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Allan: Good Clippers Make Good Neighbors by Manny
I was collecting my mail when my neighbor, whose mailbox is right next to mine on the street, stepped out of his house for the same purpose. He waved as he approached, flashing his perfect pearly white teeth, and struck up a bit of chit-chat with me. We commented on the nice weather and how fast the grass was growing. Allan had always been a very pleasant person and was extremely easy on the eyes.
In a moment of spontaneity, I offered, "Why not join me on the deck out in back for a beer? I bought a six-pack of some high-end craft beer yesterday that's really tasty."
"I'd love to, Gene, but a friend of mine should be arriving any minute now to give me a haircut," he replied.
I was a bit taken aback because his hair looked fine. In fact, his hair looked fantastic -- as it generally did. He had thick dark blond hair that was full of body and perfectly groomed. Allan's hair was always brushed neatly to the side and rather full on the sides and back.
"Someone always comes to your house to cut your hair?" I asked.
"Oh, no. I generally use a salon near my office. But today I'm getting a beginning-of-summer butch. In fact, there's Brad now, pulling into the driveway," he replied.
A summer butch?! I was stunned! Allan did not seem to be the type. In fact, it didn't match at all with his image. And to have that "to-die-for" hair shaved off by an amateur? I was intrigued.
Allan waved to his friend as he told me, "See you later, and thanks for the invite. Maybe some other day?"
"Or later on, after your haircut?" I suggested.
"Sure. And bring Brad too? He's a big beer aficionado," replied Allan
For the next 45 minutes I felt very agitated and excited. I imagined what was happening to Allan next door -- sitting without a shirt on in his kitchen while Brad clipped off his thick mane. Clumps of the silken locks falling to his shoulders and sliding down his bare, manly chest. What would the handsome Allan look like with a butch?! The other thing that I meditated on was how calm and matter-of-fact Allan seemed, casually telling me he was only minutes away from being on the receiving end of an amateur clip job.
I would have been a nervous wreck if I were in his shoes, waiting for my friend to arrive with a set of clippers! I dropped what I was doing and snapped on the light in the bathroom. I was proud and very protective of my own lush locks that I wore definitely on the long side -- a bit over my ears and to the base of my collar. The shiny brown mane glistened in the intense light over the mirror. I took a brush and ran it through my hair, heightening the sheen.
Soon the amateur barber would be sitting on my own deck eyeing my part pretty-boy, part beatnik look. A shiver went down my spine. I imagined myself submitting to a butch -- and the thought frightened me.
I was lost in the fantasy when the doorbell rang.
I rushed to open it and saw Allan with his clipped head standing right outside. He was smiling broadly. His streamlined head looked surprisingly....fantastic! It was a bit of a jolt seeing him with a baldy, but the clipped head highlighted the handsomeness of his face. His green eyes sparkled and his manly thick brows and chiseled jaw made my heart flutter.
I fumbled to open the door as quickly as I could.
"Wow! You really did get a butch! It suits you," I gushed as soon as the door was opened.
Allan rubbed his own head playfully. "I think so too. And it feels fantastic. So glad Brad here agreed to play barber."
He quickly introduce me to his friend and the three of us went out to the back deck with the ice cold beers.
It was hard to keep my eyes off Allan's butch. He had such a perfectly shape head and ears. Things I hadn't noticed about Allan -- because his pretty-boy hair had attracted so much attention -- came into sharp focus.
Then I noticed that Brad had his eyes on me and my mane almost as much as I had my eyes on Allan's clipped pelt!
When the timing seemed right, I asked, "How long has Brad been your summer barber, Allan?"
"Actually, we grew up together and both of us were on the receiving end of summer butch cuts from his father. In fact, those clippers that he used on me today were the same ones that made us baldies at the beginning of every summer when we were boys!"
"And who gives you your summer butch now, Brad?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm not like Allan. I hated those summer haircuts. All year long I dreaded the summons to the garage. I wanted my hair to grow long and luxuriant, the way yours is now, Gene," he replied.
