The Rose Blooms in June, part 3

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Friday dawned like any other day. I was alone in my flat, waking up to gentle rainfall outside.

I had a full day of work ahead of me, and could not afford to get distracted, but the only thing I could think of at all was that June was going to take me to the back room of the salon and cut my hair off into the style that she wanted. I’d already condemned it to be very short indeed, ensuring I wouldn’t walk out of the salon with my hair intact.

Enjoy your last day with long hair, was the text that greeted me as I poured my coffee, causing me to almost splashed searing hot liquid all over myself.

For the entire day, I could not concentrate on a single task. Even though I was in the office, where my concentration was always better, everything dragged me back to the cold excitement of what I was going to lose later. There was a coiled spring inside me winding tighter and tighter with each moment that passed. My knees were bouncing in anxiety, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and I had to take a break in the bathroom to rub out a quick orgasm for some relief. One of my colleagues complimented how lovely my hair looked that day (I’d spent a long time that morning styling it to perfection with big luscious curls, as it was the last time I would be able to do that), and I had to thank her, even though it made me wonder if going through with this was such a good idea. I wanted to apologise to my doomed hair, but I also desperately wanted June to free me from it.

The afternoon dragged on forever. Every time I looked at the clock, only a minute seemed to have passed. My boss had a one-on-one with me, and all I could think about was the way her long bob fell forward across her face whenever she looked down at the documents between us. The ends looked so precise, as if they had been cut recently. I fought down the urge to run my fingertips along the plush ends of her hair.

“Right, I think that’s it until Monday,” she told me. “Got any plans for the weekend?”

I smiled automatically. I could ease a lot of pressure on my future self by admitting that I was going to have a haircut, but I didn’t want the questions now. Being too nervous to come up with something vague on the fly, I settled for a truth. “A date.”

She looked surprised, but pleased. “Oh, Rose, I didn’t know you were seeing anyone! Is this a first date?”

I collected my folder and pen together from her desk. “No, it’s someone I’ve been seeing for a few weeks.”

“Oh lovely,” she replied, cheerier than usual. “You’ll have to come on a double date with us sometime!”

The sudden image of sitting beside June, young and punkish with her shaved bowl cut, sporting a similarly short haircut of my own, at a table with my boss in a cocktail dress and her very traditional husband I’d never seen in anything more casual than a business suit did not appeal one bit. I played out the conversation in my mind – “So, June, what do you do for a living?” The answer would follow a pointed look at my recently shorn hair. It would be awful. “We’ll see how it goes,” I responded diplomatically. Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned the date at all. I really needed better friends than my boss and her cardboard cut-out husband.

I could barely eat when I got home. The time was ticking closer to when I would have to leave. June was going to be at the salon until late, after which point she would close up, and we would have the place to ourselves – no prying Lucinda, and no one to see as my hair was buzzed off my head.

I changed out of my work clothes and sodden underwear into something nicer – a low-cut blouse and a black pencil skirt that felt too sexy for the workplace. I knew better than to wear my best clothes to a haircut, and whatever else June might have scheduled for me.

A taxi took me to the high street, since I didn’t want to leave my car there overnight. There was no way I could drive in this state, anyway, with my legs shaking with nerves and arousal. It was already a little dark when I arrived, a quarter of an hour early. I strode down the street with some purpose, trying to look casual as I approached the salon door that already read “Closed”.

The door wasn’t locked, so I entered to the sight of June finishing up sweeping the floor of hair clippings. She looked up, questioningly. “We’re closed. Do you have an appointment?”

My heart plummeted for a second before I remembered she was roleplaying. “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have missed the sign on the door. I can come back tomorrow.”

June smirked. It looked like she had had her roots redone recently, and the undercut had been shaved smooth possibly only hours before. “No, I can take you now. Would you like to follow me into the back room? I don’t want anyone thinking we’re still open.”

