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Dean Meets Blondie by HairmoReborn

Being a barber can be quite boring sometimes. Being forced to endure people's stories while you give them the same old cut that they've had for the best part of 40 years. That's what it was like before I set up a barbershop on a university campus. I'm a young guy myself, 26, I keep in shape, I certainly keep my haircut in shape. In fact, it's so fresh I can feel the stubbly sides on my nice new flattop. The best part of being a barber at a university is that the average age of your clientele is in the late-teens, early twenties. Lots of fit, college guys who want a barber they can empathise with and who can guide them to the perfect cut, even if that cut does mean shedding a few inches of that preciously coiffed mane. The best is when a guy gets turned on by the experience. Oh you can tell. I had my mate Steve in a few days ago for a cut and he brought his new boy toy for a sheering too. The boy got a hard on just walking in the shop. I see that little tent and I know I've got free reign. It's great. Ginger hair all over the shop.

The last few days things have been pretty quiet. The students have gone home I guess so I get the odd one here and there and some of the PhD students who are in session over the summer. Poor things. I'm just about to close one night and this jock comes in. He's pretty coy actually. I can tell he's nervous just by looking at him. Blond hair over his ears poking out from underneath his baseball cap, biceps to kill for and a decent body hidden by a rather tight tank top. These are the guys I love. Fit guys ready to lose a lot of hair. I looked him up and down once more. S**t. I recognised him. Not from the shop but from the gay club in town. My mind flashed back to him running his hand up my stubbly neck as I jerked him off in the low light.

"Hey Deano. You still open?"
"I sure am hot stuff." I figured let's commit to a bit of mild flirting from the off.
" I guess I could do with a barber to sort me out."
I knew exactly what he meant and subsequently turned the sign to closed and dropped the blinds while he stripped to his boxers and climbed into my chair. I spun him round and lunged in to kiss him. I felt his tongue in my mouth as he reached for my belt. I ran my hand through his blond hair.
"I think you could do with a cut."
"Ok, but just a trim though dude."
I was torn. I so badly wanted to sheer those wonderful golden locks down but I quite liked this guy and wouldn't mind seeing him again. I began to comb his hair and he began to moan. He so had a hair fetish. I picked up my scissors, then put them down. Then picked up my wahl clippers. His eyes followed every move I made with the clippers as I placed them on his forehead. As I switched them on, he flinched and pulled his head away. I knew this wasn't going to be as short as I wanted it to be. Instead I ran the bare clippers down his smooth chest removing any trace of a treasure trail and shoved them into his boxers where they ate through a fair well trimmed patch of hair. I could see the shaft getting harder so I let the clippers linger there a moment. the vibrations pulsating through his body.

I placed a #4 guard on the clippers and ran them up the back of his head flicking off a good few inches growth onto the floor. I then switched them off and took blondies' hand and ran it up the newly buzzed patch. I saw a wet patch appear in his boxers and I smiled. I continued to pass the clippers around then back and onto the sides, uncovering those ears that had not see the light of day in a long time. They were so white compared to his brown, tanned face. He started playing with the pile of blond hair on his lap. The top I took down to about 2 inches quickly flicking at it with my shears before he had time to notice how much I had taken off. I rubbed a bit of pomade in and brushed his golden fuzz into a nice part. I turned him round to face the new him. Ok, this wasn't the military crewcut or buzzcut I had in mind for him when he entered the shop but the blond mass on the floor was considerable. It would do for now. While he got used to his new cut and ran his hand up the back and sides paying particular attention to the sideburns that I had all but removed, I brushed his blond locks into the ginger stands I had shorn earlier that day. When I turned around, he was on his knees.

"I think I need to pay for my haircut," he said liking his lips and eyeing my throbbing crotch.

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