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Seeing her with short hair became nearly an obsession.

She has great hair: strawberry blond, thick and straight, but with body.  The strands are actually many different shades and the mix of them is an incredible overall color.  She’s a beauty to match her hair: slender and shapely and she has a beautiful face and a smile that lights up the world.

She’s tall and her hair reaches her lower back – so it’s really long – and it’s all one length.  For years I’ve trimmed the ends and savored looking at her, brushing her hair and running my fingers through it.

Often I lay next to her in bed, up on an elbow as she lays on her back, and at some point I realized this gave me a picture of her with short hair.  Her beautiful face, ears and slender neck exposed, with her hair short and full.  It’s easy to picture and I imagine her with short hair and long earrings.  From that glimpse, the obsession started to grow.

I’ve made some mentions to her about shorter hair, like “You might look great with shorter hair,” but she always steers the conversation away.

She says “Maybe some day” or “That would be too scary” and that’s the end of it.  It’s not that she seems dead set against it, but it’s clearly just not in the realm of possibility.  Her hair has been long for a long time.

Recently, she was wearing a tight shirt with a neckline that exposed the tops of her firm breasts.  That caught my attention and I pulled her in for a passionate kiss, then remarked how beautiful she was as I buried my hands in her thick strawberry hair.  Out of the blue, she said “You’ve mentioned me having shorter hair … and I think that might be fun.”

Wow!  I immediately got hard as a rock and my head was light. “Really?” was the lame response I came up with.

“It was just a thought,” she said. “I like my hair long, but something else might be OK.”  I gathered myself together and was determined not to let this moment slip away.

“Did you see a style you liked or have something in mind?” I asked.

“No, not really.  Maybe just something different.  Would you still love me with shorter hair?” she asked with sarcastic pout.

“Of course!” I exclaimed. Then a pause while I put my hands along side her head and guided her long hair back with my fingers, exposing her face and ears. “Your long hair is dramatic and beautiful.  Any new style has to be equally great.”  That seemed like enough and I didn’t want to push too hard.  Lovemaking followed another long passionate kiss.

I had conflicting feelings about any change to her hair, but the next day I decided to pursue it further.  The obsession was growing.  I had a good idea of features of a new hair style, but didn’t know exactly what style would be best with her hair and features.  “I thought about it and you would look awesome with shorter hair,” I said as we were eating breakfast.  She turned to me with a funny look.

“Hmmm … I don’t know.  I think I may have had a crazy moment yesterday,” she said.  I expected today she might downplay a change to her hair, and I was ready for that.

“It would be fun to at least think about,” I responded. “What styles do you think would look great on you?”  She looked up and thought for a few seconds.

“It could just be shorter, like shoulder length.  That would be a lot easier to take care of, and I could grow it out if I didn’t like it.  Or kind of curly with bangs might be pretty.”

“Those are good ideas,” I said.  Actually, I thought they were both terrible ideas, but didn’t want to disregard her thoughts.  “I think shorter than that would look a lot better though.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.  Do you have a style in mind?” she asked.  The moment of truth had arrived for me.

“Not exactly,” I said.  “But it has to show off your hair and your beautiful face. I don’t know an exact style, but I know some things I like that would look great.”  She looked puzzled.

“Such as?”

“Definitely short in back two ways: cut to your hairline or even higher and your hair in back cut very short.  And your ears exposed.  And somehow full on top.”

“No way!” she quickly stated. “That’s way too short.”

“Well, think about it,” I shot back. “You’ll look awesome.”  She was thinking again.

“Maybe just adding some layers would be good,” she said. “That would be enough.”  Clearly she was ready for some kind of change, but not sure what.  This was a treacherous journey for me.  I love her long hair, but there are so many ways to go wrong with a change.  I hated the idea of cutting layers into her long beautiful hair, but didn’t comment about it.

“We’re not hairstyle experts,” I said. “How about finding a salon where they know what they’re doing and scheduling a consultation?”

“That’s a great idea,” she said, but I didn’t know if that was just to end the conversation or if she would follow up.

A couple weeks went by and shorter hair wasn’t talked about.  One evening she told me “I found a salon and scheduled a consultation about my hair.  It’s tomorrow afternoon at 4:30.  If you want to give an opinion about my hair, you can come to it.”

“You’re OK with that? It might be odd having a man in a salon,” I said. “But I’d like to go”

“It’s alright. This stylist does one of my friends hair. She’s young and trendy.  I asked if it would be alright if you attended and she thought that was a great idea.”

The consultation was a little awkward at the beginning, but the stylist was very friendly and fun, so it quickly became comfortable.  I was obsessed, but tried not to show it.  The consulting session was basically a replay of our breakfast conversation.  I explained my ideas and the stylist said she could do a wonderful style that’s full and sweeping on top, but short in back  and with exposed ears.  We also discussed long layers, a shoulder-length bob and snipping off a foot or so of hair as a first step toward going shorter.

The stylist was trying to be impartial, but seemed to favor my shorter idea.  Of course, she was willing to do whatever my beautiful woman wanted.  We left with a late afternoon appointment for a cut booked in a week, but nothing decided about the style.

The evening before the salon appointment, she embraced me and said “I’m realizing I’m a lot more attached to this hair than I knew.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I thought it wasn’t a big deal,” she said, “but …”  Her voiced cracked and tears welled up in her eyes and she started to cry. She continued haltingly as she cried “But I feel like I’m giving up a part of me … and maybe my hair will be ugly … and what if you don’t like it?

I hugged her tightly for a while, then put my hands on her shoulders and looked into her teary eyes. “You’re beautiful and I’ll love you no matter what.  And I know – really know – that you’d look great with short hair.  That’s why I’ve been so insistent.  I can see you and you’ll look great.”  I smiled and wiped her tears away.

