Marsha’s Little Sister

Marsha's Little Sister


Marsha and I (my name is Tom) were living together at the time. Marsha was twenty-three years old with a great figure (she worked out regularly) and beautiful long hair. The first thing I noticed about her was her hair. It was light chestnut brown, thick and soft. Best of all, it was long – she had let it grow to within two inches of her tiny waist. I loved to run my fingers through it, play with it, and get lost in it as we made love. As she grew to trust me more and more she allowed me more liberties. She first let me brush it for her – she really liked the relaxing sensuality of the brush massaging her scalp. It stimulated her and often became part of our foreplay.

Later, when we’d shower together she got her hair wet and let me work up a lather with the shampoo. She taught me how to do it carefully so it wouldn’t get all tangled. After a while I convinced her to let me wash her hair in the kitchen sink. That was a real turn on for me – to have her bent over the sink, head down in a very submissive pose and trusting her glorious mane of hair to me. We began to do it once a week and made a ritual out of it. After supper I would start by slowly removing all her jewelry, shoes and accessories while she stood in the middle of the kitchen floor. Then off would come every stitch of clothing until she was totally nude. I would then unfasten her hair (she usually wore it up during the day to look more professional) and brush it out. I always took my time and worked gently. She would sigh and moan with wonderful sounds of contentment and satisfaction. After a while I’d say, “O.K., we’re ready.” We’d then move to the sink where she would bend over and let me soak her hair, lather it up and rinse it out. Sometimes I would do that two or three times. When we were finished and I used a couple of towels to blot up as much water as possible, she would be more than ready to head for the bedroom for a wild night of lovemaking.

A couple of months ago I talked her into letting me shave her crotch. She wasn’t sure at first, but one night (after a few weeks of talking about it and getting her used to the idea) I made sure she drank lots of wine with our dinner and then posed the question again. She was relaxed and in an erotic mood and thought it would be kind of kinky – so she agreed to do it. I told her I would, only if she agreed to let me keep her shaved for six months. She laughingly promised to let me do that. After stripping her but before the hair washing, I had her stretch out on the bed, with a towel under her bottom. Using scissors I clipped off as much as I could, then I spread a handful of shaving cream on the critical area and with a disposable razor I scraped her absolutely bare. Every two or three weeks I would add this new step to our ritual. It served as a wild turn-on for both of us.

One time, as I was intently working at the hair between her legs I paused, looked up, brandished the razor and said, “One of these days I’m going to shave your head bald.” I smiled and laughed so she’d know she wasn’t in danger of being assaulted by a mad man. She looked puzzled, cocked her head to one side and studied me to see how serious I was. She then laughed it off with a, “Not in your lifetime.” After a few weeks I mentioned it again and then again, teasingly and each time she’d laugh it off. Then I said it once and looking serious told her, “Marsha, I want you to promise me that if you decide to shave your head you will let me do it for you – don’t go to some stranger. O.K.?” She assured me it wasn’t going to happen, but I persisted and she laughingly agreed that IF she ever decided to shave her head she would let me do it.

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One night after a particularly gentle and tender session of lovemaking, Marsha raised herself up on one elbow and looked down at me. She tossed her head to move her thick mane of hair to one side, then caressed the side of my face, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes and looked at me with such an expression of love. She said, “Tom, I love you so much. I’d do anything for you. If there’s anything you want me to do for you, just tell me and I’ll do it.”

I was tempted, but I held back. I really loved her long hair – playing with it, brushing it, even washing it. But I had this strong desire to cut it all off and shave her head bald. I knew it was weird, because once her hair was gone she wouldn’t hold the same attraction to me (I thought) but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to cut her hair. But, like I said, even though I was tempted I held back. I went at it this way. “Marsha, do you really mean you’d do anything for me? You know I’ve teased you about shaving your head. Don’t worry, I’m not going to, but if I asked you to let me shave your head would you?”

A shadow crossed her eyes at that, but she was reassured that I had said I wasn’t going to ask that. She slowly nodded her head. “Yes, Tom.” she whispered, “I love you so much that if you really wanted to do that to me, I’d let you.” I was nearly overwhelmed. I hugged her and said, “O.K. I won’t ask you to let me shave your head, today, but how about this. If during the next thirty days, anyone dares you to get a short haircut or if they say something like, ‘If you cut yours short, then I’ll cut mine.” then I want you to let me cut your hair off and shave your head. Do you agree to that?” She thought about it, all the while without realizing it, she was running her fingers through her loose flowing hair. Finally since she couldn’t imagine anyone daring her to cut her hair or saying the other thing to her she thought it would be safe enough, so she nodded her head, “Yes, Tom. I’ll agree to that.”

