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Clean Shave Part 1: Jeff's Story by Another Shaver


Jeff’s Voice

There is some adult content here, please don't read if that kind of thing bothers you.

It was getting to the end of the day in my shop, after an endless stream of mostly bland, non-descript cuts; plenty of businessmen getting their hair shaped up, some younger guys getting trendy undercuts or simple buzzes, but nothing really interesting. It had been a few weeks since I’d done a truly exciting cut, no massive transformations, cool mohawks, Viking cuts, things like that, and I really couldn’t remember the last time I’d shaved a head bald " other than my own of course " and I hadn’t even gotten around to that today because the shop was so busy.

I rubbed my hand across my stubbled head, feeling the sandpaper bristles that had replaced the normally silky-smooth skin. As fast as my hair grows, and as dark as it is, I really need to shave every morning to look my best, and a quick glance in the mirror told me I was certainly getting scruffy. I thought, "what the hell, I might as well do a quick shave now, and then close up for the day."

I pulled off my tank-top so that I wouldn’t get shaving cream all over it, picked up the bowl and started making some lather. I quickly worked it into a nice foam, and scooped a dollop of it out, and dropped it on my stubbled head. Picking up one of my nice badger brushes, I started lathering up. As normal, I started with broad sweeping strokes, then made a circular motion with the brush to really work it into my scalp, stopping at the line of my closed cropped beard. I generally buzzed that back to a number 1 every week days, and it was still pretty tight, so I didn’t need to do anything with my face.

As the clean, fresh smell of the soap filled the air, I noticed a guy standing outside the shop looking in. He had long sandy hair, falling well past his shoulders, and a thick beard. It was a ridiculously hot day, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt in the heat. His rippling chest was covered in a golden fur that matched the mane on his head. He had an amazing tattoo of a dragon that ran up his left arm, and under the mass of his hair. If I had a tattoo like that, I would have taken my shirt off at every opportunity as well.

He was staring at me as I lathered my head, and I thought, "maybe my day just got a bit more interesting." The way he was looking at me, I could tell he was fascinated. I set down the bowl and brush and went to the door and opened it.

"I’m sorry," I said. "I didn’t think I’d have any more customers today. Come on in and have a seat in the chair while I wipe the shaving cream off my head, and then we can get you fixed up. My name’s Jeff, by the way."

The guy looked a little flustered at that, like he was trying to decide, but walked in. He didn’t bother putting on the shirt that was hanging out of his back pocket but given that I was currently naked to the waist myself, that wasn’t too surprising. However, rather than sitting in the barber’s chair, he sat on one of seats in the small waiting area.

"I’m not in any hurry," he said. "I didn’t mean to interrupt you; I was trying to figure out if you were even open. My name’s Zach."

"Oh, yes, I am, for another 20 minutes. Just enough time to give you a good haircut. I can finish shaving my head after you leave."

Zach actually looked a little crestfallen at that, and another jolt of electricity went though me. He was clearly interested in watching me shave my head.

"I don’t mean to be a bother," he said, running his hand through his thick hair. I noticed the hair under his arm was a thick as that on his head. I was a sucker for a guy with good, but tidy, body hair.

"No bother at all," I replied. "But if you really aren’t in a hurry, maybe I’ll just finish the shave. That is, if you don’t mind?"

"Not at all," he said, just a touch too eagerly. He shifted in his seat in a way that told me other things might be going on down below as well. The day certainly was getting more interesting. I even let myself hope that if I played it right, I might get to take a razor to his head, or at least part of it. He certainly was staring at my head enough to tell me he was thinking about shaving his.

I picked up the bowl again and put the finishing touches of lather on my scalp. I picked up my straight razor and turned back to him, taking a seat in my chair, facing him. If he wanted to watch, I certainly was going to give him a good view. I put the razor up to my scalp and shaved a path through my stubble, going with the grain. I had let it go a little too long to just jump in with an against the grain shave right off the bat. I didn’t want to even risk a tiny bit of razor burn, the better my head looked after shaving, the more it might convince him to do the same.

