Skins Game

The Skins Game – DoctorB

My husband and I have been married less than a year. We dated for just 18 months before getting married and are still figuring each other out which has proven to be quite a bit of fun. We met at a company golf outing and were grouped together with another boy/girl pair. Like most men golfers, he had a low opinion of women’s skills. What he did not realize was that I had a lower handicap than he did and in gross score that day, I whooped his butt. The net score wasn’t even worth looking at. He was somewhat humble about it and amazingly enough didn’t make excuses for his loss like other men I have played against have done.

He asked me out that day and over the months his golf game improved quite a bit. Our handicaps are now pretty much even. We both like to do outdoors stuff together, fishing, hiking, photography, camping and golf to name a few. We are both competitive – very competitive. This is where the golf game of ‘Skins’ comes into the picture. Skins is a betting game where you bet an amount on every hole and whoever wins the hole outright wins the money. Tie the hole and the money carries over to the next. So, for example if you bet $1 a hole and tie nine straight holes, the tenth hole is worth $10. Anyway, you get the idea.

We started out just playing for money. One week was 50 cents a hole, the next a dollar and after that the amounts increased. At one point, it was ten bucks a hole, $180 for the round. I won $130 from him one day. Needless to say, he was a bit pissed. Over the many weeks we played for $10 a hole we were basically even. Playing for money got boring after a while so we played for dinners, lunches, car washes, household chores and the like. After a couple months of that, we got bored again. That’s when the betting changed to something else.

He made the suggestion that we bet “sexual favors.”

Now you have to understand that when you bet on something like this you have to be prepared to lose and you only bet what you are willing, or want, to lose. For example, the first “sex skins” match was for oral sex, call them “oral skins”. I like it and like doing it and he likes it and likes doing it. Win or lose the match and you win. You get the idea. We played “oral skins” for a few weeks and had a lot a fun with it. By my count, I won more than I lost (make that received).

Next came “binding skins” which as you can guess involved bondage games. By my count, I ended up playing slave girl more than he played slave boy.

Now you can guess that as with the money bets the sex bets were beginning to get steep. There is also a fantasy aspect to it meaning that losing may be what you want. If you make the stakes something that’s a fantasy that you would not bring up otherwise, you have a tendency to force the outcome that way. Like I said, you never bet what you are not willing to lose.

The most notorious, until now, were the “piercing skins.” His suggestion, mind you, not mine. Five weeks of that was enough. There comes a point where the pain has an effect on your game, this is obviously not a good thing. In case you’re wondering, I lost two nipples and tongue, he lost one nipple and a Prince Albert. The jewelry really added to our sex life so although I ended up with more hardware it is was worth it.

To continue the betting he next suggested “tattoo skins” to which I said no way in fucking hell. His next idea was “anal skins” which he promptly retracted when I told him I would have go buy a big fat strap on dildo if he lost. I loved the look on his face when he realized what I meant. His eyes were like two fried eggs. I just laughed myself silly! He then asked me for an another suggestion so I suggested “hair skins” or what you might call “skin skins”.

Now remember you don’t bet what you are not willing to lose. I had been intrigued for a long time by the idea of cutting my hair very short, a longish crew cut as a matter of fact. He agreed so the terms of the bet were; I win he shaves from the waist down, he wins I get the crew cut. Now, during the “binding skins” I found out that my hubby rather liked the nylons I made him wear once so I was wondering if he was going to really try to win this one.

Turned out he couldn’t make a shot to save his ass – so I shaved it!

The next week we kept the same bet. He obviously did not have much more “currency” to play with except for his hair from the waist up. We ended even after 18 holes and let me tell you I was not playing to lose on the back nine because as much as I wanted the crew cut I wanted to shave him down even more. I have never putted better, 28 putts for 18 holes which is damned good.

