I am a 41 year old man with a haircut fetish. My fetish is getting my hair cut by a woman! I absolutely love a woman running her fingers through my hair and always kind of liked it when it was cut slightly shorter than normal. It gave me a strange sort of arousal. I never had the courage to ‘ask’ for a clipper cut, but somehow I always hoped a lady would just take it upon herself to use the clippers. Not a flat top or anything, but clipper cut short in the back and sides. It would be a perfect fetish cut I thought, but I just could never get up the nerve to ask for it. It stemmed from my haircuts when I was a boy. I have not had my hair cut with clippers since I was a young teenager of about 13! That was when my mother had told the local barber how to cut my hair. The “local” lady barber was what I, at that time, thought was an old woman. Later in life I realized she was only about 50 and not ‘old’ at all. But I never had a chance to tell her how to cut my hair, she just clipper cut it as my mother had instructed her to. I always hated it, I hated it immensely, but somehow I did have somewhat of an arousal feeling of the woman cutting my hair off. It’s just that I looked so horrible, in my mind, after the shearing. A 13 year old needs to impress the girls! The cuts I got did not help me much in that regard.
Now as an adult, I had been getting my hair cut by a young woman named Samantha for about 3 years. I liked the idea that I did not leave the salon with a super short haircut as I had when I was a kid, and that I had some control over how it would look.
When she first started cutting my hair she would ask me when she wanted me to schedule for the next cut. When I first started going to her, I wasn’t sure, so I said, how about 6 weeks from now. So for the longest time I was getting a haircut every 6 weeks. It seemed to be enough such that it seemed as if she was cutting quite a bit of hair off, which I kind of liked. I liked seeing hair drop onto my cape! I liked looking in the mirror at the transformation of my look, even though it was only 6 weeks I could notice the difference and liked the fact that she had changed my look, but not like when I was a kid when I felt embarrassed to look so different. I realized Samantha had kind of a control over me and how I looked. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the fact that she was in control of me during the haircut was part of the fetish. And eventually, I realized my experiences as a teenager was part of my fetish.
At some point, after a haircut by Samantha, she said, I need to put you in for 5 weeks for next time. I said ok,and thought nothing of it, in fact I kind of liked that I’d be getting my haircut a bit sooner than normal! For the next several cuts she scheduled me for 5 weeks every time! Then, after a cut she said, “I’m going to put you in for 4 weeks next time.” Again, I thought not too much of it, other than thinking it was great to be able to have my haircut in only a month! The trend continued, and she started ‘telling’ me that I was getting my haircut in 3 weeks. I was thrilled! I realized later that it was the big tips I was leaving that probably prompted the sooner than last time scheduling. So for the past 6-8 months I’ve been going in every 3 weeks for a trim. I liked the fact that she was telling me when I was going to get my haircut, instead of asking me when I wanted it cut. She had some control over me. The thing is, not much hair was being cut off from 3 weeks previously. I didn’t mind, though. It was a good trade off to get my haircut sooner.
After Samantha cut my hair 3 months ago, she finished up by saying that she had was going on maternity leave. Instead of saying congratulations, I was all about myself and said something like, oh no, you won’t be cutting hair? I felt like an idiot. I should have been happy for her. Instead I made comments indicating I was worried about my haircuts!
Samantha said that Cindy, who was the actual owner of the salon, and who I had spoken to in passing while at the salon nearly every time I’d been in, had agreed to take me on as a client. I’m sure Samantha told her who her biggest tippers were, and I made the grade to get into Cindy’s appointment book. Cindy was more my age, probably in her early 40’s and was a heavy set woman, which did not detract from her really beautiful smile and eyes. She always seemed cheerful, and lately I had taken more notice of her as her hair had been getting shorter every time I went in! I realized that I also had a fetish for women with short hair! This seemed new to me, an expansion on my fetish of getting my hair cut by women. Over the past 2 years she had gone from below shoulder length hair to now, a cut showing half her ears, and shaped nicely at the nape, although I could easily distinguish that a clipper had not been used. I started noticing women’s nape areas, and found myself wanting to kiss the neck of a woman with nicely shaped short hair. My hair fetish was growing it seemed.
Anyway, as I left that day, Samantha had Cindy put me in her book for 3 weeks for a trim.
