The Barber

During my junior year in college, I lived alone in a small city apartment. My entire social life consisted of short, random conversations with students in my classes, or coworkers at my warehouse night job.

I didn't mind. I was lonely, but not that lonely. I wanted a girlfriend. Someone to love. I played video games. I jerked off 2 or 3 times a day. It had been this way for some time. In the past year all my friends had graduated and moved away. My casual approach to my studies had held me back.

I drank and smoked pot. The pornography I sought out became more varied. Almost by accident, at first, I began to focus on cocks as I watched women get fucked. I discovered shemales and dickgirls. Feminine but hard. Written fantasies, especially, pushed the boundaries of what I found myself turned on by. Written porn made it easier to imagine, and I would find myself imagining the girl with a cock in her mouth. In my mouth. But I didn't think of myself as gay at all. I liked girls. Maybe a bit curious, at most.

The best stories would catch me off guard. The guy seduced into dressing like a girl with promises of sex. Then presented as a sorority pledge at a frat party, and resigned to grind and suck cock until the promise of pussy was fulfilled. The boyfriend lured into a potential swap, only to have his girlfriend gangbanged, and he, forced to clean up before taking his turn.

I recognized a slightly submissive, feminine disposition in myself. I still preferred girls, but something about letting someone forceful and confident direct the action appealed to me.

At this point I had only ever had sex twice. Both were prostitutes. I was terrible talking to girls. Making it explicitly about sex made things much easier. The conversation felt free and relaxed. Lonely as I was, I enjoyed the conversation as much as the sex. I would have kept doing that if I could have afforded it.

Then there was the day I needed a haircut. I can't remember if I found the place online, or if it was just a place I saw while doing something else. When I walked in it was just one guy, the barber, waiting for customers. He was older than me, in his early forties. Slightly taller than me, dark-haired, fit, solid. Maybe latino, maybe Italian. He had no accent, but got up as I walked in and approached me with a welcoming smile.

He asked what he could do for me. I told him I needed a haircut. His smile widened and he slapped a hand on my shoulder and pulled me over to a chair. I guess I was a little struck. Not in a romantic or sexual way. But I was immediately curious about him. He was being more forward than I was used to guys being, though again, not in an overtly sexual way. Some small part of me began to feel funny.

I was generally shy back then, but as he began to work, strolling confidently around me, I gave in to the impulse to ask if it was true that guys who cut hair tended to be gay. He thought that was funny, but it got us talking back and forth. At some point he asked me if I liked men. I said I don't think so, I've never tried. So, he asked if I'd ever wanted to try.

I was feeling comfortable with him at this point. We had been talking, laughing. It felt good. But, I hesitated. I wasn't gay, I wouldn't do anything with a guy. He saw me hesitate, then I felt his hand on my side, slipping under the barber's gown, sliding over my chest. I didn't stop him. I didn't say anything. He wrapped his other hand around my neck, feeling my cheek, and pulled closer. He brought his face near mine, and finally I reacted, telling him, uh, no. But I didn't push him away, or move his hands. He pulled away on his own and smiled at me, then finished the haircut.

When he finished I tried to pay him. He said he had enjoyed talking to me. Why not bring some beer by his place later instead? We'd just hang out for a bit. I took a second, then thought, fuck it, yeah why not? It had been ages since I had spoken so much to someone.

I was at his apartment later that night. We drank some beer, we laughed. A few drinks in I went for another round, and felt him behind me as I dug into the fridge. He has his hands on my waist as I stood up. I had almost forgotten that part of it all. But, I found myself leaning back into him, letting him run his hands over my waist and up my chest. I felt myself getting hard as he moved his hand down over my crotch.

He rubbed me a few times, then I turned around. I didn't look at him, but I began to feel his chest. I pulled up his shirt and felt his hard abs and the hair on his chest. I had no patience then. I began to unbuckle his belt. He stopped me only to lead me back to the den. Then I was pulling down his pants, and his boxers. When his cock was free, I grabbed it. It was big, heavy. His balls were swinging heavy beneath it. He wasn't fully hard, certainly not as hard as I was, so I could feel the weight of it. I touched it all over, stroking, cupping his balls. It felt amazing. Soft and hard at the same time.

He reached to take off my pants as well, but I was too impatient. I threw a pillow on the floor, and got down on my knees to get closer. I had never touched someone else's cock before, the excitement was almost too much to contain. I tentatively stuck out my tongue and licked the base. He was encouraging me, yeah that's good. I had my hand around his shaft as I tasted him, running my mouth up and down. I let a ball slip into my mouth and relished it, playing with it using my tongue. Finally, I ran my lips all the way up his length and let the head slide in.

