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The Cost of Speeding by Shant


I am sure there are several versions of this story, but it was fun to write, and I thought I’d try adding my own spin to it. Hope you enjoy. Shant

It was the beginning of spring break my last year of college. My parents bought me a sports car convertible as a graduation present for being in the top 10% of my class. I had already been accepted to the law school of my choice, so everything was really going fantastic in my life.

My parents told me that at first they were reluctant to buy me a sports car because they didn’t want me to end up driving too fast. They finally decided that I had always proven myself to be a very responsible person, and that it would be okay, because they trusted me.

It was definitely an extravagant gift, but I was their only child, and they were really proud that I had always done so well in school and had never caused them any problems, like a lot of my friends had with their parents.

Up to this point, I led a fairly, typical, normal life. I had one secret, however, that only a very few people knew about. I had an intense hair fetish. My hair was a deep auburn color with some blond highlights running through it. It was really thick and had great body. For as long as I could remember, I had always been in love with my hair.

My freshman year of high school I decided to start growing my hair long. I wanted to see how long I could possibly get it to be. By the end of my sophomore year, my hair was long enough to tie back in a manbun, and from that point on, no one really could tell how long my hair actually was.

I grew my hair the last two years of high school and then continued growing it all four years of college. I always wore it pulled back into a manbun because I didn’t want to attract the attention I would get if people saw how long my hair actually was.

This was my own secret pleasure. At night, after washing and drying it, I could sit in front of a mirror and really get off on my tremendous mane. I would brush it forever and then run my fingers through it over and over again.

I would tell myself how wonderful my hair was, and how much I loved it, and that no one even knew that I had such long hair. There were many evenings when I had some really fantastic times just pampering my own hair. I loved it so much, and was so glad that I was lucky enough to have it.

At the present time, it hung down to the middle of my back. I figured that I would keep growing it all through law school, and then eventually when I started applying for jobs, I would have to get it cut, but until then, I was going to grow it as long as possibly could.

I was on my way down to Florida for all the great parties that happened every spring break. I was somewhere in the middle of Georgia and I had the top down, and the stereo blasting, and was singing along with the music. Life couldn’t get any better than this I thought to myself.

All of a sudden, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a blue flashing light behind me. "Oh crap," I thought to myself. "I must have been speeding. I hope I can talk my way out of this. The last thing I need to do is tell mom and dad that I got a ticket the very first week I got the car."

I pulled over on the side of the road and the police car pulled up behind me. I saw this big, heavyset man get out of his car and approach my window.

He looked like he was incredibly out of shape and had his hair buzzed down super short. That worried me because I was a Yankee, in his state, and I doubted I would get out of this with just a warning.

"I need to see your license and registation," the policeman said. "Do you realize how fast you were going through that town back there? The speed limit is 35, and I clocked you doing 65!"

"I’m sorry officer, I really didn’t notice the speed limit sign. I promise that I’ll pay closer attention from now on."

"You need to follow me about two miles back into town so I can write up a report and give you a ticket," he said. I nervously followed him back to their little county sheriff’s office and hoped that this wouldn’t take too long."

As the policeman finished his paperwork, he said to me, "Well, son, the way I see it, you have a few options here. You can pay the $500 fine, and that will result in a mark on your license, which will increase your auto insurance, especially with you driving a sports car, or you can spend a week here in our county jail, not have to pay a fine, but still get the mark on your license."

"Are you serious? $500 for a speeding ticket just for driving too fast through a small town? That’s just about all the money I have on me for my vacation! Is there any way you can help me out with this?"

"There may be a third option, if you are willing, that would result in you not spending any time in jail, or paying any fine at all, and you can leave here without any mark on your license," the sheriff said.

"First, you need to take that hair of yours down so I can see if you have any hidden contraband in it. Believe it or not, but I’ve found a couple guys with long hair tied back like yours, that had bags of coke hidden in their manes. I guess they figured no one would ever think of looking there for any drugs."

I untied my manbun and let my hair cascade down my back. I knew that I was going to be in real trouble when he saw how long my hair was.

"Man, boy, you’ve got a lot of hair on that head of yours! No one would ever realize it was that long. It must have taken you years to grow it out to that length. You must really love that hair of yours, don’t you, boy?"

I didn’t know what to do. I just sat there and didn’t say anything and hoped that he was just trying to scare me and teach me a lesson.

"I didn’t hear you answer me, boy? Tell me about that pretty hair of yours. How much time do you spend each day pampering that beautiful mane of yours?" He continued running his hands through my hair, and sometimes got a little rough with it and pulled it. "This is really something, getting to bury my hands in all this thick hair of yours! I’ve never experienced anything like it! It really feels great!"

