Waves of heat and fire exploded inside me. Suddenly everything took on a hyper level. The darkness seemed to dance around the room, shadows jumping from one corner to the next, one minute near my face that was still smashed on the floor, the next on the wall, the ceiling. The flickering of the fluorescent lighting above us now seemed to be occurring faster and faster, further adding to my questionable state of mind. My senses were ultra-heightened. I could hear traffic screeching outside the barber shop and the thunderous pace of pedestrians pacing on the sidewalk with my ear to the ground. My heartbeat seemed deafening. The aroma of the shop also took on another level that my nostrils burned from the chemical fog I seemed to be inhaling. And in between my legs I could only feel s a t I s f a c t I o n. He pushed and pulled the dustpan handle so hard and rapid on my manhole that I could barely catch my breath. The quick contraction and dilation of my hole was almost too much to comprehend. One moment I was in ecstasy. I wanted to savor it, to allow the glow of the sensation to pause inside my head. But he would not even allow that. Instead he would pull the handle out violently and abruptly, so fast that it was wrenching. It was another kind of burn and I would jerk from the assault in a mix of pain and unexpected pleasure. I bit my lip so hard I ripped the soft skin, tasting a little of my blood. He pushed in hard again, the massive girth of the handle expanding my hole. It felt like one of my thicker toys. He shook the dustpan so that the handle jerked left and right, up and down, violently inside me. The massive amount of Tina inside my hole only heightened the feeling. It should have hurt but the fire inside was tinting all my sensations that I only wished the handle were thicker and longer! I groaned louder, my face rubbing against the floor, more tiny hairs collecting on my cheek. He pushed harder and I felt the wide tip of the handle sink inside me, a momentarily glorious pain as the widest part pushed against my manhole. And then it was was just a feeling of being filled as the entire handle was in my hole. He started banging on the flat surface of the dustpan gently at first, then adding gradual pressure as if he was drumming on it, the vibrations echoing inside my tunnel. The tip of the handle was near my prostate so every time he would bang on the dustpan it would send a tiny shockwave inside me. He would bang hard then gradually less pressure and then build it back up again. The decrease it. Then increase it. The vibrations were maddening and random. I could feel precum leaking out of me as if he was milking me. Precum fell to the floor and mixed with the lakes of perspiration on the linoleum surface. And then suddenly he jumped off my body, pulling the handle out of my hole. He yanked it out so fast that it hurt. But it was a magnificent pain like a large wide cock violently pulling out of a furious fuck. I yelled uncontrollably wanting it back inside me. "GET UP!" He shouted. I was shaking, but not from his command, but from everything else: the drugs inside me, the emptiness between my legs and the heat in the shop that seemed to only increase, like my hunger. I took a deep breath as my heartbeat suddenly became evident again, drumming louder and louder like some dub step rhythm rising from under the floorboards. I inhaled deep and exhaled deeper and mentally tried to calm myself. "GET UP I SAID!" S L A P !!! FUCKING HELL! That last strike really hit me this time. The weight and force and suddenness felt like a hot pan scorching on my ass cheek. It stung so bad it momentarily distracted my mind from the hunger and emptiness in between my legs. I took another deep breath and slowly, carefully stood up, turning slightly to him and seeing my crazed reflection in the cracked mirror. I looked deranged. Tiny black hairs were randomly stuck on my face, my chin and somehow my upper body. I looked very, very high. I looked at him standing at arm's length away from me. He looked equally high if not higher. His thick uncut cock was still standing at attention. Suddenly he threw the dustpan across the room where it hit one of the other chairs, banging against the metal surface of the thick base, the clanging echoing in the room for a moment until it fell loudly on the floor, swallowed by the shadows. It caught me by surprise, distracting me. And then I looked at his cock and back at my reflection in the mirror. Nice haircut. I smiled at him and looked deep into his eyes. The blackness that had consumed his iris earlier had faded and I could make out the color of his eyes. He almost smiled at me. "Get back on the chair." He wasn't yelling at me now. He turned the chair so it was in profile again in the mirror and pulled on the side crank as the chair lowered itself by a few inches. I climbed on, setting my ass on the seat. "No-not like that," he grabbed my right arm and pulled me off the seat, manhandling me again with force, turning my body around, guiding me, so that I was facing the back of the chair, my knees bent and kneeling at the seat, my legs spread wide so that they hit the edge of the chair arms, my ass hanging over the seat. "Beautiful," he said, proudly. I turned my head slightly and gazed in the mirror. My ass cheeks looked slightly bruised from the earlier slapping. My hole looked red and puffy. Was that blood on my asslips? Or was it some imagined paranoia setting in? I couldn't tell as everything seemed over-saturated as if this was a Photoshop image with the color levels artificially adjusted. My heart beat louder and louder. He stepped onto the chair, standing on the platform base that was elevated off the floor surface. He faced me, his hard uncut cock pointing at my hungry hole. I took a deep breath. Finally he was going to really fuck me! Out of nowhere we both heard jingling with the lock of the shop door from the outside. We stared at each other silently for a moment, my head cranked awkwardly, as the door pushed in, opening unexpectedly, the blinds on the inside of the glass door rattling. A man stepped inside. He was concealed in the darkness of the shadows at the entrance of the shop, his face indistinguishable. But I could make out his silhouette. He was tall with wide shoulders and a shaved head. He looked very fit. He stepped in quickly, the door slamming shut behind him as his features became more visible in the dim lighting. "HARRISON?!?" The barber and I shouted TOGETHER. We looked at each other for an instant of shock and then at the man, stunned that we BOTH knew him. "DAD?!?" He looked as equally surprised as we did. And then he gulped and said my name, almost in a whisper, suddenly recognizing me, squatting on the chair, my hole pulsing uncontrollably as his father's bulbous uncut cockhead entered my burning hole.

