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Heat of the Moment by The Baldest of Them All
(Hey everyone! I've always been a lurker here, quietly enjoying all the wonderful works this site has to offer. I've finally built up a bit of courage to post something of mine on here. It's more tasteless head shaving smut over substance that gets a little too... detailed in some parts for my own good, but I hope you enjoy it!)
After a twelve-hour shift at the construction site, Clayton returned to his car, shutting the door beside him and retreating from the seemingly endless hustle and bustle outside. He scratched his scruffy jawline as he yawned, rough and bristly with about two or so days worth of dense stubble. Beads of sweat were dripping down his face.
"Damn it’s hot," he cursed to himself as he turned the key to the ignition. The air outside was hot and oppressive, but the heat in the car was hellish. The A/C was broken, so he had no choice but to crack open the windows.
The ruggedly handsome hunk took off his hard hat, revealing a full head of dense, dark brown hair. It was sweaty from being under the hat for most of the humid ninety-degree day, but still impressive, nonetheless. With thick tresses brushed back loosely against his head and a widow’s peak almost as Herculean as himself, it wasn’t difficult to see why Clayton’s hair was the envy of any man. Every strand was so thick and strong. Thicker than three strands of the typical man’s hair put together. With his virility, it was a wonder he didn’t go bald, more so that he had hair as dense as this. He didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, yet in this heat, this blessing was a curse.
The drive home was short and relatively uneventful, aside from witnessing a few shows of heat-induced road rage. The traffic actually wasn’t too bad for that time of day, and by 6:30, he got home. The summer sun had only just started to set over the horizon. He dug around in his pockets for his keys, finally getting ahold of them and cracking open the door, only to be greeted by a blast of warm air.
Clayton kicked off his work boots and peeled the black crew socks off his feet. These big, musky dogs were howling. Between his body’s soreness, stickiness, and a heavy, sweaty saltiness to top it all off, he just wanted to take a cool shower.
In a few unhesitating motions, he took off his gray, sweat-dampened crew neck shirt. Under the fitted T-shirt, you could already see his impressive musculature and pelt of chest and arm hair, but taking it off truly revealed the extent of it. All 220 pounds of the beefcake were a sight to behold. His worn-out jeans, which he filled out all too well and wouldn’t last another week with him wearing them to work, made him wince as he struggled to pull them off of his well-muscled ass, thighs, and calves. Clayton had to do a lot of climbing earlier in the day to add to all the walking and running around he already did which caused the man’s inner thighs to chafe. Being so hairy didn’t help in the matter. It was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before though. A slathering of shea butter would soothe his skin, but he would need a lot of it with the size of his thighs. It was no surprise he went through a few jars a year. His briefs took a lot more than coaxing to come off as well, clinging to his big, round ass. Only with forceful hands did they finally come off.
Stripped out of his clothes, Clayton stepped into the shower. Despite setting the knob all the way to cold, warm water came trickling out of the shower head. Still, it was better than nothing. The stream felt pleasurable as it bounced off his skin. He poured some body wash onto a loofah and meticulously scrubbed every inch of his body clean. He massaged some shampoo into his hair with firm fingers, exfoliating his scalp and ridding it of the dirt and grime that had accumulated throughout the day. After five minutes, Clayton toweled off, starting with his hair and face, down to his chest and abs, legs and feet, and finally, cock and balls before wrapping it around his wide waist and stepping out of the shower. As the saying went, the towel would forget everything by tomorrow. The relief he felt from the shower didn’t last long though. Within a minute, he was back to feeling as muggy and uncomfortable as he did before.
'Maybe I’ve gotta get rid of some of this hair,' Clayton thought, looking at the dense pelt of fur that covered his chest. He’d been putting off grooming his body lately, but the heat left him desperate for any relief. He prepared himself for some manscaping, grabbing his grooming kit equipped with clippers, scissors, trimmers, and really, everything a hirsute man needed to look his best. He laid out some old towels on the floor, knowing that if he didn’t do this, he’d have a whole new shag carpet made of his fur. The damp towel that hardly fit around his waist slid off with ease.
Having done this hundreds of times meant that his hands could expertly tame the untamed in just under ten minutes. With a flick of a switch, the guarded clippers hummed to life. A firm, yet gentle hand guided the clippers across his chest and abs. He worked his way down to his legs, then back up to his arms. He lifted up a muscular arm, taking the clippers to his hairy pit and repeated with the other. Gradually, he subdued the beast that was formerly crossing the fine line between rugged and untamed and bent it to his will. Grabbing his cock with his free hand and cupping his balls, he ran the clippers across his loins. With a big pile of dark, coarse hair on the towels, the beast was finally tamed.
And yet, it didn’t feel like he tamed much of anything. Now, there was a new beast he had to battle. It wasn’t the first time this happened. He’d done this so many times, but there he was, standing in front of the mirror with his cock as hard and viscously dripping as the first time he'd ever trimmed himself. Not only that, but his body was as hot as ever. He was willing to do whatever it took to do whatever it took to find relief from the heavy heat. He knew what he had to do now—his head needed to breathe. With his dick in one hand and the clippers still in the other he began to jack himself off, skin gliding up and down the girth of his ten-inch shaft.