The uneasiness started to set in. I was safe with June, I knew, but the way she crossed over to the front door, locked it, and put her hand on my shoulder to guide me towards the door at the far end of the salon made me shiver. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“With hair as beautiful as yours, it’s no trouble at all,” she responded, her fingers shifting from my shoulder and playing into my hair briefly as she passed.

I found myself walking towards the back room, taking a path I knew I had taken only in my dreams before. June opened the door ahead of me, and I stepped through into a manifestation of weeks of dreams.

It was exactly the place that June had been implanting into my mind. A beautiful red leather barber chair dominated the space before a wide mirror, and dozens of hair cutting implements were already lined up, doubled in the mirror. The clippers rested silently there, and I could already imagine what they would be doing to me later.

The door clicked closed. “You should take off your clothes. We wouldn’t want to get any hair on them, would we?” At my surprise, she continued, “Don’t be shy, it’s just us here.”

My hands were shaking so much over my blouse buttons that June couldn’t help but notice and approach softly, calmly confident as her fingers worked them open, with a slight smile that didn’t feel part of the role play. “Some women get nervous before getting their hair cut. I think it’s because they don’t know whether they will like the outcome, or are scared of surrendering their appearance into someone else’s hands. Do you think you’re like that?”

I tried to keep arousal from my face as she slipped my blouse from my shoulders and let it fall to the linoleum floor. “I’m usually someone who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it.”

“Oh?” June said, reaching around my back and pinging open my bra with one hand. The lace and satin cups fell loose, letting my breasts free. “And what do you think you want today?” She removed the limp bra from my shoulders. It seemed like she decided to completely take over stripping me.

“Just a trim.” I said, in defiance of her hands that brushed over my hips, seeking out the zip of my skirt.

“That’s one option,” June replied. She released me from the tight pencil skirt, letting that drop and pool around my legs, before her hand cupped over my underwear, feeling for the wetness that had already begun. “But I can tell you’re intrigued by the idea of a change.”

My eyes rolled back at her touch, betraying my desire. I had been doing so well up to then. Her fingers stopped tracing my labia through the thin, damp satin, and instead hooked over the sides and eased them off me, leaving me in just my heels. I stepped out of them, a few inches shorter, but still taller than June.

She gestured to the barber chair. “I think you know what to do by now.”

I stepped over with purpose, before taking my seat in the red leather, and placing my feet on the cold chrome foot rest. My pussy was already wet on the leather with anticipation.

“You have such lovely hair.” June caressed her hands through my heavy curls. “Did you spend a long time getting it to this length?”

“I’ve been growing it on and off since I was a child,” I replied, pretending to be wary of her but unable to escape how deeply turned on she was making me. “It’s always been a part of my identity.”

“I don’t think you should hold yourself to such limits.” She placed her hands over my naked shoulders, and shifted me back into the chair. “You wouldn’t still be here if some part of you didn’t want me to really cut your hair off.”

A very real insecurity reared its ugly head, however. I thought back to my boss’s offer of the double date and wondered how much this would alter my life, how much less socially acceptable giving into this fetish would make me. Long hair gave me a passport into so many areas I simply could not imagine would be open to me if I had short hair. I was a lesbian, but part of my job involved charming male clients. It gave me a feminine authority around the office, with my team, and just in general interactions with strangers. I looked like someone who knew what she was doing. There was a part of me that wanted to run away, to hold onto the security a long hairstyle allowed me. I ran over our safeword in my mind. Now was the time to use it if I needed to.

My world was divided now, into things that I wanted to be true and things I was too afraid to change. I was taking the easy way out, in a way, by putting myself in this situation where I was acting out a semi-forced scenario to ensure I went down only one of these paths. But also nothing says “fuck fear” like getting aroused by your very hot, very short-haired girlfriend. I met her eyes, knowing what it would mean to submit to her fantasies and mine.

June grazed her hand along the side of my neck, drawing aside the hair that concealed it. I let out a slight gasp, which only egged her on. She turned briefly to select a pair of shining scissors from the counter in front of the mirror. and brandished them before me. The dizzying sight of them reminded me I was on the brink of this fall – and I could save my hair now if I truly wanted to – but I needed to step into the unknown now, or I would never again find myself here.

