Beautician

Hope you like it, teensy more romantic than my other stories. Do please send me feedback, vote if you feel like it though dangit I want feedback.

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This day starts like any other day. The alarm goes off, I roll over and hit the snooze button, goes off again and I hit snooze again. I am awakened yet again when the second alarm goes off, all the way across the room. Stumbling out of bed I stub my toe on the bed foot in the process of moving across to turn off this second rude timer.

Needless to say of course, I am quite awake when I reach the second alarm. The incredibly rude beeping turned off, I yawn my way into the shower, the warm water cascading down my body, pooling for a moment in my button before sluicing its way past my lips and down to the shower floor, hands traveling over my body, soap nestling in the crook of one hand, loofah in the other.

Still not awake yet I let my hands do their own thing, which invariably involves rubbing my breasts longer than just to clean them. My nipples swelling my hands continue their assault, rubbing, pressing, twisting and pulling at the extended flesh. My nipples hard as rocks, breasts reddish with passion, those naughty hands, still holding the soap travel lower in their own erratic way.

With a moaning sigh my hands reach the crevice between my legs, lips puffy and red, more than just water pooling within. Soap splashing to the water about my feet, fingers delving deep into the hungry gap between my legs, I can't help but moan as those fingers stretch the depths within around them. My legs spread wider on their own as I lean against the wall, fingers moving in, making squelching noises not caused by the cascading water all around, but caused rather by cascading waters within. My eyes glaze over as the fingers move deeper then withdraw, moving me closer and closer to a promised land.

Knees weakening as those rude fingers cause so much pleasure, more than just water splashing to the floor to swirl around toe clenching feet and down the drain. Getting hotter and hotter as I get closer and closer, my knees are practically knocking with the intense feeling of pleasure. Breasts starting to hurt with desire and lust, one hand travels slowly back up to fondle the breasts before finally taking one nipple in between the fingers for a twist and pull.

I gasp as the first spasms of an orgasm overtake me, I so want this, so need this. My knees pull together then spread apart, trying to get more sensation. My hand alternating between my breasts, squeezing each one in turn, there it is, another spasm, so close now. Slowly sliding down the wall, knees unable to support my weight, breath coming in quick gasps and moans.

My eyes snap open, taking a moment to shout in frustration and panic before quickly rinsing myself semi-clean, grabbing a towel on the way out of the bathroom. Half dried if even that much, clothes pulled on, tear in stocking so skipping them entirely, I remember to stop and turn off the water before moving toward the front door, car keys in my hand.

No idea how I manage to not kill myself or someone else, I pull up to the salon to find Susan standing there, mouth agape, phone in hand. Her mouth does not shut until I have sprinted to the door and unlocked, she shuts it finally inside.

"Helen I do not know why you are so intent on opening at the same time everyday; how often do we have people come in before 9AM?" she asks as her purse crunches to the table.

"Not the point hun, I run a business here. We open when I have decided we will open no sooner no later," I tell her as I pull the blinds open, turn the sign around and head for the back to pull out the register tray.

"I really don't think anyone will care if you open a bit late so you can have a little enjoyment in the morning," she blurts out before diving into her purse.

I should be mad at her for saying that, I know I should, heck I should never have admitted to doing that in the shower. Well OK I probably should not have admitted to doing that anyway, but I did and I can never forget doing so, she doesn't let me. Instead I give her a little 'Grrrr' as I pass her with the tray of cash for the register. I even manage to reach down with one hand and swat her smartly on the rear.

We spend the next couple hours doing 'busy' work, sweeping a clean floor, arranging the scissors and brushes, basic have-to-find-something-to-do-to-pass-the-time things. Our first customer the towns' resident flapper, Miss Stevens, a doddering older woman, well alright old, she being a sprightly 97 came in promptly at eleven, no sooner no later.

