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This story came to us in 2009 from Geri.  Since this story was sent out, Geri's husband has suffered a stroke and is paralyzed on his left side.  Our prayers go out to them and hope Tom fully recovers.

Hello She-devils:

My name is Geri, but people call me Gigi.  I am GGXXXXX on the insiders' forum. 

I may be your oldest follower (SD edit: she is not). I am 61 years young, and I am proud to say I am a cougar. I am not one of the recent phenomenon cougars. I married my cub in 1989, and we are getting ready to celebrate our 20^th anniversary in November.

This is the story about how I made my husband fall under my spell. Oh, that’s just me being me; it’s how he first told me he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.

I first met Tom at a Christmas party in 1988. I think the date was either December 15 or 16. I worked at a high-end hair salon then. I was 40 years old and divorced for almost 10 years. To say that I was on the prowl for a mate was an understatement. I didn’t like going to bed alone every night, and I didn’t like one-night stands either. There just weren’t any 40-something year old men around then. If they weren’t married, there was a reason for it. I didn’t like their reasons.

This party was a party for our salon. We had a drawing to give presents to one other stylist or receptionist in the shop. My friend Karen drew my name. She thought it would be hilarious to set me up with her friend Tom. Tom was 27 then, and Karen was 38. Karen had been cutting his hair for almost 10 years, and he was always trying to flirt with her. Karen was and is married, so she never responded to Tom in a way that would encourage him to flirt. It was obvious Tom liked more mature women than women his age, and he was actively looking for a relationship with someone older than he.

Wacky Karen had invited Tom to the party and told him he was going to set him up with me on a date. When I opened my present from her, it was a $50 gift certificate to a romantic restaurant with a picture of Tom and his phone number. After a few seconds of giggles, Karen quickly came over to me to tell me that Tom was at the party. She was scared I might say something about him, so she took my hand and pulled me over to Tom. I had sort of remembered seeing him as one of Karen’s customers. He was very particular about how she cut his hair. He had the Warren Beatty look about him. He thought it made him God’s gift to women, but it just made him look a little plastic. I don’t like making people look like celebrities; it is a sign of insecurity or false idolatry of people who need not be idolized. Trust me: I am a hair stylist to many stars today, and 95% of them are less impressive to me than the man who cuts my lawn.

I was not instantly attracted to Tom, and he was not overly thrilled to have Karen pawn him off on me. Nevertheless, we decided to go out on one date. Mind you, I had never dated someone even one year younger than me, and I was unsure what to do with someone who was in 2^nd Grade when I was married the first time.

The Gift Certificate was to a place called, “The Little Door." I had never heard of it, but according to the address, I must have passed it 500 times and never noticed it. It was a French Mediterranean bistro with an outdoor courtyard. Billed as a hidden paradise, it proved its truth in advertising. 

The waiters were authentic Frenchmen. They spoke French when they were not talking with the patrons, and some of the patrons spoke French with them. Our waiter was a UCLA student on an exchange from Marseille; you couldn’t get a more authentic French Mediterranean expert than someone who grew up on the sea and worked on the Marseille to Bejaia , Algeria , ferry in the summers. He helped us choose our lunch carefully. We chose lunch because $50 would just barely pay for one dinner. For $50, we could eat lunch for two with a bottle of nice French wine.

Little did I know that my young cub did not drink. He had tasted wine and beer in the past, but he had never had more than a tiny amount. He was too embarrassed to admit it, so he forced himself to down two glasses of a nice, smooth Bordeaux . Two glasses hardly fazed me; two glasses acted like sodium pentothal on him. He really opened up during the end of the meal and admitted he was very attracted to me and would love for me to take control of the rest of the date and do to him anything I wanted.