“Very well,” June said in a coolly amused tone at my silence. “I was thinking of starting…” June took up a lock of my hair from my left cheek, and her face brightened with devilish glee. She raised her scissors and closed the metal blades slowly around the thick curl, so I could hear every strand being severed, “…here.”

I felt my heart plummet as the length came away in her hand. It was dangling there in the air where it had once been attached to me, suddenly looking so beautiful. It had been a perfect flowing curl, and now my hair was missing a chunk from the front, falling just above my chin. “That’s a lot of hair,” I murmured, a numb chill going through me.

June’s demeanour dropped, and her eyes softened. I hadn’t said the safeword, but perhaps something in my expression had jolted her out of it. “Wait, do you need me to stop?”

This was something I had wanted for such a long time, and I could tell the excitement hadn’t yet caught up to my fear. “No. Kiss me,” I told her, desperation in my voice.

Obediently, June climbed into my lap, thigh sliding up between my bare legs, and pressed her lips against mine. My anxiety was immediately subdued by her weight on top of me, and the roughness of her jeans against my clit only aroused me further. Her hands smoothed over my chest, exploring the roundness of my breasts as she made out with me. I wanted to wrap my legs around her thigh but she pushed me back down, her dominant personality unleashing once more as soon as she was sure I was all right.

“I can’t let you leave tonight with all of your gorgeous hair.”

As she pulled away, I felt myself rise up, still craving her touch. Submissiveness took over, however, as she scooped a handful of my hair up and let it fall back against my cheek, the shortened piece taunting me.

“You have been holding onto this image of yourself with long hair for too long,” June murmured seductively. “Since you can’t ask for the haircut you truly desire, I think it’s time for someone to cut it off for you.”

I was almost painfully aroused by this point, desperate for her to continue her careless divestiture of my crowning glory.

He fingers hooked under a piece next to the one she had cut, and brought the scissors up to it at chin-length again, drawing out the scrunch of the scissors to accentuate my arousal and anticipation.

“A darling little bob to expose this gorgeous neck of yours,” June remarked.

I could not help be a bit surprised, and perhaps disappointed, that she appeared to be going for the longest hairstyle from the options. Even so, chin-length was still so short. She made another precise cut, getting closer to my ear and louder in its severing of my long locks.

Her scissors were at my nape now, feeling like they were directly on my hairline. When my head bowed slightly, she firmly adjusted it back so that I was looking straight at myself in the mirror. My hair was painfully short on one side, and still long on the other, covering my naked breast. Her fingers softly brush against my exposed neck, and a shiver went down my spine. The air had never felt so different.

Another scrunch and the back of my neck was completely free. One of the locks slid up instead of down off the back of the chair, and I saw as she held aloft a thick tail of severed curling hair. “This is about two years of growth I’m taking from you with just a few snips.”

She dropped it in my lap, and it fell softly between my legs, draping so close to my pussy. I couldn’t believe that my dreams were finally doming to fruition. Every time she cut more off, the exhilaration hit me. There was no stopping June’s progress of chopping her way around from the back to the other side. The hair she was taking off would not magically grow back by morning, and there was now no going back or disguising this.

“You’re being such a good girl about this. Others I’ve shorn before have cried over their lost locks. I’ll think of a nice reward for you.”

Almost anti-climactically, the last long hair that hung down that hung before the open jaws of the scissors was shorn off, and tumbled into my lap. Like that, it was all over. My long hair, for better or worse, was gone.

True to her word about a reward, June reached in between my thighs and drew out the lock of hair, curls still glorious and catching the light in the curves. The cut ends formed a brush, and I could not help but moan as June used it to flick over my clit.

“Do you like being pleasured with your own hair, Rose?”

I opened my legs further in response. June laughed gently. She climbed into my lap, her own lips flushed with arousal, and ran her hands through my short bob while she kissed me as only a lover could. The sensation of my hair spilling through her fingers as it ran out of length, then flowing freely back over my cheeks – it was all absolutely intoxicating. I never knew my hair could feel as light and tactile as this.