She regaled us with tales of her snugglepup coming over last weekend, sounding more like a teenager than a woman of her years. She even giggled as she told us how he had put his hand under her skirt to her knee, about how he tried to go farther though 'not that far' as she put it with a roll of her eyes. Which of course turned our conversation into a 'man bashing affair', again her words not mine. She may be a slightly weird lady, but I have to admit her hair is gorgeous.

Not that she lets it grow very long, every two weeks she is in the salon, well OK so it's a shop, more of a barber shop than a salon but it serves its purpose. It has two rinsing stations, one farther back behind a curtain, before I bought it; it was a proper barber shop as John put it. The second station behind the curtain is for the female customers, not too many at the time but enough.

Anyway back to her hair, she comes in every two weeks to get it trimmed; as she puts it, "A proper swing chick can't have her hair to long." Well there was another reason, she confessed it to me after I had bought the shop and renamed it a salon, she had long hair at one time but she is a fitful sleeper, woke up one night with it wrapped over her face tight, had it cut the very next day and religiously keeps it short.

She used to be a platinum blonde, though with her age it has turned white more than blonde it still shines golden in the sun. Every two weeks I, of course, offer to give her some color, not that she needs it but it is more money she pays and that's always good. Right? Not that it works, every time she runs her fingers through her hair, sighs and tells us she used to have such golden hair, just perfect for a right proper swinger chick. Then she says, "Maybe next time," been saying that for close to five years now.

An hour later she is shimmying out the door again, no seriously she always gives us a little peek at what a right proper swing chick she is. Did I mention she is a little weird? Yes well toss little right out, she is full on weird, but we both love her to death, not literally of course so just get that thought out of your head.

The door has scarcely shut behind dear Miss Stevens when our next customer pulls the door wide. Gruff John, well I suppose not anymore, now he is Principal Jefferson, but I went to school with him and I always just think of him as Gruff John. With nary a word above a grunt he plops down in Susan's chair. I suppose his school day is not being a good one. Not that anybody is surprised of course, it being two weeks before summer break, those kids must be driving everyone up the walls.

I suppose luckily I have to leave him to Susan, just as he plops down, Steven comes in breathing heavily. I grab his hand and lead him to my chair listening as he explains he has an hour to get back to work and he needs to look nice for Sarah. Susan and I exchange looks as I push him into my chair, each of us surmising that today is the day he finally asks for her hand in marriage.

As I brush his hair I ask why he needs to look nice for Sarah, hoping that he would blurt everything out for us. He does not disappoint either, spends the next twenty minutes explaining in detail his plan on how he is going to ask her. Gets plenty of ohs and ahs out of all three of us, John chiming in being very surprising, we dated in high school. Nothing all that serious, though I was assuming otherwise until I caught him sleeping with Sarah Ann. Oh yes anyway, my point being he was called Gruff John because well, he was, never said more than he had to, and usually less than needed still does in fact. So hopefully now you understand why his oohing and aahing with us is surprising.

Oh don't give me that look I was busy doing his hair so remembering every word he said is rather out of the question. I do remember the gist of it though and I betcha you want to hear it so here you go. He got reservations for this great little restaurant outside Shirewood, the next town over. After they had eaten they were going to the beach, where they first met and where they would go for some alone time. No seriously, around here when the sun goes down the only people who go to the beach are going for alone time so no matter what, you're alone.

Oh no he did not tell me this Sarah did, it is nice being the only hair salon in town, everybody drops by from time to time. We are even the best place to go for gossip, well, tied I suppose with the corner store. Getting your hair cut is right up there next to having the perfect chocolate malted, and the only place to get one of those, the corner store. Helps that the owner Eric is a god, heck not even doing him justice, he is a HUNKY GOD. I'm not kidding here, he smiles at any woman in town, and she needs to change shorts.

He is about six foot four of rippling muscles, sandy brown hair and dark blue eyes you can just get lost in. He has sure soft hands that are always perfectly trimmed, mostly white teeth, though when he smiles you don't care, his whole face lights up and his eyes twinkle. Not even the best part of him, his butt is just perfect, sticks out a little, rounded, firm and just big enough to get ahold of. Still not the best part, when he wears those tight jeans, he has a bulge, not huge but he has a bulge and seeing it makes you drool just a little.

