Tony
This is a revised/rewrite. The mote I thought about this story the more other stories of similarity came to me. So I decided to make two series. The Dream series and The Reality series. As you guessed the dream series will deal with people experiencing some kind of haircut related dream. Whereas the reality is them experience it in real life. Both series are purely fictional.
I stirred in my bed, my mind wandering through the fog of a deep slumber. At 34, I’d seen his fair share of life’s dramas and quiet moments, but tonight felt different. My eyelids grew heavier as the whispers of a peculiar dream began to unfold. The room’s darkness was a canvas for my subconscious to paint a scene so vivid, so lifelike, it seemed almost tangible.
“Amanda,” I murmured, the name of my ex-girlfriend, 34, slipping from my lips unbidden. Her image took shape before my closed eyes—beautiful, untouchable, with waist-length brunette hair that had haunted my thoughts many times before. In my dream, she was naked, her hair cascading down around her body like a waterfall of shadow and mystery. The way she looked at me, through the bathroom mirror, was hauntingly familiar, a gaze that had once held me captive in the throes of passion.
Her eyes searched mine, the reflection in the mirror revealing a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The room was dimly lit, the scent of her favorite jasmine scented conditioner lingering in the air, mingling with the faint metallic aroma of the clippers i held. My heart pounded in my chest, the thrum of the vibrating blades resonating through my palms. The buzz grew louder as I raised the clippers to her forehead, the anticipation building to a crescendo that seemed to echo through every corner of my mind.
With a gentle touch, the clippers parted her hair down the middle, exposing the pale scalp beneath that was only covered by a dark stubble. My hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the excitement of what was about to happen. Amanda’s chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, her full breasts quivering as she watched the first pass of the clippers and the fall of her long brown tresses. The tension in the room was palpable, a silent symphony of nerves and desire.
As the center strip grew wider, Amanda’s hand reached up to feel the stark contrast of hair and stubble. Her fingertips traced the path of my work, a silent acknowledgment of the intimacy of the moment. The room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of our shared arousal. The vibrations of the clippers grew more pronounced against her scalp, sending waves of sensation through her body that I could see reflected in the tightening of her nipples.
The clippers glided through the dense follicles, sending a shiver down her spine that i could almost feel. Her eyes remained locked on mine, never wavering, as the hum grew more intense with every pass. The floor was quickly being covered in a carpet of hair, the once pristine white tiles now a canvas of brown. The sound of the clippers was rhythmic, punctuated only by the occasional whisper of fallen locks.
As I finished the top of Amanda’s head, I pushed her head forwards and parted the hair at the back of her head over each shoulder. I then ran the clippers up the back of her head and over her crown to met the already shorn top. I made more passes up the back of her like this, watching her hair slide down the front of her body, over her breasts and hardened nipples, to join the hair already on the floor.
With each pass, the room grew hotter and more charged. Amanda’s breath grew quicker, and her eyes glassier with arousal. I felt a thrill of power, a sense of ownership that was intoxicating. The clippers moved steadily up her neck and around to the sides, the vibrations against her skin sending goosebumps racing along her arms and legs.
The sound of the clippers grew louder as they approached her ears, the heating metal a stark contrast against her warm skin. She flinched slightly, but didn’t protest, as I rounded her ears and buzzed away the last of her waist-length brunette hair from her head at her sideburns.
As the last of her hair fell to the floor, I went over her whole head again, making sure no long strands where left at all, before turning off the clippers and placing them on the sink counter infront of her.
“Look at yourself,” I whispered, my voice thick with desire and authority.
Amanda’s gaze fell to the mirror, taking in the dramatic transformation. The woman who stared back at her was both alien and exhilaratingly familiar. Her once luscious mane now reduced to a short, bristly stubble that barely covered the pale skin of her scalp. The reflection was a blend of vulnerability and strength, a visual representation of the power play unfolding between them.
Her hand hovered over the mirrored image, hesitating for a brief moment before she reached out and touched her shorn head. The sensation was foreign, yet erotic. Her fingertips danced over the stubble surface, feeling the remnants of her hair tickle her palm. The sight of her new look sent a jolt of excitement through her, a potent cocktail of emotions she hadn’t felt in years.
I stepped behind her, my body pressing against hers, my erection evident through my pants. My breath hot against her neck, I whispered, “Do you like it?”
Amanda’s eyes searched hers in the mirror, her voice a tremulous whisper, “It’s…what I needed and deserve.”
Our eyes met In the reflection, and I felt a surge of passion. I stepped closer, my erection pressing against her now, the fabric of my pants the only barrier between us. My hands found her shoulders, my grip firm yet gentle, and I bent her over the sink and counter.
I stepped back just enough to drop and step out of my pants and then I separated her legs as far as they could go, before moving behind her again and slowly sliding into her warm, wet pussy from behind.
I felt her body tighten around me as I pushed in deeper, her breath coming in short gasps. With one hand firmly on her shoulder and the other reaching around to tease her clit, I began to thrust, matching the rhythm of the clippers that had so recently buzzed through her hair. Each stroke was met with a muffled moan from Amanda, her eyes never leaving the reflection in the mirror.
The friction between us grew, the sound of our skin slapping together echoing off the tiles. My hand worked faster, fingers playing her clit like a master musician. I could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing like a coiled spring. I leaned in closer, my breath hot on her neck, and whispered, “You’re mine.”
Amanda’s eyes glazed over, and she nodded, the words slipping from her lips in a breathy moan. “Yours, Tony. Always yours.”
With each thrust, I felt the walls of her pussy clench around me, her wetness coating my shaft. I could feel her orgasm approaching, her muscles tightening around me in delicious anticipation. I picked up my pace, the hand on her shoulder guiding her to arch back into me, the angle deepening our connection.
The mirror reflected our image, a tableau of desire and dominance. I watched as Amanda’s hand found her own breast, squeezing and pinching the nipple as I continued to drive into her. Her moans grew louder, her body writhing under my touch, and I could feel her climax building, a crescendo that mirrored the buildup of my own.
I leaned In closer, my teeth grazing her ear as I whispered more darkly, “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?”
The question was rhetorical, a statement of fact that sent Amanda hurtling over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her, a tidal wave of pleasure that had her crying out. Her body convulsed around me, her hips bucking against the sink as she tried to take me deeper. My grip tightened, my hand on her shoulder pushing her down as I thrusted into her with an urgency that mirrored her own.
Her eyes squeezed shut as she rode the peak, her nails digging into the countertop. She could feel my breath on her neck, my teeth grazing her skin as I bit down, claiming her in that moment. The pain was a delicious contrast to the pleasure.
I thrusted into her one more deep time and shot my load deeply in her pussy. And woke up with a start.
It had been so real, so vivid. My heart raced and my breath came in pants. My erection tented the bed sheets, a testament to the intensity of the dream. I looked around the room, the darkness of reality setting in and replacing the bright lights of my imagination. The room smelled faintly of my sweat and the lingering scent of my pheromones.
I lay there for a moment, the sheets tangled around my body, trying to make sense of what I had just experienced. The dream had felt so real, so Intense, that it was as if i could still feel the vibration of the clippers in my hand. I reached up to touch my own hair, thick and unshorn, a stark contrast to Amanda’s shaved head in my dream. The memory of her body, bare and exposed, sent another shiver down his spine.
In that moment, I decided that I needed to experience the dream in real life…Even if it meant getting in contact with Amanda.
