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Date Posted:11/27/2018 9:19 PMCopy HTML

Awhile ago I found a barbershop like those from my childhood. No mass chain Supercuts" type outfit, rather it was a very narrow and long establishemnt with a mirror running the entire length and a row of six chairs opposite. My busy schedule would permit me to visit only once every three to four weeks on a Saturday. Each time there would be three or four barbers available with variable wait times. I had not yet "connected" with one I would consider my favorite, so I sampled various barbers: a 50's something Croatian with curly red hair and a beard. Good, not great. A petite Asian woman in her 40's with a low soothing voice and attractive face but who made my hairline in back look as if she'd cut it with a large salad bowl. An Hispanic man in his 70's who did a great job and was fun to talk to but who was only rarely available on the weekends.

There was one barber whom I had not yet tried on the most recent Saturday. Walking in at 4pm toward the end of the day, the other barbers were occupied and this one whom I hadn't met was straightening the counter behind her chair. She glanced my way with a warm welcoming smile and I nodded and climbed in her chair. What was it that made her stand out?  She was certainly far from attractive. She was of Hispanic descent, dark somewhat ruddy complected, long dark hair worn with just a small clip on one side. She wore no makeup and looked like she might have had a rough life. She was full figured but not obese. She stood maybe 5ft 5in in heels and wore a loose fitting beige cotton blouse with dark blue capris ending at mid calf. She wore no stockings and I suffered a tinge of arousal as I glanced down at her feet just before sitting down. She had her toenails painted a dark red color and her feet were adorned in bone colored slip on leather mules with 2 inch cork wedge heels. A small tassle was affixed on the slim leather strap holding the shoe on each foot. The design of the shoe was such that I could hear them slapping her heels with almost every step she took. I could also see instantly the months of wear they must have received as the heel and toe prints were clearly evident even at a glance. I found myself wondering how her scent impregnating the old leather would affect me should I ever have the chance to bring them to my nostrils.

My reverie was interrupted as she asked me how I liked my hair cut. I explained briefly and she began cutting using clippers and scissors deftly and efficiently. As she stepped around the chair I continued to hear those heels slapped with the leather of her shoes accomapnied by a faint "sticky" sound that I surmised was due to leather moistened with sweat and oils from her soles. Becoming slightly more aroused, my hands covered my crotch as I sat in the chair.

We chit chatted a little. "My name is Bertha," she started. "Glad to meet you, I'm Billy." She told me she lived in the area as did I. I would have estimated her to be in her 50's. Somehow the conversation wended its way to kids: she had two grown kids that were not living in-state. She had been working here for slightly over a year and loved it. Though I didn't ask she offered that she had been a single mom. I wondered whether she was in a relationship but dared not ask. The fact of the matter was that her appearance offered nothing that would have compelled me to think about wanting to get to know her better, yet I found myself actually wanting to do so. Why?

She continued working on my coif, as I pondered this question. Toward the end she placed the clippers on the shelf behind her and pulled the back of the chair so my head was now lower. She began to massage: a slow, deep, sensual rubbing action over my trapezius muscles, deltoids, back of my neck, temples and scalp. I can only say it sent tingles down my spine and when she finished I wanted it more. She kept massaging, perhaps for longer than I thought she would. The rubbing kept getting deeper and more sensual and I felt my member begin to stiffen. Did she notice?

Having finished she let me look in a handheld mirror and I marveled at the job she did. She had the hair shaped to perfection, the neck line neat and trimmed and the length such that the hair could be combed as desired but I wouldn't need to come in for another month. I climbed out of the chair, handed her cash that included a generous tip, and asked if she always worked late on Saturdays. She smiled warmly knowing why I had asked and replied in the affirmative. The sun was just above the horizon as I left. I was the last one in the shop and the other barbers had gone home. I went next door to a coffee shop to get a capuccino as I usually did after treating myself to a haircut. I found a small table on the veranda overlooking the parking lot in the rear of a line of stores which included the barbershop.

