Tess for short. I’m 32, a boi-butch dyke and I have a mobile barber service, catering for lezgrrrls and gayboyz – more the former than the latter, but I love my poofy clients. And a surprising number of “straight” (haha) women who, ahem, protest their marital or hetero-partnered bliss rather too much, methinks! Well, in some cases I know that rather subjectively, if you get my drift.
This is the perfect profession for a lesbian with a short hair fetish, and I sort of moved into it when I decided that my ‘hobby’ of shearing, shaving, clippering and cropping my friends was more fulfilling than aeronautical engineering, my other, and now long-ago profession.
I’m one of those hard-core evangelical dykes suburban mothers are scared their well-brought-up daughters will fall prey to. Mwwwwwwwwwwwwaaahhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaaaaa! Nevertheless, I do keep my professional work separate from my lusts and seductions. Sometimes.
You said you wanted to hear how I fell into this noble anti-hirsute pursuit. Well, long, long ago, when I was 10 years old and a crazy tomboy running with the boys at school, and checking the girls out from the soccer pitch, I sported a long, jet-black ponytail. My mother brushed it twice a day – 100 strokes each time. I hated it, just hated it. Wasn’t like it hurt or anything, but it took up valuable time when I could have been hitting a ball, riding a bike or climbing a tree.
One early summer day, when I was in craft class at school, there was a terrible, terrible accident. Somehow, when my teacher, Ms Prentice, was turned away some fast drying glue got stuck all over my hair! Can you believe it? Well, Ms Prentice found it hard to understand how it happened, ‘specially seeing as how there were no other kids near me. Still and all, there was nothing for it – I said to Ms Prentice, “Oh, dear”, picked up the scissors on the teacher’s desk and said, “I’ll fix it!”
Before Ms Prentice could say “gee willikers” I had grabbed a hank of black hair and sheared straight through as close to the scalp as I could manage. She lunged, too late, and grabbed the shears, but was left to stare open-mouthed as 18 inches of hair slid to the classroom floor.
Seconds passed, and I’m sure for Ms Prentice time stood still for what seemed like hours. For me, I felt release. I felt bold and relieved. I knew, I just knew that there was only one possible outcome from here: it would be a trip to the barber’s my brothers were sent to for their flattop each spring! Or, if mum didn’t think of that, she would come round to it eventually! Well, it was sort of like that. I did get a spanking first, but that was a small price to pay! I rather like a spanking these days, actually… ‘specially just before I am shorn myself.
By the time my hair had grown an inch or two, summer was nearing its end and there was no suggestion that I could have a return to the #1 of such a short time ago. Drats. I was still very young, and, short of another “accident”, couldn’t quite contrive a repeat. I ended up having to wait 9 months for my next shearing! As I said, in spring my brothers (aged 16, 14, and 12 when I was 10) went together to Sam The Barber for a flattop. The spring I was 11 I just tagged along. Sam had “fixed” my hair after the “debacle” the year before, so after Tom, Richard and Harry were finished, I just assumed my place in the big barber’s chair and without a word Sam delivered me the same look as my brothers.
The same pattern repeated itself for several years, till I was about 14 and earning a little part-time babysitting money.
One of the things I learned during the months between shearings was the thrill of anticipation, the excitement of dreaming about the moment Sam’s huge Wahl clippers would bite into my hair and nibble my nape. I learned to associate the buzz of the clippers with the release of pent-up longings. At age 13 I had what I later could identify as my first orgasm in the barber’s chair in Smalltown. I got wettest when I saw the white walls emerging around my ears.
By then, too, I guess everyone was used to the tomboy girl with the flat chest and flat-top who tried out (usually successfully) for every sporting team in town. I guess they must have got over thinking of me as anything other than what I was, because no-one ever assumed I was gonna wear party frocks or learn ballet!
