Following my admission to Helen that I was seriously thinking of getting my hair clippered or going for a buzz cut so that I could give myself a bigger rush, the notion of actually doing it was eating away at me and seemed to occupy every moment when my mind wasn't focussed on Uni work.
Even though I was slightly nervous about how it might look, the thoughts just would not go away. So, having convinced myself to go through with it, and a few days prior to Sam coming home for the summer break, I plucked up the courage to go ahead with the deed.
However, thinking about it and actually getting it done turned out to be two quite different things. The salon that I normally use were more than reluctant to do the job to the extent that rather than fall out with them and create a scene (which is not really my style at all), I abandoned the project.
Helen was quite surprised when she got home to see my original hairstyle still in place, and after satisfying herself that I now wanted this quite badly, started phoning around. One place said that they didn't have any clippers, another one said that they had clippers but that they were broken (really???), and two others expressed the same reluctance as my usual hairdressers, so we changed tack and started seeking out visiting hairdressers.
Two calls later and we found one who arranged to come to the house two evenings later on the Wednesday having understood what we wanted. The best bit was that it was going to be less than half the price that I would normally expect to pay, so one way and another things were looking up!
I was beside myself by the time the lady arrived. She was a youngish teacher (perhaps in her mid to late 20's) having made a career change, but now did the home visits as a sideline while she was saving up for a deposit on a flat.
She was extremely good. I explained what I wanted (without telling her why!), and she immediately put me at ease, and said that she had a number of customers who were moving towards similar styles, nearly all of whom had found her as a result of difficulties with salons.
My problem was that I wasn't quite sure how short to go. I wanted something that would still look reasonably presentable without making me look too hard faced, but short enough that it would provide me with the sensations that I so desperately sought.
I followed her suggestion and went for a number five as an initial start. It took a bit of time to work it down from its original length, but ultimately, we both agreed that it didn't look quite right, and we went for a three instead. I loved it when she started to run her fingers through my drastically shortened hair (if only she knew the effect it was having on me . . . .).
This was an improvement and was close to the 'feel' that I wanted, but in the end we went for a number one on the back and sides, and a two on top.
Although the finished product felt marginally outlandish, the overall effect was strangely liberating and I was very pleased with it, and not only was it well worth the modest cost, I was absolutely certain it would be getting a further trim before too long. It just felt unusual when I twisted my head and there was no hair swishing around - you get very used to some things!
Helen got home and immediately told me that she thought it made me look very sassy and I was inclined to agree with her.
That evening she spent ages teasing my now delightfully sensitive scalp (especially where my hair was super short at the back) and by the end of our pretty full on session I had discovered a new erogenous zone. Helen just could not leave my newly shortened hair alone and I couldn't wait for Sam to get home.
At Uni the next day, pretty much every conversation seemed to be centered around my new haircut. I don't think I have ever been the topic of so many unprompted comments and discussions. Apart from a handful of exceptions, the general consensus was that they liked it, and in the majority of cases, liked it a lot.
One of the one's that that didn't like it so much thought people would think I was gay (not that I was particularly bothered by that, and in fact I nearly outed myself right there!), but there were no really negative comments, and several wanted to 'have a feel'.
I quite enjoyed the attention, and the haircut itself elicited several comments along the lines of 'I love it but my boyfriend would kill me / leave me / disown me' and others with the general theme of 'I'd love to do it but daren't'.
In short (no pun intended!) I loved it, and still love it. Quite a few months on, I can't really envisage going back to a conventional cut.
But to get back to the time in question, what was really energising me was the fact that Sam was now only a day away from being home for the summer break, and I was highly sparked up by what I hoped was going to be something quite special.
Sam had not seen my hair and was not aware that I was now wearing what was a quite boyish crew cut. The look on her face when she arrived at the house was one of surprise and lust. There was an exclamation of 'what have you done to your hair,' but her body language was expressing something altogether different. She strode, almost ran across the room to give me a big hug and very sexy snog, but whilst one hand was around my waist pulling us together, the other was busily caressing my close to very nearly bald head.
It may well have been the longest embrace I have ever had, but the feelings arising from my head massage were indescribable.
When she finally let go of me and we had a drink in front of us, the questions started. I hadn't really prepared myself for the questions, and had not considered for a moment that there would be so many. As it was, I was a little bit economical with the truth, and I responded with stuff like I wanted a change, that it felt liberating, but I did let on that it made me feel very sexy!
Helen arrived home about an hour and a half later and while preparing dinner and while eating it, we had lots to catch up on.
On a couple of our Skype calls, we had told Sam a little bit about Lizzie, and she seemed eager to meet her, and I assured her we had a tentative plan in place to have her over for at least part of the weekend, but first there was tonight to be got through and I was very charged up.
As usual, I was only wearing a thigh length tee shirt, and Sam had got changed into what was more of a singlet (I think you call them wifebeaters in the US).
Sam had sat herself on one of the armchairs, and I located myself on the floor between her knees with my back against the front of the armchair.
I was already aroused, and I am pretty sure that my arousal was obvious by the aroma emerging from my pretty damp crotch.
It wasn't long before Sam was teasing the short, spiky strands of hair that now crowned my head. It was an amazingly seductive feeling and she was somehow getting the pressure just about right.
I leaned back into her, and less than five minutes later I couldn't stand it any more. I grabbed her legs just below her knees and pulled her forward on the seat, and I sensed that she got the message.
Even though it didn't take long, it seemed to take an age before I suddenly felt a buzz from a different type of skin just about skimming the back of my head, followed by a gooey film of something starting to coat my fine hairs and seeping onto my closely trimmed skull and crown.
I pulled harder on Sam's legs.
This time she raised herself up and hovered over me, lowering her juicy cunt which by now was emitting a copious amount of girl jizz onto my near baldness.
I'm not sure who was enjoying it more.