I had just ordered my beverage when I glanced up and noticed Bertha exiting from the rear door of the shop. She carried a light overcoat draped across one arm and her small purse in another. She carefully locked the door and turned to walk into the lot. My eyes followed her, my interest now piqued as to what type of ride she might have. I could barely hear her footsteps, as she strode across three rows of parked cars. My eyes continued to follow as the fourth row furthest from the back of the shop was sparsely populated with cars and trucks. I was thinking she might continue walking toward the street and disappear into the distance, but was pleasantly surprised when, shifting her folded coat to the other arm, she stopped beside the passenger door of an old green pickup truck. Searching for the key from the keychain held in her right hand, she inserted it into the door lock and pulled the lever downward while tugging the door open. I could barely see the leather bench seat as she placed her coat and bag on the floor and her bum on the edge of the seat. With agility she pulled her muled feet inside and closed the door in one swift mood. The truck was parked far enough away that I could barely hear the thud of the door slamming. Though it was near dusk, I could see the movements of her head and upper torso as she slid across the deep leather seat to position herself on the driver's side.

I wasn't sure of the year model or even make of the truck. It was a deep green and I could make out a good bit of rust on the fender edges. I continued to watch, transfixed by the knowledge I had recently been close to this woman and now thinking back to the sensuality of her massage. I began to stiffen. A few seconds went by, my gaze now laser-focused on her head and torso partially obscured by the steering wheel. I found my heart pounding just a little harder as I anticipated what was to come in a few seconds. The coffee shop was nearly empty and there was little activity in the lot. A faint whoosh of traffic could be heard from the boulevard in front of the barber shop, but the row of stores muffled most of that sound.

I didn't have to wait long, a slightly more than faint volumed symphony met my ears:

"Thump thump thump thump (head bobbing accordingly) Arur...rur...rur...rur chug chugchug sputter die....Arur..rur..rur..rur..rur..thump thump thump thump...Arur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...RurRurRurRRRRRRchug chug chug chug chug sputter die Thump thump thump thump Arur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump Arur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur

I found myself holding my breath, clenching my teeth and fist as all other sound seemed to disappear. I found myself coming to new levels of heightened arousal as I noticed the bobbing of her head especially prominent as the "thumps" were heard but even as the cranking was taking place. Another thing I noticed was Bertha pushing back into her seat just as the cranking began and holding herself in that position until the cranking stopped. I immediately knew she had a pedal starter on this old truck.

.."Arur..rur..rur..rur..rur..thump thump thump thump...Arur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...RurRurRurRRRRRRchug chug chug chug chug sputter die Thump thump thump thump Arur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump "Arur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur.rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rurArur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...rur...RurRurRurRRRRRRchug chug chug chug chug sputter die"

I exploded into a monumental orgasm and slumped in my chair just as the last cranking episode ceased. As if on the same wavelength, Bertha slumped in her seat taking her hands off the wheel as all sound from the vehicle appeared to quiet. I saw her take a deep breath in what I assumed was a sigh of frustration. She shook her head slightly and eyes appeared to raise as she looked around to survey her surroundings. I don't think she noticed me, or if she did I assumed it was of no importance to her at this moment. I decided to change that...

Part 2 to follow.

oldvwbuglover Share to: Facebook Twitter MSN linkedin google yahoo #1
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  • Register:09/17/2018 4:07 PM

Re:Berha the Barber, Part 1

Date Posted:11/28/2018 2:33 AMCopy HTML

Hi PedalPusher, Such an excellent beginning to what I just know, based on past fantasy stories that you have created, that this one will be a huge winner as well! What a professional haircut experience that Billy had in the hands of such a professional as Bertha regarding her expert skills. I think that Bertha volunteering the fact that she was single showed that she had a bit of interest in you/Billy. It also just goes to show that a woman does not have to be a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model in looking at her physical beauty to be able to interest a man. She certainly aroused you just with the massage that she gave you while sitting in her chair. To top it off the woman alone in an old pick up truck that even by the end of Part 1 of this story line, completely unable to get it started certainly called for a Good Samaritan to come to her rescue - - that person being you!! I can't wait for Part 2 and what will happen! Oldvwbuglover
pedalpusher Share to: Facebook Twitter MSN linkedin google yahoo #2
  • Score:350
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  • Register:09/28/2013 3:41 PM

Re:Berha the Barber, Part 1

Date Posted:11/28/2018 2:40 PMCopy HTML

Thank you! I find taking mundane events in my daily life and incorporating them into sexy stories is fun and hopefully enjoyable for the reader. More to follow soon. Pedalpusher

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