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Summer had finally arrived in New York City, and as I hadn’t had my hair cut in two months I knew it was time to head to Supercuts and do something about it. Unfortunately on this Saturday morning a lot of other people had the same idea, and as I walked in I saw three stylists busy at work and seven or eight people waiting for haircuts. “It’ll be about an hour,” said the stylist towards the front who had just finished giving a graduated bob with a buzzed undercut to a girl in her mid- or late-20’s. Well, I guess I have no choice, I thought to myself, and looked for an empty seat in the waiting area.

“Jay, is that you,” I heard someone ask me. It was the girl who had just gotten the short bob. I hadn’t recognized her at first but sure enough this was Jen, a friend from college, who at the time had much longer hair. “Jen, it’s great to see you,” I said. And it was: she had always been extremely hot, 5’8″, perfect body, pretty face, and long brown hair. But with this short bob haircut and her nape buzzed to a 1/8 or 1/4 inch half way up, she looked incredible. “You too. Gosh, you’re not going to wait for all these people to get a haircut, are you,” she asked. I replied, “well, I think I have no choice, gotta do something about this mess,” which was true, as my hair had grown to about 3 inches long all over. “Why don’t you let me cut it – I live right around the corner and I cut my husband’s hair all the time.” She had caught me completely off guard: “Um, really, are you sure,” was all I could come up with. “Of course, why not, I have some time to kill anyway – my husband’s out golfing and I’m meeting my girlfriends for lunch in an hour and a half, so let’s go,” she said. “OK, great,” I replied.

We walked to her apartment a block away, making some small talk about what we’d each been up to since college. We had each gotten married eight months ago, unbeknownst to each other on the exact same day. When we walked into her third floor apartment I saw a wedding picture and realized what Jen meant when she said she cut her husband’s hair: his head was shaved bald. “OK, follow me this way to the bathroom,” she instructed, “and it’s probably easier if you take your shirt and shorts off and then I can drape this towel over you.” I stripped down to my boxers at her command, and sat on a chair she had brought into the bathroom. “So, I should warn you that I’m pretty good with these clippers, but it’s been awhile since I had to give a haircut with scissors – is that OK?” I answered, “I’ll leave it up to you – you are the one doing me a favor after all, and it’s not as if the stylists as Supercuts know what they’re doing anyway.” She replied, “you’re right about that – the first time I got my hair cut like this was a total mistake by the stylist – though I’ve come to like it now – anyway let’s get started.” 

She put what looked like the #4 guard on the clippers and popped them on. “I’m going to take it shorter all over, and then we can leave the top longer and the sides shorter if you want.” Down the middle she ran the clippers, leaving 1/2 inch of hair in their trail. After finishing the top she moved to the right side, then the left side, and finally the back. “So I think it’ll look better with the sides and back a little shorter, don’t you?” I didn’t really know what to say, as my hair was already shorter than it had ever been. So I just nodded. Jen replaced the #4 guard with a #1 and proceeded to buzz the sides and back of my head to almost nothing, then said “I’m happy to do whatever you want, but the hair on top is a little thin, and I actually think it would look better if we just take it all off.” I looked in the mirror and she did have a point. But could I really walk around with a shaved head? What would people think? Against my better judgement I said, “it’s so short already, might as well go all the way.” Smiling broadly she pulled the guard off the clippers and shaved me down to mere stubble, first the back, then the sides, and finally the top. “There that’s better – now for the finishing touches,” she said, reaching into the medicine cabinet. Out came a can of shaving cream. She sprayed out a generous amount and rubbed it all over my head. With short and precise strokes of the Gillette razor, she removed the stubble left by the clippers and made my head smooth. Once more she rubbed a coating of shaving cream on my head – “gotta make sure we get you extra smooth,” she said, still smiling – and again removed it with the razor. She took some moisturizer from a bottle on the sink and spread it liberally on my head. “So what do you think,” she asked. “It’s definitely going to take some getting used to, but I think I like it.”

“OK, just one thing left to do,” Jen said, looking at my boxers, where apparently she had noticed a bulge forming during the haircut. “Stand up,” she said, and I obeyed. She took my boxers off, revealing a rock hard cock that I generally kept shaved with an electric trimmer. “Now that’s the kind of haircut I like, but let’s try and get you totally smooth there too.” She applied a layer of shaving cream all over, and shaved it clean with the same razor she’d used on my head. “Good, now you look more like I look down there,” she said as she removed her shirt, pants, and underwear, revealing a totally smooth pussy. I pushed her up against the wall and came in her for half an hour until we both came simultaneously. “OK,” Jen said, “I guess I’ll see you at Supercuts again in four weeks.”

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