It has gotten quiet, besides, Steven who is just finishing up his description of what he is going to do to ask Sarah, even is going to get down on his knees. Most people that is no big deal, Steven though has really bad knees so getting up from them is hard on him. I finish with his hair so tell him what a great way of doing it, she will be sure to say yes and how much he owes me.

When I turn to put his money in the cash register I stop, almost drop the money even, there standing by the counter is Eric, yes that Eric, all six plus feet of him standing there leaning on my counter a little, tight jeans wrapped around him like a second skin.

I greeted him, well at least I hope I did, my knees were doing a very good impression of Jell-O, my stomach doing flip-flops at about ten million miles an hour. Somehow I managed to get to the cash register, say goodbye to Steven, and ask what I could do for Eric. Well judging by his face I did not ask what I could do for him, the laughter coming from behind me told me even more that I asked something different.

Before I could turn forty some shades of red Eric reaches across the counter grabs my hand and tells me I can give him a hair cut. I'd like to say I went straight to business woman running a hair salon, I didn't. I ran my fingers through his hair and told him his hair is perfect the way it is, a shiver running down my spine and straight to my pussy.

He looks into my eyes, his sparkling with some to me hidden mirth as he takes my other hand into his and tells me that he does need a hair cut and wants me to do it. As he says this he brings one hand up to his mouth and kisses it, his eyes boring into mine a look of total lust written all over his face.

The best I could manage as a reply? OK let's go wash your hair. I know I so should have said something better, but at that very moment, all I could see was him stripping his clothes off and getting on me.

I lead him through the salon to the hair washing station, but he puts his hand to my back just above my butt, one finger reaching down and pushes me towards the back station, separated from the rest of the salon by a curtain. Part of me is screaming no not there, you will do unprofessional things back there. I squashed that thought right down, I did not care if he wanted me he would have me.

Reaching the back washing station he motions for me to close the curtain as he plops down into the chair. I close the curtain turn back and get lost in his eyes, I don't know how long I stand there staring at him before his waving hand catches my eye and I remember I am supposed to be washing his hair. With a sheepish look on my face I head over to him, grabbing the plastic washing sheet on the way.

I put it around his neck before stopping and sheepishly getting the little runner bit to affix there before the sheet. The entire time I am doing this my mind is screaming you have a god in your chair here, run your hand over his package and see if he is just as good there. Another part of me is screaming to undo his pants and drop those panties and hop right on up. A third part, well that third part is wondering just how good he tastes. There was no fourth part every entire bit of my mind was occupied on the different ways of having him.

Of course we had a conversation running, I to this day have no idea what was said, he just gets a smile on his face and tells me not to worry about it, and we won't even mention what Susan has to say about the entire thing.

So pushing those thoughts into the back of my head, well I probably was talking about all of them. Like I said he doesn't tell me what I had to say that day. Anyway I get the sheet on him, leaned back in the chair and the water to a good temperature, not too hot and not cold.

There I am, my fingers running through his hair, the hot water cascading over my hands and his hair, massaging his scalp. Every little touch of his skin under my fingers every little strand of his hair sending a little bolt of electricity right down to there. I am sure I was just a quivering moaning pile of goo with his head in my hands.

My hands caressing his head, moving his hair about running my fingers over his scalp giving a tender little massage that I am sure he responded to in a rising way. At first neither of us did anything, I was just so entranced with running my hands through that glorious hair of his, reveling in the knowledge that my hands are in his hair. Then, he put a hand to my side, running it up to my breast ever so slowly, the whole time I wanted to scream at him to hurry up and touch my breasts. They were so sore with desire, my panties I am sure were soaking wet.

Instead my hands kept moving in his hair, slowly working the water into every little strand, giving out soft little mews as this god's hair moved under my fingers. Then his hand was there, on my breast, it finally had reached what I had so dearly wanted him to touch. Instead of going straight after my nipple though his fingers worked all over my breast, caressing and mauling all at the same time, and yet somehow avoiding my nipple that was ever so hard and begging for attention.

