Brooklyn Series: Buzz

[Redrt66]

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.

[ejaculaTe]

fuck....! i need a barber like ThaT.

[whthole4u]

great start - look forward to the next chapters

[versmetropig]

Another awesome start - as usual - love your stuff!

[evilqueerpig]

This series takes me home!

[Mattsdarkside]

As usual you have my juices flowing dude.   I can only imagine how well that pussy of yours is gonna get fuckin wrecked.

[AzParTyhole]

I think i need to go to the barbers more often!  My boicunt is tingling thinking about your story

[CumBoxxx]

Muthafukkaaah   I'm seriously digging this read

[drscorpio]

Can't wait to read the next chapter

[LBRaw]

DAMN GOOD!!!! Perfect set-up ... got to know what happens next..............

[mjkuhl]

Man, Let that barber use that hole over and over!  He is the one we all hope to find.

[pghpigbtm]

Love the twisTed feel to this one. Can't wait to see where you take this.

[mike43]

Awesome I need my pussy shaved

[fisterm8]

what a beautiful beautiful well written story.........the beginnings of a real LOVE story perhaps?........that barber sounds like a lovely man - hes going to make love to you so gentle then hard and leave you begging for more and more.....i think it was fate that your date called it off at the last minute...........some things in life are just meant to be...........i cant wait to read more chapters as this is going to turn out so so good.

[sfopenhole]

LOVE eveything in the Brooklyn series so far, especially the stories about the hunky Russian mover. Any continuation of that coming soon?