Now we get to the part where her little sister enters the picture. Half of the thirty days had gone by when Marsha got a call one afternoon. When she hung up the phone she said it was her nineteen year old sister, Joanie. Joanie was at the bus station, she had dropped out of college and come to see Marsha.

Marsha took the car to get Joanie. When they came back Marsha led this stunningly beautiful young woman into the apartment. She was slightly more petite than Marsha with an equally great figure. Joanie had long hair – midway down her back – but hers was a dark auburn color. She had a fringe of wispy bangs that drew your attention to her large mischievous brown eyes.

That night after supper was the time for our “ritual.” After the dishes were done and put away, I turned to Marsha and said, “It’s time.” Her face turned red. She looked between me and Joanie and said in a tiny pleading voice, “Not tonight, please! Joanie’s here!”

I said, “Your sister is a big girl. She probably won’t see anything she hasn’t already seen before. Why, I bet she and you used to take baths together.” She blushed again and admitted that as little girls they had. Joanie didn’t say anything but was watching with interest. I took Marsha’s hand and led her to the middle of the kitchen, stood her facing her sister and began to remove her jewelry, shoes and accessories. When I started unzipping her dress, Marsha put her hands on mine, “Do we have to do everything tonight?” she whispered.

“How about if I let you leave your panties on tonight,” I whispered back. She nodded, a little unhappy that I wasn’t going to let her keep more on. The dress came off, then her slip and pantyhose, then everything above her waist. I did let her leave her panties on, like I’d said. Joanie was fascinated, I could tell. It was a hot day, we were used to it, but Joanie had come from a cooler climate and was very hot. She gathered her hair into one hand, lifted it up and fanned her neck trying to cool off. “I don’t know how you can stand this heat,” she kept saying.

“You could get undressed like Marsha here, that would help you stay cooler.”

“TOM!” Marsha exclaimed. “That’s my little sister, don’t say things like that to her.” Joanie and I just laughed. I unfastened Marsha’s hair and let it fall down nearly to her waist. Joanie hadn’t seen Marsha for a couple of years and when she saw how long her hair was her eyes got wide. She watched me gently brush it out and noticed how Marsha relaxed more and more with each soothing stroke. Finally we moved to the sink and I washed Marsha’s hair like usual. Our backs were to Joanie during the shampoo. When we got done and turned around, Joanie was standing in the middle of the floor wearing only her panties. Marsha looked shocked, I just looked – appreciatively – at this eye-catchingly pretty young woman.

Joanie said, “Tom, will you do that for me, too?” I hastily agreed without even looking at Marsha. I didn’t think she’d be too happy, but Joanie was nineteen and old enough to make decisions on her own. Marsha went off to dry her hair and I brushed Joanie’s hair. It was soft and thick, like Marsha’s but the dark auburn had beautiful highlights that reflected the light in a fascinating way. I brushed and brushed until my wrist was worn out. She then went to the sink, just like Marsha had and let me shampoo her hair. She wrapped her head in a towel, gave me a quick hug and said, “Thank’s Tom, that was nice.” When Marsha and I got to bed our lovemaking was very intense. She was a little angry at me and I was turned on by the events of the evening. I knew my apartment walls were thin and Joanie could hear what we were doing. That got me even more excited.

The next morning the two sisters acted as if nothing strange had happened the night before. While I got ready for work and ate breakfast, Joanie flirted with me shamelessly. She talked about the noises she had heard in the night, she touched my arm or hand frequently and before I went to work she gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. I could tell Marsha didn’t like this. She was wondering if her sister wasn’t competing with her for my attention.

I went to work, Marsha took the day off and showed Joanie around town. They went to an aerobics workout late in the afternoon and I got home before they did. When they walked in the door they were both soaked with sweat from the workout and the heat. Joanie lifted up her hair and fanned her neck. “Marsha,” she said, “I don’t know how you can stand to have such long hair in this kind of weather.”

I perked up, wondering where this might be headed. “You know,” I said, “I’ve been hinting that Marsha might like to get her hair cut short.” Marsha gave me a dirty look. “I’m going to take a shower,” Marsha said to change the subject. The two left the room to shower and change. I finished fixing supper.