"But Allan was a fan of the butch?" I pressed.
"Actually, I had really nice long hair that attracted a lot of attention. The style at the time was those thick floppy bowl cuts with heavy bangs that dangled down in the eyes. People always told my I looked just like those twins Zack and Cody from the Disney channel. I just went along and got clipped with Brad because he was such a cry-baby about his mandatory beginning of summer haircuts imposed by his father. He would pout and mouth off in private with me, but sit submissive and still after his father ordered him into the garage. I knew it made things easier for him for us both to get shorn, instead of just him," Allan explained.
"Well, that was part of it," Brad interjected. "But back then, just like you saw now, Allan really loved to feel his clipped head after the haircut. And, he loved the 'during' phase too. When his thick mane started falling to the floor, he was all smiles. In fact, Allan was always the one to bring up the subject of butch cuts as soon as the school end neared. 'Will he give us baldies this Saturday or next?' he be asking me repeatedly!"
Allan blushed, indicating Brad was right. It wasn't all about sacrifice for his friend. "The only part I didn't like about the summer butch cuts was the awkward growing out phase when nothing could be done with the awkward length to make it look decent. Fortunately, by the time school started up again the in the fall, it had grown out enough to lay down a bit."
"So when did Brad take over as barber and keep up the tradition with you, Allan?" I asked, very intrigued by the story.
"Actually, today is the first time since high school! I've never had a summer butch as an adult," Allan explained. "Haven't seen Brad in years. He was coming back to town for a college class reunion and contacted me. We started exchanging memories about our childhood days. When I reminded him about the summer haircuts, he told me he still had his father's clippers. So, on a whim, I told him to bring them -- that I wanted a summer butch, just like old times!" Allan laughed.
"And he got one, nice and tight!" Brad exclaimed as he reached over and rubbed Allan's clipped pelt of hair. "Used the same #2 attachment that my father used on us."
"Can I feel it?" I asked, impulsively. Instantly, however, I felt embarrassed.
But Allan quickly eased my angst. "Sure! I can't get enough of my bristles being stimulated!" he replied.
I reached over gingerly and stroked his bristles lightly. Then, I began to caress the stubble more earnestly.
"I think you want a butch of your own, Gene," Brad said with a chuckle. "Seems like you're enjoying yourself quite a bit."
My face felt hot. "Oh, no! I'm rather fond of my hair," I replied hastily and stopped fondling Allan's head.
"I'm leaving the clippers with Allan, just in case you change your mind," Brad said, staring at me boldly, like he wanted me to cave and submit to the butch right then and there.
Allan excused himself to use the restroom. Brad stared intently at my prized, pampered hair. Then it was he who acted on impulse by grasping a shank of it and gently yanking it just enough to make it hurt a bit. "A butch would suit you quite well. I'd like to see the lot of this thick brown hair fall to the floor. I can run over the Allan's and retrieve the clippers. What do you say? A baldy for you too, pretty boy?"
My cock stirred. I felt my mouth dry up instantly. I couldn't speak if I wanted to, which was rather fortunate, because I found myself wanting to tell Brad to make me down to the wood. For the first time in my life, I wanted a butch!
Instead I continued to resist the pressure from Brad and my own urge to submit. "The way you're pulling my hair hurts, Brad. Maybe you've had one too many beers!"
When Allan returned, Brad stood and announced it was time for him to leave. Allan decided to leave with him and thanked me for the beers. As I watched them cross the driveway, I watched Allan explore his whole clipped pelt with his hand. Over and over he stroked the bristles. I could just imagine his white, pearly teeth grinning from ear to ear. I wanted a butch too!
About two weeks later, I got a call from Allan. "I have something I want to give you and a favor to ask. Do you have a few minutes?" he asked.
"Sure, come right on over," I replied eagerly.
As I unlocked the door, I studied his pate. The bristles had grown a tad and were just long enough to exhibit a hint of color and sheen. Allan was carrying a plastic grocery bag.