I looked at him directly, staring into his eyes with a new hunger. He just smiled back at me, almost silently mocking my vulnerability, my need, my anticipation. I scooted down in the chair further, the leather cracking under me, as I pushed my ass over the edge of the seat further, pulling on both my legs further back, my hands supporting them tightly under the thighs. He stepped forward, grabbing his now very hard cock with his right hand, as he stroked it, pulling on the foreskin so that the thick, bulbous head would appear and disappear, almost winking at me, teasing me. "You wantin' some of this Boy?" I looked at his eyes and then at the head of his dick. I nodded. I think I heard myself groan. "What was that?" He took a half step back. "Y-y-yes," I stuttered, nervously, pulling my legs further back and apart. "Yes...Fuck it." "WATCHA say, Boy?" "Fuck it...please," I begged. He smiled and stepped forward slightly, pleased with himself for commanding the situation. He grabbed the chair suddenly and applied pressure on one side so it swiveled clockwise so quickly that I almost lost my balance in my current position. He looked in the cracked mirror over the counter and adjusted the chair back a little bit in the other direction so that we were both in profile in the reflection. He stepped forward again and yanked on the side lever, cranking it up and down a few times until the chair lowered itself a few inches. He stepped forward aiming the thick cock at my manhole and examined the reflection. "Oh yeah," I whimpered. "Please. Put it in!" I looked at the reflection also, pulling my legs further back and apart. He inched closer so that I felt the thick head brush against the outside of my asslips. I closed my eyes and moaned uncontrollably. "You likin' that, huh?" He shifted the cock head a bit, still on the outside of my manhole, brushing against it, up and down, up and down. He pushed the head in just s l i g h t l y as I felt the massive head spread my asslips with a little pressure. I felt a new moistness, his precum lubricating my hungry hole so that it started to feel slick and wet. I moaned even more. "I guess you likin' it then," he replied for me. "But you ain't ready yet." He pulled back suddenly and my hole closed up slowly from the emptiness. I moaned in regret. "Need to get that special pussy of yours really wantin' THIS!" He shook his thick, uncut shaft, taunting me as we both stared in the mirror. I looked puzzled in my reflection. He turned abruptly and grabbed my parTy bag and fished around inside. "This what I THINK it is?" he asked, waving my contact lens case. "Yeah," I replied, grabbing my legs tighter. "It's Tina but grounded into a fine powder." "Perfect," he smiled at me, unscrewing one of the caps. "Just what I was lookin' for." He licked his right index finger (which was massive in itself) and dipped into the container. The tip of his finger was coated heavily with the white magical dust. The Tina covered his finger like a miniature trimmed white glove in contrast to his dark skin. There was so much dust that I couldn't recall if I had ever had such a large booty bump. This was going to B U R N. "I want to make that special pussy sing," he said, examining his finger and then glancing at my hole. The annoying fluorescent light behind us suddenly snapped again, almost punctuating his declaration. I pulled on my legs tighter. He approached slowly, the finger pointing to the ceiling, almost as if he was holding a gun, ready to shoot. "You ready, Boy?" He looked at me perversely. I replied by pulling my legs further apart. "This gonna sting..." He approached as his hand descended to my hole, almost in slow motion. I glanced at the mirror as the Tina-dusted finger found my hole and dug in quickly. "Uhhhhh..." I moaned in satisfaction and in slight pain. He fed me with so much crystal that it seemed to be lining my colon from my hole and further deep inside. It was like a hot lava rolling inside me rapidly, causing tingling and familiar sensations but heightened to a new level. Everything that the Tina dust touched immediately burned. I was on fire and I didn't want it to be extinguished. "Let's let it cook in there," he said into my reflection, winking at me. His finger never left my hole. Instead he rotated it, clockwise at first, applying a firm pressure against my asswall. It burned with every movement. I bit my lip. And then he would turn that thick digit counter-clockwise, making sure to evenly coat my hungry tunnel with whatever Tina dust was still on that finger. I moaned. He continued, slowly fucking that finger in and out, in and out, but never removing it completely so that my hunger continued to build. I felt a sudden mass and couldn't figure out what he was doing as I looked in the mirror again. "You likin' that huh?" He seemed to announce, again pleased with himself. He pulled the finger out almost all the way from my hole that I saw he had curled the finger inside me for extra mass and volume. And then he pushed back in. I closed my eyes. His finger did a dance inside that seemed like forever. He pushed, pulled and turned and did other countless moves, continuing to tease my hole. I was now moaning uncontrollably as the fire inside ignited to a new level, burning hotter and hotter than I have ever felt before. My heart was beating faster that I thought I could hear it. The heat was intense as was my hunger. "Please," I whimpered. "Put it in!" "You ain't ready until I say so," he stated. He leaned close to me and turned his body slightly. "I wanna hear that special pussy sing." He leaned in and kissed me hard, his large lips enveloping mine so suddenly that I almost lost my breath. I inhaled through my nose. Breathing seemed strangely difficult as my heart beat became more rapid and louder. It was the massive booty bump having its effect. I had never been this high so intensely and so quickly. It was alarming. It was exciting. I inhaled through my nose again and let his fat tongue invade my mouth and kissed him back, licking his lips, his teeth, his mouth. We both groaned. I felt a new pressure on my hole. He continued to kiss me, my eyes still closed, enjoying the heightened sensation and the near panic that seemed to be creeping behind me. My heart beat faster and faster. He had two of his fingers inside my hole which was still on fire. The additional pressure eased up as my very hungry hole swallowed his digits. They twirled inside me in every which way, loosening me up, getting me open, hungry. "PUT IT IN!" I yelled, surprised at myself. He stepped back and looked at me sternly. "You like being in control huh, boy? Well let me tell you somethin'. This ain't no booty call. This ain't your spot." He paused and looked around the room. "Remember-you came into MY shop. I make the rules. You got me Boy?" His fingers did a dance inside my hole. He knew he had me. I nodded silently, obediently. The darkness of the early evening crept into the shop as what little natural light left outside faded quickly. The room took on another shade of green, as if the saturation level had been diminished, clouding the room in a subtle vignette of thin shadows at the edges. He suddenly pulled his fingers out. I looked at him in the mirror, dazed, puzzled, selfish in my need to be filled. The emptiness in my hole with its inner fire was maddening. All I could think of was some part of him inside me. NOW. "Put your legs down," he commanded. "You rest for a minute. I don't want you worn out." He turned around towards the counter, reaching for the glass pipe. "We barely started, Boy." He fed the pipe with more Tina and lit it up, slowly cooking it until it was ready. I exhaled a deep breath as my legs came down on the side of the chair. "Relax Boy," he commanded again. "You were getting tense there before. Definitely don't want that." I eased into the chair and slowly pulled myself up to sit a little bit straighter. My heart continued to race, pounding and pounding. I watched him take a big, deep hit from the pipe several times. Then he fished into my overnight bag again, juggling the contents around until he found something. He held a small brown bottle and smiled, handing it to me. He took another big hit from the glass pipe, held it and then set it aside on the counter. He approached me, leaning into me, taking my hand holding the poppers which he steered towards my mouth. He unscrewed the top and aimed the bottle at my lips and silently nodded, commanding me. I took a big, deep breath of a hit as he quickly sealed the bottle. Suddenly his mouth was over mine, exhaling the magic smoke into my lungs, chasing the popper hit. HOLY SHIT! That was a new shotgun experience! The poppers hit my head and made my heart beat faster and faster. I had to shake my head a little from the effect. His face was still on top of me as his eyes stared intensely