I knew I would have to drive his car, because he was in no condition. I felt an untapped power when I helped him to the passenger side and got behind his red Camaro. I had become accustomed to driving my Toyota for so long, I forgot what it was like to be behind the wheels of such a powerful sports car. I wanted to head out on the freeway toward the desert and open up the throttle, but my maturity took over for just a little while longer. I decided to head toward the ocean for a nice walk on the beach. I realized that for a short time, I would have a younger man compelled to open up and tell me what was on his mind. It made me feel like a spy trying to extract information from a prisoner using my feminine wiles to get the info.

We walked for an hour and a half. Some point during the walk, I began to feel like I wanted to jump Tom on the beach and have my way with him. I also began to fantasize about getting rid of his Warren Beatty look. I knew that if I became involved with him, he would no longer have Karen cutting his hair. I would become his new stylist.

That first date ended with a conservative sharing of a couple of kisses. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t Earth-shattering. It was just enough to necessitate another go at it. Still feeling empowered and going on the assumption that Tom wanted to date me because I had power over him, I began to plan dates where I could reinforce the point that he had no power in this budding relationship. He wanted an older, more experienced woman, and that’s why they call us cougars. I was bitten by the bug. It soon began to dominate my thoughts. I wanted to become a one-person, erotic dominant female. I didn’t know at the time about femdom or she-devils. I thought it was a novel idea that just applied to me. My only comparison was from Mrs. Robinson and “The Graduate."

I didn’t want to just have a fling with Tom though. I quickly decided that it might be nice to have a permanent relationship with a younger man. I could control the entire thing and avoid the one thing that forced my first marriage to end. My ex-husband didn’t think women could even decide how to drive from their house to the next block without being given instructions on how to start the car, pull out of the garage, etc. I soon grew very tired of it, and I kicked him out. I wanted a relationship, as I was still very much desiring great fun in the bedroom, but I wanted to be the one on top. I knew what I wanted, and I knew how to make a man beg for me.

After two dates, I knew the third one would have to be the one where we went all the way. If it didn’t happen by date number three, it would head nowhere. It’s not like it had to be forced. By now, I wanted him dearly, and I noticed from his pants that my kisses were turning him on. They were now open-mouthed and lasting longer than your average kiss.

I planned the entire afternoon and evening. It was the Friday before New Year’s Day. Our shop was closed for the long weekend, as New Year’s came on a Sunday that year. The date started with a romantic lunch at the Santa Monica Mountains Recreation Area. We then took a two-hour horseback ride on a nice mountain trail. The entire ride, I was highly aroused by the vibrating saddle. I hoped it was doing the same thing to Tom. After we returned to the stable, we got back in the car and drove a short while to a nice secluded picnic area. I produced a bottle of sweet red wine and chocolate-covered cherries. We sat on a blanket near the crest of the hill in the park. 

Here was the plan. I had rented “The Graduate" and watched it at home because that was my idea of how to seduce a younger man. So, my idea was to do what Anne Bancroft did in the movie, only I had one other thing planned as well, the demise of Tom’s Warren Beatty look. I had packed my scissors, cordless trimmer, and a few other goodies to transform Tom into the in-look of the time, a short clipper cut. Yes, I wanted to take Tom from long to crew cut before I rocked his world.

What did Anne Bancroft do in the seduction? She lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke in Dustin Hoffman’s face. I hadn’t smoked in years, but I knew I would have to do this to Tom. I hadn’t had sex outdoors since the early 1970’s either, but I knew I was going to do this as well. I also had to do something I hadn’t done before. I brought along condoms in case Tom didn’t have any. I was prepared.

After two glasses of wine, Tom was back in his altered state and telling me everything I wanted to know. The more he talked, the more empowered I felt. It was so arousing. I couldn’t wait another minute. I told him to sit on a boulder just behind our blanket. I told him to shut his eyes, because I had a great plan to concentrate on his sense of touch and smell. With his eyes shut, I carefully placed small pieces of black electrical tape on his eyes so he couldn’t open them until I was ready. I was soon going to tape his mouth shut, so that he would have to breathe through his nose. I tied his hands behind him with a small rope, leaving just enough slack in it for him to balance himself on the boulder.