When his hand finally cupped then closed two fingers over the straining digit of my breast I moaned, I know I did I remember that. My legs spread wider of their own accord, affording him better access to my breast, I moved closer to him, at first just wanting to feel his leg pressed into mine as his fingers pulled and tugged at my nipple. Not being able to stand it any longer I straddle his leg, putting one leg to each side of his one, moving farther up so I am pressed into his hip, mine working myself over him as my fingers still caress his scalp. His other hand pressed into my side then traveled up my body, at first moving for my other breast, perhaps knowing how lonely it is next to the one being mauled.

I delight in both breasts in his expert hands, my hands massaging his scalp still, somehow even managing to get the soap into one hand before applying it to his head. My hips still working myself on his hip, I am sure my panties have soaked through by now and are leaving a wet stain on his jeans. Neither of us cared though, his cock was erect and hard pressing into my hip through his jeans and my skirt each time I rotated forward. At some point his hands had moved from my breasts around to my back and were pulling me toward him, I did not resist simply went where his hands said. At this point we kissed for the first time, his lips pressing into mine then his tongue hungrily delves into heretofore unknown territory. My tongue did the same thing, both of us hungry for more contact. There we were two lovers embraced in a hot kiss, my hands at once caressing his scalp and pulling him farther into our kiss.

Finally, we pulled apart a barest of a fraction of an inch, both breathing hard, both moaning as my hips continued to rotate me into his hip and him. I felt his hands pull away before the sound of his jeans being opened, those button flies not able to hold him back any longer. I let go of his head reluctantly, pulled myself away form his leg, though so wanting to not move away, just stay atop his leg for eternity. In a flash my panties are pulled off and left on the floor somewhere, his jeans pulled past his cheeks at least. I am sure he would have taken them farther though I never let him, I was to close for him to get up, and I was atop him the instant he had his pants pulled past his cheeks. I was in to much of a hurry to let him get his pants down. Atop his lap he is forced to lean back again as I press forward, my breasts pushing into his chest as my lips seek his. Hungrily we devour each other, our lips pressing firmer then softer, our tongues dueling in first his mouth then mine. My hips rubbing myself up and down on him, not taking him in, not yet, instead we each force the other to make do with the contact we have, each wanting to go farther, each afraid to press the issue.

His hands go from pulling me into him to slowly moving down, caressing each little square inch of flesh they encounter along the way, leaving me with goose bumps of expectation the size of well geese. As his hands reach my hips to pull me up, my hands swiftly travel down along his chest to that part of him that I so want inside of me right then and there. As my hips rise higher my hands drag him into position, until finally, he is pressing into me.

We both moan as I lower myself slowly, taking his hard cock into me. Each little tiny bit of him going in has me trembling with pent up lust. The feeling has me wanting to go faster, but I may never have this chance again so I force myself to go slower, moaning as each little fold moves aside for him, my fluids flowing freely. He suddenly clutches me to him, shoving me down the rest of the way, not too far, but still so incredibly filling.

Still clutching me to him he starts pumping, his cock moving in me, not terribly far but oh so incredibly good. Unable to control myself I pull back a little and start moving proper. The way his cock feels pistoning in and out of my cunt is so incredibly good. I can feel an orgasm coming finally that one I have been unable to give myself is going to be given to me by this glorious man.

We are both moving so fast, my juices splashing out around his cock onto his thighs and stomach. The sound of our flesh slapping together intermixing with the wet sound of his cock moving inside of me is so erotic I can't help but beg him to cum in me. I am begging him over and over he is simply smiling up at me and helping me move faster on that glorious cock, I simply can't even begin to relate how good that thing feels inside of me. I don't know how long I moved atop him begging for his fluids, but finally my own orgasm overtook me, I could not help but scream out as the waves of complete and total ecstasy overwhelm me, my muscles gripping at him rhythmically.