Mirror In The Bathroom by HeadBoy
“Mirror in the bathroom please talk free,
the door is locked, it’s just you and me…”
Jessica rubs her head again and watches Peter, her husband, sleep contentedly beside her. The feeling is strange, smooth and supple and completely bald. She’ll need time to get used to this, time to adjust to the new look, the shocking new her. Just two days ago she’d gone for a trim on her auburn hair, it rested to the middle of her shoulder blades, had a glistening beauty and a smell that drove her husband insane. He would brush it, over and over again, secretly hoping against hope that she would fulfill his fantasy, and sing into her ear in a hushed tone of a whisper. Jessica would relax to the point of falling asleep, Peter would fade away with dreams of cutting Jessica’s hair in stages. And two days ago, he got his wish.
“I just spent $20 getting my hair trimmed and you want me to what?” Jessica said when Peter confessed his fetish to her. Not just a fetish, an all-consuming desire to see Jessica bald, smooth as a baby’s behind and oiled to a high sheen.
“Well, it’s like this…” he said, his voice locking into Jessica’s ears like some type of heat-seeking missile. He told her how much he loved her, how in six years of being married he’d never once asked her for anything, how he’d done his level best to be the best husband she could hope for, how delirious the thought of watching the water from the shower bead up on her naked skull and trail down her neck.
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“You’ve never asked for anything,” Jessica agreed, “but you have to admit, this is a pretty big thing.”
“Okay,” Jessica said, running her fingers through her hair and thinking, “convince me.”
Peter ran down all the usual reasons for shaving your head: saving time and energy by not having to shampoo. Jessica countered with, “But shaving every other day takes just as much time, doesn’t it?”
Peter said, “It’s bold, adventurous and unique.”
“How unique is it when the girl behind the counter at Rigby’s is bald? Or the one that works at 45 Minute Photo?” Jessica countered.
“Okay then, I find it damn sexy!” Said Peter, playing what he hoped would be his trump card.
Jessica got that look in her eye, the one that told Peter he’d found the secret word. Adventure was fine, being bold was all well and good, but being sexy was something to which she’d always aspired. She was a fat kid, not just pudgy but fat. At seventeen Jessica looked at herself and began running every day, she worked out with her brother three days a week. She worked out so hard that her brother, an aspiring boxer, could no longer keep up. By her 19th birthday, Jessica had taken 125 pounds off of her 5 foot 6 frame. The change in her diet and lifestyle also had a second benefit – it changed her hair from a thin, stringy mop to a full set of flowing brilliance. Strangers would touch it, asking her how she got such body and shine to her mane. She was always quick to blush, smile and walk away. That was when she started getting serious with Peter, the one-time idiot who would tell people to shut up when they picked on her. As neighbors, they grew up near each other, Jessica always had a secret crush on Peter, Peter always thought Jessica was sweet and they would play together as kids. High school passed by in a blur for Peter, baseball, SAT tests and Friday nights up on Mount Merritt, drinking Lucky Lager with his buddies. They all made grand plans to take over the world, conquer some complex disease or join the Navy “to get out of this nothing town”, but not Peter. He wanted to marry Jessica, buy a house and run a restaurant. In Peter’s case, his dream came true. He married Jessica when he was twenty-two and opened his diner when they returned from their honeymoon. He had a knack for getting things done, and Jessica had a determination she’d found when running, doing push-ups and lifting weights. The two were a solid match. Jessica, however, still had a self-image of her looks that dated back to the girl with bright yellow pair of boys’ pants (bought at Sears, parents can be so cruel).
It is now 3:27 a.m., Jessica rubs her head again. She likes the way it feels. She loves how cool and inviting a pillow feels with her head resting against it. She glides into the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror again. It is still a foreigner looking back at her, a woman she does not know. But it is her. Gone is the lustrous hair, cascading to her back, rubbing her back in a comforting manner. It disappeared before her very eyes, with her willingly taking part. At one point, she actually begged Peter do plow the clippers right down the middle of her hair. But he would not, it had to be a slow, sensual process. A peeling away of the old Jessica, the pretty and positive woman with the inner turmoil of insecurity, and revealing an unencumbered beauty with nowhere to hide her beauty. She looked closer in the mirror, bringing a hand up to her head, touching it gently. Her fingers ran the length of her scalp, feeling the skin slide slightly across her skull, it gave her a smile, she had never felt the skin on top of her head, let alone feel it move. She turned off the lights that ran over the mirror, leaving just the overhead heat lamp on above her. She liked the reflection off the top of her head. They way she could turn her head and watch the light dance and zip back and forth. She reached into the medicine chest for some lotion, and rubbed it, gently, into her scalp. The sting of the initial shaving had disappeared, leaving just the naked head in its wake. The greyish hue to her now-bare skull had disappeared after a day in the sun with her husband. There was still a slight difference in skin tone, a “cranial tan line,” she thought and giggled. She rubbed the lotion on the back of her head, clearly enjoying the way her head dips at the occipital bone to join the neck. There is a rough spot, perhaps Peter missed shaving it? “No bother,” she says aloud, reaching for a razor. She smiles when she realizes that she is taking pains to keep her head smooth, even with Peter out of the room. She rubs in shaving gel, massaging it all over her head. “No sense missing any other place he might have forgotten.”
