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My Man Bill by M DeMarlo

My Man Bill: by M DeMarlo

Looking at myself in the mirror I was totally transformed from long shoulder length hair to a short military haircut. What was I going to say to my family and friends? Why did I let him talk me into this? He said none of my friends would see me, and so what if they do. It’s not the end of the world. But a short haircut in 1973 to a rock-n-roller long haired guy is like the most nerdy thing that could happen. It all started last week when Bill and I were spending the night together in a motel room.

Bill is in his early 30’s and a former Marine. I am 18, just out of high school. I met Bill hitchhiking through the suburbs of Detroit. I remember getting in his car and those hazel eyes on a handsome face took my breath away. We had driven only about a half mile and he put his hand on my leg. It was obvious I had an immediate erection when he touched me. He pulled over and we kissed making out for a while. Then he got a room for us and we slept together.

Bill was in the process of a divorce who’s wife would not understand. I lived with my parents. So, the two of us would get a motel room twice a week, sometimes three times, we could not get enough of each other.

Bill is a handsome guy, tall, dark and good looking. He discharged honorably from the Marines a little over a year ago. He showed me a few pictures of him clean shaven and with his high & tight military haircut. Dam was he handsome. His hair now is sporting a neat earlobe length side parted haircut, the mod look I guess one would call it. He also had a moustache now that is trimmed nice and neat. Even with his hair grown out and a moustache it is still obvious he is a Marine. The way he walks, talks, his values. He is the more dominant one in our relationship, no mistaking that.

I got drunk one night and don’t remember what I said to him but the following night together he tied me up and spanked me into submission. Calling him Sir activated him sexually at a whole different level.
This was around the time he asked me to come with him down to Bayview Texas. Sure I told him. He corrected me by reminding me to say "SIR", and so I did. "Yes SIR, I would like to go down to Bayview Texas with you. So it was settled, we would leave for Texas the next week.

When he picked me up at my parents house this last time to go to a motel I was shocked when I saw him. Bill had just left a barbershop and he now had a very short haircut. Skin was showing on his sides and back, still parted on the side but cut short, less than two inches neatly combed and held in place with wax.

I told him how nice he looked with a fresh clean cut haircut. He responded by telling me that we will be getting you a crewcut, not to worry that none of my friends will see me. "Its what I want, how I want you to look, how you are going to look. You understand me"? He was really serious, and it was turning me on. "Yes Sir, I want to make you proud of me, Sir" A big smile lit up Bill's face "that’s my boy, once we get you a haircut we will keep it short. You're going to have a crew-cut until I say otherwise.

The day came for us to leave for Texas and we were on the road. At a rest stop he produced some blue jeans that were not bell bottoms along with a button down shirt with a collar, and told me to tuck it in. My sandals were put in the trash, and replaced with a pair of boots. "Lets get you in the barbers chair", and he knew of the perfect barbershop for my haircut.

A spinning lit barber's pole outside on the porch of an old shack or tool shed turned into a barbershop. One window that had a sigh that said "look better feel better, get a haircut" and another sigh saying "expert l military haircuts" and a third sign that said "specializing in CREW-CUTS, FLATTOPS AND ALL MILITARY HAIRCUTS" I had severe butterflies in my stomach. My knees felt weak walking into the barbershop. Obviously it was me going to get my haircut because Bill had a fresh haircut that looked like he just left a barbershop. An older barber wearing a white barbers jacket, with a short military flattop, severe. "I don’t do any long hair styling. I can give you a haircut but the style will be one of the haircuts pictured on a poster he pointed at. The poster was from the 50’s or early 60’s. There were pictures of short clipper haircuts all over the walls. The pictures were taken right here in this barbershop, still sitting in the barbers chair. Which was black leather and white steel. Two matching chairs that looked like they were from the 1920’s. Each chair had a large mirror on the wall in front of the chair and one behind along with a shelf holding jars of blue liquid full of combs. Under the shelf was another shelf that had a display of metal clipper blades in all different sizes, barber shears and thinning scissors along with clubman hair tonic, a jar of pink wax and other products used in grooming mens hair. Hanging on hooks were five clippers hanging in proportion from large to small.

I was motioned by the barber to have a seat in his chair, and so I did. He shook out a black and white pin striped cape and covered me with it. Fascining a neckstrip around my neck tightly lifting the long hair above it was not to get caught. Then fascinating the cape folding down the neck strip so no hair will get down the back of my shirt. Patted me on the shoulder and asked me how short we were going today. Bill stood up and spoke for me "Give him a crew-cut, tight on the sides and back leave a flat waxed bump. I was about to say something and Bill lifted his finger to his lips with a motion for me to be quiet.

I heard a click behind me followed by the whirling sound of rotary clippers coming to life. The barber lifted the long hair at my nape and fed the teeth of the Oster 76 clipper with a 1 ½ blade on it to mow up the back of my head all the way up and over my crown. He did this over and over again as the back of my head felt cooler, I could feel the wind from the overhead fan. My head felt lighter as he moved to my left side, the clipper right on my skin plowing it up high to where my head curves. This was repeated over and over bending my ear down and going around and over the ear making sure no hair was left. Then moved over to my right side and repeated the same.

Behind me I heard the clippers make a higher pitched sound and then returning to the same unmistakable sound of Oster 76, this time with a # 1 blade and up the back of my head just short of where he previously clipped. Doing the same on the sides. Spraying the remaining hair on top of my head with water making it dripping wet he combed it straight down onto my forehead, it reached my upper lip. With long pointed barber shears he snipped my bangs off high up on my forehead, about two inches above my eyebrows. Then stood behind me and began lifting and cutting, over and over. Once again the clippers came to life and he put the clipper about an inch behind my hairline and clipped the hair off on top of my head down to ¼ inch leaving the small amount of short cut fringe in the very front. He applied some wax and lifted it straight up and then snipped it off flat. Warm shave cream and a straight razor shaved arch up and around my ears and neck. I looked like I was 15, and smelled like a fresh haircut. The barber made the offer of letting him take my picture for his wall collection and no charge for the haircut. Three pictures were taken from the front, the side, and the back. He undid the cape and suggested a weekly visit for maintenance otherwise it will look sloppy. Bill was overjoyed and loved the haircut. Back in the car he rested his arm alongside the seat and constantly rubbed the back of my head.

We checked into a motor lodge for the night about halfway to Texas. Bill kept eyeballing my haircut. He said a white shirt and a tie is going to look nice. I rolled my eyes and said I was going to shower. The water running behind me steam was making the mirror foggy. I wiped a clean spot and stood there staring at myself thinking "what am I going to tell people, not that it's anyone's business. This is one short haircut, especially transforming from long shoulder length to a crew-cut. Bill barged into the bathroom and said "you look good, sexy boy, and your keeping the haircut just the way it is right now is how it will be maintained. "Yes Sir", and I woke up realizing this was the third time I had this dream. I felt my hair and almost screamed out loud. But silently my mind raced thinking "it wasn’t a dream at all it really happened, I have a crew cut" The movement on the bed awoke Bill and he said "what's the matter, did you have a bad dream"? I replied snuggling up next to him with a raging hard-on "Not a bad dream, it was a near wet dream" He felt the back of my clipped head, kissed me and reminded me of how much he likes that haircut. End

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