The day I was to go in for my haircut I was thinking about whether or not Cindy’s hair would be trimmed up, or if she let it grow. I was anxious to see, as I really felt attracted to her!
I arrived ten minutes before my appointment, as I wanted to make a good impression that I’d make my appointments on time. She was finishing up a cut on a woman with a bob. As she was finishing up I saw her use a small clipper to clean up the woman’s neck. She asked the woman to ‘put her chin all the way down on her chest.” I thought, wow, she is really taking control of this cut. I really didn’t want a shorter than normal haircut, but now part of me worried it would be. I’d always wanted a woman to take it upon herself to clipper my hair, but now I really worried it would happen! I was a mess. I didn’t want to leave the salon looking drastically different, which conjured up memories of my teenage years. I thought about looking at my phone and pretending I had an emergency and had to go. I decided to chance it. Part of me thought, let’s just do this, if it’s short I will enjoy it during the moment, and likely hate it afterwards, but was willing to try it.
I had been so enamored by watching the woman getting her neck clippered I had not noticed Cindy’s haircut! Oh my word, I thought. She has her hair clipper cut super short! I started getting a hard on. I worried she would notice when I stood up. I had to stop looking at her, and during the few minutes she was finishing up with the woman in front of me, it mostly went away.
When it came time for me to go to the chair, I still had a bit of a bulge in my pants. I just hoped she would not notice. I made the trip to her chair quickly. I was a nervous wreck. I did not make eye contact nor conversation. I felt like a fool. She put me at ease, initiating conversation by asking how my day was. I was able to stutter that it was not too bad. Then realized I should say, how was your day Cindy. She said it had been very busy, but she enjoyed her work.
I finally had the courage to look up at the mirror and see her. I was so aroused at seeing her. Her hair was clipper cut on the sides, cut above her ears, with what I thought was probably a number 2 guard, or a quarter of an inch. As a man with a haircut fetish, I had become very familiar with clipper guard numbers! A number 2 was very short. She looked amazing. Her eyes popped, her face was beautiful, with high cheekbones, and her smile was a beautiful as always. The shorter haircut enhanced her facial features so much! My hard on returned, only this time was raging in my pants. I wondered how I was going to stand up. As she went to the counter in front of me to get the cape, I was afraid she would see the bulge in my pants. I was certain she caught a quick glimpse but turned away quickly. I was not sure. If she saw it, she was being kind and not making a scene of it.
She put a red and white cape around my neck. I thought to myself that it reminded me of the barbershop I went to as a kid, a red and white cape, which Samantha never used. She only used black, plastic capes. This was the real barbershop deal. A red and white cloth cape. Finally, I thought, it’s covering my bulge! She once again went to the mirror in front of me, and opened a drawer, taking out a small strip of paper. I realized it was a neck strip, also familiar to me from when I was a kid, when the barber would use one, but I never had one used in the salons since then.
Cindy moved behind me and pulled the cape tight, and then reached over the front of my face with a hand on each side of the neck strip and put it tight against my throat. She then adjusted the cape and strip with an ease that told me she had done this many times. I watched her as she did so, and as she pulled the strip tight, and buttoned the cape so tight I could barely breathe, I noticed a smirk on her face. Or was I imagining that? The cape was so tight I felt strapped into the chair! I was hers now I realized. She had control. I thought to myself, get ready for the haircut you always wanted but never dared ask for.
I thought to myself that I should calm down, and that I should try to notice every little thing she did, so I could replay this haircut in my mind afterwards. I believed I was going to finally get my fetish haircut. I thought, I need to be polite and make conversation. As she was opening drawers and fumbling through a bunch of combs, I decided to say something. But, as her head was bent over in front of me looking through the drawer directly in front of me attached to the mirror, all I could see was her haircut. I realized the back of her head was clipper cut even shorter than the sides! Oh my word, I thought to myself. I am going to have an accident in the bulge of my pants if I don’t get control of this feeling. But my eyes were glued to her head. I realized her nape area was cut in a taper with clippers, starting at probably a zero at the very bottom, up to a number 1 guard about half way up her head, and then probably a number 2 for a bit at the top up to the crown. It was close to a fade. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers up the back of her head. This was a dream, I thought. Then realized, no this woman is going to cut my hair, and I love her hair. I’d almost always wanted a haircut in back just like this. I never wanted it that short on the sides for some reason, but I almost was ready to ask her to cut my hair like hers was. For years, I’d never been able to get the courage to do so. This was as close as I’d ever been. I didn’t do it.