The summer I was 14, instead of just letting my hair grow, I went back to Sam’s after one month. Silently he caped me, and popped on the clippers, as usual. This time instead of 6 inches falling to the floor, tiny little black spikes flew out of the teeth of the clippers as he finessed my flattie with the clippers over comb. And then he did something different. Sam took out his straight razor and glided it back and forth on the leather strop. He placed a hot towel over my head as he lathered up a fine quality bristle brush with shaving cream. He removed the towel and lathered the back of my scalp and back of my ears, then with slow, but sure and firm strokes, shaved me clean in those areas. Oh, fuck! I didn’t want Sam to know what was happening between my legs, so I grimaced and bit my bottom lip. The smallest smile flirted with the corner of Sam’s mouth. But Sam was a true gent. He wasn’t going to take advantage of his youngest, and probably only female, fetishist ever!
My nipples were straining at my t-shirt. I still didn’t wear a bra most times (only when I played sport) so I could feel the hardness directly on the fabric under the cape. I moved ever so slightly in the chair and the seam of my jeans caught my clit. It was like an electrical shock shooting into my inner core.
Sam made sure I saw the tiny little black stubble-bits of hair mixed with the shaving cream as he wiped his razor clean between strokes. He stopped at the occipital bone. Eventually, he wiped my head clean, and picked up the smaller shears for blending, and executed the most perfect fade. The hair was just barely visible above the smoothness, but by the time it reached the crown, it was 1mm in length. Towards the forehead it reached 1.5, then 2mm, and finally I had a row of 5mm “fringe”. He managed the same blend from ears thru temples, til it mixed perfectly with the top.
God it was hot! The only words Sam spoke as I paid him the standard 5 bucks were, “Next week.” And that is how I started my weekly barber shop ritual. I went to Sam’s every Wednesday after school for 3 years until I left for college in Big Town.
Wednesday night was soccer training, so the first time I saw Sal I was freshly shaved. Sal was 18, the sister, and guardian, of a teammate, Bill. Sal was my first lover. And that’s my next tale.
Sal is as butch a woman as I have ever seen. She is usually wearing the PE teacher’s uniform of tracksuit and joggers. Whereas my hair is clippered and shaved, Sal prefers a very 1930s Brylcreemed short back and sides, complete with squared-off sideburns. When she goes out she wears a felt trilby tilted on her head. But underneath her silk suit and polished lace-up shoes she is all woman. Including the soft girlcock bulging in her pants and snaking down her groin (dressing to the left).
It took about 5 seconds for Sal and I to lock eyes and know that we weren’t going home alone tonight! Incredibly, she said later, I was still a virgin. Of course, I was never interested in boys other than as mates, and companions in mischief, and no girl in school who aroused my interest had ever been attainable. I’m glad Sal started teaching there after I left – god knows how much trouble she might have been in if she had been there when I was a student!
Sal took me to a lesbian dance club in the larger town 30 miles away. She was known by everyone there! And as her new date, all eyes were on me! We danced real slow, we danced wild and frenetic, we danced ’til our feet ached. Sal held my hand against her chest as she led me expertly in a slow waltz. She pressed her bulge against my very wet vulva, and she grasped my ass cheeks, pulling me still closer.
I was dizzy with the exotic eroticism of this new experience. I noticed other couples making out in corners and booths, and one couple right against the bar! In the shadows of a corner I glimpsed three (!) girls, no older than myself, in various stages of undress, exploring and sampling each other’s delights. It was heady and I was intoxicated by the raw sexuality. I knew I had ‘come home’.
Sal taught me how to fuck. We started that night. She said I was the best student she had ever had! And I kinda have the idea there had been many before me (and probably many after, despite her telling me she had fallen in love with her “one true love” the next year).
The other thing Sal gave me was a network of friends and support. My college town was 100 miles away, but many of the women at the club that night had connections there and so when it was over with Sal I was able to pick up links and seek out the dyke havens where I was.
Petal arrived in my life one Saturday, a waif-like imp with a cheeky grin and the tightest ass I’ve ever seen! She dressed in opportunity shop black, but had the longest, blondest hair imaginable. It cascaded like a waterfall down her back, in straight tresses. Sometimes she fixed it with a clasp, pulled it tightly back from her head and twisted into a tight braid. While Petal stood eagerly on my doorstep, I gasped before regaining my composure and showing her in to my study/bedroom.
