I’ve read and long admired many of the stories on Literotica. I thought I’d try my hand at story-telling. This account is pure fiction, though I’ve made every attempt to make it as real as possible. It has also incorporated a few of my fetishes along the way (might as well play to my strengths, right?). I hope you enjoy the story. I’ve already written the first few chapters and will publish more with good feedback. I’d Love to hear your comments and criticisms.

Chapter 2

Another 6 weeks had passed and it was time for another haircut. I spent quite a bit of time just gathering up the courage to take it further. It’s been decades since I was last naked in the presence of a woman besides my Wife (colonoscopies aside, but I insist on sedation for those, and to me, there is absolutely nothing sexy or erotic about a colonoscopy. Also, the nurses have seen it all). And then there is the matter of broaching the subject again. I decided on the best way to revisit it during my haircut.

As i sat down to my next appointment, I could already feel my cock beginning to swell as Andrea put on the smock. As usual, we of exchanged pleasantries as she started to cut my hair.

I looked around to get the feel of how a CFNM situation might play out. Andrea has a space to herself. It’s housed in an old hardware store in a strip mall that was partitioned into about 30 small salons, each one individually owned and operated. Andrea paid a fee to rent the space. Her salon, like the others, was only about 12 feet by 12 feet. It was a little crowded in her salon, but she was able to fit everything she needed. The wall facing the hall to get to her shop was all glass with a sliding door for access, which left the entire salon visible from the hallway. There were curtains for privacy, though I had never seen any closed. She had one barber chair for the client, which faced a large mirror. Opposite the mirror was a small counter with lower and upper cabinets. Next to the cabinets was a sink for washing hair and another smaller barber chair for washing purposes only. It’s usually reclined a bit for hair washing purposes. An office chair; one that you might find in a waiting room, sat near the entrance, which rounded out the decor. Gray tile with black and white flecks made up the floor.

An unusually warm spell of weather started our conversation, but in a matter of minutes, we were silent. It was the perfect time to break the ice and revisit her revelation from my last haircut.

“So, I still can’t believe you let a guy get naked while you cut his hair. I’m just kind of amazed something like that could actually happen.”

“It did,” she explained. “It happened maybe three other times with the same guy. He only came in like twice a year and the last few times he would always make sure he was the last appointment of the day. Before sitting down he’d say, ‘May I?’ as he reached up and paused his hands on the top button of his shirt. I’d tell him, ‘Sure’ and he’d disrobe before sitting down. I’d go about my business, which didn’t take too long–he didn’t have a lot of hair. Then he’d pay and go.”

All the while I could feel my dick getting harder thinking how brazen and lucky this guy was.

“Then suddenly, no more appointments. Don’t know if the guy died, moved away or what. And that was it.”

I watched Andrea intently in the mirror for any change in her demeanor, but I didn’t detect anything. There was another lull as I was getting ready for my “line,” the sentence I hoped would grant me the opportunity to be her next naked client. Then, without looking at me, but with a little smile on her face, she added, “I’ve had a couple of guys who I’d wished asked me if they could be nude. But he was my only one.” I was surprised she shared this. This seemed more personal; it’s the most she’d ever really opened up to me.

That gave me the confidence to go for the hook.

“Well, you know, I’m not going to kid you. It’s the fantasy of a lot of guys to be naked while they’re getting their hair cut.” I tried my best to look at her as I said this, but was unsuccessful at getting any eye contact.

She stopped what she was doing and looked right at me. “That’s what I’ve heard from a lot of other stylists. We’ve talked about it on several occasions.”

“What did they have say about it?” I asked, trying to mask my eagerness.

“I’ve heard several say they wouldn’t care, so long as they felt safe. A couple said there’s no way their husbands or boyfriends would allow it,” Andrea said.

She started moving the scissors and comb toward my head again when I decided to get it out of the way and go for it. I blurted out, “So can I?” My heart was beating a mile a minute and my cock actually shrunk a little in fear of what was to come next. I had an explanation planned out in case she asked why, but suddenly my mind went blank.

She looked at me in the mirror and dropped her hands slightly, perhaps in surprise. “Really?” she asked, but not in a way that was incredulous or disgusted. Rather, it sounded more like she was just flat-out surprised because it was coming from completely out of the blue. I looked back at her in the mirror and sheepishly shook my head ‘yes.’ She then replied in a very non-committal way, “OK. If you want to, I’m OK with it.”

“Are you sure you’re OK with it?” I asked, “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” At first I regretted giving her an ‘out,” but like I said, I don’t want anyone to see me naked who doesn’t want to see me naked.

“Yeah,” she said, a half-smile coming to her face, “I’m really OK with it.”

I couldn’t believe what was about to happen. I had surprised myself with the courage to go through with it and even more surprised at Andrea’s positive response. I was stunned beyond belief as I watched Andrea calmly turn to close the sliding door, which was only open a few inches, then lock it. She looked both ways before drawing the curtains together.

I stood up slowly. I had imagined how this moment might go,but now that the time had come, I felt like I was going through the motions in a mechanical way; it’s one thing to fantasize about how it’s going to happen, it’s another to actually follow through. When she turned to me, I unsnapped the smock and handed it to her. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and placed it on the office chair. I then looked at her as I began unbuckling my belt and shorts (side note–I live in a Chicago suburb. Because I have to wear slacks or jeans to work, I almost always wear shorts pretty much from the middle of March until Thanksgiving). She smiled at me, then looked down directly at my crotch. I slipped my deck shoes off (another typical fashion choice) and dropped my shorts and boxers to the floor. After stepping out of them, I slowly picked them up, carefully folded them and placed them on the chair, all the while taking my time and hoping Andrea was taking me all in. I was now completely exposed, from my head down to my half-erection to my toes.

“Well, I’m completely naked, but I have to ask one more time.” I was asking her more in my own disbelief at what was transpiring than anything else. And to stall a little bit before she would cover me with the smock again. “Are you sure you’re OK with this?” I tried to mask my smile, but it was useless.

“Yes, it’s totally fine.” She said with a little laugh. She was trying not to look down, but I think she was trying to check me out by my reflection in the mirror.

With her approval, I sat back down in the chair. Andrea put the smock back on me and after a few moments of studying my hair, she found where she had left off and picked right back up.

Andrea chatted with me about a couple of things, but nothing registered. All I could think of was that I was stark naked under the smock. I did a great job of keeping my cock at half-mast; I didn’t want to scare her with a full-on erection, because she hadn’t mentioned anything sexual that had gone on with her first naked client. And at this point, just her knowing I was completely naked under the smock was good enough for me. I had made real progress! I watched her closely in the mirror. Again nothing appeared out of the ordinary to her. If she was uncomfortable, she didn’t show it.

When my haircut was over, Andrea used a hair dryer to blow the excess hair off my smock. I again took my time getting out of the chair, fishing my wallet and credit card out of my pocket before putting my boxers and shorts back on. As I began sliding the boxers back up my legs, I looked over at Andrea. She was watching me get dressed, but then snapped her head back to her smartphone to take my credit card info. I asked her if I owed anything more and she said “Nope” with a little lilt in her voice. That made me feel very good about what had just happened. I left her my usual tip, but this time I gave her a quick little hug and whispered “Thank you” into her ear before leaving. I got a nice, warm smile in return.

I was in a daze as I exited her salon and walked out of the building. Once in my car, it took me less than two minutes to drop my shorts and jack off right there in the parking lot… the thoughts of my visit playing out again in my head.