The girls were relaxed during supper, they had a healthy glow from their vigorous exercise. They both consumed several glasses of wine – I kept refilling them and they drank without keeping track of how much. They told me about a new masseuse at the spa who had given them both an excellent massage. They said how wonderful it was and how much they thought I’d like one. Giggling and laughing, they “convinced” me to let them give me a massage. I agreed, so after we were done eating, we went into our bedroom and they made me take off all my clothes (except my shorts) and stretched me out on the king-sized bed, got on either side of me and proceeded to give me an excellent massage. It felt great! They worked on my shoulders and arms and legs, then turned me over and went over me again. They took strands of their long hair and tickled me with the soft ends. I was almost in agony from the sensual wonder of it. When Marsha noticed the state I was in, she removed my shorts and proceeded to climb on top of me and slip me inside her. She didn’t seem a bit embarrassed that Joanie stayed in the room and watched. It was a brand new experience for me.

The next day Marsha had to go to work, but I had a couple of vacation days that I had to use or lose. I went out early, got in a round of golf and was back by lunch time. Joanie had fixed a delicious lunch and served it to me out on the balcony. She was one of those people who liked to keep touching you. She’d touch my arm or run her hand across the top of my back. Once she lightly ran her fingers over my neck, tickling with her fingertips and then moved up into my hair, gently tousling it. After lunch she came to where I was sitting on the couch in the living room and plopped herself in my lap. She put her arms around my neck and gave me a big kiss right on the mouth. I was a little taken back but responded to her aggressive sensuality. I’m ashamed to say, that before I could stop myself we were laying in bed, sated, and I was wondering what I would tell Marsha. Joanie didn’t seem to care if she broke up a good relationship or not.

To make a long story short, Marsha found out, there was a big fireworks display, I told her how sorry and ashamed I was. We really did love each other and Marsha told me this wasn’t the first time Joanie had done something like this. When she was in high school she had seduced a boyfriend of Marsha’s like she was collecting a trophy or something. It meant nothing to Joanie, just the challenge to find out if she could. That was evidently true, because after that one afternoon, she left me alone. Things were strained around the apartment for a few days. Marsha found it difficult to be around much less talk to her sister. They got into a couple of shouting matches over little things. By the time the weekend rolled around things were only slightly better.

Friday evening after work the three of us went out for dinner. It had been a scorching hot, humid, windless day. We are glad for the air conditioning of the club. The dinner wasn’t all that great (both the service and the food was below par) and with the heat and all we were all tense and irritable. It was growing late and we decided to head back. The air conditioning in my car wasn’t doing a thing against the awful heat. By the time we got home Joanie was hot and miserable.

We walked into the apartment, the air conditioning was laboring but only keeping it a few degrees cooler than outside. Once again Joanie started complaining about the heat. She lifted her hair up off her neck and tried to cool off. She looked at Marsha who was one of those that usually managed to look cool when everyone else was a wreck. But tonight even Marsha looked hot. “I don’t know why you keep you hair long when it makes this heat so much harder to bear,” Joanie said.

“Tom likes my hair long,” she responded.

“Well, it’s your hair, not Tom’s,” Joanie retorted. “I wouldn’t let any man tell me how long my hair should be. I think you should get your hair cut shorter.”

Marsha looked over at me and I gave her an encouraging smile. “If you want short hair, why don’t you get yours cut, Joanie. Just quit bugging me about mine!” Marsha replied.

Then Joanie said the magic words, “If you cut yours short, then I’ll cut mine.”

“What?” Marsha gasped, looking frantically at me.

“You heard me, Marsha. If you cut your hair short, then I’ll cut mine.”

Marsha swallowed loudly. She never, in a million years, thought she would hear those words within the thirty day time we had set. She looked at me and started shaking her head. I just smiled and nodded to her, letting her know I remembered clearly our deal. She looked at Joanie and got a grip on herself. “O.K., Joanie,” she said. “You’ve been bugging me about this and now you say if I get mine cut then you’ll cut yours. How about this, we’ll let Tom cut our hair and whatever style he gives me he’ll give the same to you. We’ll look like twins. What do you say?”

Joanie readily agreed to a haircut and agreed to let me cut it, thinking it probably wouldn’t be very short if I did it. I got two chairs and positioned them side by side in the middle of the floor. They shed their clothes – to keep the hair from getting all over, and to be cooler. I combed and brushed their hair, loving the soft, silky feeling and especially the knowledge of what was to come. “Who’ll be first?” I asked.

“Start with Marsha,” Joanie replied, “she has more to cut.”

I leaned down and whispered quietly in Marsha’s ear and she nodded her head in agreement. Then standing behind her I opened the blades of a pair of scissors and placed them at the top of her shoulders and cut across (as straight as I could manage). The twenty inches of hair which had covered her back for years fell to the floor leaving piles of beautiful chestnut hair. I combed it out again and used the scissors to trim the few hairs which hung lower than the line of the cut. When I stepped back, Marsha swung her head from side to side and reached up to feel the new length. She looked good in the shoulder-length bob. I turned to Joanie and asked, “Is that short enough?” Joanie just laughed and said, “No way! We’re trying to beat the heat. That won’t help her much at all!”