She finally found the comb she wanted and started combing my hair. It had only been 3 weeks since Samantha cut it, and I felt as if Samantha had cut it just slightly shorter than normal last time, which turned me on. So my hair was not very long. I noticed Cindy taking a look at my hair, probably trying to figure out how to cut it.
I kept wondering how in the world I was going to get out of this chair with the raging bulge in my pants I had. My mind kept swirling, wondering if this would be the time when a woman would just use the clippers on me, or not. And if so, I kept telling myself, pay attention to every detail, what color are the clippers, what is she wearing, etc. I then realized she was wearing a bright pink tee-shirt. The brightness of the color enhanced her eyes even more, I thought. Her blonde hair was really enhanced, although I noticed that at her nape her hair was darker, tapering up to a bright blonde, although super short a the crown.
She had on white Capri pants, and sandals. It had been so hot lately I realized she was dressed for the hot weather, but the air conditioner in the salon must have made her chilly, as I noticed points in front of her bright pink tee-shirt. I can’t believe I didn’t notice this earlier. But, I was so entranced on noticing her hair and wanting to run my fingers up the back of her head. Did she cut her hair so short because the weather had been so hot? I was not sure, and wondered if she would suggest a clipper cut to me because of the heat.
My eyes went back to the mirror. I noticed my head seemed very large above the red and white striped cape and white neck strip, and I again noticed how tight the cape was. She was still combing. I realized I should say something. Instead of talking about the weather or something, I blurted out that I really loved her haircut and thought she looked great! I realized I said she looked great, not her haircut. She again was very nice, even realizing I was stumbling over my words she simply said, oh thank you! I think your haircut will look great too! I thought, oh no, what does she mean by that. My anxiety increased even more.
What she said next surprised me to extreme. She said, you should feel how short my hair is! Then she moved to the front of me and bent down with the back of her head in front of my eyes and while her fingers were running up the back of her head, she said, “feel this!” Oh no, on no,, what do I do. I will pretend it is nothing and just take my left hand out from my cape and run it up the back of her head and calmly say, oh yes, that feels nice. But, after I ran my fingers up her head once, I couldn’t help but do it a second time, and a third. She just kept her position. I did it a 4th time. After that I realized I should put my hands back under the cape and pretend I was not excited. How could I contain my excitement though? I had never experienced such excitement in years. I was so attracted to her, and realized I wanted to run my fingers over her hair for an hour if I could! I tried to pretend all was normal. She said, what do you think, I think if feels kind of cool. I wanted to say, it feels more than cool, it’s so erotic I can’t stand it. She said, I find myself running my fingers up over my hair frequently when I’m at home watching tv. I thought, I wish that could be me doing that to her hair!
I realized I should try to continue on some semblance of normal conversation. I asked her if Samantha had cut her hair. Cindy said yes. She said that it was kind of a surprise shorter cut, but I’m glad she did it, Cindy said. She went on to say, I would never dare ask someone to cut it this short, but she took it upon herself to do it. I’m glad she did. Cindy went on to say that about 2-3 months ago while Samantha was cutting her hair, that Cindy said that at some point she wanted to try a clipper haircut quite short at sometime. Samantha said that she wanted to try that too! Both of the lady barbers wanted short haircuts! Cindy went on to say that just before Samantha went on maternity leave she asked her to cut my hair a bit shorter than normal since she would be out for quite sometime on leave. This is the result, said Cindy, pointing at her hair. I could not believe how short Samahtha had cut it. I thought, I wish she had cut my hair like that! Cindy went on to say that she came in on a Sunday for the only cut Samantha did that day. Cindy told me that she had my sister drive me to the salon, as I’d had a few drinks. I had some liquid courage and asked Samantha to cut it a bit shorter than normal. This is what I got! Samantha really went overboard with it! But, I was so glad she did. I love the feel of it.