into mine. Our lips were locked as was our gaze. His pupils appeared to be gradually getting larger, darker, as if they were consuming his irises. Then they would recede slowly, almost back to their original sizes. But before they would hit the origin point they would suddenly enlarge again at a slightly increased speed. Then suddenly, shrink again in some strange rhythm that I couldn't tell if he was somehow silently communicating to me in some new form. I shook my head quickly, shaking it, confused, bewildered, f l y i n g, as the Tina smoke now started to hit me with the haze of poppers. I exhaled back a huge breath and he swallowed my air as his pupils receded to their original size. He pushed away from me, his head and body, retracting rapidly, his large frame silhouetted against the fluorescent green light that appeared behind him on the ceiling, the darkness of his skin taking on a sharp yet faint edge cast by the overhead haze. He exhaled and two fingers found their way into my hole. His head turned slowly at an angle, his right chin lowering itself asymmetrically as he studied my face. I think my mouth was slightly a gape. I wasn't sure. His face was a further distance from mine now. It seemed far away. I couldn't see his pupils anymore or judge their size. His head turned in the other direction as I realized four fingers had been caressing my hole. "I think your pussy is ready to sing." He appeared in focus, sharp. His eyes were all black.

Fuck it. It was late Saturday afternoon and I had just finished running some last-minute errands getting stuff to keep me hydrated for that evening's play session with a FFuckbud in Bushwick. I was a little behind schedule and felt rushed, sweating from the late summer humidity and sexual anticipation. It was a warm day and I was wearing a t-shirt with cut-off sleeves, shorts and sneakers. I took a deep breath to relax as I waited for the Über car to arrive. I stared at my phone screen: the app displayed the driver was a few minutes away. He was kinda hot from the thumbnail image of his profile. OINK! Buzz. My phone vibrated as the screen display got interrupted as a text came in. HIM: SORRY baby. Can't host tonight after all. Something came up. Have to cancel. Fuck it. I texted him back quickly. ME: Dang that sucks. HIM: I know!!! Was really looking forward 2 PNP and getting @ that pussy of urs. ME: K. Another time then. HIM: I'll make it up 2 u next time I CYU. ME: L8R. I was already cleaned out and just a little buzzed. I smoked a little bowl while getting ready earlier to get me in the mood. It was enough to get my manhole hungry. He is one of my regular fuckbuds. I hate it when they cancel as the last thing I want to do is go online and take a risk with someone new. I like playing with the few regular buds I have. We have great connection and they know how to make my insatiable hole feel great. And I give it back in return. Except not tonight apparently. I stared at my phone screen. Now what? I thought to myself. Should I contact another bud at this last minute? Go online and risk searching for someone new? That seemed desperate (well I was sorta...). FUCK IT. I cancelled the Über car. I shook my head cursing at myself. I had a bag of protein and energy drinks in one hand and my phone on the other. Beside me, I had a small overnight travel bag that had some of my favorite toys, various lube and grease, poppers, and my toiletry bag parTy kit. All that preparation for nothing. I looked around me at the storefronts on the block. I live in an area of north Brooklyn that is historically more African American. But that is rapidly changing as it gentrifies year by year as the a new influx of people move in (myself included), priced out of Manhattan and other areas of northwest Brooklyn. I see a barber shop across the street. Hmm...time for a cut, I think to myself. If I can't play, I may as well get a haircut. I usually go to my barber in the East Village but I sure wasn't going there tonight. It had been a few weeks since my last cut and I like to keep my hair short and buzzed fresh. I was overdue. I placed my phone in my shorts pocket, picked up the overnight bag and crossed the street. Some aashole hipster almost ran into me on a Ciibike, oblivious to jaywalkers ruling the street. I cursed at him as he sped by, not hearing me with his headphones on. I was still spitting at the air when I got in front of the barbershop. It was about to close, totally empty except for one lone barber. I entered. "Hey," I greeted him, walking in. "How's it going? Can you do one more today?" The barber looked me up and down quickly as he was putting some equipment away. "It's late." It almost sounded like a complaint. He looked at me appearing to size me up. The barber was in his mid to late 50's, a tall dark, black man with short, buzzed cut hair and a trim beard that had a light salt and pepper pattern. He was about 6'3" and I guessed around 225 lbs of solid man. He looked like a coach for a high school athletic team. He had a handsome face in a rugged way with an impressive squared-off jawline that was framed with a short beard. He was wearing a dark green, button-down short sleeve shirt that served him like a uniform and was snug on his upper body. The top two buttons were undone and I could see short bristles of salt and pepper hair lightly covering his chiseled chest. He was wearing dark blue sweatpants that were a little loose. I couldn't help but notice that he had impressively large feet in his black beat-up sneakers. I could read that he was in good shape for his age. "I just need a buzz cut." My hair was about a half-inch long, too long for my taste. "You can do me quick: in-and out." I smiled at him. "Cool?" He moved towards me then passed my side heading to the storefront windows. "I am just about to close," he announced as he shut off the air conditioner. His voice had a deep weight with an after-tone of a subtle bass. I liked how he sounded. He adjusted the old blinds at the windows, lowering them one by one as the narrow shop got darker. He looked me up and down again. I noticed some pause with his gaze. "I will do you," he said, locking the door and lowering the last shade on the inside of the door. The shop was darker now, cut off visibly from the outside. The small shop had old fluorescent light bars overhead in three parallel rows casting a greenish glow to the room. His dark skin took on another sheen with the absence of natural light from the outdoors. One length of the light on the farthest right ceiling row was flicking on and off, shorting itself randomly, casting stranger highlights on both of us that would materialize and then quickly disappear. "You're in luck, Boy," he finally smiled. I liked that he called me Boy. Was he flirting with me as he read me visually again (or so I thought)? Or was I just horny from my now defunct evening's anticipation? "You're my last customer." He walked into the shop towards one of the corners. "I'll take you." He washed his hands at a corner sink for shampooing customers. He dried them off thoroughly. Nice forearms, I thought; they were thick and solid. "Put your bags down by that last chair," he instructed in that deep tone, pointing to a beat-up leather barber chair. "Sit down." I walked towards the corner, setting the overnight bag down. I placed my plastic grocery bag on the linoleum-tiled floor. The contents fell out, imbalanced and tossed around. My drinks rolled around our feet. "You goin' to do some major exercise or somethin' tonight?" He peered at me and then the various drinks scattered on the floor. "Yeah," I laughed as I looked up at him. "You could say that," I paused. "...special exercises." I knelt down, gathering the various bottles and placing them carefully back in the bag. "They help keep me going." He was now standing beside me, near the