BarbersChoice
I never thought I’d be back in a barbershop chair at 58, cape around my neck, clippers humming behind me. But there I was—heart racing, palms sweating, and smiling like a fool.
After my divorce, I let my hair grow. Not because I wanted to. God, no. I always loved it short—like, clippered-down, feel-the-breeze-on-your-scalp short. But my ex hated it. For over thirty years he’d pester me to grow it out. Said it wasn’t “feminine.” Said I looked “tough.” So eventually, I gave in. Grew it longer. Wore the soft waves. Pretended to like it.
When I started dating again, I kept it that way. Figured that was just what men wanted.
Then I met Jack.
From the beginning, something about him felt different. He listened. He looked at me—really looked at me. A few dates in, he asked, casually, “Did you always wear your hair like this?” I laughed and told him, “Nope. It used to be way shorter.” That night, curled up next to him, I showed him old photos—tight fades, undercuts, even the almost-bald cut I once wore with red lipstick and zero apologies.
And then he said it.
“I saw you around town, years ago. Always thought you looked amazing. Especially when it was short.”
I think my heart did a backflip. That night, I lay awake thinking… maybe it was time. We snuggled, made love and early the next morning we spooned together before sunrise. His strong touch from behind soon turned to something incredible. Eventually he entered me from behind and began carressing my nape in a way that made me melt. The intensity grew as he pressed my nape forward, stroking my neckline with vigor.
“I say we get rid of all this” as he pulled my hair slightly in concert as he moved in and out with his rock hard penis.
I was in a trance, I I went for it…
“Your stiff cock and the clippers all in one morning, what could be better?” as I remember now, ending in me screaming “take it all off baby” – an orgasm like no other I’ve ever experienced.
So we made a date. Not dinner. Not a movie.
A barbershop.
Walking in, I was trembling. It had been years since my hair was shorter, and being in a barbershop was a unique experience for sure. The tissue, the cape. the smell of the shop and then the sound of the clippers comforting, my mind was lost. But when the barber asked, “How short are we going?” my voice caught.
I looked at Jack in the mirror. He just smiled, that quiet, steady smile of his. And suddenly, I felt brave again.
“Take it to the skin,” I said. “Take it all off -all of it.”
I flashed an image from my phone from the previous evening – one that Jack and I agreed would plunge me back into my signature look. A soft crewcut, the top a #6, tapered to skin. The barber nodded and flicked on the clippers. The moment they touched my nape, I felt it—me again. The vibration. The warm buzz. The soft tickle as long strands slipped down my shoulders and fell to the floor.
He worked slowly, methodically, the blades whispering up the sides of my head, over the top, behind my ears. I could feel the air kiss my scalp again. I watched locks fall like confetti, shedding not just hair but years of pretending.
My heart raced as I clinched the armrest trying to control the sensation I now felt between my thighs. I knew from years of shorter cuts that as each blade was attached, more hair would fall. The smell of the shop, the 1960’s posters of mens haircuts, the whole experience was breathtaking.
And with a quick glance, I caught a glimpse – the 5’00000 blade was snapped into place – the butcher seemingly trying to taunt me as he passed the clipper in front of my eye.
I smiled as Jack and I made eye contact only seconds before his firm hand pressed hard on my crown. I tried to keep the line of sight, but completely fell in a trance when the blade hit my nape
“Now we’re really gonna see some skin” the barber proclaimed as he pushed even harder moving the grinding blade ever so slowly up and around my skin line.
Jack never took his eyes off me. I could feel his admiration, his respect—even a little desire. It was electric. After what seemed forever, the barber allowed my chin to rise from my chest, Jack now standing right to the left of the chair.
“Let’s take her down smooth bald around here” he said as he ran his palm over the stubble left from the clippers, pointing above the ear.
When the barber took the foil shaver and smoothed out my nape, leaving just bare skin behind, I almost teared up. Not from nerves. From relief.