"First off, this is what I wanted to give you. It's quite an expensive, powerful machine," he noted as he pulled out a large blow dryer. "I'm not going to need it any more." He flashed a huge grin and rubbed his pelt. "I finally decided that the butch will be a year-round haircut for me! It's really what I've always wanted but didn't have the courage to do."
Then, he pulled out the box that contained the set of clippers and other barbering tools. "And, now for the favor. Would you mind very much playing barber for me on a regular basis? Like, once every two weeks?"
"Mind?! Of course not. I'd love to do that, Allan!" I exclaimed, taking the box from him.
"That's great!" he replied. "And, if I'm not being too much of a pain in the butt, perhaps you could tidy me up now, if you're not too busy."
"Sure , take off your shirt, we can do it right here in the kitchen," I said eagerly.
I had to be careful to not show my excitement as I watched Allan strip to the waist. He had an incredibly sculpted chest and perfect six-pack of muscles. Seeing it in the living flesh made me realize how out of shape I truly was -- a beer belly and love handles (with no one to hold them....).
He sat eagerly on the make-shift barber chair, and I played with his velveteen pile a bit. The sharp edge had come off a bit with the two-weeks growth and I enjoyed stroking his hair.
"So your new haircut was a big hit in your office?" I asked.
"Hell no!" he laughed. "I had people dropping by throughout the day saying they'd heard the news! A few of the fellows told me they liked it, but the majority were like, 'why did you do that, you had such nice hair!' The more I heard that the more I started toying around with not growing it out again. Ever!"
"At least you won't have to go through that awkward grow-out phase that you said you never enjoyed," I commented.
"I thought of that too. I had a fun time telling this one woman who always comes on to me, 'Get used to the baldy, Betty. No more GC coif for me.' It's great to be in control of your own self," he cooed.
I snapped on the clippers and pushed his head down. I liked the feeling of power and authority, manipulating Allan's head this way and that. Snippets of hair flew everywhere.
"Can't beat the feeling of vibrating clipper teeth right on the scalp," Allan cooed. "You should try it some day, Gene."
I got an instant woody. Fortunately, my tight jeans kept it from showing too much.
"I think Brad was itching to take the clippers to me when you were over here with him. He may not have liked being on the receiving end of the clippers as a kid, but he sure seemed to enjoy playing barber," I said.
I clipped for a while in silence. Allan was thoroughly pleased with my skills. The vibration of the clippers seemed to be sheer pleasure to him. My desire to be on the receiving end intensified. My biggest fear was that I was extremely fond of my hair. It was my best physical aspect. I could very well regret having it shaved off. Finally, I couldn't stand the situation any more and asked, "Would you like a turn at playing barber, Allan?"
He looked up at me with his huge, sparkling green eyes. "If I could be your barber, I would," he said with a wink. "I'd love to watch that thick, plush hair of yours fall to the kitchen floor."
I stood there frozen. Fear and excitement gripped me. Allan was flirting with me! "How much of it would you take off?" I finally croaked.
"All of it! I want to clip you down to the wood," purred Allan. "Make you look manly."
"I'm pretty sure I want you to take me down, but I need to think about it a little more....." I was waffling. "I've never had a clippers taken to my hair before. Going down to the wood would be a first and unforgettable experience -- especially if you were my private barber," I said, feeling my courage and my desire building.
Allan stood and began unbuttoning my shirt. I was like putty in his hands. His calm, calculating hands finally pulled it off. Then he grasped my thick, long hair and began working his fingers through it. Our lips pressed together and I went limp. Slowly, he began pivoting me towards the chair. "Are you ready?" he murmured.
I couldn't answer.
His muscular arms manipulated me into the chair. I sat submissively. He began toying with my hair. "What a prize," he said grasping the thick forelock. "Your hair is magnificent, Gene. So, often, when I've watched you jog past the house with this silken mass bouncing in the sunlight, I've dreamed of fondling it like this."
I watched him take a set of barber shears out of the box. He dropped the forelock so that it fell down in front of my eyes, all the way to my mouth. This must be very inconvenient," he said, chuckling. "Shall we start with a bit of a trim?"
