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In the mid-1970’s I was attending college full time on a sports scholarship. After one semester of living in the dormitories, I grew tired of dealing with the spoiled idiots and arrogant slackers merely taking up space when they should have been studying and attending classes.

My mother had me out of wedlock. Her parents, my grandparents, disowned us; calling my mother a whore and me a bastard; she died when I was six. Her brother, my uncle Albert, a staunch bachelor, raised me from that point on. Uncle Albert was New York State Trooper. I spent my formative years in the company of serious, honorable men.

My uncle found me a room in the home of the widow of a fallen comrade killed by a drunken driver during a routine traffic stop.

I rented a large room on the second story with an attached bathroom. There were double French doors that opened onto an enclosed screened -in- balcony. The balcony was the perfect place for my weight bench and weights.

The rent was fifty dollars a month. In consideration of this modest sum, I agreed to take over the yard work and make minor repairs around the house as needed. I took my responsibilities seriously.

Being about two miles from campus, I was within walking distance of my classes.

My landlady, Mrs. Grace was an attractive woman in her early thirties. She was a petite woman at five foot three inches tall, weighing one hundred ten pounds. Mrs. Grace had chocolate brown hair that she kept pinned up in a large braided bun. I always wondered how long her hair was; I didn’t find out until her submission, consummating of our tryst.

In the summer of 1975 I had lived there for two years. Although not part of the original agreement, Mrs. Grace saw to it that I ate at least one substantial meal a day.

During the month of August, one of the hottest on record, Mrs. Grace asked me if I would remove the outdoor carpet from the floor of the back porch.  I removed the old worn carpet and found rotten boards from moisture trapped underneath.

Naturally, she found an excuse for me to repair and paint the floor; I ended up doing the entire porch; floor to ceiling.

I spent three days on this project; replacing boards, sanding, priming and painting. The temperatures were in the nineties; because of this, I was only wearing shorts and work boots; it was much too muggy to wear a shirt.

Mrs. Grace was a very polite and well-mannered woman. It was obvious when listening to her speak that she was well read and disdained the use of slang or coarse language. I never heard her raise her voice, although at times she could be obstinate and annoying.

When we went to the lumberyard to get the materials for the porch, she personally hand selected the boards. The harried yard foremen made numerous trips to the lumber sheds; until all the boards met with her satisfaction; being perfectly straight and free of knots and imperfections; and these were boards that would be painted and walked on. Mrs. Grace was used to getting her own way.

Mrs. Grace sat outside in the shade the entire three days and monitored my progress, like a hawk watching a mouse. Always the proper lady, she wore loose, light colored muslin sundresses, with wide brimmed straw hats while out in the sun. She also kept us supplied with endless pitchers of ice cold, fresh squeezed lemonade. Mrs. Grace even offered to wet me down with cold water from the garden hose during the course of my labor to cool me down; that helped as much as the cold lemonade.

In the late afternoon of the third day, after the porch was done, she surprised me by grilling some strip steaks. We sat outside together and ate steak, roasted garlic potatoes, fresh corn- on- the cob and tomatoes. Afterwards, she went inside to tidy up her kitchen. I stayed put in my chair to relax and digest my huge meal. Mrs. Grace, God bless her, fussed over me during dinner making sure I got enough to eat.

Mrs. Grace returned with a pitcher of iced tea and two tall glasses.

She told me that she made her special Southern Comfort mint iced tea to celebrate the excellent job I did on the porch; and inquired again if I had enough to eat. Then the subject of haircuts came up… again.

Before she was married, Mrs. Grace worked as a beautician.

Her husband, twenty years her senior, insisted that she stay at home to take care of the house; he would work and provide for the both of them; a good provider, in his passing, left her very well of financially. She now worked part time, when needed, for a good friend.  Her friend, Susan Banner ran a beauty shop out of her home. Mrs. Grace went there to have her long hair trimmed.

From the time I first moved in, Mrs. Grace offered to style my hair for free. She frequently scolded me saying, “You are too good looking to be walking around looking like a shaggy sheep dog”. I laughed and politely declined her kind offers. Not put off, she would tease me and say,” Someday”.  Lately, she was insisting that I call her by her first name, Mary; to her annoyance, I continued to address her as Mrs. Grace.