That day, I leaned over Petal, my tits brushing against her arm or neck, as she sat at the computer, and I leant over her, working on physics problems together. My nipples were jutting fully erect from my tank top, unhindered by underwear. Yet Petal showed no indication of noticing. This gorgeous young naïf (as she appeared to me) was dedicated in her pursuit of… physics!
The fourth week of this routine, Petal suddenly looked up at me, twisted the hair onto the top of her head, and, biting her lip, said, “Hey, you know, I really like your hair!” So, I thought, what the hell do I do with that comment? Before I could respond, she had swung round in her chair and said, “Mind if I feel it?”
Mind? Mind? Was she kidding? This beauty was unconsciously (ha!) tapping into my eternal obsession. A fetish tapped is the most delicious of fulfillments. I grasped her wrist and placed her hand on my bare nape. Well, not quite bare. Being a Saturday, there was a 3-day growth there. She ran that hand all over my head, revelling in the prickliness of neck and temples, the suede-smoothness of the crown and top of my head.
That first time we made love I was totally surrounded by her golden tresses. They cascaded like a waterfall when she was on top of me… they fell across my tits, and across the bed when we lay side by side, gently and roughly in turns fingering each other’s clit and exploring the soft folds of our cunt lips and their smooth moist interiors, tracing our wet fingers down our ass cracks and exploring the brown puckered holes. I had to brush her hair back from her face to find her lips and tongue so we could devour each other in kisses. When I flipped her over onto her front, I gathered her hair in both my hands and flipped it forward, above her head, so that I could kiss the smooth softness of her neck. But when I started to tongue her ass which she raised from the bed and swayed sexily back and forth, I pulled her hair so that her head rose from the bed.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Yeeeeeeeeeeees! Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh.
She came in a shuddering orgasm.
Afterwards we propped ourselves on our elbows and talked until the afternoon shadows drew close and we made love again
I asked Petal how long she had been “out” and she replied that she wasn’t yet. She was sure I remembered what it was like at high school, but I just laughed and said I would be surprised if anyone at home ever thought I was anything BUT a dyke! She told me she had had a few secret lovers, furtive gropings in alleys outside school dances and in the bathroom at the pub she visited occasionally. But, she said, she had never fucked in a bed before!
Her greatest wish, she said was to be able to tell her mother about her lesbianism. Her mother was a widow, and she was an only child, very close to her mum. But this secret was depressing her and straining her relationship. That one I would have to think about….
Petal continued to come to me for tutoring every Saturday. Not only was she topping her class in physics, she was topping physically as well. We continued to switch places as necessary. One moment she was on the chair figuring out the problems I set, the next I was atop her on the bed, before she insisted on pinning me and smothering me with her golden locks. My cunt burned with fiery passion every time I fantasised about that braid, or ponytail, or loosened tresses brushing my tits, being wrapped around my neck or brushing the softest part of my lower back and ass. More than once as we sucked and licked and flicked and fucked each other senseless, I pictured it shorn and strewn all around the bed we writhed upon.
Petal specially loved to use her tongue. She could curl it into a broad and wet paddle to scoop my come juice from me, or she could turn it into a stiff board with which to tongue my ass. I would lie on my front on the bed or on all fours on the floor. Petal would ride my shaven head with her smooth wet cunt, and lean forward to fuck me with her magic tongue. Or else, she would nibble and bite my tits for what seemed like hours, sucking so hard that all the next week I would have hickies to remember her by. She would poke her tongue through one of my nipple rings and pull it hard, hard, hard, upwards ’til I was screaming with pleasurable pain. At the same time she would pump my cunt with her fingers ’til I oozed slick and juice all over her and she could twist a hand inside and fist me. Oh, glorious, glorious fuck! Some Saturdays, after Physics she would stay late into the night and all day Sunday, so we could feast on each other’s body.
From me, Petal especially liked my toy collection – double-headed dildos, which banged her ass and cunt together were her favourites. Oh, yes, wild thing… as long as no one else knew what we were doing.
Still, our relationship was hidden from the outside world, conducted entirely within the confines of my student room. Petal was so deeply in the closet that there was no way she would accompany me even to the safest of dyke-spaces. She said over and over that the day she came out to her mother was the day she would come out to the world.