Allan snapped the shears open and shut, ominously. "Just a little trim," he purred as he slid the blade under the mass of hair above my eyebrows and I felt the cold steel on my forehead. Then, very slowly he began sliding the open blades up to the very top of the forehead, where my forelock met the scalp.
I sat paralyzed. Then, the horrific sound of the blades clamping shut on the captive forelock sent a chill through me. Instantly, a mass of my hair cascaded down past my eyes. A huge clump of cut hair fell to my lap.
"Oh, look at you now," cooed Allan. "The beginning of the end of your showy mane." He grasped a chunk of hair that dangled over my ear and haphazardly hacked at it, tossing the cut lock to the floor. "Your beautiful, prized hair....all coming off, Gene," he whispered in my ear. "Sacrificing all this to please me. Sitting quietly and still, hoping that when this is over, your sacrifice will bind us."
Allan snapped on the clippers and ran it down the center of the top of my hair. The sensation of the copious locks falling to my shoulders and down my back sent chills through me. I watched my hair fall away in a state of stunned indifference, like it was happening to someone else. I closed my eyes and drank in the sensation of the vibrating clipper teeth on my scalp. It was just as Allan had described. Allan was firm with his hands and he forced my chin down to my chest. Then he began to take off the hair at my nape, driving the clippers all the way up the back of my head. My mind began to race. What would I look like with a butch? Would Allan still be attracted to me?
Unexpectedly, Allan poked his finger into my corpulent abdomen. "After you've been relieved of your hair, we're going to start on a plan to trim this adipose tissue off your belly, Fatty."
Allan hit a raw nerve. I was sensitive about my weight. Suddenly, I felt very self conscious. Was he toying with my emotions shamelessly, or was it just a casual comment?
Allan snapped off the clippers. I felt his hand rub my clipped head. "Let's take a peek at the new you, Gene."
I looked up at him and he let out a hearty laugh. "Oh my, Gene with no hair!"he squealed. He made me stand and led me into the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror caused a shudder to zip down my back. I looked.....like a pea head without my luxurious mane. "Do you like it?" I asked Allan hopefully.
"Do you?" He laughed.
"Not exactly," I replied honestly.
"The clipped head will be much easier to deal with once you begin your vigorous exercise program so that we can start whittling away at this tummy, Gene."
I watched Allan enjoying himself as he swept up the vast amount of my hair that carpeted a part of the kitchen floor. "Look at all this!" He exclaimed. "Just like when Brad's father would sweep up my locks from the garage floor when I was a teen. Would you believe I had a bit of a crush on Brad's father. He was such a stern disciplinarian with a very short brush cut."
I felt very ambivalent about the haircut. "You didn't answer me when I asked if you liked my haircut, my butch, Allan," I insisted.
"I enjoyed shaving off your hair immensely, old Pal. And it's going to stay clipped. That goes without saying if you think something might develop between us. But, frankly, with that bald head and big belly you aren't exactly a sexy hunk! If you drop 30-40 pounds, it might change the visual.
"But, I let your shave off my thick, long glistening hair...." I stammered.
"No, you are the one who asked me to do it....to be your barber," Allan snapped.
He paused momentarily and then picked up the blow dryer he'd brought to me. "I guess you won't be needing this now with your butch. I can give it to my sister," he said as he flashed a huge grin with his pearly white teeth. He looked more handsome then ever. "Well, good bye, neighbor. I'll be back in two weeks for my next trim."
And with that, Allan was gone....
I gathered up all the ice cream, cookies and other fattening foods in my kitchen and took them to the trash can. I needed to lose weight!
As I opened the lid, I saw my shorn hair looking so forlorn in the garbage. I thought back to Allan's kiss as he maneuvered me into the chair. Even if that was all that ever happened between us, I was glad I'd made the sacrifice.
I relived the feel of the clippers slicing off my hair and the sensation of the silken clumps streaming down my back. I ran back into the bathroom and studied my new butch cut. I was very ambivalent about it, but it would be my reminder of Allan, day in and day out.