Thanks to EmeraldKitten for all her help with this story.
Once again, this is a pure stroke story. No great redeeming literary value at all.
And don't forget to vote and send me comments. The more feedback I get, the harder I'll work to keep you entertained.
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Halloween, just after 5:30. I'm glad of my leather jacket for the fall evening is chilly.
Turning my head to the right I can see my reflection in a convenience store window. Rangy is the best word to describe my build. I'm thin and rather tall. My hair and beard are now mostly grey, changing from the dull brown they used to be. With my jacket, black jeans and black cowboy boots I look like a biker who gave it up to be a literature prof. I smile at myself, pleased with the dichotomy.
"But I could use a haircut,"
I decide.
Looking ahead, I see a bit of serendipity. There's a hair stylist's shop just up the street a bit.
I continue walking until I reach the stylist's door. I open it and a little bell rings to announce my entrance. The shop is very small. All I can see is a front desk with a cash register and some beauty products displayed behind glass. A divider walls off the entrance from the bulk of the shop. Construction paper pumpkins and witches decorate the walls. Creepy music sounds from speakers mounted on the dividing barrier.
The door closes behind me and the bell rings again. A young woman emerges from the working area hidden from me.
"Woof!"
is my first thought on seeing her.
The young lady in question is taller than many, about 5' 8". She is not that stick insect thin widely popular, but rather nicely filled out. She would attract my attention even if she wasn't dressed the way she was. I scan my eyes over the length of her to take in the full effect.
I start at her neck, and note the pale, soft skin there.
"Tasty,"
I think. She's wearing a black shirt with brown trim, top buttons undone so that her full breasts are displayed almost to the nipple. A very short black skirt encases her hips. Her lovely legs are contained in fishnet stockings of matching colour. Ankle boots with four inch heels and the same shade are on her trim feet.
With a bit of chagrin, I realize what I'm doing. I move my eyes to hers, which are a sparkling brown. Her beautiful face is long with a pointed chin. Hair is a deep, dark red and curly. A pair of leopard spotted ears sticks out from the riotous mane.
"Ah, yes. A real sex kitten indeed."
She grins at me, as if she's following my thoughts. "Hello. Can I help you?" she asks.
"You certainly may," I reply. My lecherous smile indicates exactly what that help could be. "I need a hair cut and beard trim."
"It's going to cost you," she laughs back. "But I can take care of you. Just follow me..." And she turns to head back towards the area she emerged from.
Following her, I move past the Halloween decorations and through the spooky music. As I do, I admire her from behind. Those statuesque legs that lead up to a gorgeous well-built ass. A leopard's tail completes the kitten ensemble. Her back towards me offers an opportunity. I reach into my pants to adjust my stiffening anatomy. There's no subtle way to do that.
As I move past the wall I see her station. A small shelf full of her equipment sits under a large mirror with a barber's chair in front of it. There is only the one station. This shop must be her own.
She leans forward to pick up a cape. Her skirt rides up a bit and I can just see the bottoms of her cheeks. I can't tell if she's wearing a thong or doing without. My prick grows harder at the sight.
The lovely woman I've been staring at turns to me with a smile and gestures at the chair. "Have a seat, sir." I think I see her eyes widen a bit as they run over the bulge in my pants.
Grinning back at her, I climb into the chair.
Graceful hands fasten the cape around my neck and pivot the chair towards the mirror. Standing to my right, she catches my reflected eyes with hers and asks, "So, what am I doing to you today?" There's a slight pause as she realizes what she's said. "Er, rather, how close do you want it?"
"As close as you want to get," is my answer. I arch an eyebrow at her to make it plain I'm not talking about hair.
Her shimmering eyes expand for a second, then a slow, wicked smile creeps across her mouth. "Sounds good to me," she says.
Reaching over to grab the clippers, she slips an attachment on them and starts it whirring. One leg goes to the foot pump of the chair. She hikes her skirt a touch, revealing her thigh to me. With forceful steps, the chair is raised to the height needed for her work. My gaze travels to the erotic sight, watching the muscles work. A wave of pure lust passes through me.
