SHANE THE BARBER
By Dudley Jarvis-North
Why, oh, why can't I get the same haircut twice is my lament after laying out $45 for a mediocre trimming that looks lopsided and not close to what I wanted. I resolve to find a new barber. There is no shortage in the South End of Boston.
Enter Shane.
On my way to the Boston Sports Club I spy a young haircutter smoking a cigarette in front of a shop that just opened on Washington Street. I sidle up and ask if he has any appointments, that my hair got butchered and could he fix it?
"Can you come back at 2?" he asks.
It's a date, I think to myself.
Shane is likely of Irish stock; pale skin, a smattering of freckles, a sneer on his face and a twinkle in his eye. I'd guess late 20s, about 5 feet 6, long brown hair tied in a bow. Not thin but not beefy. He's a tweener -- not a muscle dude but not slender. I can't tell how fine his body is because his sweatshirt is two sizes too big and his jeans are so loose they droop below his hips. If he has a bubble butt, his pants aren't telling. I want to assess the bulge in his jeans, but no luck there either. I can see polka dot boxers extending from his droopy jeans up to his belly. They deny any view of a treasure trail. But Shane's naked arms are in my face -- densely covered in tattoos. He's a white kid who wants to be a black kid or a redneck -- that's what his clothes are saying.
It's now 2 o'clock, my workout completed. I sit in his barber's chair enjoying his breath scent -- part beer and nicotine plus weed as he closes into my face. "I see what happened to your hair," he says, grabbing tufts of it and not waiting for instructions. "It's fixable, but we'll need to go much shorter?" He doesn't wait for me to nod OK.
Anything Shane wants to do is fine as long as he lets me take in that tantalizing smell. He's exactly what I find alluring in young guys -- directness, boldness and a bit of seediness. His jeans haven't been washed in several days. They smell of tobacco and who knows what else. We make small talk while he's buzzing the sides, and I notice an Aries astrological symbol on his right hand.
No wonder he's so take-charge. I mention his sign and he says, "Yep, April 15 -- I just had a birthday last month. I'm a perfect Aries."
I'm looking in the mirror and liking Shane's work. I tell him so.
"I'm giving you my best daddy haircut," he says, winking at me. Oh ... he knows about daddies.That's a vote that he's gay. I start to melt.
"There you go, mister," he says. I pay the $40 and hand him a $10 tip, thanking him for straightening things out. I tell him I'll be back and he nods.
Four weeks later I am again in the seat breathing in his tobacco breath as we gab about nothing. For a nonsmoker, I oddly appreciate the smell of nicotine. Or maybe I just appreciate Shane. I ask if he's Irish and he smiles. "Both sides -- how did you know?"
"I grew up in Boston -- how would I not know," I want to say but don't.
"Just the look you have," I answer without elaboration. "You look like the boys I hung out with as a kid. He gives me a knowing smirk. He knows that I'm smitten by him.
Shane has the palest skin but dark brown eyes and eyebrows set close together that work beautifully with his coloring. His lips are pink and full. His face is square with prominent cheekbones. He isn't model handsome -- not obviously so. He's more brimming with so much sensuality that he's totally desirable. Perhaps his dark eyes spring from the Spaniards who found their way to Ireland with the doomed Armada and copulated with Irish lasses. Black Irishmen are a different animal from other Irish boys.
I mention that he is giving me the same excellent haircut as last time, the main reason I went looking for a new barber. I compliment him. "Is business back to normal?" I ask, "now that Covid seems to be in hand?"
"Not really," he says, "lost a few clients; just getting by, truth to tell."
I see an opening, but I'll need to reveal the dirty old man inside. "Do you ever do private cuts at a guy's home?" I ask.
He looks puzzled. He's not sure what I'm saying.
"I mean you are so good at cutting hair, do you ever do manscaping?"
There I said it, hoping he isn't offended.
"Oh, that''s what you mean," he chuckles, obviously not offended."I trim my own crotch, but I haven't done it to another guy ... yet. Why ... are you interested? I'll do it for the right price. Times are tough."
Jesus, now my palms are sweating.
"Cool, I say. "I really need it done. I tried to myself a couple of months ago, but I botched it. So whatever you charge is fine."
Am I kidding? I'll pay anything he asks.
"How about $100?" His Aries "do it now" personality rises to the occasion. "I can do the front and also the back if you want."
