Chaucer and the Car Wash by Jason
I’ve been washing cars for several months in the afternoons while I attend community college in the mornings. I am working on a degree in computers and need the money to pay tuition.
I’ve been noticing this guy with a great BMW who comes in every few weeks for a complete job inside and out. I always wondered what his story is. Sometimes I think I see him looking at me and I think well, hey, maybe I could get into something this guy. But then, when I look back, he looks away, so I don’t know. Actually he’s kind of an older guy. I just turned 19 a couple months ago and he’s probably around 50 or something. But he’s got a really cool flattop. And I should probably tell you at this point that I’m very into haircuts and that whole scene. Which is probably really strange to you because I’ve got long hair. Its just I’ve never gotten up the nerve to get a short haircut myself, even though I want to and think about it all the time. Which I’ll say more about in a minute.
So Monday about 3:00 I see this guy again. This time I’m on the line (usually I work the register but they were short today).
When I was finishing up his car, he goes to me, “You really got a lot of nice hair. If you ever want it short, please let me know.” He says he works for this charity that makes wigs for cancer kids who lost their hair from the chemotherapy. And he starts saying how great my hair would be for it.
I can’t believe it. First, coz my hair probably looked like crap. I wear this baseball cap and I was all sweaty and stuff, so the last thing I thought was that this guy would be looking at my hair. My hair is really long right now, down to my shoulders. Usually, I get it trimmed every few weeks, coz I like to keep it looking neat, even though it’s long. But really the biggest thing that surprised me is coz it makes me think that this could be the excuse to finally actually get one of those cool, short haircuts, instead of just thinking about it (and jackin’ off about it if you know what I mean). So I say, “Well maybe ... I could use a haircut. It’s a donation?”
He says yeah and I wouldn’t have to pay anything for the haircut -- which fits my budget!
I say, “Like any kind of haircut?“
He goes, “As long as its enough hair to make a good wig.”
So that’s short. I’m starting to get really excited thinking about. But I don’t want him to think I’m too into it or something. And I’m looking at his flattop and I’m thinking what if he gives me a haircut that short?! And I’m getting really turned on already.
So I tell him I think I’d do it but I have to check my schedule. Don’t sound to eager or he’ll think its weird or something. The guy gives me his business card and tells me to call him. So I’m like “OK cool, yeah, that’s good, yeah I’ll call you.”
Anyway, that was Monday. It’s all I can think about from then on. What if this guy gives me a flattop or crewcut or something? I can’t believe it. So last night I finally get up the nerve to call him. It’s about 10 o’clock and what if its too late to call him? And I’m thinking, he probably didn’t even remember who I was.
Some guy answers and I tell him its Jason from the car wash.
He goes right away, “Hello, Jason,” and he sounds like he remembers me. And he goes, “So when can we do that haircut?”
So I’m relieved that went pretty easy. So we decide to do it the next night.
Last night I go home after I’m done at the shop and shower up and then drive over to this guy’s house. Nice place. Big place.
I ring the bell and I’m relieved it’s the guy from the car wash who opens the door. He takes me into this room he has with a barber chair and all this barbershop stuff – clippers, scissors, combs, bottles of stuff and tells me to take a seat, pointing to his chair. I’m getting really excited about this. He obviously does this a lot and is into it or something, but I’m kind of nervous.
I go, “Well, what kind of hairstyles can you do,” hoping he’ll say he can only do crewcuts and flattops and that I’d have no choice.
But he goes, “Whatever type you want.”
So I start to lose my nerve a little bit. He’s not making this easy.
He puts the barber cape around my neck and starts combing my hair. And I just blurt out “Maybe just something with layers ... to start with,” I mumble.
“Layers?” he asks sounding kind of peeved. “If this is going to work you’ve got to let me cut it short enough that they can make it into a wig. I’ve got to do a crewcut or a flattop or something shorter like that.”
“All right!” I’m thinking and I’ve already got a raging hard on, but I’m getting nervous as Hell. “Ooh! I’ve never had hair that short in my life. My hair hasn’t been shorter than collar-length since I was a little boy—maybe never! I don’t know about cutting it that short.” I react.
“Oh, it will look great,” he says. “Don’t worry, Jason. Just leave me in charge. We’ll end up with a lot of hair for wigs and you’ll have a great haircut—maybe the best one you have ever had in your life.”
I think well, the deed’s done and I feel like don’t have much choice at this point. So I just sit back and try to relax.
He picks up the electric clippers, just like I’ve thought about a million times. He flips on the switch and this buzzing noise starts.
But I get a little jumpy when he starts to put the clippers to my head. But he reassures me that he knows what he’s doing and it’s for a worthy cause and all. And I decide I’m being dumb and that since I’ve wanted to do this, this is the perfect opportunity so I tell him to go ahead.
As he starts cutting again he starts telling me that other guys are also nervous when they get their first real haircut (which I guess he means short haircut). And how much I’ll like it when he’s done.
I’m thinking, you mean I’m not the only one who gets nervous thinking about getting buzzed? I always thought I was kind of weird that way or something, coz like I said it’s like the main thing that turns me on and I think about it all the time.
I see my hair falling on the cape and into my lap. I can’t believe it. It’s like I always imagined. He’s going up the right side with the clippers. Man, I can feel a big difference where he’s cutting already. And he runs the clippers toward the front and around the back. Then the same on the left side.
Then he starts going over the top and I start to feel like I might cum. And I squirm around a little trying to make sure I don’t embarrass myself in front of this guy. He goes, “Relax and trust me, Jason,” as the hair on top starts falling onto my lap.
Oh, man, I’m shooting my wad right here under the cape with my pants on. But at that point I don’t care. I’m thinking about all the times I imagined how this would be and how great it feels now that I’m actually doing it. I let out a little moan. I don’t know what he thought but he didn’t say anything. He just kept running his hands over my head and it felt great. And he’s really turning me on. And he’s going over my hair again and again with the clippers.
He puts some powder on my neck and brushes me off. And he shows me all the hair.
I figure I’m done, even though secretly I wish this could go on forever. But then he picks up another clippers and starts going over the sides and back again. The buzz feels great, tickles. Then he goes another time and I feel like I’m not going to have any hair left at all!
Then I figure for sure that’s it. But I hear this humming and then something warm on the back of my neck. It makes me melt sitting there in the chair, so relaxing. And he’s putting warm lather around my neck and ears. I feel him shaving my sideburns. Then he takes a towel and runs it under the sink and then wraps the hot towel around my neck and ears and cleans me off. In fact, he rubs my whole head, massaging it. I can feel how short it is, but still haven’t seen it. I can’t wait. The expectation is killing me.
I feel him put some cool liquid around my ears and neck and then some more powder. The powder smells great. Just like when I was a boy and my dad would take me to the barbershop, which when I think about is funny coz I always hated getting my haircut then.
Then he turns me around and at first, I think I’m looking at a picture instead of a mirror. It doesn’t look like me! But, wow, it looks really cool! Just like I always wanted it but never had the nerve.
He takes the cape away and I’m worried he’s going to see the wet spot on my jeans, but I don’t think he does. At least he doesn’t say anything.
I keep looking in the mirror, running my hands over my head. I can’t believe it.
I thank him and he walks me to the front door. I’m kind of drained and he’s kind of silent. I thank him again and wish him luck with his charity.
As I drive off, I check my hair out again in my rear view mirror. I can’t believe it. And I start thinking about the next haircut and whether this guy would cut it again ... even if it was still pretty short and not long enough to make a wig out of it. Maybe even a little shorter.