Being out and proud, I was unable to stay out of circulation from the lesbian scene in town. Petal was my Saturday fuck, a joyous siren, sure enough, but not the only action in my life. As long as Petal stayed hidden from view, I pursued other interests as well. If you called me a slut, how could I possibly be offended? Petal was always co-operative. If I said I was going out Saturday night, she got dressed without demur and left without fuss.
At this time I started to notice a quiet, bespectacled woman in one of my classes. I guessed she was in her late thirties, older than most of us students, and seemingly friendly with the lecturer. I wondered just how friendly, since my lesbo gaydar had been bipping off the screen ever since I had first clapped eyes on Susan Pinkerton, Senior Lecturer.
I didn’t have to wait long to find out. One Friday night, hanging out with buddies and the local gay bar, in walked Susan and the woman from my lectures. Susan was flirting with this woman, who was a little more reticent, but clearly enjoying herself. I noticed, however, that as Susan tried to unbutton her companion’s shirt, her hand was promptly removed. However, the top two buttons remained unfastened and I glimpsed the most magnificent set of rounded, full tits I’d ever had the pleasure of sighting. It’s crude and totally superficial, but I knew I just had to get up close and personal with those tits.
Contriving to move closer to the couple, I found myself sitting at the bar next to Susan’s companion. Nodding at her (and blatantly ogling her magnificent bazookas) I held out my hand and introduced myself. I have to own here that I was fairly breathless in my lust, and I had one thing on my mind. I had to be in bed with those magnificent breasts by the end of the night, and I didn’t care how, or with whom else. If it meant Susan had to accompany them, then so be it!
“Trina,” she returned my introduction. Susan leaned over and smiled at me, said hello, and pulled Trina proprietarily towards her. Yet Trina continued to hold eye contact with me, and turned slightly to include me in their conversation. My cunt did little flipflops and short shots of electrical lust caused my knickers and jeans to get moist. I was conscious that my cunt would be smelling of sexual readiness, and that my cheeks and neck would be flushing. At moments like this I tend to run my hands across my shorn head, to finger my earlobes and trace the soft, bare skin around my ears. Trina watched my every move and smiled as I unconsciously brushed my other hand across my swollen left, pierced nipple. Her gaze rested upon my nipples pushing out from my light cotton tank top.
Susan leaned forward and whispered something to Trina, who nodded and smiled enigmatically. Susan suggested that we move on to her apartment. Neither Trina nor I hesitated.
Back at Susan’s campus apartment, we three wasted no time getting down and going down. I had to get to Trina’s tits before I burst with frustration, and so have to confess I got a little rough. Not that Trina objected, oh no, those still waters were being well and truly stirred. I backed her against the wall of Susan’s living room as soon as we entered, and ripped the shirt open. The remaining buttons flew off, and those tits were finally in my face. I started to devour them, lapping and sucking and twisting and….
Let me describe in detail. All my lovers have demonstrated that I am a Tit Mistress. Every one has been through multiple comes when I get going . With Trina, I pressed her against the wall, my hands moulding her delectable orbs. How full and soft to the touch they were, while still firm. Her nipples were huge, the areolas behind them plump and puckered. Oh, I gasped, this woman has had at least one child! The telltale little bumps surrounding the nipples were pronounced and dark. Sometimes simultaneous firmness and softness happens to tits after they have been suckled by a baby.
With one hand I mashed and moulded her right tit. I drew all five of my fingers together, meeting them in a pinch at her nipple. I pulled that nipple out l-o-n-g – as far as I could pull it, until I heard little wincing sounds, then I completely flattened my hand, and with a flattened palm, rubbed around and around the nipple. All the while I was swirling my tongue around her left nipple, flicking and biting and sucking it d-e-e-p into my mouth. Trina, in response, raised her knee and placed it between my thighs and started running her hands all over my shaved hair – tracing her fingers over the baldy patches…tickling behind my ears and nape. Right then I wished I had shaved it close all over, and thought about next Wednesday’s barbering….