Jessica looked into the mirror, pulling the razor up and over her skull. It glides nicely. Easily. She marvels at the clean, uniform path that the razor leaves. She spreads some of the excess gel from the sides over the just-cleared path and shaves it again. “Careful, Jess,” she says to herself, “you don’t want razor burn.” She shaves behind her ears next, the along the top again. Over to the left side, scraping away the creamy gel, up the neck in back, eliminating the offending rough patch that was there minutes ago, bringing on this round of shaving. She has trouble navigating the back, but feels the razor glide over the spot again and again. She smiles broadly, proud of what she has done. “How often do I have to do this?” Is the thought on her mind, rubbing lotion in again, massaging it in with her finger tips. She gets a sudden shudder through her soul, looking at herself, the old her flashes across her mind, almost like it was waving goodbye. She will miss her hair, but for now at least, she loves the feeling of a razor scraping away the sandpaper feel. She loved the way the clippers chewed through her hair, it had been cut into 1 inch lengths by then, when Peter finally turned them on and let them run wild on her head. She actually heard her voice plead, “Shave me! Pleeeease, do it.” And she had no idea why. Or maybe she did. She loved the way it felt, Peter undulating inside her, Jessica rocking back and forth on his lap. She had no fear of parting with her hair while he brought her to orgasm three times, each time cutting away more of her past and each time bringing her to a new level of ecstasy. She felt his hands roam wild on her body, finding a home in the curves that set her figure apart from every other woman he’d met. Jessica wasn’t born with a good body, she had to earn every toned curvature. She had to work hard for a flat stomach and toned legs. But earn it she did, and she never once got egotistical about it, just the opposite. And it was Peter’s job (and his pleasure) to reassure her how sexy she truly was, with hair or without. The two nearly passed out from loss of fluid, from exhaustion and from enough friction to start a fire at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. She wrapped her legs around Peter’s waist, and he carried her into the bathroom. They sat in the tub, letting the water fill around them, cooling them off and helping to get rid of the excess hair that was sticking to their sweaty bodies. By now, her hair was cut to just below her chin. By some stroke of good fortune, it was remarkably straight and attractive. The front pieces curved toward her jawline, giving Jessica a fashionable look. “We can stop now, if you’d like,” said Peter.
“No,” Jessica replied, smiling at her nearly unconscious husband.
He reached for a towel, Jessica stopped him and pulled his body against hers. She shoved her tongue into his ear, then his mouth, then down his neck and over his chest. He nibbled her still-covered head, then bit into it. No marks were left, but she loved the way it felt, the way it awoke a burning in her souls and sent a chill down her spine. The top of her head was fast becoming the most erogenous zone on her body. They didn’t make it far from the tub, collapsing onto the floor in a wild embrace. Jessica felt her whole body erupt in pleasure, feeling Peter’s cock swell inside her, rubbing her walls to a raw numbness. He was on another planet, taking Jessica to places she’d never been. Her body had never shaken so completely during orgasm – never had shudders of joy send her leg and arm muscles twitching, making all the tension in her back and neck disappear at the speed of light while she flowed wildly. It was then she begged Peter to shave her. “You have to,” she said, wondering what level of ecstasy she’d reach next, partly afraid that her heart would explode from the passion.
“Are you sure?” he asked, knowing he would have her bald head to lick and caress for a long time to come.
“God yes, do it. Do it now. NOW!” Jessica said, no longer pleading.
She kept her legs wrapped around Peter’s waist as he pulled them both up onto the side of the tub. He plugged in the clippers, not noticing his wet body may have caused him to be electrocuted. It didn’t, but he showed the clippers, the clippers with no guard, to Jess, her heart racing away with anticipation. She nodded, he smiled. They plowed through her by then uneven hair, reducing it to a sandpaper finish. The stubble made Jessica look ravishing, lending her features a starting point, but not a shield. She looked up, and didn’t notice herself in the mirror. She felt her stubbled head and moaned in pleasure. She took Peter’s hand and placed on top of her head. Her entire body was still all muscle twitches and sweat soaked exhaustion. He licked it, which drove her more wild than when he kissed it previously. She reached behind him, grabbing the razor on the sink.
“Finish it,” she said.
Peter took a towel and ran hot water over it while he spread shaving gel on the ragged and stubbled head of his wife. She liked the wintergreen scent, quite a departure from the aroma of her shampoo and conditioner. The towel wrapped around her head sent more warmth through her body.
“Hey look,” she said, attempting a joke. “I’m a white Erica Badhu!”
Peter laughed. “Not for long,” he said, gently taking the towel off her head. The stubble had been gelled and wetted into submission. He had Jess sit in front of the mirror and watch. Watch as the last vestige of her hair was scraped away and sent packing down the sink. Short, loving, strokes that took forever were right in front of Jessica’s face. She loved watching it happen, but wanted it to finish so she could feel Peter inside her again. She wouldn’t have to wait long. Jessica looked up again. “All gone.” It was Peter’s voice, punctuated with a tender kiss to the top of her newly naked head. It felt wonderful, although it also felt as if her heart were pumping in her head rather than her chest. She didn’t really see herself, too excited and caught in the moment to notice, or care. Caring would come afterward.
Back in the present, Peter is still sleeping, Jessica moves her head slightly forward to watch the light dance off her scalp. Small beads of water remain on her head from her just-completed shaving. She smiles, watching her head move slowly forward and backward. She wonders if waxing would improve the sheen that she had fast fallen in love with. There would be plenty of time for that later. Plenty of time for other discoveries too. That would have to wait for later though. Right now it was time to crawl back in bed and wake Peter up to show him how smooth her head felt. Again and again.
(Thanks, Schylaar. Comments welcome [email protected])