After the match, he suggested a double or nothing bet for the next week by adding his eyebrows versus me shaving my head. I win and he literally loses every hair on his body. He wins and I go bald. Now I am wondering what am I getting myself into. I was just after a crew cut that I could still look really feminine with. I guess I looked a little puzzled or peeved because he then tells me he’ll buy me a wig ahead of time just in case. That comment seriously pissed me off so I told the cocky bastard he was on and that I would kick his ass and then shave the rest!

Again, remember that you don’t bet what you aren’t willing to lose. You also don’t bet on emotion and I had just done both. About ten minutes later I was wondering what the hell I was doing. Was I just fucking nuts or simply stupid?

Now considering where this letter is being read you can guess the outcome. Nevertheless, let me tell you anyway because it’s an interesting story.

You know how you never really notice stuff around you until someone points it out. I had that experience at the mall the next day. I noticed this woman eating alone in the food court and she had this fancy hat on. As I get near to her I notice that she has no hair hanging below the brim they way you would expect and that her neck is absolutely bare. I walk by her to get a hoagie at ‘Baine’s’ and I find myself staring at her. I get my food and as I’m looking for a place to sit, I’m still staring at her. I’m like a deer in headlights. Our eyes meet and now I’m embarrassed because I’m trying to look like I’m not staring but we both know I’m staring at her. So, I walk over to her and ask if she minds if I sit down and can I ask her some questions.

I’m still embarrassed and she knows it so she tells me to ask her whatever I want since she knows I’m curious about her hair. So, as I stammer my question about her hair she just says it’s the result of chemotherapy. I apologize profusely and she says it’s OK because she’s discussed this with many women facing cancer and that generally people are very curious.

At this point I’m so befuddled I just blurt out my question. “So what’s it like to be bald?” She just kind of smiles and casually says that she can get dressed for work really quick in the morning. I kind of laugh and press on with my real question that besides the chemo-related problems does she mind being bald and does her husband still find her attractive.

She kind of does a double take and now she looks embarrassed. Now I feel one inch tall and I’m beginning to babble an apology like some village idiot when she says her husband shaved her the night before her chemo began and that it was the most erotic night of her life. She explained why she decided to do it and how it was done. She then says she should have done it long ago considering the impact on her sex life. I’m just slack-jawed at this comment. This from a complete stranger! She then looks me in the eye, tells me every woman should try it once in her life and that if that’s why I’m curious and talking to her that I should just go ahead and do it right now at the “Hair Cuttery” in the mall.

All I can do is blink at her.

After I regain my composure, I explain to her why I’m asking and she laughs heartily at the “skins” concept. She again stares me straight in the eye and tells me her one piece of advice would be to lose. She finishes her lunch and as she excuses herself she says she stopped her chemo a year ago and is in remission and decided to stay bald as a choice. Now I’m sitting here with two bites out of my hoagie wondering what the hell just happened when the image of me bald pops into my head. I’m telling you right now I got a little aroused by it. But at the same time I’m thinking this is just way too much to lose. Finally done my lunch I leave the food court.

As I’m walking through the mall, I see this same woman walk into a dress shop. I kind of slow down as I walk by trying to do a better job of not staring when she pulls her hat off to try on a sweater top. Holy shit, did she look good! Her face was full and expressive; she had wonderful earrings and her eyes looked just incredible. I walked on by, paused and turned around, then found a bench to sit on so I could watch her some more. Other people in the store were looking at her, some doing major double-takes, as she tried on a couple more sweaters. She had a confident presence that was simply amazing; she was in fact the mistress of her domain.

My mind raced to the bet with my husband. What the hell was I going to do? Did I have the balls this woman had? Did I want to win and what exactly did I think I was winning? To say I was confused would be a huge understatement.

I must have looked rather dumbstruck because when I got home my husband asked me what was wrong. I told him nothing and went up to bathroom and looked long and hard in the mirror. I pulled my hair back real tight to my head to gauge how I would look bald. It was no help. For a brief moment, I considered picking up some scissors and doing the deed right then but I balked at the thought.