counter, getting some of his barber tools out of several small cabinets. I couldn't help but stare at his crotch as it was just a few inches from my face. He turned slightly, opening another cabinet to get some clippers so he was in profile from my viewpoint. WHOA! Nice bulge! There was something definitely in those dark sweatpants. I couldn't stop looking at it, that inner buzz inside me from earlier triggered itself ON. "You done yet?" He looked down at me, a tight smile on his face. "Sit down on the chair and let's get this started." I got up and sat down on the barber chair. It was an old-skool shop; probably from the late 80's when the neighborhood was a lot rougher. I got myself comfortable on the chair which looked like an antique at this point. The leather was well worn on the seat and it crackled as I adjusted myself, straightening my back. There were mirrors all around us at each chair station. There were six chairs in the shop in total, three at each side, with just a little walk space in the center of the narrow shop. You could see your reflection from one side of the room to the other into infinity as the mirrors on each side of the shop reflected on itself. The mirrors were a bit faded, well past their time; some were cracked, including the one in front of us, a hairline fracture that ran diagonally from mid-center on the left side up to the right corner of the glass surface. If I turned slightly, my head appeared split and off-register. The cabinets surrounding the mirrors at each chair station were covered in black Formica, the edges a bit frayed. There was a scattering of photos all around each station displaying men's hairstyles from old to current trends. I looked across from me and observed his personal photos taped around the mirror. A few were with his wife (I presumed) from different eras. He maintained a great body regardless of the decade. I noticed the wife in older photos but only solos of him or with male friends as he got older. There was a photo of him without a shirt, I am guessing from the last decade, probably on some island vacation, showing off his chiseled chest. HOT! I could feel myself starting to sweat slightly. He grabbed a long sheet of white tissue paper from one of the frayed tiny cabinets in front of us flanking the large mirror. I watched our reflection as he proceeded to get ready, folding the tissue as he walked behind me. He wrapped the tissue around my neck and tucked it into my T-shirt collar. He did this quietly as he looked deep into my eyes in the mirror. I watched him in return, also silent. I sensed we were both assessing the situation and measuring each other. I couldn't quite get a read on him. He was making me nervous. He was making me horny. I looked at those forearms again. They were large and thick, a light tangle of dark hair blended with his skin tone. I saw some tattoos on his right arm that I hadn't noticed before. They were faded and old, the black ink almost blending with his dark skin tone. The designs gave away their age as they were soft and fuzzy, the edges blurred by time and unsaid experiences. He reached for a dark sheet that was folded at the edge of the chair arm. He snapped it in the air suddenly, startling me as it sounded louder than it probably was, my senses already heightened. He unfolded it and draped it over me. It was a thin polyester sheet and it created a second skin over my crotch and upper body. He fastened it around my neck methodically. His large hands then rested on my shoulders, brushing the sheet into place. His palms seemed to be wiping away the creases so that the draping of the sheet over my upper body was even and centered. His hands had a weight to them that felt solid and heavy. Impressive. Masculine. Sexy. His fingertips applied a little pressure to the front of my shoulders for a mere moment, a slight massage. I moaned. Fuck it-that felt good! His right hand lifted in the air and disappeared behind my head in the reflection as our eyes met again and traced each other. The palm of that hand now brushed the back of my neck and ran up and down the back of my head, feeling my hair lightly as if we was barely touching it, running up and down, up and down, slowly, gently, almost sensually. It was if he was studying my hair, its texture, softness, healthiness. But his touch seemed to graze over me longer than professionally expected, unmeasured seconds that bordered into inappropriate movements. I moaned a little more, almost embarrassed at my obviousness. "Whatcha want, Boy?" Finally he spoke. The tone was now almost gentle, but just a bit, a decipherable difference I caught in comparison to his not-so-friendly greeting when I had entered earlier. The deep voice seemed to echo for a few seconds in the small, empty shop. Outside the light was getting fainter as the sun had set quickly as the late afternoon stepped into the early summer evening. The broken fluorescent light bar behind us flickered like a signal as if it were announcing the passing of the day. "Just a buzz cut," I stammered in my reply. His large hand ran over the top of my head again, rapidly this time. "What you take? 1.5? 2?" He looked at me. "Huh?" I was puzzled. "What do you mean?" "Clippers. Razor guard size," he answered. "Oh. I think it's usually a 2." I inadvertently brought my hand up to the top of my head as If to measure my hair and our hands touched for a second. He looked at me in the mirror. "Then my regular barber goes more in detail with a 1.5." "Regular barber?" His tone was definitely easing. "Yeah. I go to this Ukrainian guy in the East Village. I had a date that cancelled and saw your shop was still open. So here I am." "A date huh?" He kind of sneered at that. "You don't look like you dressed for any date." Fuck it. What the hell. "Yeah...well it was more a hook-up," I confessed quickly. "He cancelled at the last minute. I was right across the street to meet him when he cancelled. Saw your shop was still open. Figured I would get a buzz here." "Well you came to the right spot," his hand brushed the back of my head again, now taking his time, slowly running his palm up and down, up and down. "You got nice hair, nice texture...very soft." I stared at our reflection in the cracked mirror. Behind us, the fluorescent light bar shorted out for a second or two. He stopped with my hair and walked over to the cabinets and got his clippers ready, plugging the cord in a socket by his right. He approached me and I stared at him, my eyes following him in the mirror as he positioned himself behind me. He flicked the clippers on and it came alive, resting on my head for a second before he started to push it along. The whir and buzz of the vibration seemed like a strange percussion in my ears. He started by running the clippers from the front of my head towards the back. The clippers vibrated in a gentle rhythm over my scalp. I was definitely hyper sensitive with the little toke on the glass pipe from earlier. Fuck it-that felt GOOD-as he raked my head methodically, row by row. It was like an electronic massage in parallel motions going over my scalp. Tiny threads of dark, black hair fell around me, scattering on the sheet on my upper abdomen and crotch, raining down as the clippers ran its path. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation privately. I took in the mechanical buzz and vibration and breathed in slowly. "You OK there, Boy?" He noticed. I opened my eyes slowly, staring at our reflection. My head was on one side of the reflection in the crack of the mirror, his on the upper half. He was almost smiling. "You OK?" He repeated, the voice had a hint of concern. "You looked like you went somewhere down the avenue or somethin'." "Uh yeah," I replied, a little embarrassed. "I just like clipper cuts. It feels good," I admitted. "OK, Boy," he laughed and winked at my reflection. He continued with the clippers, buzzing around the rest of the top of my scalp, then the back and sides. He walked around me, shifting from my right side then to the left, getting in the correct position, gently pushing my head down or to the side to get a better angle. Short, trimmed hair continued to rain around me. I watched him intently in the mirror. His arms flexed as he moved the clippers around my head. The cuffed edge of his short-sleeves were tight around his biceps. I observed his hand, large with thick, long fingers, holding tight on the clippers gliding it around my head. He sure was getting sexier by the minute. "What kinda hook-up you had goin' tonight?" He didn't look at me as he continued to push the clippers around my right ear, carefully and slowly sculpting at the hair edge, repositioning himself to my right side, his large body getting closer to the chair arm, closer to me. I turned my head slightly to him but he quickly pushed my head face-forward with a gentle but in-control force as he continued sculpting the edge around the back of my ear. "What kinda hook-up is it that you got all those energy drinks?" He sneered a little now but continued to put his attention on my hairline. "And what's with the overnight bag, Boy?" Fuck it. Go for it, I told myself. I was already a little buzzed and so horned up. "Well," I looked at his reflection, waiting for his eyes to meet mine, trying to get more of a read on him. "If you really want to know...we were going to parTy and get all crazy and shit." "Watcha talkin' 'bout?" His eyes suddenly looked in the mirror, curious. "You know: parTy?" I emphasized the last syllable. He moved the clippers away from my head, staring at me more seriously in the mirror. "I like a little Tina. Gets me all wild and super horny." He smiled at me and resumed clipping around the right side of my head. "That bitch Tina?!?" He laughed. "She sure is a good time." He smiled wider and continued to carefully trim around my ear and side. "Haven't fucked with that biTch in ages." "So you parTy too?" He got my attention. I shifted slightly in my chair. "Oh yeah, Boy." He looked at me proudly in the mirror, then placed his attention back to cutting my hair. "Yeah, after my wife passed over ten years ago, I got a little crazy for a minute...if you know what I'm sayin'. Few bitches here and there. Some wild ones too! Those are the ones I partied with. GOOD TIMES!" He smiled at that memory and continued with the clippers. "Whatcha get into? You a bottom, Boy?" He stopped for a second, looking at me, waiting for my reply. I nodded as he held the clippers away from my head. "Yeah. I thought so." He stepped away from me, careful to not get tangled with the cord of the clippers, and walked towards another cabinet and adjusted the blade guard. His body was turned just slightly, most of his back facing me. When he was done, he walked behind me, then towards my left side. He brought the clippers back to my head to go in for a finer trim detail. He cranked the lever on the side of the chair as it jerked up a few inches, raising me. My left elbow was now at the same level as his crotch. His body was much closer now. I could feel his body heat. He carefully continued with the clippers, inching his body closer and closer now that my elbow was rubbing against the jersey material of his sweatpants. WHOA! SHIT! He was fucking hard as a rock! He continued with the cut, shifting his body left to right just slightly, back and forth, rubbing his crotch on my elbow. I pushed my left arm towards him, playing his game, adding pressure to his crotch that was now pressing against me. "Ohhhhh...Boy. That do feel good." He stopped cutting my hair for a moment, pressing harder on my arm, his head cocked back, eyes closed. I stared at our reflection. Then suddenly he opened his eyes. "You got any of that biTch in your bag there, Boy?" His eyes spoke of experience and knowledge. I could read that we had something in common... HUNGER. I nodded in the reflection. "Let's invite that biTch to this party then, Boy." He stepped away from me a half step, holding the clippers down at his side. It was still buzzing. From the mirror I saw an impressive silhouette of a bulge growing in his sweatpants. It was huge and thick, stretching the jersey material obscenely. "Boy, I haven't let loose since I don't know when. Haven't made it with a guy in ages either. But you sure are cute. And I sure am horny. I told you you came to the right spot." He paused and gave me a serious glare in the mirror. "Open your bag." The light flickered behind us again. In the mirror my hair was half-done: one side short and buzzed, the other unfinished. I looked a little crazy with this insane half-done buzz cut. I also looked really horny. A bead of sweat trickled down the left side of my forehead. I slowly stood up from the chair, countless hairs trimmed at the same tiny lengths, like black needle tips, littering around us on the floor. I walked over to my overnight bag, bent down and pulled on the zipper. He turned off the clippers, walked around the chair, and set it on the cabinet counter. I dug through the contents, looking for the small toiletry bag that had my parTy supplies. He sat down on the chair I had been on, the leather cracking under his weight and mass as he spread his legs. I stood up with the toiletry bag, placed it on the counter beside the clippers and unzipped it. He watched me silently. I prepared the glass pipe with a good size shard of crystal and carefully heated it, careful to keep the flame at the right distance, rocking the bowl side to side. He started slowly massaging his crotch then leaned forward, motioning for me to step closer. I continued to slowly melt the Tina as he leaned in even closer, both arms about to surround me. His hands disappeared behind my back and unfastened the sheet over my upper body. The sheet fell silently, my trimmed hair scattering into a random, frenzied pattern on the linoleum floor. "Take a big drag, Boy." He instructed. "And I mean a BIG HIT." I did as I was told. I kept the flame under the bowl another second as that lovely light grey cloud formed in the glass bubble. I shook the torch off and he reached for it as I took a long, deep BIG breath as he had instructed, taking as much smoke as my lungs would allow. "Good Boy," he grabbed the pipe. "Hold it in as long as you can. Now take off that shirt. Let me see your body." I lifted my arms and pulled the tank top off and threw it carelessly on the floor. Little bits of trimmed hair fell on and around us. "Nice tits, Boy. You keep in shape." He lit the pipe a few times for himself like I had done earlier, then set the torch to his side. He motioned for me to keep my breath and to not exhale. The magical smoke appeared in the pipe and he took equally, if not more, of a big hit than I had just done. We both held our breaths. He reached over slowly and with his free hand squeezed my right nipple, surprising me. He squeezed it hard. Finally, I exhaled; I couldn't help myself. A huge cloud came out of me, floating slowly over us, temporarily obscuring him from my vision as if he was lost in a miniature chemical fog. And then his face slowly appeared as the smoke dissipated, floating towards the fluorescent lighting, the small clouds taking on another palette. He grabbed me and leaned in closer, our mouths met, his swallowing mine, surprising me. His large and heavy tongue pushed and parted my lips gently at first, then with force, getting my mouth open and wide as he exhaled a huge amount of smoke. I greedily sucked it in. His eyes stared at me. He was different now. This wasn't the barber anymore. This was a Man. And he was hungry with that all too familiar look in his eyes that indicates the biTch was here. His tongue darted rapidly into my mouth, fishing for mine. There