One hand trailed down my stomach, and my muscles shuddered in anticipation. I kissed her, urging her further south, but she only teased her hands over my hip bones, before returning to my hair, which offered little resistance to being lifted away from my neck and head. What a beautiful length this felt, with the lightness of short hair without being too short, and having enough body to it that it felt wonderful to be played with.

Yet as we kissed, fingers combed out the hair from the back of my head, paused there, and then a scrunching sound ate through that wonderful length as her scissors hacked through the length haphazardly behind me, while her lips caressed against mine. Handfuls of hair fell down my back, tumbled over my chest between us, tickling me as they dispersed in clumps both longer and shorter, but I did not care how ruined it would look.

Any sorrow I might have felt for the loss of the bob was engulfed with a renewed fetish urge. She was still lifting up pieces blindly from the back and sides and cutting away, while I recklessly pressed myself against her even as I felt the scissors cutting so close to my scalp that I felt the cool metal, more and more of my old self being cropped away as she littered me with my own curls.

June withdrew, cheeks flushed. “Fun though this is, I need to clean this up.” She ruffled a hand over the sides.

In the mirror, I looked absolutely shocking. Though the top was still mostly long, my hair looked like a hack job – and it was, because June had chopped at it blindly in the throes of passion. She inspected it, turning my head and running a finger over some parts of my head where I could feel only short tufts. Her comb came out, smoothing through the choppy style and sending a thousand tiny jolts through me with each touch of the comb tines, now closer to my head than ever before. She gathered all the top hair up, twisted it tightly, and bit into it with the jaws of a large clip to pinch it to my head. I briefly wondered how she was going to make a hairstyle out of this, before her hand fell on the set of clippers. Oh shit.

“My trusty Baldfaders will take this all nice and short, just the way I like it.”

Baldfaders? My pussy dripped at the sound of that, but I was terrified how much hair I could lose. I didn’t want to be bald – at least, not yet. The gleaming metal blades she held up looked brutal. But the knowledge that she could only pick a hairstyle from my “yes” folder reassured me somewhat, even though I knew that the back and sides would definitely have to be short. Even though my ears were still partly covered, there must be some very short parts where the scissors had cut closer.

Just as I was worrying, I recognised the comb attachment she clicked onto the clippers from various videos I’d seen, and let out a sigh of relief, which was not to last. Fingertips firmly angled my head down, and a loud clack heralded a low hum of the blades awakening, and suddenly my breathing felt unsteady again.

I was distinctly aware of the plastic comb teeth stirring the hair at my nape, and then the change in tone of the clippers as they bit into my hair, driving all the way up the back of my head, tickling as they came away near the top. My whole body was rigid with the new overwhelming feeling as the sensual vibration purred into my head, while I tried to remind myself to relax into it. But the clippers were climbing up again, and going so high that I was concerned that the top was going to be too short. I thought about that one style in the mix that had been maybe a couple of inches on top. If this was that style, I could not complain, since I’d chosen it.

“This is your first time being clippered, isn’t it?” June crowed, flicking a clump of hair into my lap. “I bet you’ve watched the clippers being used on other people, wondering what it would be like to feel them shaving off your prized hair.”

My head was re-positioned, and the clippers stroked up my sideburns. The hair that had been hiding my ear melted off in their wake. A look in the mirror revealed I was nowhere near bald and there was plenty of hair left, despite the lengths of two to four inches that were piling up in my lap. I tried to stay as still as I could, even as a heavy curl tumbled over my thigh and down softly against my shaved pussy. A breath of ecstasy escaped my lips.

“Good girl,” she said, turning the clippers off and removing the attachment.

The now unguarded baldfader blades tucked in at my nape. There was a tingle against my skin as I felt my hair peeling off in sheaves, letting my scalp finally breathe in the cool air. I had never before felt that relief of my head being made free. I almost craved that feeling all over, even to the detriment of my appearance. Would it be worth being completely bald for just a moment’s sensation?