After the first pitcher of tea, I noticed that she was nursing her drink and constantly filling my glass. During the second, third, and fourth pitchers, she was doing the same; most of mine ended up underneath my chair in the grass.  I was curious and wanted to see what she was up to. I had my suspicions, and played along pretending to get drunk. After all, she was a very attractive woman.  By the sixth pitcher, I feigned being a little dizzy, explaining it must be the heat. Mrs. Grace suggested that I go into the house and lie down.

She had me lie down on my back on a large overstuffed sofa, and removed my work boots and socks. Mrs. Grace went into the kitchen and brought me a cold, damp washcloth for my forehead. By then, I pretended to be passed out, sound asleep. Placing the damp washcloth over my eyes, she shook me gently calling my name.

Satisfied that I was out cold, she went back into the kitchen.

When she returned, she had a package of unopened clothesline, and a pair of blued Peerless handcuffs; the cuffs keys attached to a black kuboton.

Mrs. Grace knelt down in front of the couch were I was lying, placing the mentioned items on the floor beside her.  She took the washcloth from my forehead, and started running her fingers through my hair. I felt her hot breath on my face and heard her whisper in my ear,” I told you, someday”.

I was getting aroused and excited; it was getting very hard to remain calm and lie still. Mrs. Grace started lightly caressing my chest and arms with her small dainty hands; it was driving me crazy; boy, was she in for a surprise. When she stuck her hand down my shorts, and felt my erection, that was it: I opened my eyes and grabbed her by her trim waist, and pulled her tightly against my chest. The look  on her pretty face was priceless. I could smell her perfume and feel her breasts pressing against my bare chest through the thin fabric of her dress.

She struggled to get free, but I gently put her arms behind her back, being careful not to hurt her. I held both of her small, dainty hands in one of mine while I reached for the handcuffs, placing them carefully on her wrists. Mrs. Grace became angry. She actually raised her voice and started cursing and threatening me, struggling violently to get free; I held her effortlessly, getting more aroused by the second, teasing her about her” potty mouth”.

I kissed her precious mouth and face in between curses and threats, holding her hair at the nape, gently forcing her head to meet my lips, my manhood pressing against her through our clothing.  This time she wouldn’t get her way.  I let her struggle, enjoying her helpless anger until she grew tired and gave up, lying quiet and still in my arms. Until that moment, I never realized I had feelings for her or how desirable and complex Mrs. Grace really was; I wanted her and woul
d have her if only for one night.

Lying there, I removed the pins from her bun, taking it down and teasing her about trying to get me drunk.  I told her she was a naughty little girl, while I undid her braid, her long silky ponytail reaching to the bottom of her ass cheeks. I stroked her long ponytail and admonished her for trying to tie me up and give me a forced haircut.

I ran my hands under her dress, caressing her firm ass through her panties, snapping the elastic waistband.  I ran my hands up her back to discover she was not wearing a bra. I commented about this calling her a hot, sexy little vixen.

I pulled off my cut off jean shorts, tossing them to the floor, commenting,” See Mrs. Grace, no underwear, it’s to hot outside” “Listen carefully to me now; I promise I won’t hurt you. It’s too late to stop what you started”. ” Relax, take it like a woman; because I’m going to take it like a man”

I ripped her sundress at the seams, pulling it off of her and dropping the pieces casually to the floor.

I could feel her firm breasts and hard nipples pushing against my chest. I kissed her mouth; she returned my kisses, her tongue probing my mouth in return. I could feel the wetness of her arousal through her soaked panties; like her dress, I ripped them from her

Denying her my manhood, I probed her dripping pussy with my fingers, caressing her flower. I continued teasing her with my fingers until she was begging me to take her. I reached down and found the cuff key, removing the handcuffs. I broke the elastic band holding her ponytail letting her long, soft, silky mane flow down her back like a luscious chocolate veil.

I stood her up facing me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I picked her up by her ass, and slid my erect manhood past her swollen lips into her moist pussy; greeting her sweet flower.  As I pounded her, she arched her back, thrusting her hips forward, her long hair moving to the rhythm of my lustful thrusts.  Mrs. Grace was a moaner; she let me know in no uncertain terms when she came.