was now an electric energy in him that wasn't there before. His tongue gave it away if his eyes hadn't already hinted of it. The tongue danced violently in my mouth as if it were seeking its last breath. I gave it back earnestly and kissed him deeply, sucking in his tongue, adding pressure so hard that our mouths locked into a vacuum. We were both with the biTch now. I flicked my tongue back at him harder and he relented, his mouth first, then his body relaxing. I exhaled back to him. He sucked it in deep then looked at me intently, the madness gone, now only a soft gaze in his eye. His tongue gently coaxed mine and I pulled away slightly, licking his thick, dark lips. He exhaled and a thick cloud surrounded our heads. I took control now. I pushed him gently back on the chair as he reclined at an angle. He is quite tall; his legs were spread wide on the floor despite the chair being higher than normal. I grabbed the pipe and lighter from him and lit it again, inhaling deep as he watched me intently. He grabbed the pipe and torch from me and did the same. I held my breath as long as I could watching him before I exhaled. He held his breath longer before exhaling, our combined clouds fading in the ceiling. We repeated this a few more times, getting more higher. I grabbed the pipe and torch from him and placed them on the counter. I pushed against the foot pedal on the base of the chair, flipping it downwards and stepped onto its flat edge leaning into him. He sat back comfortably, very buzzed, observing me, his arms spread open and resting on his side. I leaned forward and slowly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and pulled it apart. Nice chest. He was still in great shape. The hint of salt and pepper hair that I saw earlier was now all visible. It was light on the upper chest, then thicker near his pecs, visually defining the lower curves of his pectorals. The hair was short and bristly and then it got less dense as it disappeared into his groin. I ran my left hand over his chest, feeling the texture of his body hair, the firmness of his muscles and a slight sweat that was building, coating his dark skin. I reached forward with my body, my abdomen rubbing against his crotch, hard and throbbing, as I leaned in closer and took his right nipple into my mouth. I bit it hard with my front teeth and held my grip. Then I gently flicked my tongue left to right on the tip of his nipple, brushing it lightly with saliva, teasing him. "MUTHAFUCKER!!!" He groaned, sliding up the chair slightly. I looked up at him while biting hard and soft, my tongue moving rapidly. He stared back at me and his body shifted up the chair even more as I felt his hard cock rub against my abdomen. I pulled away and shifted back down, in between his legs, looking up at his crotch and upper body. His massive cock was throbbing under the jersey material of his sweatpants. I positioned my right hand under his left thigh and squeezed tight, pulling the cotton against his leg. His bulge looked massive now, outlined by the tightened jersey material. It pulsed with excitement. I kept rearranging my grip and pull on the material, admiring the view. I lifted my left hand and slowly started feeling his shaft. "You one of those NASTY bitches!" He proclaimed. He was breathing heavy and rapid now, clearly turned on, clearly starting to buzz. I squeezed harder on the bulge. Fuck! It was huge! Thick as a beer can - my favorite! It looked long too - maybe 9"-10". I kept stroking it through the cotton, re-arranging its position on his thigh, checking it out, getting myself turned on with what was in front of me. He pushed my hand away suddenly and I leaned back. He took control and started rubbing himself, gripping the thick base with his left hand. "You like that, Boy?" He smirked at me. There was something nasty about how he said that. I nodded, gripping and squeezing my own dick inside my shorts. He squeezed his cock some more and we exchanged glances of silent anticipation. He was showing off to me and I was a willing audience. He kept grabbing his thick tool, moving it from one side of his thigh, an inch or two down his leg, then the other way, then back, constantly shifting. It looked obscene like some monster about to be unleashed. "You like what you see, Boy?" I nodded, grabbing his tool. I squeezed it hard, loving the weight and mass of it in my hand. I brought my hand to the base of his cock then traced it along the cotton material, rubbing it slowly up and down the shaft which only made him moan some more. My hand encircled the head and I squeezed gently at first, then with a tighter grip, then back to a soft touch. He squirmed on the leather chair as it crackled from underneath him. Then suddenly I grabbed the shaft again and shook it hard as it flopped through the sweatpants material. His hands appeared from the side as he lifted his ass off the chair slightly. Then he suddenly pulled his sweatpants down, thrusting them as far down his legs as it would go. He was wearing thin boxers with a vertical stripe pattern and the left leg sleeve was getting soaked from his excitement. His tool looked even larger now. I pushed back a little to admire the changed view. I grabbed his tool again and the thin cotton was barely covering his shaft. I positioned his cock slightly so it was running down his thigh, the head just visible now underneath the edge of his boxers. I pulled back on the cotton material exposing the head further. Now it was my turn to to moan. Wow. It was a beautiful cock head : round and bulbous and dark. He was uncut. The head was covered with foreskin which was pulled back slightly. Precum was leaking out of his urethra. I slid my finger alongside the slit and placed it in my mouth, licking it while looking at him. It had a slight salty taste. "Oh yeah man," I moaned, finally answering him. "I love it." "Pull off my sweats and boxers," he commanded firmly. I leaned back slightly and yanked them off quickly rolling them through his legs and feet. I kept his sneakers on and tossed the clothing to one side of the floor. His legs looked massive, long and muscular with impressive thighs. There was strength to his legs that I liked. I squeezed his thighs hard several times and then let go. His balls were large and round and pushed the base of his thick tool which was now very hard and swerved to the side by his left hip. I leaned in closer and took in his scent from in between his legs. He smelled of sweat, his own musk and some old-fashioned scent that reminded me I was in a barber shop. I leaned in closer and spit on his balls. His cock shifted. I leaned in more and ran my tongue from the bottom to the top. I repeated this from the left side, then the right, then back to the center, each time depositing more saliva that his testicles were now glistening, the highlights in a faint green cast from the fluorescent lighting. My mouth opened wider and I engulfed as much of his balls that I could fit into my mouth. And then I applied pressure with my lips creating a seal as I applied suction to the testicles inside my mouth. I ran my tongue rapidly over his balls, side to side, up and down, with pressure, without, all at random, driving him crazy. I loved how his balls tasted, a little salty from his sweat, a little pungent in general, and a lot masculine. His cock kept shifting. I released his balls and leaned back for a moment while my left hand cupped his testicles, spreading my saliva gently around his balls. His cock shifted again as if silently wanting attention. I leaned forward once more, grabbed the shaft of his tool and brought my lips to his cock head. I curled the tip of my tongue and flicked it around the rim of his foreskin, just getting a little bit of the tip under the rubbery skin as I pushed it back with my tongue. He squirmed a bit on the chair. I continued