He was hard now. He sat down on the couch and pulled me over to continue. I wrapped my mouth over the head of his cock and felt him lean back moaning, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck. My own member was getting uncomfortable. I unzipped my pants and let it loose, feeling relief and intense pleasure as I began to stroke myself. My other hand was around the base of his cock as I bobbed up and down on it, now soaked in my saliva. I would pause only to suck up and down the shaft, trying to savor it all at once.

I was licking the head with my mouth wide open when he came, spurting cum over my tongue and cheek. He grabbed my head and forced his cock down my throat for the next burst and those that followed. He was thrusting so forcefully, I couldn't avoid swallowing the rest of his cum as it filled my mouth. When he finally pulled out I was breathless. Cum and saliva were dribbling down my chin onto my shirt. I was still jacking my own cock, and within seconds I came as well, letting loose over his leg and couch.

I sat back on the floor, waves of pleasure still washing through me. I couldn't remember ever having cum so strongly. We were both quiet for a minute or two as our breathing slowed back to normal. When we noticed each other again we each smiled and chuckled, myself a bit shyly. I stood and zipped up my pants. He simply walked half-nude to grab the beers. He told me to relax, nothing had changed, no reason we couldn't keep hanging out. So I sat next to him on the couch and he pulled me in close, with his arm around me.

We went back to our conversation, only this time his cock was right out in front of me, still wet. It wasn't long before I reached over and began to play with it casually as we chatted. When he got hard again, he got up and led me to his bedroom. He pushed me back onto his bed and pulled off my pants and boxers. Then he crawled on top of me and our cocks slid together. He was bigger than me, and cut, while I was not. But, the sight and feeling of our cocks rubbing together had me rock hard in seconds.

I soon came a second time, coating his cock and balls with my semen. Moments later, with my cum as lube, he came over me as well. Now both spent, he rolled me over and wrapped his arms around me as a spoon. I could feel his wet cock on my ass. It was late by then, and without realizing it I was soon asleep, feeling secure and content.

I woke up in the morning light. He was sleeping still, nude, by my side as I reflected on the night before. I looked at his cock lying heavy on his thigh and was soon hard again. I could hardly believe it myself. I didn't understand how this whole situation could be such a turn on for me. But I gave in again, thinking, well I'm here and I've done it. Might as well enjoy it while I can. So took his cock into my mouth again. I sucked and played my tongue over it until he began to stir and harden in my mouth.

When he finally woke and recognized what I was doing he laughed and stopped me. He said that he had to work that day and had to get ready. But he then suggested we jump into the shower. As the warm water began to course over our bodies, he insisted on soaping me up. As he ran soap all over my body I did the same, though I paid much more attention to his crotch, feeling the weight of his balls in my hands.

I barely noticed when he was rubbing his hands over my ass, and then between my cheeks. I almost stopped him. I didn't think I wanted to go this far. But with my hands squeezing his shaft I felt his finger slip into my butt and it felt too good to stop. He thrust his finger in a few times, each time a little bit deeper, and I was pressed against his chest, trying to make sense of these new sensations.

Then he turned me around, and again I almost stopped him. But then I felt the head of his cock pushed up against my butthole. He pushed gently but firmly. He had apparently found lubricant in his shower because there was little friction. I had my hands against the wall and now was just waiting, almost impatiently for him to go deeper. It was a bit uncomfortable, but it was exhilarating as well. I felt him reach around and begin to stroke me, and that made me push back harder against his cock, now wanting him inside me.

It took a few minutes, but soon he was making slow, steady strokes into me. I felt his cock against my prostrate and it felt so strange and new. I came hard, crying out in pleasure. Shortly after, he stiffened and grunted and I felt his cum splash against my insides. We stayed like that for a bit, panting heavily. Then he pulled back, and I felt his cock slip out of my ass, and cum drip down my legs.

I let him pull me close and pressed against his chest as he cleaned out the cum. Then I made sure his cock was clean as well. He said he hated to leave like this, but was already late. I told him I needed to go as well. He was rushed and ready to leave before me, asking only that I lock up as I leave. Just before leaving he grabbed a paper and pen and wrote down his phone number. Then he kissed me before I realized what he meant to do. He smiled at my shocked expression then was gone.

I don't know if it was the kiss, but I never called. I never saw him again. I came to accept that I enjoyed homosexual experiences, and this wasn't the last. I felt that bisexual was a more accurate label, if I needed one. But I never felt gay, at least not in any romantic sense. Maybe a bit curious, at most.