I'm amazed at how easily my proposition has been received and hope he'll let me see the manscaping he has done on himself so I can judge his work. Should I ask if he'll pull down his boxers and show me right now? I'm such a lecher around him.
We set a date for Friday, his off day. I write out my address and cell on his business card.
It's Friday afternoon; the buzzer jolts me out of my post-coffee lethargy.
Shane has a sheepish grin on his face as he pulls off his green Celtics hoodie. As his T-shirt moves upward, I can see a treasure trail of black hair making a thin line on his white tummy. He is wearing silver satin basketball shorts, loose and low-slung at the hips. They hang down to his knees. I can see the top of his boxers.
"Do you have any beer?" he brusquely asks. I'm sweaty in this heat."
I fetch a Sam Adams.
I'm amazed at his cool demeanor given the obviously sexual possibilities inherent in this visit. He sits on the sofa and puts his feet on the coffee table without a care in the world.
"I need another Sam Adams," he growls. He is a fast drinker.
He empties that one straight away and holds the empty bottle and points to the fridge as I scurry to oblige him. He is in full bossy mode and I'm glad I replenished my supply of beer.
The beer has made his voice deeper and bolder. Out of nowhere he barks, "I need my boots off. My feet are hot. You can take them off for me." I'm taken aback by his commanding directness, but feel my dick harden.
I kneel at the coffee table and reach for the laces. His boots are black and unpolished. I loosen the laces and shimmy his right boot off, which resists but eventually relents. "Good," he sighs, "now get the other one off."
Shane's heavy foot stink wafts through his wool socks. He lifts his right foot and plants it on my face. "I knew you were going to be my foot bitch," he says, presumptuously or perhaps presciently. I hope he knows that my lust for him doesn't stop at his feet.
"I could tell by the way you sized me up -- how your eyes opened wide, how your tongue licked your lips, how you looked at my body that first time you came to the shop," he says. "I knew you wanted me."
Shane's fiery energy dominates the moment. I grasp his ankle and lick his sock. "That's right, get it wet. Completely." After 10 minutes, his sock is soaked.
"Now take off my sock," he orders. Then he pushes the lily white bottom of his foot onto my face. It smells strong.
"Take my toes in your mouth." When I hesitate as I look for evidence of foot funk, he raises his voice. "Now."
I push my lips over his right toe and lick it with my tongue. "That's it; wet my toe -- now suck on it --the way you would suck on my dick."
He knows me too well. My mouth grips it firmly as I fantasize about his dick.
"That's it -- keep doing that -- if you please me, you might get something bigger to suck on."
That prompting works as I lick up and down and let my nose breathe in his toe funk.
"That's a good boy," he says, although I am 20 years older. "If my toe had the ability to cum off in your mouth it would have."
Suddenly, he pushes me off him and stands up. "OK, that's over for now," he says. Let's do what I came here to do." Shane is a man of sudden moves.
I am disappointed, having lost all interest in getting my pubes trimmed in favor of servicing him. But he's adamant. "Strip. Let's see what I've got to work with."
I take off my clothes except for my white briefs. He moves closer and grabs the elastic band and rips them off me. They are now one long strip of cotton. "Stand there while I have a look." He places his hands under my balls and lifts them up. Then he orders me to turn around as he spreads my cheeks. "You're really hairy. I brought my clippers, but I'll need more than clippers to do this right." I'm not sure what he means by "right.".
He heads to the bathroom, returns and lays a beach towel on the living room floor. "Lie down."
My uncircumcised penis is tumescent from a combination of anticipation and excitement. He pulls his clippers out of his backpack and before I know what's happening, he has totally sheared the right side of my crotch."
"I'm using a No. 1, just like I use on your head," he says. He grips my dick and balls and pulls downward as he buzzes away all the hair above my dick. He then takes my balls in hand and works on them.
"You look better already," he says. "Your junk is impressive-- not sure why you hide it behind all that hair."
"Shane," I blurt out. "I just wanted some manscaping. You're taking most of my hair away."
"Correction," he harrumphs. "I'm taking all of your hair away. When I'm finished, you'll be completely smooth, including your ass."
I don't know what to say, but there is no mistaking what my dick likes -- it is hard.
When he finishes with the hair around my balls, he orders me to lift my legs. He grabs my ankles and takes a pillow from the sofa and edges it under my butt.
"That should work," he says. "hold your legs up like you're getting fucked."
