Hairlover
Hello everyone, thank you for reading my female hairplay stories. After a long wait, here is Part 2. As you know, this is a real story, so it naturally took some time to share.
After our previous encounter, we stayed in touch, though not as frequently as before. A small misunderstanding came between us, which was cleared up quickly. As usual, I travelled to India, called her, and we set a date to meet — this time at a different location from our usual spot. We had coffee together, and afterwards decided to head home. I thought we would share a cab, and since the journey would take about an hour, I planned to play with her hair along the way. We settled into the cab, but that day she had come with her hair in a braid — not my favourite style — though I still played with it, squeezing it, pulling it, and trying to open it. However, she seemed a little irritated that day and wouldn’t let me play properly. I dropped her home, and for a long time, we didn’t contact each other.
I returned to the UK and fell back into my usual routine — work, office, and everything in between. As the year drew to a close, I planned another visit to India and messaged her about it. She was excited to hear I was coming, and we agreed to meet. Knowing she was no longer irritated with me made me genuinely happy.
When I arrived in India, we spoke about when to meet, and it turned out to be the same date we had met the previous year. I was already out with a friend and on my way home when she called and said she wanted to meet that day, as she would be busy afterwards. So I made my way to the spot where she asked me to pick her up.
On the way there, I found myself quietly hoping she would be wearing her hair in a bun. And the moment I arrived — there she was, waiting for me, hair perfectly set in a bun. My heart lifted instantly.
We went to the same location from Part 1 of the story and settled on a bench, talking about life, work, and everything in between. I gently rested my hand on her bun and said, “Finally, you came in a bun.” She smiled. I began softly squeezing her bun every now and then.
I asked if I could open her hair, and she said to wait while she undid it herself. I played with her open hair freely, and before long, she gathered it back up into a bun. From that moment on, I was fully absorbed — squeezing her bun, slipping my fingers through the bun hole, giving her a gentle massage. She was enjoying it too. I opened her hair again and let it fall loose, playing with it as it rested on her shoulders. There were no objections from her side, which felt wonderful.
As the garden began to close for the evening, she gathered her hair into a bun once more. Her phone rang, and as we made our way out, I gestured for her to sit on my vehicle. While she was on the call, I quietly took a few photos of her hair from behind.
Then came the highlight of the evening.
Once she finished her call, we were chatting casually when I simply asked, “Can I take a picture of your hair, please?” Without a moment’s hesitation, she said yes — and added, “You want it for memories, right?” I was on cloud nine. She turned her back towards me for a better view, and I took several photos — some natural shots, and some while gently holding her bun.
“You have such beautiful hair,” I told her. “I really love it.”
She smiled and replied, “That’s nice — so many people don’t appreciate long hair.”
I then made a short video of me squeezing her loose bun. Afterwards, I opened her hair properly, parting it neatly. There was no resistance — she seemed to be enjoying the moment as much as I was. I asked if she could make a knot bun, as I wanted to see how it looked. She said her hair was too silky to hold the style, but she tried anyway. It didn’t hold up, but the attempt was charming.
Standing right behind her with her hair falling open, I took a section in my hands and gently brushed it against my hand. It felt incredibly soft. I took more photos — some of her open hair, and some with a centre clip.
Once more, I asked her to tie a tight bun, and she did. I photographed her with it, made two short videos of myself squeezing it, slipping my fingers through it and gently pulling — and she sat there, completely at ease, letting me do as I pleased. At the very end, I leaned in and smelled her bun for a few quiet seconds.
“Your hair smells amazing,” I told her.
“I’m using a serum,” she said with a smile. “That’s why.”
After that, I dropped her home. She asked if we could meet again before I left, but my schedule during that visit to India was packed, and unfortunately, we couldn’t make it happen.
