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My Lawyer Friend by Gator

This is a total work of fiction.

My Lawyer Friend

I had just hung up the phone after speaking with my friend Mike. He is a lawyer who is very quiet. I have known him for several years. We met online and his big thing was always that he wanted to get a true flattop. When we first met, he was in law school. There were a couple of barbershops close by to where he lived, but Mike was unsure of going to the shop by himself to ask for a flattop.

I always asked him, "What’s the hold up? Go to the shop, sit in the chair, and tell them you want a flattop."

"Who cares, Mike? It’s your hair." Always hesitation from Mike and usually a "We’ll see" comment which meant that he was not going. I found out later on that Mike was very particular about the type of shop he wanted to go to. It had to be an old-fashioned type of shop with older male barbers only who did not use a vacuum system. The other thing about Mike was that he often would go visit his parents and his mother in particular did not like his hair too short.

The first time we ever met, Mike came to where I worked. It was summer and needless to say, I was the only one at the school that afternoon. It was haircut day for me; we went to the shop together. I wanted him to get a cut at the shop, but there were two things which stopped him – female barbers and the use of a vacuum system. So, Mike sat and watched me get my usual flattop. He had on shorts and I could tell he was excited about watching the cut. Once we were back in my car, I asked him, "You got a little hard, didn’t you?" In his boyish grin, he blushed and said that he indeed had gotten a hard on and was still hard. I laughed. "You need to fulfill that fantasy of yours one day, Mike."

We went back to my office. I had my clippers there. Mike had said he wanted a haircut. We went into my office, I closed the door and told him to sit in the office chair. I draped a cape around him, and tightened it around his neck. He said, "I’ve got a wedding to go to. I can’t go wearing a flattop."

"No problems, bud." I replied as I clicked on the clippers. I had a #2 guard on the clippers and started in front of his right ear. I peeled off his sideburn and continued up half-way to his crown. His light brown hair landed in his land. He made an audible gasp. "Don’t worry Mike. You’re getting a nice tapered cut that will meet your mother’s approval." I nudged his head to his left and took off another swathe of hair making sure this also landed in his lap. He was breathing hard by now as I shoved his chin into his chest. I continued the assault on the back of his head taking the light brown hair down to a very nice taper. I repeated the same on his left side. I finally allowed him to lift up his head. I grabbed my comb, lifted his bangs and using the clippers, took off a good three inches off his top. All that hair landed in his lap. All Mike could say was, "Oh my gosh! This is going to be short!" I told him if he didn’t shut up, he’d get his flattop. He was still breathing hard.

As I was finishing up his cut, I felt his hand brush up against my own hard dick. I reached under the cape and felt his own hard dick. I said, "I knew you loved getting short haircuts!" He blushed and smiled showing his dimples. "Do you want that flattop, Mike?" "I’d love it, but I really can’t this time."

Fast forward a couple of years. Mike has a tendency to get shy and not always respond to his texts or emails. I had been trying to get with Mike to see if he was ready for his flattop. We’d chat every so often and he would always lament, "I really want to get a flat. Perhaps this summer." "Bump that s**t, Mike. Grab your balls and just get the flat done," I would tell him. This conversation would carry on frequently for a few years.

Finally, we got together once again. We checked out some shops in the area. Mike was now in the Army Reserves. He would get a regulation cut, but never would ask for a flattop. His reserve unit was in the town where I lived. We’d go to dinner. Our conversation would ultimately turn to him getting the long-awaited flattop. We ended up back at my house to watch television or a movie. As we sat on the couch, he’d reach over to rub my flat. "That feels so good."

"Are you ready? You know I’ve got the clippers."

"I want to get the flat in a barber shop."

"You know, Mike, it is getting harder and harder to find an old-fashioned barbershop which has only male barbers." He nodded his head. He knew. Even the military shops in town had both male and females barbers and used the vacuum system on their clippers. I was getting bored with his games about getting this flattop. I told him he needed to get this done and stopped playing. He got those hurt puppy dog look in his eyes. I felt like I had beat him.

Next month, we got together again. I had a plan for after dinner. As usual, we went back to my house after dinner. I knew that if I got the barber cape around him, he’d be putty in my hands. We were in the kitchen getting a drink. He saw the clippers on the counter. "What are those for?"

"For you to get a haircut." He looked at me. I wrestled his shirt off him, plopped him in the chair, and snapped the cape around his neck.

"I don’t want….."

"Be quiet, Mike. It’s time for you to get a cut. You’ve played with my affections for too long." I snapped on the Osters and began trimming his regulation cut. I tapered the back starting with the 0 blade. I went half-way up to his crown making sure that the hair was landing in his lap. Mike got real quiet. His face got red and he started to fidget in the chair. "Do I need to restrain you?" He shook his head and stopped moving.

I shoved his head to the right and took the clippers up through his short sideburns and began the fade by his temples. Again, I aimed the cut hair into his lap. "Oh my God! That’s a lot of hair!" he mumbled. I smiled and rubbed the stubbles. I reached under the cape and felt his hard on. "Evidently, Captain Mike, you are enjoying this cut!" I laughed. His face turned red.

I moved to his left side and repeated the cutting. Once I was finished, I turned off the clippers and rubbed the stubble left behind. I switched blades to work on his fade. Mike sighed. I could see movement under the cape as the hair slipped off his lap onto the floor.

I finally lifted his head up. I grabbed the scissors and took off about an inch on top. Mike had closed his eyes and was breathing deeply. He was in haircut heaven. I finished the cut. I spread shaving cream around his ears and his nape. I shaved him smooth and gave him some small arches. I unsnapped the caped. I stood him up and turned him to face me. "Next time, son, you’re getting that flattop whether with me or the barber. No excuses."