If only, I think to myself.
Shane has a clear view of my hairy ass. He starts at the cheeks and trims those before he moves toward my crack and hole. I watch how close his face is to my ass.
"Jesus, you have a hot butt," he says, then ruins it by adding, "for an old guy."
His hands continue to work on liberating my butt from its former appearance. I suppose it's unrecognizable, but he doesn't pull out a little mirror to show me, the way he does at the shop. He brushes his hand up and down the crack and pronounces, "Now, we're ready for the final step."
"To the bathroom," he barks. This could get messy." He removes his T-shirt, much to my delight. He has a toned upper body and pec muscles but not too big or unnatural -- toned and worked out. His arms are full of tattoos but they stop at his shoulders. His chest has a smattering of hair that's thicker between his pecs.
"That's better," he says as he opens the medicine cabinet and pulls out a can of Barbisol. He douses a washcloth with hot water and sets it on my crotch. He waits a minute before he lathers me with rich shaving cream.
He pulls a straight razor out of his backpack and goes to work, whistling as he glides the sharp edge along the top of my crotch, pulling my dick away from the path of the razor. He leaves the water running in the sink and rinses off the blade.
"This looks good if I do say so myself. Every bottom needs a good top to shave his pubes," he says with a wink. He then grabs my foreskin and pulls it. "Maybe I should circumcise you while I'm at it," he says, moving the blade in a circle in the air, amusing himself, although I'm not laughing.
Shane moves to my balls, gripping them gently and razor-shaving them to a pink smoothness. "Lift up your legs again. Your ass is going to need a lot of attention and I need to concentrate and not slice you up."Right," I think with a shudder. "Grab under your knees and hold up your legs." He takes the warm washcloth and pats my hairy crack.
"Your ass will look good enough to fuck, if that's your thing," he says with a sneer. He well knows it is my thing if it's his dick doing it. He has a way of titillating me, then deflating me.
He has finished his work. "Now, that's what your ass should always look like," he gloats as he rubs my smooth crack using his finger to push the imaginary button at my hole.
I break my silence by blurting out a non sequitur.
"Shane, do you like girls or guys? I'm having trouble reading you."
"Dude," he says with mock surprise, "I like everyone, not exactly answering my question. "I like pussy, but I can't stand the bullshit that comes with dating women. My last girlfriend wouldn't do anything fun, wouldn't suck my dick; said it was too fat and hurt her mouth."
He throws in a tantalizing addition. "By the way, I love getting my dick sucked. She wouldn't swallow my cum -- quel surprise! She thinks dicks are dirty. She thinks men are dirty. She wanted me to shower four times a day.And her pussy -- unlike yours, I bet -- was so loose I couldn't work up enough friction to cum -- and I'm not exactly small down there,"
Shane looks exasperated after this torrent of complaints. "I once asked her to eat my ass and she threw me out of her apartment." He tosses out another aside:"You should know I love getting my ass eaten."
Shane has just told me two of his hottest sexual secrets and hinted at the tightness of my butt. He's right.It is. I haven't been fucked in many months.
He notices me staring at his crotch. "You wanna see it, don't you, dirty old man," and he unbuckles his belt. His satin shorts slide to the floor, leaving his old-fashioned boxers in my line sight. I'm salivating at what is to come, but he stops there and grabs my ripped Jockey briefs.
He moves his body close to mine and says, "Lean over and put your hands above your head. We might as well make this more interesting." He places the tube of cotton around my wrists, wraps it around me and and ties it tight.
I have never been tied up before. I feel vulnerable but incredibly excited. What does he plan for me?
"There," he says, "now I can do anything I want and you can't do a thing about it.".
He pushes me backwards and straddles my face with his boxers so close I can taste them. "Take a deep breath," he commands. "I'm tired of you drooling over my crotch. Now you can actually smell it. I've been wearing these all week. I bet you love stinky underwear."
He isn't lying. I can smell their potency. They are teeming with sweat, piss and manjuice and I am a slave to those scents. He pulls me up from my sitting position and tells me to get on my knees. "I want your mouth to worship my undies."
I will do anything he wants.
He runs his fingers along his wet shorts and traces a line along my mouth. "You have nice lips, he says, "My dick and ass love nice lips."
His boxers are drenched with my spittle, but, much to my chagrin, he has made no effort to pull out his dick, although I can see that it is hard, the outline showing through the cotton.