I savoured the sensation of her fingertips touching my head where she had just shaved, feeling my scalp through stubble for the first time. Watching her lustfully through the mirror, I willingly bowed my head to her balding clippers and hoped this would not be the last time I would get to feel them. A handful of bristles tumbled down my neck, catching on my breast.

“Let me get that for you,” June said, smoothing a hand over my breast and circling a thumb around my nipple, dusting the hair off into the space between my legs instead.

She was such a tease.

June resumed her shaving of the lower parts of my head, before a comb came out and she started zipping the clippers along them to blend the bald line up into the longer top hair, still held out of the way in a twist atop my head. From what I could tell, there was quite a dramatic blend from the skin up, and the top was not going to be too short. With each swipe of the clippers, the harsh line was softened slightly, and a shower of small clippings dusted down my body.

It was then that I noted my hair was now as short as, if not shorter than June’s. A warm sensation flipped between my legs as she tilted my head this way and that as if I were her inanimate plaything. It felt so small with its covering of hair peeled away.

The clippers fell silent at last, and she released the tumble of thick waves from the top of my head, which grazed over the velcro-like stubble on the side of my head. The comb raked through my thick top hair, which gave a hefty amount of resistance as the waves were brushed out until it edged from the top over the sides, where it was too short to offer any drag on the teeth of the comb. “Not much left to cut now,” June murmured provocatively, ruffling her hand through my hair, which fell over my nose at her touch. “Just this.”

For a moment, I thought June was going to turn the clippers back on, but she set them down and took up her scissors again. A spike of arousal went through me as she combed up the front of my hair, fingers tight against my scalp. She lifted only the slightest amount before her scissors lopped off a huge chunk of hair that dropped into my lap. It must have been four or five inches long! I couldn’t see what was left before her comb scooped up the hair behind it, and another scrunching sound cut through the silence of the room.

“Your hair will be shorter than mine,” June purred, as more weight slipped from my head and into my lap between my legs. “I doubt it will have as much curl at this length, especially not after I’m done with the thinning scissors.”

The thinning scissors. I opened my legs in readiness, taking up a long piece of what had been my thick forelock and caressing it over my clit as June’s fingers pulled against my scalp once more.

“Go on,” she crowed in my ear, “masturbate with the hair I’m chopping off. That’s all it’s useful for now.”

At first I let the strands whisper softly over my clit, and then as I grew more aroused, I gathered it tighter together into a stronger bundle and circled it around, allowing the thick hair to slip against me with more force. Another tumble of hair fell onto my hand as it was shorn off, and it only spurred me on.

“Now stop,” June commanded in a whisper, and I let the hair drop from my fingers obediently, even though I was shaking with need for release.

I could feel the difference between the front of my head, where the hair had been cut already, and the back, where heaviness betrayed the last long parts of my tresses. June made a deal of gathering the hair there between her fingers and snipping away, which she repeated on the other side. Feeling a twinge of regret, I realised after this bit, there would be no more long hair at all. Everything would be under three inches long.

Schnick, schnick, schnick. A fluffy mess plummeted down into my lap, and thus ended the drama.

Or so I thought.

There were some tiny snippets of hair to fall still as she spent time neatening and evening up edges and weight lines. All I could think about, however, were the thinning shears.

June put her scissors down and selected a new pair, toothed and ready to devastate my thick hair. “You desperately need the bulk thinning out,” she said gleefully.

The comb lifted up sections, and the thinning shears plunged in, cutting with a different sound. The comb dragged through after each cut, and pulled out a bale of loose hair, before the shears dug in again to the plush hair, snapping together several times. I could see in the mirror as what seemed like masses of hair was being stripped out, and indeed, the thinned patches lay flatter.

June turned my head to face to one side where she stood, and began to chop into the front part of my hair, which seemed extra thick and like it was going to swoop across in a dense wave. She worked the thinning shears through it over and over, until more hair was deposited in my lap than I felt comfortable about. I tried to see in the mirror whether I had any forelock left, but June firmly turned my head back into position. Silent tension fell between us, punctuated only by the strange sound of the thinning scissors. I felt myself shrinking smaller as I imagined them reducing my hair to wisps, while my clit begged for attention.