Anyway, let’s cut your hair and get you on your way. I cringed at the the thought of clippers being used on me, but I knew it was going to happen. At this point I was so turned on I didn’t care. Cindy said, ok let’s tidy you up. Then I thought, oh no, let’s cut it short, maybe I should ask, but I didn’t.
She started scissoring in the back. What I noticed that Samantha never did was that Cindy pushed my head down and said, please put your chin right down on your chest. I complied, realizing she was taking control of me. I thought, with relief, that because she was using scissors and not clippers, that at least I was not going to leave the salon with a haircut so short I looked stupid, like I did as a teenager. The scissors felt nice running up the back of my head.
As she was scissoring, she stopped briefly and put her hands on my shoulders. I looked up from having my chin down on my chest as she did so. She said, do you really like my haircut? I stuttered and said that I thought it looked amazing. I can’t believe I told her that. I used the word amazing. She is going to think I’m hitting on her! She smiled. She made eye contact with me in the mirror. Thanks, she said. She then said, chin on chest, and began scissoring again.
I was enjoying every moment as I felt she was in control by making me put my head all the way down, and I enjoyed the feeling of the scissors and comb running up the back of my head. It was so enjoyable. Once again she put her hands on my shoulders, but this time rubbed them a couple of times as if trying to make me relax. She made eye contact with me again in the mirror. The eye contact lasted what seemed like forever, I was uncomfortable by it as there was no conversation, just us looking at each other. She was smiling at me the entire time. At this time I noticed how neatly shaped her eyebrows were. I was getting more attracted to her all the time. She really was an incredibly pretty lady. She dropped her comb. Then she opened the drawer directly in front of me again and bent her head down in front of me looking for another comb. I will, to this day, never believe what I did. I took my left hand out from under the cape and ran my fingers up the back of her head. She stayed right there, and said, you can do that a few more times please. I did. I was ready to explode. She didn’t move until I stopped.
She began combing my hair in the back again, as if to continue scissoring. But she stopped. She said, would you mind if I cut your hair a little shorter than you usually get it cut? I thought to myself, holy crap, this is it. This is really it. This is really the time I get to have a clipper cut. I have never been able to ask for a short haircut. But, as usual, I said nothing. I’ve never been able to ask for it. I wondered if I should just say yes and get this fetish haircut over with. I was crippled with anxiety and thoughts of the 13 year old me leaving the barbershop looking like an idiot. It seemed like an eternity before she said, have you ever thought about getting your hair cut short? Like my own haircut I mean, she said. Clipper cut on the back and sides. I was paralyzed and said nothing. It will feel really nice! Well, you have felt mine, so you know what I mean. I’d like to cut yours like mine so I could run my fingers over your short haircut! I was aware of this beautiful woman in front of me with the dazzling eyes, beautiful smile, and most incredibly short haircut that I had ever seen. I did not have it in me to tell her to cut my hair short. But I almost wish she had not asked, and had just done it. At least clipper it short in the back I thought, leave the sides longer.
She looked at me in the mirror. I said nothing. I turned my head a bit so as not to meet her gaze. She finally said, you like the way my hair feels clipper cut? I immediately said, oh yes, I think it feels absolutely amazing! Again, I realized I used the word amazing. Thank you, she said. Thank you so much! She turned the chair away from the mirror and started scissoring my left side. She dropped the comb again! I wasn’t sure if she was just nervous or doing this on purpose to lean in front of me again to let me see her zipped up buzzed haircut in the back. Then I realized as she was fumbling for another comb in the drawer, I was turned away from the mirror and was not going to see her hair. She started combing my hair in the back again. Then again said, chin down on chest. I was getting used to it, her controlling me in this way.