I looked in the mirror when it was done. And there I was. I skin tight fade, whitewalls shining and the view from the back revealed a mid bald fade, smooth as silk. Even the strong smell of the mens tonic splashed on nape although buring somewhat, completed my first barbershop experience!
Finally.
Jack stood, walked over, placed a hand on my cheek and kissed the top of my head.
“There you are,” he whispered.
We left the shop, Jack rubbing my nape all the way to the truck.
Days passed and I couldn’t get the whole experience out of my mind. Did this man really think a slightly over weight older divorcee really looked hot going this short? Well, here’s where the story gets interesting.
Jack’s Amazon order revealed an assortment of barbering tools, including clippers, capes, everything needed for any future haircuts. And as I sat opening the box, I shot hima quick text:
“Your clippers are here babe – can’t wait for you to sharpen your skill on my nape!”
I toggled through the TV and stumbled on Jack’s YouTube account. I swear I;m not a nosy Nellie, but his searcha nd watch history revealed something I had suspected all along. Jack was also a “short hair” freak and had watched mnay hundreds of MEN getting forced short cuts, many in bondage, homosexual situations – and many of guys getting buzzed short against their will. Shocked? Not really. But wow, now I have some ammo in my gun!
Later that night I lay in bed, Jack between my legs stroking my vagina with his skilled tongue. He had brought over dipped strawberries and a bottle of my favorite wine. Sipping, scrolling through reels – I watched videos of mature ladies getting sheared with clippers, trying now to find the “perfect cut.” As I remember, here is what he said:
“I’ll keep you clippered tight babe, never again will your hair ever touch the ear or grow wild on your nape. You’ll be in the chair every other day if need be. Enjoy your retirement babe – from now on it’s Clippers, cocktails and my cock.”
After what seemed to be an hour of pure delight, I was on all fours, Jack now thrusting in and out, pressing deep inside my pussy. It was epic! Then it happened…
He rolled me over and it was now my turn to “go down” and go down on him I did. It was not but a few minutes and I hear the sound of what I know now is the king of clippers, the loud Oster 76’s. With one hand on my crown, he began running the clippers back to front over my scalp, the tiny 1/2 hair clipping falling in my face – seeping into my mouth as I sucked with everything I had in me. The result: A burst of cum down my throat, picking the small clippings from my lips, Jack pounding me until my two minute orgasm was over. I was now smooth bald!
He placed my hands on the bath counter and positioned me like a cop arresting a fugitive. Gliding his little toys with precision, he slowly inserted 2 lubed plugs – one in my coochie, the other in my ass. He gently pressed my shoulders down and I hear the tiny peanut clippers flick on. Now I always keep my private area neat and tidy but over the next few minutes, he made sure to I was bald – head to toe. My pits, pussy and even trimming any straglers in and around my ass and inner thighs.
“Love it baby” as I stood looking in the mirror after a long shower. Jack holding me tightly from behind gently rubbing my bald nape. It’s been almost a year and the intensity for us both continues to grow. I’m currently sporting a high-n-tight flattop (his fav) the top barely 1/2 tall. There’s truly nothing better than when I’m on my knees, his erect cock securely locked in my mouth, as he mows down the “strip” every few days.
I tossed on a sweatshirt and asked Jack to coem in the bathroom. He walked in still stark naked from my recent fucking and shearing to see mee standing behind a chair armed with his new Amazon delivery. Indeed it was new set of Oster clippers, camo in color, with the triple 000 blade attched and humming.
“Sit the fuck down” I said as he slowly walked over and sit facing the mirror.
“Not a word hun, it’s time you get a proper cut as well, no man of mine is going to have longer hair than me if I can help it!”
There’s really nothing else to say – you all can use your imagination here. I looked down after shoving his head down hard and running the machine up his scalp, to see his cock – hard as a diamond cutter Ilike to say!
And just like that, I knew this wasn’t just a haircut. It was a homecoming. A second chance. Not just in love—but in loving myself!