"Don’t you need to look in the mirror to do that?" he asked.

I laughed gently and said, "When you’ve been shaving your head for as long as I have, you pretty much can do it all by touch."

"How long have you been shaving it?" he asked. While it seemed like he was just making conversation, I got the feeling there was real interest behind the question.

"The first time I shaved it was, oh, maybe seventeen years ago. I’ve been shaving daily for close to fifteen years now."

"That’s funny, you don’t look that old. I would have guessed you were about my age."

"I’m not," I replied, "I have been shaving daily since I was fifteen."

That elicited a shocked look. "Fifteen? You started losing your hair at fifteen." I guess he assumed that I didn’t have a choice in the matter. Then I realized he probably hadn’t seen me before the lather.

"Nope. I’m not losing it at all. If I didn’t shave it every day, it would be as thick as yours is."

"Then why do you shave it? I mean most bald guys I know don’t have an option. I’m just surprised that a guy with a full head of hair…"

"Would be bald by choice?" I finished. "I like it. I like how it looks, I like how it feels, and I really like shaving it. There is something so refreshing about cleaning the stubble off your head every day. It is almost meditative. You’ve never shaved your head then?"

"Oh God no," Zach replied, a bit too quickly. A flash in his eyes told me even though he had never shaved his head, he’d probably thought about it. "When I was a kid, my parents made me get a crewcut every week, #2 on the sides, #4 on the top. I hated it and started growing it out the second I left home. It’s been this length for about ten years now."

Nice, I thought, that means he is about the same age as me. The long hair made him look a lot younger.

"Why did you start shaving your head?"

"My dad was probably pretty much like yours, if he made you keep a buzzcut," I said. "When I was little, he used to buzz me down every couple of weeks. He wasn’t mean about it, and I am sure that he would have accepted me going longer, but I never really had any interest in that. During the school year, he’d buzz me to a #3 all over, every two weeks like clockwork. In the summer, he’d drop it to a #1, and buzz me once a week. ‘Summer is too hot for hair,’ he’d tell me. I never actually went to a barber shop growing up, because my dad was pretty good at giving haircuts. He’d cut the hair of all the kids on my block, and a lot of the dads as well. But he pretty much only knew how to give military styles, so my neighborhood generally looked like a military base."

"So, did you learn to cut hair by cutting your dad’s?"

I laughed. "Not really. My dad never had hair. I’ve actually never seen him with hair, even in pictures. He shaved his head when he was in the military, and never grew it back. To be honest, I can’t even imagine him with hair. When I was a kid, I’d always pester him to shave me so that I would look like him, but he told me to wait until I was older. Dad said, ‘there’s plenty of time for you to be bald, son,’ so I waited until I was a teenager.

"When I was 13, I asked him again. He was giving me my summer buzz, down to my usual #1, and I asked him if he would shave me, expecting him to say no like he always did. But this time he didn’t. He turned off the clippers and removed the guard. He said, ‘how about I cut it like this?’ I was so happy, and he buzzed me down to stubble. I loved it, but I still didn’t look bald because my hair is so dark.

"I asked him to shave it with a razor, and he said, ‘How about we leave it like this for a week, and see what you think? That will give you time to get a bit of color on it, and if you still really want to shave next week, I’ll take a razor to it. How about that?’ I was so excited, and I could hardly wait.
"All week long, I kept thinking about being shaved, and I think that is when I really started to want to be bald all the time. I sort of obsessed over it if I’m really honest. I’d cover my hair and try to imagine what it would look like when it was gone."

As I said that, I finished the first pass of my head, and had gotten it short enough to shave against the grain. Zach was really staring at my head now, and it looked like there was a bit of a bulge in his pants. However, I wanted to see how deep in this he was, if he wanted to get a cut and get out of there, or if he wanted to watch me shave my head for the second time.