Her brown eyes smirk at me in the mirror, amused by my hard wired male reaction. Moving closer she presses her lush breasts into my shoulder. The clippers are moved towards my hair.
Before they reach me, I reach up with my right hand, and scratch my shoulder on that side. The backs of my knuckles run under her right breast. Moving my hand back and forth, I tease the sensitive skin there. "I beg your pardon," I say putting a not too surprised look on my face, making it sound like my action was an accident.
That pretty face slackens for a moment and a quiet moan seeps from her. The arm moving the shearing tool stops, not quite at my head. She leans and presses her firm mounds harder into my shoulder. Turning once again to my reflection, she smiles and says, "You don't have to beg for anything."
She switches her clippers to her left hand, then reaches with the right for the cape. Instead of adjusting it, her hand runs under the linen. Slowly she grazes over my chest, teases across my stomach and finishes by running her fingertips along the iron rod she finds in my pants.
I move my right arm out from under the cape and place the tips of my fingers on her firm thigh. Strumming them, as if playing a guitar, I gently stroke up the warm, and warming surface. Upwards I go, until I feel the hem of her skirt against my forearm. And a bit farther until I cup my hand at the spot between her legs. She's wearing a silk thong I discover. I can feel her brimming cheeks under my fingers and the damp, almost wet, material rubs against my palm.
Her hand twitches on my tool at my touch. I hiss a soft intake of breath at the feeling that sweeps through me. She squeezes her thighs together, trapping my hand between them. I can feel the silk grow wetter, coating my hand with a thin film of her excitement.
I feel the button of my jeans being undone. She grasps the zipper tab and pulls it down unhurriedly.
With a smile, I lean forward and run my tongue along her ear. There are diamond studs set in the lobe. I circle them one at a time.
A deft movement of my right hand moves the thong aside. Stroking lightly, I spread the warm liquid flowing from her around her quivering lips. My thumb pushes against her hard clit, as if it were a button to launch something into orbit. Then I rotate it, causing the stiff nubbin to stretch and compress in a rhythmic motion.
She moans again at the multiple sensations. I hear the clippers stop whirring and she drops them to the floor. The now free hand grasps my wrist, needing it's support to keep her balance. The other hand opens my pants and goes under my briefs to grip my lumber stiff cock. Her breath whispers between clenched teeth. She squeezes me and then pumps with a delicate motion.
I grit my teeth and shudder at her maddening touch. My lips leave her ear and trail across her cheek. My left hand reaches around to turn her mouth towards me. I trace her lips, then push my tongue inside to spar with hers. Puckering my lips, I suck her tongue into me and lightly catch it between my teeth.
My hand rearranges itself between her thighs. Index and third fingers move her labia apart and my center finger runs inside. I pump it slowly. And move my invading digit so none of the nerves inside her damp cavern are untouched.
The redheaded beauty whimpers as my mouth claims hers. Her movements on my cock become more insistent, alternately tight and soft. Her tongue twitches in my mouth in a cadence that matches the one in her fissure. Raising an elegant leg, she sets it on the foot pump, allowing me easy access to her heat. Those wide hips buck against my hand as she moans deep in her throat. The demanding muscles inside her pull at my finger, drawing it deeper.
With a sharp gasp, I pull my head from hers. That loving touch has bought me to the very edge. My hips work involuntarily, at the beat she has set. I grit my teeth, and then I'm coming. Sticky fluid shoots from me, spurts followed by dribbles. It soaks into my shirt and coats her hand. A panting groan rattles in my chest as it ends.
She moans as my passion covers her hand. Her fingers loosen their grip, caressing me. My final groan brings an impish smile to her face. Removing her hand from under the cape, she brings it to her mouth, sucking the cream from her fingers. Eyes sparking with pleasure she says, "Mmmm. Every tricker's favourite treat."
I manage to regain control of my body while she's enjoying her gooey delicacy. I answer her smile with a wicked one of my own. "I have another treat for you," I whisper.
I have lost myself in her ministrations and was no longer working my hand. To make up for it I slide a second finger in her. I speed up the meter of my strokes while my thumb starts to flick back and forth over her clit as rapidly as I can move it.