After my night with Trina and Susan, during which none of us slept, but after which our bodies were used in all places possible, I began to ponder how to help Petal resolve her coming out dilemma. I knew all my friends should “get together” – as soon a possible. An age span from 18 to 40, with sexual tastes complimentary to each other, and each broadminded enough to try anything.
One day Susan asked me to stay back after class for a “small talk”. I was in an advanced program that would see me graduate in 2.5 years. I was a straight A student, but Susan had other things on her mind.
“I have been watching your hair for 6 months now, and I realise you must visit the barbershop each Wednesday,” she said.
“Mmmm – very observant,” I agreed.
Susan told me that she was a member of a Hair Fetishist group on the Internet, and that she had been trying to get up the courage to abandon her scholarly shoulder-length bob for a much more butch look. “I wonder,” she asked, “whether you ever do haircuts and shearings yourself?”
I was quite startled. I had never considered picking up the clippers myself, but now she mentioned it, I was quite excited at the prospect. “How long has your hair been barbered?” she questioned. After I told her I had begun at age 10, and sported a crewcut consistently since the age of 14, she laughed and said, “Well, I’m pretty sure you must know what to do by now!”
Susan’s previous experiences with hairstylists had not been happy. It is the same story for fetishists over and over – “ladies’ stylists” who just won’t believe, or simply refuse to comply with how short you really want to go (if you get the courage to ask in the first place), or misogynist male barbers refuse to attend to women. Sam, my barber in HomeTown is a diamond, a precious gem, who intuitively understood my needs and desires.
I agreed to give it a try. The only time Susan would be available was 2.30pm Saturday. Her apartment was being painted, so I invited her over to my place. “I’ll just be finishing up with my tutee then,” I said, so come over and we can talk about what you want, and maybe my physics tutee can help out too! We didn’t usually finish our session that early, but I was determined that Petal was going to meet at least one other of my lesbian friends. Susan agreed to bring clippers, scissors, comb and razor. Honestly, I had been pampering myself so long at the barbershop I owned none of these things.
Of course when the bell rang at 2.30 Saturday, Petal who was idly flicking her clit and nipples while sitting at the computer, jumped with a start. Her first instinct was to hide, literally, in my closet, but it was so full of crap that she wouldn’t have fit! She ran into the bathroom, though, with her clothes, while I let Susan in.
Petal wasn’t going to get away with that, but I would allow her a certain fiction of normalcy. I waited long enough for her to get dressed before I pulled her by the hand back into my room. I did the introductions, and saw Susan’s nipples harden under her flimsy top when she saw Petal in her black clothing and impossibly long hair!
Susan laughed as she pulled from her bag a picture of Sinead O’Connor in her shaven-headed phase. God, I thought, that is too easy – just run the clippers on a zero setting, and tidy up afterwards. A very easy introduction, or so I thought. I explained to Petal what Susan was here for, and invited her to stay and watch. Petal’s guard was down, and she seemed relaxed – the setting of my room reassured her, it seemed.
I suggested to Susan that she take her top off so that fine hairs wouldn’t mess it up. Susan pulled her top off so she stood there in cutoff jeans shorts and bare-breasted. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Petal cross her legs. I assumed she was squeezing her thighs together.
I sat Susan in the chair Petal had so recently occupied. I can only suppose it was a little moist… Petal had a habit of masturbating while she attended to physics – it relaxed her, she said, and she usually left globules of cunt juice behind. I asked Susan if she was sure this is what she wanted, and she nodded her assent. Her nipples were rigid with anticipation… I just knew the feelings aroused in her and the wetness building as she fantasised what was to come.
The clippers buzzed into life as I flicked the switch. I took a tentative swipe at her bob and merely managed to turn the clippers every which way, and drop them on the floor! Petal giggled from the bed. “Watch it,” I smiled at her, making little jabbing movements towards her with the humming machine, “or you’ll be next!” Petal clutched her thick French plait to her body and in a high pitched voice said, “OOOh!” We all laughed, but I will admit to a momentary bolt of desire flash to my cunt.