After some time, and a lapful of thinned hair, the scissors were set down in front of me, tiny clippings stuck to the blades. June ruffled my hair with her fingers to dislodge some of the loose bits. I could see the reflection of my hair now – it was not thin or wispy, but a soft textured crop that made no attempt to look overly feminine. It was a very gay haircut, in the best way.

Another tool was now in June’s hands – I did not notice her pick up the straight razor, but she had already begun to apply foam to the edges of my hair. Her finger was gentle as she massaged it over my sideburns and hairline, and I dared not even breathe as she squared up the bottom of my sideburns. The faint outline of stubble accentuated the fact that this was not bowing to any concept of gendered hairstyles. The blade of the razor nibbled around my ear and high on my nape, shaving smooth the area that had been cleared away by the balding clippers. Of all the sensations I had been able to experience tonight, this was a completely new and bizarrely masculine feeling that I found intensely erotic and intimate.

June set the razor down when she was finished. I met her eyes in the mirror, and wordlessly she began to caress away the hair that covered my naked skin, unburdening me from my former style.

“Now fuck me,” I demanded.

June eased my knees apart further, smirking as she knelt in front of the barber’s chair, the devastation of my hair cushioning the floor. Her head turned as she went to kiss softly along my inner thigh, giving me a view of the way her silver hair moved against her bald undercut. I was already in ecstasy.

June edged closer to my pussy, lips brushing my skin teasingly, as if I needed any more turning on. I shivered with anticipation, letting my head tip back onto the headrest, and caught my own eyes in the mirror, heavy with lust. The transition between the bald fade and the textured top was so sexy it should have been criminal, and it was then that June’s warm tongue licked up my cunt, at last addressing the orgasm that had been building throughout the whole haircut. I kept watching myself as she pleasured me, unable to believe how fucking hot June had made me with this incredibly short haircut. The shaved sides made me look powerful, as though I could take over the entire company I worked for just on pure sex appeal alone. The memory of my long hair felt practically child-like in comparison, just the style of a little girl who was letting a series of bad childhood haircut experiences hold her back from taking charge.

As I grew close to orgasm, my eyes lost focus on my reflection. My hand gripped into June’s silver hair while I suddenly surrendered myself to the climax. It was incredible… knowing I was now truly free and would never have to cope with the length that was now littering the floor under June’s knees.

I basked in the afterglow. June picked herself up off the floor and began some necessary cleanup of her tools, dusting hair onto the floor.

“You haven’t touched it yet,” June murmured to me.

My hand reached up. If I’d thought having three inches off was a lot, I was in for a bit of a surprise. It was so bald on the back. I was not prepared for how bald the shaved part would feel… scalp smooth as glass, transitioning into velvet stubble as my hand brushed up over my head.

I had such short hair. At its longest, it was two and a half inches on top. Fuck. It managed to be terrifying and hot at the same time. I knew I wanted strangers to admire me, but I feared the reaction of my colleagues. But it was too late now, I thought as I stood up and felt the sea of hair between my toes.

June touched my arm as I stood there, and I realised the roleplay was over. She gave me a genuinely delighted smile, cupping my face, unimpeded by hair either side of it, and stroked back over and around my ear, sending tingles right down to my clit again.

The whole of my head felt so different, so light, and strangely cold without all the weight on it. Turning my head created a weird breeze over the bald scalp, my naked ears, and through the short top hair. It would take a lot of getting used to.

“Do you like it?”

I couldn’t help myself from smiling. I was in fetish heaven. Knowing that it was my girlfriend June who had sheared me gave me even more feelings. “I love it. Have you seen how hot I am now?”