Almost unconsciously, he flicked the guard off the clippers with his thumb, the guard clattering to the floor and the vicious metallic teeth of the clippers now exposed. In the same motion, he flicked the switch of the clippers on and they hummed to life once more. His breaths were ragged and he couldn’t think clearly. He was too aroused by the sensation of clippers buzzing in his firm hand. In an uncontrolled impulse, he brought the clippers to the base of his widow’s peak, cold teeth kissing his forehead. In one swipe to the top of his head, thick, dark brown hair came falling onto his broad shoulders, and then to the floor.
'Oh f***!' he thought. What did he do to himself? As handsome as he was, he looked ridiculous with the middle of his head buzzed down and the back and sides as thick and long as ever. He couldn’t stop now. And he didn’t want to. His rock-hard erection was proof of that.
Fingers wrapped firmly around his meaty cock, Clayton continued to buzz away at his hair. More and more hair fell onto his shoulders and to his bare, muscular feet. Eventually, his former crowning glory was reduced to a mere millimeters-long stubble. Rough and bristly but dense, Clayton loved the way it felt against the palms of his hands. He couldn’t stop rubbing his head, which felt perfectly round beneath his fingers. He’d gotten buzzcuts before so this shouldn’t have been anything new, but never this short. This was different. With the dense stubble on his head as well as his face, he looked so brutally handsome.
Even with his hair decimated to near nothingness, Clayton’s head still felt hot, and his arousal hadn’t subsided. If anything, it only intensified. His fully erect, twelve-inch cock was monstrously veiny, and his balls were throbbing. There was only one thing he could do. With the can of shaving cream next to the sink, he lathered up his head and, with a fresh Mach 3 razor, began to scrape away at the dense stubble. Even at only a couple of millimeters long, his hair still proved to be thick and unyielding, putting up a struggle with the razor. But pass by pass with long, confident strokes with the grain, the razor eventually started to glide across his dome with ease. The sensation of the razor licking the skin on his head was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Each stroke of the razor against his dome brought him a stroke of his cock closer to cumming.
Clayton cleared the last of the lather off his head, and with that the last of his hair. He admired his handiwork in the mirror. Just half an hour ago he still had hair. Now he was completely bald, a gray shadow of where his hair used to be the only memento of the man’s former crown. He never imagined he’d be bald by the end of the day, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. The look suited him well. He had a great head of hair before, sure, but now there was nothing to distract from his ruggedly handsome, stubbled face. Long-lashed steel blue eyes, defined nose, fine lips, chiseled jawline and cheekbones, well-hewn chin and all. Except for his big, bald dome, of course. Maybe the baldness would be more distracting. He certainly was.
Clayton just couldn’t keep his hands off his dome. Between rubbing his cock-head and head-head, he was about to cum. He expected his dome to be as smooth as polished wood with its perfectly bald appearance. And it was, but only when he rubbed his hand with the grain. Against the grain, his head still felt sandpapery as his hand dragged against it. And so Clayton lathered up his head again, this time shaving assertively against the grain—from the shadow of his widow’s peak-back, to the sides of his head-up, to the back of his head-up. In time, the man’s right hand expertly adapted to the new terrain, following all the contours of his head, and finished in just under two minutes—all the while still jacking himself off with his left.
"F***!" he yelled with the last of his restraint and ragged breaths as he came right into his palm. It was a big, virile load—not a surprise with how massive his balls were from being bridled up all week. Clayton alternated between lathering the warm, viscous white liquid onto his scalp and taking short, uneven strokes against the grain in a carnal attempt to rid his head of any of the last vestiges of his hair. He could hardly control the razor in his state. Beads of sweat dripped down from the top of his head to his brow and some down to his lips, licking them thirstily as he shaved.
After a few last strokes with the Mach, Clayton was finally done. Brushing what was left of the hair off his shoulders, he was still rock-hard, but his heartbeat was starting to slow and the urge to take the razor to his scalp again was becoming more and more controlled. He looked at himself in the mirror and admired his work. His finger ran smoothly along the top of his forehead where the strong V used to be. If it wasn’t for the dense shadow and tan line against his tanned face, it would’ve been as if he’d never had a hair on his head in his life to begin with. It was a stark contrast from the full head of thick, lustrous dark brown hair that took three shaves before finally yielding to the razor. The mixture of shaving cream, cum, and sweat left his head glistening, but sticky to the touch as he ran his hands over it. He needed a shower.
It really was surprising how sensitive Clayton’s scalp was. There was a certain intensity that came with a bald head. It was something that he never would’ve experienced when he still had hair. It was as if he could feel every drop of water from the shower ricochet off his head, or every motion of his rough, calloused hands rubbing lotion onto his scalp. Everything around him was a new sensation to experience, and every time he did, he’d get hard. He needed at least a year to explore his baldness, maybe more. He’d need to stock up on shaving cream and razors and get rid of all his hair products. But these were thoughts for tomorrow. Tonight, with his head finally able to breathe, rubbing against a cool pillowcase and in the caress of firm fingers, he lived in the moment and fell into a deep sleep. He couldn’t imagine ever having hair again.