As a reporter on a local newspaper I had been called on to cover the story of an 18 year old schoolgirl who had hit the national press with her account of how she wanted to cut her very long hair and donate her tresses for charity. Her name was Aimee and I had known her and her mother for some time through reporting their local charity work. Aimee was the only child of a single parent family and I had always been very fond of her as she seemed to be of me, never having known her father. She had grown into a beautiful girl and it was hard to believe that she was on the threshold of university life.
So, it was with a great deal of pleasure that I had been asked to give a photo report for the paper. I had seen the report in the national press and it was as I was looking at her photos that something uncomfortable and yet pleasurable stirred in me. She looked devastatingly pretty in the pictures and I realised that she was stirring me sexually. I resisted the temptation to masturbate over them for as long as I could, but had to give in -- and then afterwards felt really guilty.
And so, somewhat dry mouthed with anticipation, I arrived at her house and it was Aimee who opened the door. As requested by our editorial department, she was dressed in the same way as for her original photos -- in a sweet floral patterned dress in a soft material that I guessed was a type of polyester. She smiled and welcomed me in, ushering me in to the sitting room. A polite enquiry as to a cup of tea -- which I gratefully accepted -- was followed by her explaining that her mother was unavoidably detained at her place of work and would not be back for a good two hours. However, Aimee was insistent that I go ahead with the report and photo shoot and whilst she busied herself in the kitchen I nervously prepared my camera.
Aimee came back in with the tea and then sat down opposite me, talking excitedly about the reactions she had had from her plans to cut her hair. As she talked, I drank in the beauty of this girl. Her long hair was exquisite -- at least three feet long, a sort of mousy blond, sleek and achingly soft. She tossed it back and forth slightly with each emphasis, her light girlish voice washing over me. I heard, but wasn't listening, as I took in her smooth, lithe legs and her feet encased in pretty white sandals; and the soft dress which had ridden up her thighs just a touch, revealing a hint of white nylon underskirt. As my gaze reached her shoulders, I took in the white straps of her bra slip and just a hint of the pretty lace of the bodice.
'So, Aimee, when are you having the dreaded cut,' I enquired.
'My cousin's doing it for me tomorrow,' she replied. 'I'm quite excited about it now -- but it will be funny to have shorter hair after all this time and I won't be able to do this any longer'. She smiled as she wound her soft, three foot tresses around her neck and made a playful strangling noise.
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, 'please don't do it, Aimee, I love your hair just as it is.'
Aimee looked momentarily taken aback.
'It's OK, Mr Henderson,' she smiled reassuringly, 'I shall leave a length of about a foot -- it will still be quite long and I'll get it styled to look pretty -- you will still love my hair, I'm sure.'
I had long had an aching fetish for long, silky hair on women and by now, with all this talk, I had become hard as a rock and I was hoping Aimee hadn't noticed.
'Oh God...oh
good
...' my voice came out in a hoarse croak. And then, in a moment of recklessness, I blurted, 'Aimee, while you've still got all that lovely hair, would you mind if I stroked it?' This was
it -- a point of no return, and a paralysing fear gripped me that Aimee would lose all trust and affection for me and suddenly I would be no more than a pervert in her eyes. I scanned her sweet face anxiously looking for shock and disapproval, but although she coloured slightly she smiled shyly and said, 'OK, Mr Henderson..'
'John, please,' I interjected.
'OK, er...John,' she replied, 'you're welcome to feel my hair. It's lovely and shiny. Mum washed it for me this morning. It takes
ages
to dry!'
Aimee laughed in that appealing way of hers and watched me closely as I got up and sat beside her on the settee. I inched closer to her and with trembling hands gently felt and stroked her glorious hair. I put my face close to it and breathed in the scent of her. My cock was now straining for release and Aimee must have noticed the evident bulge in my trousers.
'Do you like it, Mr...John?' she turned and smiled. 'Mum says that my hair is beautiful and that one day when I get a boyfriend he will love to stroke it.....like you..'
And then, 'John, do you think I'm pretty?' her innocent question just about melted me.