That flattop never materialized. Mike changed jobs and moved from Florida to Alabama. We still chatted and talked about him skipping out on getting his flattop.

Fast forward a couple of years. Mike and I chatted. I asked him since Flattop February was coming soon, was he ready to get his flat? I got the usual "I’m not sure if I can. I’ve got….." Fill in the excuse. Mike did send me a picture. He had been getting regular trims and keeping his ears exposed. That alone was a major step forward for him. He had grown out his beard which was a new look for him. "What brought about the beard?" I asked.

"I went snowboarding and got lazy about shaving."

"I like the look, Mike. It makes you look very rugged and handsome."

"Well, I like being clean-shaven. I need to get this off my face."

"So, when can I do it for you?"

"I’m not sure," came his reply.

I was now working close to where Mike now lived. We arranged to meet for dinner. I brought along my clippers. I was going to shave off Mike’s beard. After dinner, we went to Mike’s house. He had purchased a Koken barber chair for his den. He was proudly showing me his new find. He turned to face me, and I corralled him back into his own chair. Mike had a classic black pin-striped cape on the arm of the chair. I quickly grabbed the cape and threw it around him. I knew from past experience that once he had the cape on, he would be putty in my hands.

I reclined the chair, pumped it up so he was flat on his back. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Shaving your beard. Then we are going to talk about a haircut."

"I just got it cut two weeks ago," he mumbled.

"It’s not a flattop, Mike."


"Hush, son. We’ve talked about this for years. Time to grab your balls and do it."

I turned on the Osters with the 00000 blade and slowly began the clipping off of his beard. I turned his face away from me and made him close his eyes. I slowly removed his beard on both sides of his face. I tilted his head back further to get at his neck. He was breathing deeply. I knew he was enjoying this. I resisted grabbing his hard on. The next thing I knew, he had reached out from under the cape and was rubbing my own hard on. "I knew you loved this as much as I do," Mike stated as he opened his eyes to look straight in to mine. "You’re so bad," I told him.

I finished with the clippers. I ran warm water on the towel and wrapped up his face. After a few minutes, I put the lather on and began to gently scraped off the face fur. After a few strokes, I felt his cheeks to make sure that I had not missed anything. Mike has a very thick beard. I knew I was going to be shaving his face at least twice. I got the towel, wiped off the cold later; I rewet the towel with hotter water and put on Mike’s face. He raised his butt off the chair, but quickly calmed down. I reshaved him a second time. I rubbed his face and neck to make sure I had not missed any stubble.
I raised the barber chair upright. I straightened up the cape. I asked, "Are you ready for the flat?"

"No. Can we discuss this?"

"For another 5 years, bud?" Mike closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Time to grab your balls, my friend." I reached under the cape, grabbed his right hand and placed it on his balls.

I picked up the Osters, flicked them on and moved to his right sideburn. I slowly removed the hair up past his temple. I then felt the stubble left behind. "Don’t you love this feeling?" I asked. Mike didn’t say a thing.

I started with more swathes up high right side moving slowly around to the back of his head. As I pushed his chin into his chest, I rubbed the stubble more. He sighed deeply. I made the first pass up the back of his head going all the way to the crown. I made the second, third and more passes clearing off his hair.

"I guess it’s too late to tell you that I didn’t want a flat?" Mike asked.

I laughed and said, "That’s correct!"

"How does it look?"

"Looks great. Just what the doctor ordered for you!" I moved to his left side and repeated the same moves – taking off the hair, dumping the cut hair into his lap, and then rubbing the stubble.

Mike sighed again. I made him sit up straight in the barber chair. I also made sure he was against the back of the chair. I switched the blade on the Osters to a #1. I grabbed my comb and began to cut down his top. The first few passes were pretty ragged looking. I was glad Mike didn’t have a mirror by his chair. He would have freaked seeing the flattop in progress.

I really wanted to give him a horseshoe flat, but I knew that was way too short for him. After I had cut the top down, I got some Krew-komb and rubbed it into his hair. I grabbed a brush to begin getting his top to stand up. This was taking me more time than what I thought. More Krew-komb was applied followed by more brushing. Finally I had the majority of his hair standing at attention. I grabbed my flattop comb to make sure I would get a level deck on Mike’s head. I started with the comb not resting on the top of his head. However, as I cut his top, I knew I was going to have to go shorter and would have to bevel in his edges ever so slightly. I told Mike to keep his head in place and not move it. He followed directions pretty good for an Army boy.

I continued working on his top. Eventually I lowered the flattop comb onto his head, but there would be some length on his landing strip since I was using the #1 blade with the flattop comb. Mike was getting restless. "How soon are you going to be done?"

"What’s your hurry bud?"

"I want to see what I look like," he replied sounding more confident than when we first began. Mike’s flat was beginning to look really good on him. The cut was showing off his blue eyes. I finally finished. I pulled out the hand mirror and showed him his flat.

He got his lawyer’s face as he looked at himself in the mirror. "I don’t know if I like it," he finally said.

"Too damn late. I can’t put your hair back on."

"Why’d you give me the flat?"

"You’ve wanted it for years. I got tired of waiting on you. I decided it was time for you to get your flattop. Besides, Flattop February is only two days away." I took off the cape and released him from the chair. He went to the bathroom taking the hand mirror with him. There was silence.

He slowly walked back into the den, handed me the mirror, and said, "Why did you make me wait so long to get this flat?"

"Say what?" I was amazed.

"I like it. I should have done this sooner."

I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a hug.

He grabbed me by my balls and lead me back towards the bedroom.

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