"If you just want to walk out of here and not have any record of this, all you have to do is get a haircut, and you’re free to go," he said, as he continued to run his hands through my thick, long hair. "I think that would definitely teach you a lesson."

The thought of this fat, old, redneck cutting my hair was so repulsive that I thought I was going to be puke.

"You want to cut my hair off? There’s no frigging way I’m going to let you do that! It’s taken me six years to get it this long and I’m not going to have you cut it! I’ll just pay the fine and get the hell out of here!"

"You just sit there and think about it for awhile." The sheriff reached into a drawer and pulled out a brush and started brushing my hair. "Man, this is really some awesome hair you have. I want to get it brushed out so that it’s all perfectly in place."

"We have a salon here that accepts long hair to make into wigs for children with cancer. They’re going to be thrilled when they get all this gorgeous hair of yours, that’s if you change your mind and decide to have me cut it all off."

"There might be one more option, if you’re interested," he said. He began to rub his crotch, and said, "If you’re willing to service me, and put a smile on my face, I might be willing to leave you with about four inches of that beautiful hair of yours, instead of cutting it all off."

"You need to make up your mind in a hurry, though, about what you want to do. My shift ends in another hour and the next guy that comes in won’t be anywhere near as nice to you as I am. It’s totally up to you."

I felt like I was in the twilight zone. I couldn’t believe that this was actually happening to me. I knew that I couldn’t bring myself to tell my folks about getting caught speeding.

I realized that the only real options I had were to either let this jerk cut all my hair off, or do what he wanted me to do, and get to walk out of here with four inches of hair still on my head. Four inches of hair would take about eight months to grow, and I definitely didn’t want to start law school looking like I had been scalped.

I had never had sex with a guy before and the thought of giving this guy a blowjob was disgusting, but what choice did I have? If I didn’t do it, I would leave with no hair at all. If I just put it out of my mind, and did it, no one would ever know, and I’d get to walk out of here with enough hair that I could get cut to still look good."

I said to myself, "Just do this and it will all be over in an hour. That’s a hell of a lot better than having to wait eight months to have four inches of hair again."

I closed my eyes and leaned forward, brushing my face up against his crotch. This wasn’t all that bad because he had his clothes on. Unfortunately, that was not all he had in mind.

He pulled down his pants, and said, "Boy, you put that pole of mine in your mouth if you want to keep some of that pretty hair of yours."

As I licked his dick, I was still able to watch him manhandling my hair in the mirror. "I don’t think I have ever seen a guy with hair this long before! It really is something to see!" he said. I could tell that he was really enjoying making me as miserable as he possibly could.

He continued brushing my hair and he then reached for his scissors and lifted up my forelock and starting in the very middle, chopped off my beautiful hair down to about four inches long. My hair was at least 24 - 30 inches long, and seeing him comb it all straight up and then cut off over 20 inches all at once was something I knew that I would never forget.

I really did think that I was going to be sick. I wanted to actually cry, but I was determined that I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me do that. I just sat there watching in horror as I saw almost all my hair being cut off!

He took each lock that he chopped off and placed it on the counter in front of me. He was careful to keep it all neatly stacked for the donation he was going to make.

"There, that doesn’t look that bad does it? I just have to even up your sideburns a little and we’ll be done." He placed the clippers at the base of my sideburn, and before I realized it, he turned them around, and ran them all the way to the top of my head!

"What are you doing? I thought you said you’d leave my hair four inches long if I did what you wanted?" I said. "Why did you cut all my hair off?"

"If you remember correctly, I said I might leave you with four inches of hair. I didn’t say that I would. I decided that you’re a pretty cocky fellow and you needed to be taught even more of a lesson. I doubt if you will ever forget this your entire life!"

"It may be different up north, but down here in the south, the town sheriff is the law. I seriously doubt you’re going to tell anyone you gave me a blowjob before I cut your hair!"

"I bet you won’t be speeding through any small towns anytime soon. Now grab your stuff, and get out of here."

"One more thing. When you come back from spring break, I’d suggest finding a different route back and not come through my town. If I see you, and you are going one mile over the speed limit, I’m going to drag you back in here and take the guard completely off, and buzz you down, shave your head, and you’ll leave here totally bald. Do you understand?"

I grabbed my stuff and got out of there as fast as I could. I made certain I didn’t go a mile over the speed limit on my way out of town. It was surreal what had happened and I knew that I would never be able to tell anyone.

This definitely was not how I expected spring break to start out. I looked in my rearview mirror and I could see I had practically no hair on my head at all! All those years of growing out my beautiful mane were gone! I doubted I would ever get to have my hair that long ever again!

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