“Maybe,” I said to Susan, “I should cut it with the scissors first and get it as short as possible that way?” After I started hacking into strands and hanks, I looked round and realised Petal had a finger stuck in her cunt, slowly and quietly pushing it in and out in that absent-minded way she has of playing with herself. If you had been listening though, you would have heard the wet slurping noises. But Susan and I were chatting about the new lesbian space on campus and were unaware of the sounds. Besides, Susan had her back to Petal. Susan made no attempt to hide her sexuality, as we gossiped about other women on campus and the local scene. I hoped Petal was listening and learning.
Then I held out the scissors to Petal and invited her to have a turn. She was rather taken aback, but jumped up to have a go. She stood in front of Susan and lifted strands of shoulder length hair in the air and then snipped through them close to the scalp. She giggled again as she continued, and her long, long braid brushed against Susan’s tits, re-invigorating their erection each time that braid swooshed past.
Susan undid the top button of her shorts and pushed her hand down the front. Petal was having the same effect on her as I had already experienced. This was going to be a real test for Petal – would she succumb or not?
What Petal did next took me totally by surprise. For a girl who was only going to come out the day she told her mother her secret, I was gobsmacked. Petal finished cutting Susan’s hair, and handed me the clippers. She then pulled Susan’s shorts off, down her long, slim legs. Next she walked over to my toybox and selected a large dildo. Without a word, she placed it in Susan’s hands, and arranged it in Susan’s lap. She then hitched her black skirt up over her hips and sat astride the boi in Susan’s lap!
“Come on!” Petal urged. “Get with the clippers while I have a fuck!” I was 250% astounded. Petal had known Susan maybe three-quarters of an hour, and she was calling the shots! All I could do was comply, and I ran the clippers all over Susan’s head as Petal, astraddle Susan, bounced up and down on the cock and played with Susan’s tits. She made sure her braid was over her shoulder and occasionally wrapped it round Susan’s neck while I was concentrating on behind the ears. But if there was any danger the clippers were getting too close to that silken flaxen rope, she flicked it back between herself and Susan for safety.
I finished shearing Susan and showed her in the mirror. Which also reflected a wild eyed Petal bouncing and fucking herself on the girlfucker Susan held. Susan was delighted, but needed to take some control over the situation. She ordered Petal off her lap, and commanded me to find my leather harness and help her strap it, and the cock on. She then ordered me to lie down on my bed, with Petal to strip and then get over the top of me on all fours. Both of us rushed to comply. I had dreamt of this many a time when fucking with Petal. Now Petal was going to be the meat in a fuck sandwich between me and Susan!
Oh, blessed Sappho, I thought. How great to be able to make such pleasurable moments from our naked bodies and a few simple toys! When women’s bodies were made, so much perfection was packaged there. The clit. The exquisitely sensitive clit! Oh joy! And the ultimate joy is for another clitbeing to pleasure a clit! Being a lesbian is the greatest existence there can be, surely!
And tits. Tits on tits. Mutual feeling or tonguing of tits! And soft sexy girl – woman asses. Nipples in slits. Tits in mouths. Slits in mouths. Clits and tongues. Fingers and cunts. Asses and tongues. Mouths and wet, slick labial lips.
Petal’s tits dangled into my mouth, and I sucked and fondled them like the precious gifts they are. As I flickety-flicked my tongue all around her nipples, I placed my hands on her back and softly ran the fingertips all over her, then, as she shuddered, I scratched hard along her back each side of her spine.
Susan, meanwhile was busy from behind, filling Petal’s cunt with the joystick, and pressing her hands on her ass, running a finger down her exposed crack and circling her puckered asshole. We set up an unconscious rhythm together…flick, lick, suck, fuck, and just as Petal arched her head back and screamed her orgasm, Susan stuck a single finger in the coming ass. Which made Petal pass out in that “little death” of orgasm.
Petal pressed down on me, and Susan fell forward on top of Petal, laughing. At that moment the doorbell rang. Susan leapt to her feet and said, “Oh shit! I forgot to say Trina was coming to pick me up!”, rushed to the door, still harnessed and be-cocked. She flung open the door at the exact moment Petal, recovering, half rolled off me facing the door.
“Mother!” she exclaimed.