Please note that like all my work, this is essentially a true story and that for fantasy purposes only I have omitted the use of condoms, which always take place with people other than my long term boyfriend. Thanks.
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When we first moved here to France from the UK we had lots to sort out and even though it's a small town, finding handyman and the like and then getting them to do the work was somewhat arduous. Especially in a second language. One thing I had overlooked for too long was finding a barber. I prefer a guy to cut my hair, sexuality unimportant.
There was no shortage of ladies hairdressers, one on every street corner not occupied by a boulangerie but only 2 barbers in town. One was a guy coming up to retirement age and another guy in his 30s who seemed to have a steady supply of customers of all ages whenever we passed, so we opted for him.
I made 2 appointments, back to back, for me and my boyfriend Dave (who had limited knowledge of the French language). They were the last 2 on a Saturday afternoon, 17h30 and 18h00. I doubted either of us would be in the chair more than 15 minutes, we both wanted just a good trim, so he'd get an early finish.
We arrived just before half past five and found Willy (apparently not an unusual name round here) mopping up in his shop. He'd had a flood and so the water was turned off, a pipe had burst about an hour previously. We were desperate for our hair cutting and not sure what to do but Willy had a flat literally above the shop and said he would, if we liked, cut our hair there. Due to the age and design of the building, the row of shops on the ground floor had been independent of the accommodation above in the town's glory days but ended up being subdivided with the barber and the papershop/ tobacconist next door having direct access to their own flats.
He locked the door, finished mopping and we followed him up the narrow staircase leading us to where he lived. I couldn't help but check out his arse as I followed as his trousers were quite tight and I thought he looked to be in good shape.
"Excuse the mess, guys" he said. It seemed tidy enough to me but he brought a chair from the dining table and Dave sat down there so he could cut his hair and then mine. I explained how short he wanted it, he ran downstairs for his scissors and trimmers, a cape for the victim in the chair, and away he set.
We talked a little, how and why we found ourselves where we were and where else we'd visited and stayed in France, what we were doing for work etc. It turned out Willy had been to London twice before, some years ago.
"I visited some club a bus ride away from the city centre, and had to leave all my clothes at the door in a bin bag" he said. I knew it well, it being the first place Dave and I had ever gone to a 'Boots Only' afternoon, one of the first places that I knew of that held gay sex parties and advertised them as such. We found some of the dirty, fat and hopeless old bastards a bit full on but after a few beers, they had cum and gone and we usually had fun with some young late arrival. Now it's been replaced by Yuppie flats. If only those guys and girls up above knew what had gone on downstairs...
Well I was a bit taken aback by his frank admission, especially as the tag line for the place used to be that it was the place no one admitted they visited! But the conversation moved on to other similar places Dave and I had visited, not only in London where we went occasionally to the Water Sports afternoons, but the Naked sessions at various clubs in Paris on our regular weekends there. I still remember our visits to the Piss sessions, I always wore just my boots and a cockring whereas some guys wore all manner of clothes they got drenched. I'd kneel before a guy I fancied and put their erect (or not) cock in my mouth and wait for the luke warm golden pleasure to arrive, drinking it all with gay abandon... and even pissed it back to others when I'd had my fill as there was usually a crowd gathered in the toilets waiting eagerly.
Anyway, Willy finished Dave's trim and said he'd be back, disappearing into his bedroom, as I swapped places ready for my turn. I sat and placed the cape around my neck to save the ends going over and down my t-shirt. Willy returned, this time wearing a pair of backless briefs. That was unexpected. They were yellow with red edging.