“OK, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Don’t be disappointed if I just get a trim, though … or a couple inches cut off.  That would be easy and I could get it shorter later,” she said quietly.

My obsession had reached a peak.  “I understand. You have great hair and should have a great style that makes your hair – and you – the most beautiful.  I’ll be OK no matter what, but very long like it is or very short are my strong preferences.”

“I know,” she said, “and I still don’t know what to do!”  She smiled and hugged me.

The next day I texted her a hairstyle picture I found with the caption ‘I guarantee you’ll be happy, young, sexy and beautiful.  Not many guarantees like that!’

‘We’ll see’ is all I got texted back.

I got home from work about 5:00, but realized I didn’t know exactly when her salon appointment was.  I looked out the front windows where the street is partially visible, waiting for her headlights to brighten the street.  Several times there were headlights, but the cars were not hers and drove past.  I paced through the house, then stared out the windows some more.

5:30 came and went, then 5:45.  I was thinking that she would be home by now if she had just gotten a trim … if her appointment was at 4:30 – which I didn’t know – and the salon was running on time.  How long would it take if she was getting more than a trim?  I didn’t know and also didn’t know when she started, but still I kept trying to figure out when she’d be home.

I paced and I looked out the window.  A few times I went outside so I could look down the street, but it was dark.  It was too cold to stand outside and didn’t gain me anything anyway.

6:00 passed, then 6:15 and 6:30.  I had butterflies in my stomach the whole time.  It was starting to be upsetting. “Where is she?” I thought. “What does taking such a long time mean?”

Finally about 6:40 more lights illuminated the street, then I heard the garage door start to open.  The waiting time all evaporated and I was in the moment, with my heart beating wildly.

I stood inside, by the entrance door from the garage.  I heard the garage door finish going up, then heard her car pull in and the engine shut off.  I waited a few seconds, trying to time her taking off her seat belt and climbing out.  I turned on the garage lights and opened the door …

One way it could have been:

She was standing in her bright green coat and closed the car door.  She turned around and her long hair swept smooth and thick down her back to a thick, sharp, blunt-cut edge.  Her hair looked barely shorter than it had, but wonderfully shiny from treatment at the salon.  “I decided I really love my long hair,” she said. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“You’re beautiful,” I would have said as I embraced her and felt her long hair, fresh from the salon. “And it can always be shorter later.”

How it really was:

She was standing in her bright green coat and closed the car door.  She walked toward me with her world-lighting smile on her face, put her arms low around me and kissed me.  As the tips of our tongues touched, my left hand felt the close cropped hair in back while my right index finger traced the crisp cut edge of the short hair around her left ear.  We continued to kiss and as my hands explored the thick layered sweep of strawberry hair on top, then the blended areas and short sides and back.

I stepped behind her and kissed her nape, whiter than the surrounding skin where it had been clippered higher than her hairline.  I squeezed her from behind and stepped back around.

“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” I said.

“Do you like it?” she asked with a gleam in her eye.  She looked gorgeous, and just like I expected from seeing her laying in bed all those times.

“I love it!” I said. “Thank you for getting it cut so short.”  We walked in the house and she took off her coat.  She was wearing the same top as when she first mentioned short hair.  Not only did it show off her breasts, but the open neckline accentuated her graceful neck and brilliant strawberry, short hair. “What was it like getting it cut?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you about it as you’re undressing me,” she said, as she headed toward the bedroom.

“It was so scary,” she said as I slowly pulled off the top over her head.  She continued as I undid her bra,”I didn’t know what I was going to do, even when I got there.”

I went behind her and put my arms under hers, then gently massaged a breast with each hand, rolling the nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.  I kissed her nape and moved my face up to feel the short, shorn hairs against my cheek.  I told the stylist you really, really wanted my hair short, and she said I’d look great, so I took a deep breath and told her to cut it short!”

“I’m glad you did,” I said, and started undoing her belt.

“She brushed it out for a while, and my heart was beating so hard, and I kept thinking if I was doing the right thing.”  I had the belt undone and started with the clasp and zipper, all the time kissing her nape and earlobes.

“After she brushed it, she coiled up my long hair in sections and held each coil with a big hair clamp.”  I pulled her pants down and as she stepped out of them I could see her panties were soaked.  “By then I was just ready for her to start cutting,” she said. “Even so, the first ‘SNIP, SNIP, SNIP’ in back was a shock.”

I pulled off my shirt and undid my pants and stepped out of them.

She continued as I pressed against her, feeling her warm firm breasts against my chest. “She kept uncoiling sections, combing, then ‘SNIP, SNIP, SNIP’.  Some long pieces slid into my lap.  You wouldn’t believe how much hair was around the chair!”

I laid her down on the bed with her head on the pillow.

“She used clippers to cut the back short and trim around my ears, and some kind of slicing technique to layer the top.”

I pulled her panties off and removed my underwear.

“When she turned me around to the mirror, I couldn’t believe how short my hair was and how different I looked.  Are you sure you like it?” she said teasingly.

I entered her and pushed in and she gasped.  “Ohhhhh … I guess you do,” she said in a whisper.

I moved in long, smooth strokes as our tongues caressed and I felt her newly shorn hair with both my hands.

 

 

 

5 thoughts on “The Wait

  1. alexv says:

    Very erotic. Many thanks!

  2. love2bclipped says:

    So erotic

  3. Dragonfly says:

    Loved it. I wished we had been at the salon for the cut… Just the description is so erotic… Thanks.

  4. DJ says:

    Love this, good story. Thanks

  5. hlstoo says:

    I thought this was a great story. Well written and a great plot.

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