"I can shave against the grain after I get you sorted out, if you’d like?"

"You’re going to shave it again?" he asked.

"Yeah. Let me get a little closer, and you can see the shadow of my hair. Plus, it’s not really smooth yet. I like it to be smooth as glass when I finish." I walked over to where he was sitting and bent my head down. "Take a look, see the little stubbs there?" As he peered at my scalp, I got a good look at his crotch. There was definitely something growing there, which made me smile. If this was turning him on, maybe I’d even be able to do more than give him a haircut.

"I see," he said, and he half lifted his hand up, then dropped it back.

"Go ahead and give it a rub, then you can really feel the difference once it is properly shaved clean."

He ran his hand over my head, and his touch was electric. I needed to be careful, or I’d be sporting a woody myself. I didn’t know if he was gay, or just turned on by the haircut, a fair number of straight guys are in my experience, and I didn’t want to cross any lines with him. However, he gently ran his hand back and forth over my scalp and bit his lower lip; he certainly was enjoying feeling my head, regardless of his orientation. He rubbed it for a bit longer than I would have thought he would, it was obvious he liked the feel of it.

"Feels good, doesn’t it?" He nodded. "It will feel even better when it is completely bald," I told him, standing up. "So, do you want me to cut your hair now? Or should I finish?"

"Finish," he said. "I’m really curious to see what it’s like after the next shave."

I smiled and thought, "hooked, now to try and land him."

I went back and re-lathered my head, with him watching every move. I picked up my Mach 5 razor. I showed it to him saying, "the straight razor is great for getting it down to the shortest stubble, and on a blonde guy like you, I would probably just use it for both shaves,’ his eyes darted, and his hand went to his hair. "No, I’m not going to shave you bald, unless you want me to, that is," and I laughed, "I’m just saying, guys with light hair don’t always need the Mach 5, especially if they shave regularly. However, with my dark hair, if I don’t use this, there will always be a bit of a shadow." I put the razor to my forehead, and started pulling it back in short strokes, turning back to rinse it in the sink after every stroke.

"So, you had your dad shave your head at thirteen?" he asked, obviously interested in hearing the rest of the story. Very good.

"Yeah. That was the longest week of my life, let me tell you. When the next Saturday came around, I went to the kitchen, and my dad had a razor and shaving cream next to the clippers. ‘I assume you want me to use this?’ he asked, holding up the razor. Absolutely, I told him, almost jumping into the chair. ‘Then let’s make you bald’ he said.

"And then he shaved me. It was genuinely the most amazing feeling I’d ever had. The scratching of the razor, and the way it felt gliding across my head, and then the way his rough thumb ran across the shaved path, checking for missed spots was incredible. I knew right then that this was how I wanted my hair to be, or actually NOT be, for the rest of my life. I couldn’t imagine not feeling that on a regular basis.

"That summer, my weekly cuts were head shaves, but when school rolled around, I needed to grow it out a bit. My junior high school had a dress code that didn’t allow hair shorter than a #2. Fortunately, my dad was happy to buzz me to that length every week, so that my hair was as short as I could get away with.

"The next summer, he didn’t even ask, he just took the bare clippers to my head, and then shaved me bald. As he spread the shaving cream on my scalp he said, ‘I assume this is what you want?’ Absolutely, I replied.

"After he shaved my head, he sat in the chair and handed me a razor. ‘Given that you like this haircut so much, I think you should learn how to give it.’ I was over the moon that he trusted me to shave his head. He walked me through it, how to lather his head, how to shave it, and I knew right then and there that I wanted to learn to be a barber. When I finished, he gave his head a rub and told me that ‘I’d done a better job than he did, and that, if I wanted to, he’d have me shave his head after he shaved mine. Shaving each other brought us even closer as father and son.

"He actually liked the shave I gave him so much that in the middle of the week, he grabbed the shaving stuff, and we shaved each other again. We wound up shaving each other every three days that summer. Sadly, when school started back up, I had to grow it back, but he told me that next year, when I was in high school, they didn’t have a hair rule, and I could keep my hair how I wanted it. Until then, it was back to the #2.