around the head, taking my time. It tasted musky and slightly strong, carrying that day with it. I was too high to really care. And then I pulled back with my mouth and rolled the flat top section of my tongue along his cock head, tracing it along the line of his urethra, coating it with my saliva. His ass shifted. And then suddenly I took his whole head in my mouth, the thick massive bulb, coating it with more saliva, sucking on it now with pressure, my tongue dancing inside the hood to the rapid rhythm of my heart beating. "MUTHAFUKKKKKAAA!!!" He yelled, his hands now grabbing tight on the chrome edges of the chair arms. Beads of sweat fell from my face mixing with my saliva on his tool, adding more of my own lubrication. I took a deep breath and my mouth opened wider. I applied more suction as I inched forward-slowly, very slowly-on his very hard shaft. I looked at him monitoring his reaction. His eyes were closed, head cocked back, groaning to himself. "Mutha...fukkaa...Mutha...fukkkaaa..." He was sweating even more than me. I inhaled through my nose again and leaned in another inch, my tongue washing the underside of his shaft. I kept watching him as I took my time, savoring the weight and mass of his tool inside my mouth, enjoying that I was providing him this pleasure. I love how a big cock feels when it fills my mouth, my throat. He was getting harder from excitement as he continued to squirm on the chair. I breathed in again through my nose and now dove in, eyes closed, visualizing my actions inside my mind, taking several inches, then pulling back a bit, then diving back in, then out. In. Out. In. Out. I allowed his stiff tool to fuck my hungry mouth and then very suddenly I dove right in, sucking that thick head into my throat. "MUTHAFUKKKIN' BITCH!" He yelled, almost startling me. More sweat was now pouring down my face. I opened my mouth even more, inhaled again, a big, deep breath through what I could take through my mouth and more oxygen through my nose. I relaxed my muscles more as I let his tool sink further inside my throat, meanwhile applying slight random pressure, massaging his shaft. I kept this going slowly, taking my time, breathing in more air through my nose, wanting it, taking it. He just continued to squirm. Finally I had most of his thick cock inside me, the bristles of his public hair now tickling my nose. I looked up at him. His eyes were still closed, head to one side, mumbling to himself. I stayed like that for awhile, just enjoying the volume and weight on his tool in my mouth and throat. I would pull back occasionally, but just a micro inch, and then sink in, fucking the shaft with my mouth. And then I would rest again at the base, contracting my throat muscles, massaging him, resting in that position, savoring the mass inside me. I started to pull back and sink in again, but building my pace; slowly at first, then more rapidly, up and down, up and down. He was really squirming now and I started to apply more pressure and sucking at the same time. Faster. Faster. FASTER! "MUTHAFUKKKAAA!!!" He yanked me off violently, pulling my head with such speed and force away from his shaft that my mouth made a loud plopping sound as I breathed air again. His tool shined with a coating of my saliva. Pre-cum leaked out of his cock head. I leaned in to catch it with my tongue. But he pushed me away. "FUCK BOY!" He pulled back on the chair now, straightening his upper body slightly, his hands falling back on the arm rests. "You sure know how to suck dick! FUCK! I just don't want to cum so fast! That biTch got me goin' and horny! And if your suckin' dick that good I can only tell what the rest of the evening will bring!" He laughed at that. I licked my lips and then wiped the excess saliva around my mouth and chin with my right hand. I stared at him greedily. "You look kinda crazy with that half-done haircut!" He laughed again, now lifting himself from the chair. "Get up, Boy. Take off those shorts and you get that ass back on this chair." He got up around me, his big, slick dick bouncing around. I stood up beside the chair and stepped out of my shorts, kicking off my sneakers. I had a black and red jock on. He whistled at me when he saw that. "WOO! That sure look good on you! Turn around." I did as I was told, giving him a show of my ass, framed by the black jock straps. "Nice!" He felt my ass. "We gonna have some fun with that later. Now get on that chair!" I got on and he placed the polyester sheet on my upper body again and clipped it behind my neck. He grabbed his clippers from the counter. He still had his shirt on, unbuttoned and hanging loose, and nothing else but his sneakers. It looked almost comical with his swinging hard-on but it actually was kinda hot. I was slouching down on the chair a bit. My legs were spread wide. I couldn't help it. I was horny, that buzz just starting to set... "Ok straighten up, let's finish this cut." He walked behind me as I slid up the chair. As I did, the sheet exposed my crotch. I was getting turned on from the whole scenario. The clippers came to my head and he proceeded to finish the cut. The vibration of the clippers was working its magic on me again. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the mechanical rhythm on my scalp. I started to get hard despite the T. "You sure like this, huh?" He snickered behind me. I opened my eyes, looking at him in the mirror. He was intensely focused, being very particular with his methods. After a few minutes he was done and placed the clippers aside back at the counter. He shifted to the other side of the counter and selected a shaving blade sitting in a clear glass jar of sanitizing liquid. He retrieved the blade and dried it with a towel nearby. To his left was a small device that he pressed. Heated shaving cream oozed out if it on his palm. He then walked behind me and applied the warm cream on the back of my neck. He massaged the heated cream slowly, gently, spreading it around the bottom trimmed edge of my hairline on the back of my head. The heat of the warm cream added to the heat now forming in the small shop. A tiny bead of sweat ran down the left side of my face. I moaned again. My breathing was getting more rapid. I watched him from the reflection of the other mirror behind us reflecting on the cracked mirror in front of me. I was nervous and yet excited at the same time. My cock twitched in my tight jock. He held his blade impressively steady and very carefully brought the sharp instrument to the back of my head. I stayed still and tried to concentrate on my breathing, to relax and not move an inch. The sharp edge of the blade made contact with my skin and I felt as if someone had shocked me with a hit of electricity. My senses were so heightened. The edge of the blade felt as if it were sinking into my moistened skin, my sweat and the heated shaving cream mixed into some new lubricant for the sharp blade to glide over me. He applied a tiny bit of pressure that was so faint I shouldn't have felt it. But I did as I flinched as the blade shifted slowly along the bottom of the hairline. And then with a very sudden gesture that was a mix of speed and unmeasured pressure, his hand pushed quickly as the blade separated from my skin. I exhaled as the fluorescent light behind us flickered again. Before I could relax, the blade returned, the coldness of the sharp metal shocking me again. I inhaled and caught that I was holding my breath. He applied that subtle pressure and slight movement and shaved another fraction of an inch or so of my hairline to a fine, crisp edge. I exhaled again and he repeated this over and over until he was done. It was only a few minutes but that biTch made it seem more like an eternity. And yet I was loving it. There was something about the super sharp blade that he controlled that turned me on. He wiped what