That night I tried to sleep but couldn’t. After three hours of lying wide awake, my hubby sound asleep next to me, I got out of bed and headed downstairs. I just had to get these thoughts out of my head so I masturbated myself to a thundering orgasm and went back to bed. The alarm interrupted an incredible dream of me trying on a sweater at the mall surrounded by staring people.

Later that week, on the first tee, I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do. As usual, my husband struggled off the first tee and also as usual, I put my first drive right down the middle. After six holes, I was one up and he was struggling with his short game. He was suddenly none too smug. There was no conversation in our cart. One of the pair we were grouped with asked what was wrong since the stress in the air was palpable. I smiled and told him we just had a big bet on the outcome and walked away.

As the round wore on, I remained one up. Then at 16 my husband holed out from a bunker. I had to admit it was a hell of a shot. The look on his face was a combination of relief and relish. Seventeen found us even and as we approached 18 I couldn’t help but think of the woman at the mall. We were both cleanly in the fairway. Since I was away, I would hit my second shot first. I reached into my bag and pulled out my 7 iron. I knew the exact yardage from this spot was for an 8. I had made my decision and was oddly calm about the prospect. Of course, I flew the green and my ball came to rest in a flowerbed. There was no way to save par from my position. As I put my club back in my bag, my husband took note of the club I had used. I smiled at him, kissed his cheek and just told him to put the little bastard on the green.

He took a huge divot with his practice swing, addressed the ball, then put it two feet from the pin. As he got back in the cart, I complimented him on his concentration. The end of the match was anticlimactic.

In the clubhouse, I asked him if he had bought me a wig. He said no. I told him that was good as I thought I wouldn’t need one. He smiled at me, told me how much he loved me and asked me why? I told him about the woman at the mall. We ate a good meal, drank some good wine, and discussed our round and the evening ahead. On the way home we stopped at the same mall and bought some haircutting tools.

We didn’t bother with using scissors. I asked him to run the clippers right down the middle with no attachment with one special consideration. I wanted him in my mouth while he clippered me. It took a little time to figure out how exactly to do this. In the end, he sat at the very edge of a kitchen chair as I knelt down as low as I could. I took him in my mouth and very carefully kept him rock hard without coming while he used the clippers on my head.

The clippers were very loud so close to my ears and the hum in my head had a hypnotic effect. It didn’t take long before all the hair I had had tumbled down my back. As he finished with the clippers, he began to rub the top of my head. I opened my mouth in a sigh and finished the task I had started. He arched his back as he came in my mouth. It was odd but I felt very powerful at that moment.

We exchanged positions so he could stand while he applied the shaving cream and slowly shaved me bald. I rubbed my head and asked him to do it again as I could feel a five o’clock shadow. He soaked a towel in hot water and applied it to my scalp. What a shocking sensation it was. I asked him to eat me while the towel softened the stubble so he knelt down and did his magic. It wasn’t long before I was engulfed in a shattering orgasm. I actually grabbed the back of his head, pulled him in to me, and wouldn’t let go. When I did finally let go he came up gasping and asked if I was trying to suffocate him!

The towel had done its work and the fine stubble that remained came off without any resistance with the second application of shaving cream. Some time later I could begin to feel a bit of rug-burn sensation so my husband applied some herbal skin cream to my bald head. The effect of the cream added a polished look to my head. As I examined my naked scalp in the mirror I knew I would be doing two things. First was evening out my tan and the second was to shave again in a couple of days.

The next several hours were a sumptuous feast of eroticism.

Over the past several months golf has become less competitive and the nights far more enjoyable. When we go out for dinner or a movie, I usually go without a wig or a hat. Women who ask me about my lack of hair usually start the same way I did when I questioned the woman in the mall. I tell them I did it for myself and that my sex life is simply incredible because of it. A few weeks ago, I saw a woman in the mall that I had met briefly at dinner a few nights beforehand. She had on a hat. I walked up to her and we exchanged some pleasantries before she thanked me for my advice. We smiled together at our understanding of her compliment. We both know a way to man’s heart is not through his stomach but through his…. Ladies, you know what I mean.

 

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