Over the course of that year, I realized how much I actually hated having any hair. The previous summer, with not having anything more than stubble, I felt so free. Even a short buzz now felt hot and heavy. I hated the way it felt to run my hand over it, and I really hated the way it looked. My dad completely understood, but there was little he could do to change it.

"I think out of sympathy, he stopped asking me to shave him when I had to stop getting shaved. He felt bad because he couldn’t shave me and figured I would resent him being able to still be bald, but I begged him to let me keep him shaved. If I couldn’t be bald, at least I could shave him. That year, he also started teaching me how to cut other people’s hair, and if someone who came to the house wanted a shave, I always got to do it. He’d tell them that I shaved better than any barber he’d ever been to. I don’t know if that was the truth, at least at first, but it made me feel really proud.

The next summer, we shaved each other the day after school ended, and at the end of the shaving, he gave me a little wrapped box. I opened it, and inside was a head blade, which is a special razor to make shaving your own head easier." I figured the guy would have no idea what one was. "It has little wheels that roll across your scalp, keeping the razor at the correct angle so it’s harder to cut yourself. A lot of guys who shave regularly use them.

"I looked at the razor and then at him, and he reminded me, ‘high school doesn’t care if you’re bald, so as far as I’m concerned, there is no reason to grow hair, unless you really want to.’ I told him I had no interest in ever growing it back, and he broke out in a huge grin. ‘That’s my boy,’ he said, giving me a big hug.

"Then he noticed I looked a bit sad, and he asked why, and I told him that I guess having this razor this means we won’t be shaving each other. He laughed and said of course not, we will still shave just like we have been, but your hair is so dark, you’re going to need to shave it every day if you want to look really bald. He rubbed his head, me, I can go a couple of days between. He gave me another hug, and that was it. I never had hair on my head again."

"At all?" Zach asked, squirming a bit again.

"Nope," I replied. "What I shaved off today is basically the longest my hair ever gets." I grabbed a cloth and wiped my now completely smooth head, savoring the feel of the rough cloth against my scalp. "I don’t think I have gone more than two consecutive days without shaving since then. I REALLY like being bald," I laughed.

"Feel it now," I said bending down. He again rubbed my head, running his hands over the entire thing. It felt really good, and I let myself imagine us rubbing each other’s bald heads, maybe just after waking up. The thought made me get hard, and I could tell he noticed. He kept rubbing my head for what seemed to be a long time, it was like he was savoring the feeling of my scalp. I didn’t pull back until he stopped, which he seemed to do a bit reluctantly.

"That feels really good," he said, "and it looks good on you."

"Thanks, that’s why I do it. I want to look and feel my best. Now hop up in the chair, and let’s get you the haircut you want." He did, and I noticed he was walking a bit funny, but then, so was I at this point.

I ran my fingers through his thick hair, pulling it back from his face. I noticed just how amazingly blue his eyes were, with the hair back from them. I also saw the dragon ran across his shoulder, and up his neck. His ears were also pierced, which had been hidden until I got the hair pulled back. I found myself desperately hoping I hadn’t misread the signs, because, if I could just get him to shave all, or at least part, of his head, he’d be the hottest guy I’d ever had in my chair. Other than his hair, he had everything I looked for in a guy, good muscles, nice body hair, blue eyes, a beard, tattoo, and pierced ears.

I thought I’d push the boundary a bit, so I asked him, "What’ll it be today, stud," just to see how he reacted to that word. He looked lost in thought, and either the word didn’t bother him, or he didn’t notice.

"Well, I just wanted a trim…" and he paused, taking a deep breath.

I ran my hands through his hair again, and finished the sentence, "but now, you’re not so sure."

Zach gulped and looked at me with a frantic, but also hungry, look in his eyes.

To be continued….




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