barber-boy-4

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Subject: Barber Boy 4 Well, a lot of you really liked this series and wanted more, and a lot of you were curious about what parts were real and happened to me or to someone who told me about it, so here’s something that really happened to me for real. And don’t forget to email me your thoughts and to donate to . I worked at a barber shop when I was younger, sweeping and cleaning and sometimes doing the cash register or taking appointments on the phone, whatever else I could do. It was just one barber, so he was always busy actually cutting hair. But this day was not busy. It was a really slow day, just before a long holiday weekend. Everyone had gotten their haircuts earlier that week, so it had been very busy. But we were just sitting there with no customers all day. The barber talked to some people on the phone while he had me cleaning everything to keep busy. Then he said that he was going to go out for a minute while I watched the shop. Usually, when that happened, “a minute” meant he’d be next door at the bar, talking somebody’s ear off. I sat there alone, just listening to the radio. There was no TV in the shop back then. The barber’s son only put one in a few years ago when he took over. Then someone came in. I recognized him from a store down the street, but he was also wearing a T-shirt with the store’s logo on it. We didn’t really know each other. I couldn’t say how old he was. When you’re that young, everybody is just older than you. I guess he was younger than the barber was. “When will he be back?” he asked. I told him I didn’t know. He said, “Well, maybe you could start the shampoo now?” This was a regular barber shop, quick buzzcuts mostly, so I had only shampooed hair maybe twice, but I had nothing else to do, and I figured the barber would be back soon or else I could just run to get him, and I figured I’d get an extra tip from it. I took him to the back corner where there was an extra sink, because I wasn’t supposed to mess around with the barber chair, and I probably couldn’t work it anyway. I started wetting his hair with the little hose, and I asked, “Does that feel okay?” I didn’t want it to be too hot or too cold. He said it was fine, and I started running my fingers through his hair. He kept talking and saying that he loves that feeling, fingers through his hair. The last time I did a shampoo, the barber told me I took a long time, so I didn’t want to take too long doing it, but it was also killing time, and I wanted to do a good job, and it seemed like he was really enjoying it. “Hey, tighty whiteys!” he şişli escort said, pointing at the waistband of my underwear. My shirt had come up a little from me reaching up. I was kind of outgrowing the shirt, and it barely covered my belt area, so if I did anything you could see my stomach. My jeans were a little loose around the waist but I couldn’t tug them up like I had been doing all day, because I was in the middle of shampooing. I didn’t know what he was saying, though. I hadn’t heard that term for briefs. He said, “You still wear that kind? Seems like everybody switched to boxers. You ever wear boxers?” He might have even called them boxer shorts. People were just starting to say boxers instead. I said I didn’t like boxers, only tried them once to see. They were kind of a new trend at that time. I said I sometimes didn’t wear any underwear but usually briefs and never boxers. He didn’t say anything back. There was a brief, awkward silence, like a lot of barber shop small talk. “Do you wear that kind too?” I asked. He surprised me by showing me. His T-shirt wasn’t tucked in either, and he reached his thumb and finger in and pulled out the waistband of his underwear from under his buttoned khakis, no belt. He was still stuck to the sink by the back of the neck, with my fingers in his hair, lathering. I looked at what he showed me. I noticed that it was this brand name that had a lot of commercials at the time. I asked about it. “Are they good?””Yeah, the elastic is softer,” he answered. He ran his finger along it. It looked silk or something. “I remember how that kind you’re wearing felt. Now I only wear these. They’re real soft. Here, feel.” I was curious. I wasn’t sure how to do it. He was waiting. He was inviting me to reach down. With one hand still running water slowly through his hair, my other hand reached out and down slowly, and my fingers felt the waistband that he had held out for me, and then he took his hand away. My hand wasn’t shoved down his pants or anything. It was just gently inspecting the top of his waistband. It felt silky smooth and genuine and lavish, and my fingers curled behind it, pushing up through the soft clean cotton, sailing from right to left. I moved slowly, and he moved quickly. He said, “yeah, they’re so much nicer than this kind,” and his other hand reached up between us, and one finger slid along the top ridge of my underwear, along the jagged edge, pulling the plastic teeth apart and tracing the lines. They were red and blue or blue and sivas escort gold, some kind of basic, cheap, childish things. I realized that he had snapped mine for less than a second