Now that he had no ability to see what was going on, I removed my regular clothing to reveal a tight, red miniskirt that I had kept from my wild days of the 1970’s. I had a red bikini top that closely matched the bottom. With Tom unable to see this, I explained what I was wearing. I told him to imagine how I looked with nothing covering me from nine inches above my knees and only a tiny bit covering my upper body. It was quite chilly, maybe 60 degrees, so I had to operate quickly.

I took my equipment out of the bag and began with the spray bottle, wetting down his long locks. He wasn’t sure at that point, but he quickly surmised I was taking over for Karen as his new stylist. He mentioned that it was a nice perk to get a free haircut outdoors in such a nice, romantic, secluded spot. He asked me if I knew how Karen did it, and I told him it didn’t matter, because he was getting a new look. He balked at first, but then I told him he was going to become addicted to his new look really quick. He asked me how I was going to do it, and I explained that was why he was blindfolded. I added that he needed to be taped in the mouth to get the full odorous effect I was going to give him. He was getting a little worried that I was going to do something harsh to him, but I could see the reaction in his pants.

Once he was taking deep breaths through his nose, I sprayed my favorite perfume on and spritzed him in the face so that he would strongly smell it. I wanted to make sure the next odor wouldn’t turn him off. I moved away from him so that he wouldn’t hear my lighter flicking and lit up my Virginia Slim. I carefully walked over to him and gently blew a stream of smoke at him. He gave out a short cough through his muffled mouth, but below bulged out even more. He knew he was now with a wild, “bad girl." I think he realized that he was about to be totally controlled by an older woman, just what he secretly desired. He tensed up now, and he later told me he was scared to death at that point. He figured I might do things to him he wasn’t ready for, but the fear also turned him on more than he had ever been turned on.

I took his long locks into my hands and began snipping most of it off his head. It went from 6 inches to an inch rather quickly. Down below, his pants were starting to moisten. My walls were doing the same. I was so into it, I forgot to flick ash away, and it fell on his wet spot. That turned me on all the more and forever solidified me doing this to him in the future.

After my scissors had done its damage, I fired up my trimmer. I had a number three attachment on it, and I began running it through his sides and back. It left 3/8 inch of hair around the perimeter. When I was done, poor Tom’s wet spot looked like an ash tray, and his face smelled like a brothel, wine, perfume, and blown smoke. He looked great with much shorter hair, and I was ready to send him into outer space. I had never in my life been so aroused. It was like I had become a teenage male. I thought I was going to explode before I even took off his clothes. I led Tom back to the blanket and took the tape off his mouth. I kept it on his eyes. I wanted him to feel my clothes to prove to him what I had worn during the cut. As he knelt to feel the miniskirt, I pulled his shirt off, revealing hot, six-pack abs. I could wait no longer. I pushed him backward onto the blanket and sat down on his tummy facing his feet. I unbuttoned his pants and underpants. He was hard and wet, and his emancipated piece shot upwards like a missile ready to fire. It took me two seconds to lose my skirt and undergarment. Before he could even respond, I had the Trojan on him, and I had him in me. We did it while he was still unable to open his eyes. I think it made the effect more stimulating for him. I stripped his gears, and when he shot, he shot hard and long. I cleared the vault, and he had no energy left. I kept going while he struggled, and I exploded just a few seconds afterwards. I think my echo was heard down in the valley below. Afterwards, I lit up and enjoyed a post-sex smoke, blowing it again at Tom. I carefully removed the tape from his lids, barely taking a stray eyelash or two. He couldn’t keep his eyes open very long. He fell back into a deep sleep, while I cleaned up the area. I awakened him after 20 minutes, so that we could return to my house to continue. We had the entire weekend to play, and I planned on getting maximum play out of him.