However, this time, I felt her left hand on the top of my head with a great deal of pressure on it, making sure my head did not lift up from my chin. Was she fumbling for more than a comb? Maybe clippers? Do one thing for me please, she said. Please keep your chin all the way down. Don’t look up, even if you want to. I complied, wondering why this time was different, thinking that is what I’ve been doing all along, keeping my head down, but the pressure from her left hand holding down my head was quite impressive. This was different. She was strong! I felt the comb at the very base of my nape. Wait, that’s a different feeling. Then, I heard it. The clippers came alive. Clippers do not just turn on, they come alive! I heard a click that sounded louder than I’d ever heard, and as I realized what the noise was and the electricity starting the dreadful clippers that she would wrap her hand around, with her pretty pink long fingernails matching the color of her tee-shirt and push it up the back of my head, shearing away my hair to an eighth of an inch just like hers. Oh My God, I thought. She is clipper cutting my hair. Finally, I thought. After all these years, someone is taking it upon themselves to clipper my hair, to practically shave it super short. I was both ecstatic and sickened at the same time. I told myself, no, just enjoy this. It’s finally happening. Enjoy it. Her left hand seemed to apply even more pressure to keep my head down. How could she be so strong? Up and down the clippers went. At first slowly, then in very quick up and down strokes that I enjoyed more. I told myself to take note of any hair falling on the cape. But, I didn’t really see any, which I thought was odd. A little bit, but not much. Later I realized, most of the hair was short clippings, and it showed up mainly around my shoulders and neck area, with not much hair going onto my chest or lap. My arousal in my pants throbbed. I wanted so much to look at her as she was doing this, and to look at her clippered hair as she was clipper cutting mine. But she kept my head down with firm pressure. Even more than before, with a determination that I was not going to see this by keeping my eyes on the floor. She was in control, and I told myself to give in and enjoy it.
Just before she turned off the clippers she said, I think you will really like this cut, I’m absolutely sure you will like the way it feels. At that point she put the clippers on the counter and released her firm pressure on my head so I could look up. She ran her fingers up the back of my head, and she said, I know that I sure do like the way it feels on you. She continued to run her fingernails up the back of my head, and up the sides, and over my ears. But, within seconds I had heard her apply another clipper guard and once again she held my head down to my chin with incredible pressure. I was not going to be able to look up. This time I noticed she did not cut all the way up to the crown as she did last time, but about half way up. Again, she turned them off and ran her fingers up the back of my head. Again, another guard change, and my head pushed down again. This time she was focused on the lower part of my neck. I realized the nape was being cut as short as hers, probably a number one. As she shut off the clippers and took the guard off and placed it on the counter in front of me, I noticed it was red. Yes, a number 1 guard I thought, just like hers. But then, she turned my head straight, away from the counter, and again said, chin down. More pressure from her hand on top of my head to hold it down. This time more pressure than I thought was possible. It almost hurt my neck.
She clippered again. I felt the clippers. I felt steel this time, no guard. It was hot. I realized the clippers had been running so long they were getting hot. She made quick up and down cutting motions that I felt was more erotic than the previous cutting, as I realized this was really it, this was cutting nearly bald at the nape. She turned the clippers off and again ran her fingers up the back of my head, but also focused her long nails at the bottom of the nape area this time. This was so erotic I actually did make a mess in my pants. I couldn’t help it. She knew I did it too. But she continued with the long fingernails scraping the bald nape area of my head. This was bliss. She said, ok now let me do the sides. She turned me back to face the mirror. She put a guard on which I could not tell how long it was. But, when she clippered up the right side of my head, way higher than I thought she should, I could tell it was a number 2, like hers. She then did the left. I felt, thank goodness this is over, But she put a number 1 guard on and cut up about half way on each side of my head, showing some skin, and again used no guard to cut up a little bit on the sides bald. I didn’t care at this point. Then she took the trimmers and took care of my sideburns. They were non-existent now. No sideburns. I was beginning to get another bulge in my pants even thought I’d already made a mess once. She used the scissors to trim the top of my hair. I thought, ok, now the cape comes off, and I have a mess. But, no, the cape was only loosened. She went to the other station where Samantha usually cut, and pushed a button that released warm shaving cream into her hands. She pushed my head down yet again, and with the smirk on her face that I now loved, began applying warm shaving cream to my neck. Before I knew it she was making quick strokes with a straight razor to clean up my neck, She lifted my head up so I could look into the mirror. Almost done she said, just a couple more minutes. She met my eyes and said, how you doing? I realized that this was what I wanted for years, and said, I’ve never been better. She continued to shave my neck with the razor and cleaned me up with a towel, with a smirk and a smile that I could see.
I decided to say, how you doing? She stopped in her tracks. She looked at me in the eyes in the mirror and said, I think I need to lock the door and close the shades, I’m very wet. I’m sorry about that. I said, oh no worries, my pants are kind of wet too.