Having satisfied her, I continued thrusting with renewed vigor, my explosive orgasm causing her to hold on tighter and passionately kiss my mouth and face. When I was sated, I carried her into the kitchen and put her on the table.

I arranged her beautiful long hair around her back, shoulders and breasts, enjoying the silky texture of her tresses. It flowed from her crown down her back, and over her shoulders and breasts like a chocolate waterfall to a dark pool around her hips and thighs.

On the table with her, were the tools of her trade; scissors, combs, hair clips, thinning shears and electric clippers; complete with a variety of guide combs. The tools that she sought to shear me against my will.

“Mrs. Grace “, I said, “I think we have established that I don’t need the handcuffs to make you behave”. “I’m going to let you have your way”.  I sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. ” Go ahead and give me a haircut”. “But, I, I need to get dressed first”, she stammered. “Absolutely not”, I corrected,” Cut it as you are”.

Mrs. Grace complied with my request.

It appeared that the idea appealed to her because after the first initial snips, she was rubbing up against me with her breasts, while she was cutting my hair; erotic doesn’t begin to describe that haircut.  Erotic aside, her skills as a stylist were impressive, the haircut precise and perfect; I should have taken her up sooner on her offer.

When she was done I complemented her on the haircut, sharing my thoughts about the experience and confirming her “Shaggy Sheep Dog” observation, adding,” Now it’s your turn”.

I sat her down in the same chair, and picked up the scissors.

I had no idea where to start, never having had the opportunity to cut a woman’s hair before.  I played with it for a while, pulling it back into a ponytail then twisting it into a bun.

I said to her, “Mary, did you ever see the Television show Get Smart staring Barbara Feldon?’ Surprised and delighted that I would call her Mary, she smiled and said that she loved that TV show, asking,” what about Barbara Feldon, Agent 99?” “Well, I just love her bangs”.” I really like the way she wears her hair” “I think you would look lovely in that hairstyle, especially with those bangs.”

“I have no idea what I am doing and your hair is so beautiful…” I said. “Do you want me to me to wear my hair like that?” she asked,

I kissed her and replied,” You would look gorgeous with bangs”

“Your wish is my command”, she teased, standing up and hugging me.  “There are hair ties in the drawer by the sink, would you get me a couple?” she asked sweetly I brought Mary the hair ties and she braided her long hair in a single braid down her back, securing the bottom with one of the ties.  Positioning the second tie on her braid in the middle of her back, she handed me the scissors and said” Cut it off just above the elastic band”.

Taking up the scissors, it seemed to take forever to cut through that thick silky braid.  Mary stood up, unbraided her hair, bent her neck back and shook her head.  Her hair now reached the middle of her back and felt thicker and fuller.  Mary said, “Thank you for not cutting it short, I hate short hair.” I was afraid that you would use the clippers” “I can live with this length”  “Even with bangs I can fix it dozens of ways for you, if you will have me”.  I picked her up a second time and carried her to her bedroom. We made slow gentle love and afterwards showered together. We fell asleep in each other’s arms.

In the morning, Mary went to see her friend Susan

Mary returned with the same beautiful eye framing bangs.  The front was pulled back and secured with the same small curled ponytail, the rest, and loose curls cascading down to the middle of her back. Susan had duplicated the style to perfection, except my Agent 99 was more beautiful then the original and with much longer hair Her excellent reputation for specializing in long hair was well deserved.

Mary said that Susan had to even up the bottom where I cut the braid off; explaining that it was necessary to cut two more inches off to get the bottom perfectly straight.

Mary told me that after Susan finished with her, she announced that Mary’s bangs made her look ten years younger. I agreed, I told her she could pass for twenty, especially with her hair down.

I kissed her and asked her if she would like another chance to seduce me?  Mary commanded,” Take everything off, now!’

I meekly complied, my manhood standing at attention.

Mary went down on her knees and started licking and sucking.

I buried my hands in her hair, playing with her long curls.

She was fabulous; I never had oral sex before.

As I played with my lover’s hair, I thought to myself, there is more then one way to bind a man and render him helpless.

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