I knew after that first time, that I had successfully entranced Tom. He would not want anything else. I also knew that I could just about do whatever I wanted with him, and it would only turn him on all the more. It gave me great power, and I made it a point not to abuse it. I began planning many ways to tease his senses to get him in the mood and keep it fresh.

On New Year’s night, I decided that I no longer like Tom’s new look. It was too short to be a standard businessman’s cut and too long to be a military look. I thought Tom would look smashing with the military look, so I planned on the demise of the rest of his locks. By now, he knew that once I ordered him into submission by tying him up and taping him up, that he had to obey quickly. So, when I told him it was time to enter my boot camp, he knew I meant business. I ordered him to remove his clothes and march into the bathroom and take a seat in the PX barbershop. I had my corded clipper there ready to finish him off. I shut the door and turned on the exhaust. This time, I wanted him to see everything. I lit up and started blowing directly at him ordering him to take deep breaths through his nose. I commanded that he stare in the mirror at his hair. I took the clipper and removed the attachment on it. I began clipping his hair off his scalp, leaving a fine grit in its wake. If you’ve ever seen a recruit in the military emerge from his initial scalping, that’s what Tom looked like. I wasn’t sure how he was going to look to me when I began, but once I saw him hairless and nude with his great physique, I thought he was the sexiest man on Earth. I told him he was going to remain hairless as long as he was with me, and that I would routinely shave his head at the shop every Friday afternoon from then on. He would be forced to get it done with all the other stylists and customers watching.

We made love several times the remainder of the weekend. I found many new ways to subdue him and simulate that I was forcing myself on him. The more I did it, the more he craved it and the more I craved it. By the time the weekend was over, we had our future planned. He moved out of his apartment the end of January and moved in with me. He quit his job as an underpaid courier, and he began working as a boy Friday at the salon. He booked appointments, sent out postcards to the clientele, picked up lunches for the girls, swept the floors every 30 minutes, did all the laundry, and even did some valet parking for the older men and women who found it hard to park and walk when there wasn’t a spot near the door. The shop owner paid him $7 an hour, and he got about $20 a week in tips as the valet, which was just enough to keep him there. I made him save that money to go back to college. I made enough money to support him, and I could have easily paid for him to return to college, but I wanted him to accomplish this. By the time the 1989 school year began, he was enrolled at Pepperdine, but he no longer had to worry about paying. We were engaged, and we were married just before Thanksgiving.

His military buzzcut became a slick head shave once we wore wedding bands. I quickly began to love rubbing his slick head during our love-making sessions, and just the thought of touching him up there made me tingle.

It is now 20 years later. We are still married, and he is still bald as a cue ball. I shave him in my own shop every Friday afternoon after I close for the day. It is our weekly ritual. Since the shop is closed, I can light up and blow it on him while I’m using the razor. Tom is now a 47-year old who resembles Telly Savalas instead of Warren Beatty. He is even more sexy today than he was 20 years ago, and we have proved that people our age can enjoy wild sex lives. We think it keeps us feeling young. 

Since reading a lot of the she-devil exposes, we have broadened our horizons. I recently removed all the rest of Tom’s body hair except for around his eyes. The natural depilatory made it a breeze. I love the smooth look, especially on his back side. It’s nice to dig my fingernails into a hairless rump.

That’s not the end of this story. I failed to mention that once I began making it mandatory that Tom come by the old salon every Friday to get his head re-shaved in front of my co-workers, three of the other girls saw how erotic it was. They soon forced their men into the salon and into my chair. They didn’t have clippers, and they wanted to watch as spectators. I clipped their men to fine grit in front of them. It soon became a fad at this upscale salon. Women began bringing their men to me for something that could have been done for $10 at a barbershop. I didn’t complain about doing such an easy job in 5 minutes and getting paid $35 plus tips for it. Within a few months, I must have had 15 new buzzcut clients, each needing it done every two weeks or less. I was doing about five buzzes a week and still keeping my regular clients, so it increased my take home pay by $200 a week. Because of that, I was able to buy my own shop after three years of buzzing guys.

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