and that I was still caressing the soft fabric at his midsection. I said sorry and went to pull my hand away. He said, “No, it feels good.” That made me just kind of stop, freeze. My finger was kind of hooked in, too. He said that he loved how that felt, even better than the feeling of fingers in his hair. I wasn’t sure if he meant that he liked how soft his underwear was or how it felt to have me touching him, just under his waistband. With my hand still there, his hand came up and rested against the flat, low slab of his skin that was uncovered. He slid it along. He said it felt great being touched right there, either by himself or anybody else. Then he said I could keep touching him there. His knees moved around below us, and he leaned back a little. He said he’d give me double the tip he was gonna give me if I just kept doing what I was already doing. So I did. My finger was hooked around, feeling the fabric, and I guess that made my knuckle slide against his skin then. It looked like I might be about to tug them down or pull them out to peek inside. After a few passes left and right, I let my fingers move. First I had four fingertips gliding under. Then my flat palm. “Mmmm, yes. Just like that. That feels so nice.” It felt strange but fun and new and exciting. My heart was racing a little. It felt strange with him being older and leading the way but being under me, physically. He was in charge but making me be the one to like make a move on him. He leaned back and kind of stretched, and his arms flexed, and his underwear and khakis shifted a little lower. You know how when you sit and move how the back pulls down and maybe you feel a little of the seat back there against your skin, and it pulls the front with it? He looked up at me with a smile. He said, “feels good. You like it too?” And he reached over again for my waist and hooked one finger in, hanging on and weighing down. His finger slid side to side, and then he uncurled it. The tip changed to point at me, and it pushed into my skin. I could feel it against the whispy hairs that got thicker and curlier if he were to go lower. I thought about if he would, if he’d hit the stiff base of the neck of the shaft of my dick. I thought about if he pulled hard enough if everything would slide down my smooth legs and gather at my knees or if it would slip down to my ankles. I thought sıhhiye escort about if maybe I wanted to do the same to him. My whole hand, my flat palm and all my fingers and my thumb pressed against his lower abs, and I could just slide my hand down and wrap it around his cock like when I grab my hardon. Or I could slide around and between his legs, hold his balls. If he did yank down my tighty-whiteys, his mouth would be right there and maybe he’d start sucking my dick. I had never had anybody do that to me before. I’d only even seen it in a porno a couple times. Back then we’d call each porno a porno instead of just saying porn. And what if somebody walked in? There was a little half-wall that kind of blocked the way, so I’d have a second or two to pull my pants up if they were down and if someone came through the door. The thought made me excited. I even thought about what if I didn’t and then they came back and joined us, like in one porno I had seen. And I still like to think about being watched by somebody if I’m doing something. But we were just rubbing each other’s bellies. It did feel good to have him touch me there and see some of my underwear, and it did feel good to touch him and to know that he was enjoying me touching him. It was the most intimate thing I’d done, the closest thing to anything really sexual that included another person. I decided that maybe I’d slide my hand to someplace new, up to his chest first instead of going down. I couldn’t tell if he had chest hair but I was really curious about chest hair back then, and I could easily just slide my hand up and pull his shirt up to uncover his chest. And then the glass and metal of the door clanged and whooshed open, tapping the bell and ringing it, and in came the barber like he was late for a train, busy and talking about getting stuck doing something on his way back, and he walked back towards us, and our hands pulled back to ourselves. With one wet hand I hoisted my jeans higher on my hips, and I looked down and saw the T-shirt fold down to cover where I was touching, and the two of them started talking right away, two business owners talking about how business was dead that day and how they probably wouldn’t see another customer until Tuesday. A folded-over wad of green bills met my hand, and I didn’t even count them. I just stuffed them down into the soft pockets of my jeans. Later, I saw how he gave me a nice tip. But that was it. We just sort of rubbed each other. It lasted a good amount of time, and I’ve replayed the experience many many many times, but that was it. I cleaned up while he got his haircut, which I thought was too short. I swept up the hair that I had washed. When he left, his hand revisited that area above his waistband, and I saw a flash of white from underneath. I’m the real barber boy, and that story is 100% true.

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