“O.K.” I said, “let’s try something a little shorter on you.” Joanie’s dark auburn hair caught the highlights of the ceiling lamp. I loved the feel of her hair and knew just what I was going to do. Her hair, hanging below her shoulder blades was very pretty, but I was in the mood for some serious cutting.

I put the scissors at the bottom of her ear lobe and cut across the back of her head, from one ear to the other. It wasn’t very even, but the mass of auburn hair covering her neck was gone. She swung her head from side to side, making the ends swing back and forth. “What do you think, Marsha?” I asked.

“Humm,” she replied, “I think Joanie wanted it shorter than that.”

I stepped back over behind Marsha and placing the scissors at the top of her ears, I cut across the back of her head only two inches from the crown. That left all the hair below the scissor line still hanging down to her shoulders. I grasped a section in my hand, pulled it out from her head and held it taut. I used the scissors, making many small snips to sever the hair as close to her scalp as I could. When I got done, most of it was an eighth to a quarter of an inch long, but it wasn’t even and some tufts were longer. I had a set of electric clippers in my closet and I went to get them. When I came back I plugged the set in and without any length guard I buzzed Marsha’s nape and the back of her head up to the hair line. She was nicely tanned from being outdoors on her face, but now there was a big white area – the part that had been covered by hair. It looked kind of funny. I took a towel and used a corner to dust off the little hairs which had fallen everywhere on her.

“What do you think, Joanie?” I asked. She swallowed hard and reached back to feel her short bob, realizing that whatever I did to Marsha I was going to do to her also. “It llllllllooks a lot cooler,” she stammered out in a faint voice.

I stood behind Joanie and once again combed her soft, thick auburn hair. She sniffled slightly, like she regretted starting this. I snapped the on switch to the clippers and pushed her head forward. I placed the teeth of the clippers at the nape of her neck and slowly started upward. When I got to the point where I’d left off with Marsha’s I didn’t stop. I kept right on going up the back of her head, over the top and straight to her forehead. I was done with the first swipe before Joanie could react. When she saw the severed hair tumbling into her lap she let out a shriek, jumped out of the chair and put her hands to her head to feel the bare patch. Her mouth hung open in shock. I stood there smiling at her waiting for the initial shock to wear off. Finally she calmed down a little and we explained our agreement – if anyone told Marsha that they’d cut their hair short if she did, then I’d shave Marsha’s head. I reminded Joanie that she had agreed to let me cut her hair into whatever style I wanted and that Marsha would get the same.

Her shoulders slumped as she realized that there was nothing she could do now, not with a buzzed stripe on the top of her head. She took a deep breath, sat down again, gave me a dirty look and said grumpily, “Finish the job.” I happily did, zooming the clippers all over her head, letting that pretty auburn hair slide down her arms and shoulders to her lap or the floor. When I got done it was nice and even all over – a dark stubble that looked like a five- o-clock shadow. I offered to shave her head for her, but she declined.

I went to Marsha and said, “Your turn now.” She looked apprehensive and kept rubbing the back of her head where I had already clippered it short. Finally she nodded and said, “O.K., go ahead.” I worked slowly, massaging her head with one hand and letting the vibrating clippers eat their way through the rest of her once long mane. After she was left with stubble like Joanie’s I reminded her that our agreement was for me to shave her head. She nodded numbly and I went to get a safety razor and can of shaving cream. I lathered her up then scraped off the white foam. Running my hand over her head I felt some bristly spots, so I lathered her up and did it again – this time it was perfectly smooth all over.

Joanie stared at her sister’s head and burst into tears. Marsha opened her arms and Joanie fell into them, giving her a big hug. After a bit, their hands moved upward and began feeling each other’s heads – Joanie’s stubble and Marsha’s bowling ball smoothness. They stood where they could see each other in the hall mirror. Marsha’s bald head emphasized her fine, delicate features. Her eyes, always large, looked huge and even more striking. Her shapely mouth and lips just added to the overall effect. Marsha asked her sister, “Do you like the way mine feels?” Joanie sniffled but nodded her head that she did. “Do you want Tom to shave your head also? I think you’d look great.” Slowly and gently Marsha talked her sister into getting her head shaved. I was delighted to do the honors for her and soon they really did look like twins.

When there was no more hair to be cut or shaved they headed for the bathroom and took a shower together. I swept up and restored the kitchen to its original state. Soon I heard them calling my name. I went into the bedroom and they were both stretched out on the bed, still naked, holding out inviting arms for me to join them.



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