June laughed. “You’ve always been hot. But yeah, I really have seen how hot you are. It’s taking everything in me not to pin you back into the chair and fuck you senseless again. But I shouldn’t leave all that mess to clear up in the morning, because Lucinda…”

Fuck. That was intense. And I loved the way she called my once beautiful tresses “all that mess”, since all it was now was an inconvenience to be disposed of, and stood in the way of more hot sex with my girlfriend.

“Let me help you with it,” I insisted. She let me take a broom and I started sweeping the mixture of long and short hair into a pile, marvelling at just how much hair I had had, now destined for the bin. It took a shiver of cold to remember that I was still naked.

June noticed the shiver and came over to give me a cuddle. “You should put your clothes back on.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Unless you’d like to walk back to mine naked. You’re welcome to, but I think getting stopped by the police would be a real buzzkill.”

I rolled my eyes in resignation, but not before I pressed myself to her fully-clothed form. She responded with a caress of her hand down my hip. Her hair fell forwards over her eyes and she shook it out of the way.

“You know,” she murmured, “what I really want to do is get you home so I can give you the best orgasms of your life.”

I made to grab the broom at once, but not before June intercepted me with a kiss and the unfair access she had to my clit.

“You’re not making it any easier to put my clothes on. Who are you trying to convince here?”

June laughed, and traced my lip with her finger. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

We were out of the salon and back in June’s flat in what felt like ten minutes flat, having trashed all of my formerly beautiful hair. The night air had been cold on my head, and it was now with exhilaration that I felt the fingertips of my girlfriend’s hand stroking lightly over my bald nape as she made out with me against the wall.

I could barely believe I was here, hair shorn off like a sheep, and now in my lover’s arms as she pressed herself firmly against me. She tugged off my clothes, easily discarding them in a trail to her bedroom.

“I want to come in your mouth,” I told her in a lustful whisper.

“That can be arranged,” June responded, and eased me down onto the bed.

Her hands spread my legs apart, and my pussy opened, the wetness already feeling cool in the exposed air. Usually she might tease me a little first to build up the anticipation, but we had both waited long enough, and my entire head was an erogenous zone. She immediately closed her mouth over my clit, and true to her word, began with the orgasm of my life.

It wasn’t long before June moved in with me. Her flat had been nice and conveniently situated, but it lacked the elegance of my house. More space meant that we could remodel one of the spare bedrooms into our own hair fetish room, complete with a secret entrance, a barbershop chair, and all sorts of instruments of pleasure and haircutting. Being further away from the salon, it was useful having our own place to act out our fantasies.

Soon, we were entertaining June’s queer friends at our house. It felt finally right to be among people like myself, and not always trying to pander to my very conventional work friends. June has even suggested we host some haircut parties, which I rather like the sound of. I have my suspicions that some of them may be fetishists too. It wouldn’t surprise me, with some of their dyed hair colours and striking hairstyles. Most likely we’ll search online for anyone who might be up for a little hair play too.

It turned out Lucinda had guessed at our relationship even before my little haircut. She said she guessed something might have started with the whole Blake fiasco. She approves of the match, but that didn’t stop her from trying to steal me as a client on multiple occasions. As for whether she suspected I had a haircut fetish… well, her giving June a short faded buzzcut the next time I was in for a trim was a bit of an indication.

Oh, and work? They loved the change in my look. Without my hair holding me back, and the newfound confidence from my relationship with June, I took the risk of applying for a much higher position in the company. The competition melted away, and before long I was Director of the branch, working above my old boss.

At my requests, June visits me frequently in my dreams… sometimes as herself, and sometimes as hot strangers for a little spice. The only bad part about having short hair is not getting to experience the long-to-short transformation cuts, but with June’s magic, I can have floor-length hair for the night for the express purpose of chopping it off.

Well, sweet dreams, dear reader.

3 responses to “The Rose Blooms in June, part 3

  1. Catching up on parts 2 and 3 back to back… Fuck me. If I didn’t already want a gf like June before, I sure as hell do now. I almost wish I was exaggerating when I say that this lil series has been some of the best queer fiction I’ve read in recent memory. Not even just queer hair fiction. Queer fiction as a whole.

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