was left of the shaving cream away with a small towel, still standing behind me. I looked at him in the mirror and it was a little obscene: him standing there with a hard-on, the foreskin pulled back revealing his dark tool and holding a blade in one hand. "Slide down that chair a little bit, Boy," he instructed. "Get that ass just hanging off the edge a bit." I did as I was told. He walked over back to the counter. He dropped the used blade back in the sanitizing jar. He turned around looking at me. "You seemed to like that, huh?" I nodded in silence. "Ok-well that was just for starters." He pressed on the small machine on the counter again as more heated cream oozed out of the tiny nozzle. "Now pull up those legs and hold them. Hold them STILL-you hear? I'm gonna shave that hair around your hole." I was already flying at this point. I liked where this was going so I obliged and pulled my legs up, holding it steady on the back of my thighs. My asshole was in clear view. "Muthafukka..." He paused, eyes staring at my hole. I was already buzzed from the bowl we smoked together and the earlier hit I had done just before leaving my apartment. My hole was clearly showing this. I contracted and relaxed my hole, showing off to him. "HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT!!! Whatcha got there, Boy?" He stepped closer. "Fuck. For a second there I thought I was lookin’ at pussy." A thick finger touched my asslips, sliding around it gently. "That is one beautiful hole you got there." He approached me and bent down for a second, taking a closer view. "Muthatfukka. That sure is pretty." He stood up straight and looked around to his side. He found a small stool and grabbed it with his free hand, positioning it to my left side. He then walked back to the counter and pulled another drawer open retrieving a small hand mirror. "Here-grab this," he instructed. "I want you to see what I'm doing. This is special service. I don't provide this to many customers." He winked at me, laughing a little. I held it with one hand and adjusted it. It was a double-sided mirror: normal reflection on one side, close-up view on the other. He fidgeted around the counter then retrieved a fresh, new blade from the jar. He pressed on the machine again as it shot out more heated shaving cream. He sat on the stool next to me, adjusting himself. His legs were spread open and his thick shaft, now semi-hard hung over the edge. If I had another free hand I would have taken a picture. He looked so hot and strangely odd and menacing at the same time with his open shirt, the blade in one hand, the wad of white cream on the other hand, and his big, uncut dick just hanging there. "Hold that mirror just right now so you can see..." His one hand moved closer and spread the warm shaving cream on my manpussy. He spread it liberally, all around my hole and around my asscheeks. Everything felt ultra-sensitive on my skin around my hole. The warmth of the cream almost felt burning at first, as it was a shocking sensation. But the burn faded quickly to a warm glow. I looked in the hand mirror admiring the view. I twisted my hand slightly and switched to the close-up view. My hole was pulsing from the heat like some strange organism surrounded by white foam. "Beautiful," he was admiring the view. He inched in closer. From the hand mirror I saw the blade-now mega size in the enhanced reflection-approaching my pulsing manpussy. The sharp blade looked menacing and I held my breath as my hole instinctively contracted, the pussy lips folding in on itself. "Fuckin' beautiful," he repeated. The blade came closer to the edge of my hole and made contact with my skin. With his left hand he held my ass, pulling it wide as his right hand carefully glided the sharp blade, scraping with a slight pressure away from my asslips. I watched nervously from the mirror. The fluorescent light behind us flickered again, this time with a slight scraping noise that lasted a second. He held the blade at a slight angle as it glided on my skin. The blade pushed the heated cream aside, exposing a smooth, shaved area near my hole. The moistness of the cream and my sweating made my skin seem to glow with a slight light green tint from the fluorescent lighting. He repositioned the blade just another inch above where he had started and repeated the procedure. And again and again. Each time, I flinched as the sharp blade made contact with my sensitive skin. It was a combination of nervousness and anticipation. I stared at the reflection and admired the view. I contracted my hole, winking at him. "You like that, huh?" He asked. I nodded again, silently. He stood up and grabbed the stool and moved over to my right side of the chair. He set the stool down near me and squatted into position. I admired the view of his impressive cock just hanging out, the hood of his foreskin pulled back a bit more, exposing that impressive bulb. He pulled the right side of my ass as the blade approached. I twisted my hand a little bit to get a better view with the hand mirror. As the mirror turned, I caught a momentary glance at my face in the reflection. I was covered in sweat and didn't even realize it. I adjusted my hold until I had a close-up view of my hole. The blade made contact, the sharp edge startling me again. He pulled carefully, gliding it away from my asslips, shaving the short hairs around my hole. I was exhaling and breathing more rapidly. "Hold STILL-you hear?" he demanded in an authoritative voice. I took control of my breathing, trying not to move. The blade came across further up my hole then glided along the smooth surface of my skin, pushing the shaving cream aside. In a few eternal minutes he was done. "Look at that fuckin' pretty hole," he announced. He grabbed a small towel near him and wiped gently around my manhole, removing any leftover shaving cream that was visible. My asslips were all flared and enlarged, pulsing from excitement and anticipation. I was still holding the small mirror. And then the blade approached again, coming into view in the enlarged oval reflection. He had the blade turned upside down, so the curved, unsharpened edge was pointing towards my hole. It came into contact with my moist asslips, the curved flat edge tracing along the soft folds of the skin, slowly up and down, up and down. I gasped a little, not sure what to expect from him. "I can tell this pussy is special," he said. "Don't see this too often." The blade continued its path along my hole. He pulled it away a few inches, tilted the tip of the unsharpened side and pushed it carefully in the crack of my hole. In the mirror I could see the curved edge of the blade enter my hole a micro-inch. I breathed in nervously. "Don't worry, Boy. I ain't gonna hurt you. Last thing I wanna do is hurt that pussy." He pulled the blade away slowly. "Well at least not with this tool." He pushed back on the stool, wiped around my ass again so it was clean and smooth. He stood up. "Take a look," he insisted. I turned the small hand mirror again for the normal view. Shit. My hole did look pretty. It was still pulsing. He grabbed the small mirror from me and walked back to the counter placing it down along with the blade. He wiped his hands with the towel and threw it aside. His dick was starting to throb. He turned looking at me, that thick tool pointing up and twitching. "Watcha want, Boy?" He stared at me greedily. I was still holding my legs up and apart. I moved my hands to my manpussy, feeling the smooth, hairless skin around it, rubbing myself gently. I looked at him with a new hunger, checking him out, staring at that big uncut dick. My fingers found my hole and ran up and down on my asslips. My hole felt warm and moist, as if it was sweating from the heat of the room and the heat building inside of me. "Fuck it," I begged, pulling my asslips apart wider.