I know you want my dick badly," he teases, "but let's see how well you handle my thumb," and he pushes it into my mouth. "Suck my thumb, suck it good."
I'll do anything to get his dick in my mouth. My mouth draws his thumb in deep as I use my best technique to please him. He adds his index finger to his thumb and pushes in and out of my mouth so hard I almost gag. He grips my tongue and pulls on it.
"You're doing really well, old man," he says, again making me excited, putting me down, then exciting me again. "My dick is kinda thick, ya know, so I want to get you ready.
Then he looks away. "I have an idea," he says, reaching over to his backpack and pulling out a large black handkerchief, the kind some use as masks during the pandemic.
"I'm going to blindfold you. I am going to let you taste it but not see it." Suddenly, I am in the dark and unsure if I like veering from seeing him naked.
I feel the rustle of his boxers being pulled down and am heartbroken that I can't see his balls, his pubic hair, his dick that he has hinted is sizable.
"But I want to see you," I bleat.
"Stop whining," he barks. "Shut up and smell my crotch."
His hand pulls my head onto his pelvis and I can feel his pubic hair scratching my lips and nose. Shane might like his conquests to be shaved, but he himself has a generous bush.
"Isn't this better?" he taunts, having to use your other senses instead of staring at my meat? You'll realize how ripe I am by using your nose."
I'm not sure I agree, but I make the best of it. I use my tongue to "measure" his dick length and girth. His dick is hard against his stomach as I lick up from his balls to the top.
Shane is circumcised -- that was easy to tell as I tongue the helmet and work my way around the circumference. Shane is thick. I can tell that also. I'm not sure about his length, but I believe he is on the short side -- 5 to 5 1/2 inches, actually the perfect size for me to deepthroat.
He apparently has read my mind. His hand takes hold his shaft and he pushes it into my mouth. "Take it," he orders. "You've been dreaming about it."
He is absolutely right. I've jerked off a few times to thoughts of servicing him, and now I have his dick where I want it. I can see in my mind his perfectly cut fat Irish dick dripping with precum as it sits on my tongue. He seems to have a lot of precum.
"Get your nose in my pubic hair and hold it there... smells great, no?
Smells like heaven. His hair feels bristly and smells raunchy as it scratches my nose and cheeks.
"Sniff the head of my dick now, as he pulls himself out of my mouth. "Use your sense of smell and taste. Size queens like you gay boys get so wrapped up staring at a dick that they forget they have other senses."
The size queen crack and his reluctance to show me his dick make me wonder if he is self-conscious that his dick is on the short side. Perhaps one of his bitchy girlfriends razzed him about it.
Shane runs his dick under my nose, pushing it to my nostrils. "How does it smell? What does it taste like, Clarice?" He is imitating Hannibal Lector in The Silence of the Lambs, even though he is the one who wants to be eaten.
I've never done this before -- enjoyed a dick without having seen it, but I try to answer honestly.
"Shane, it smells strong-- sweaty, pungent. I'm picking up old cum flavor and I guess piss. It's very manly.But it wasn't in my mouth long enough to judge taste; you pulled it out before I could get a line on it."
"Good review, dude. I did shoot off last night and I let my cum dry on it. Plus, I haven't showered today. That's what you're tasting. I think you love a dirty dick."
He rubs the head over my lips. "Keep your lips closed," he orders. "I'm marking them before I let you suck it.You make my dick so hard."
I love that he's ordering me around, telling me what to do. I only wish I could see his penis thrusting upward from his balls, but this will have to do.
"I'm leaving my dick where it is," he says, "so you'll always remember my scent," another sop to Aries ego."Yeah, I know you badly want to suck it, though,"he teases me."Tell me how badly you want to suck it."
"Shane" --I have decided to lose my pride --"please, please let me suck your cock. I've waited all this time."
He uses his hands to pry my lips open. I feel the impressive crown enter my mouth. "Suck the head, man, just the head."
It is large and feels longer than the average cockhead -- it feels a lot wider than the shaft.I am forced to use my mouth to make these assessments. He tastes ripe and a little gamey, cummy, pissy. I'm getting into the sensation of tasting without seeing. Also I'm cool with his mind games. He is so hot.
I vigorously suck him, lathering him as he pulls my head onto him and doesn't let go. Shane is making cooing noises and coaching me.
"That's it, grip my dick with your mouth. Use suction. That's what I like. I'm going deep inside.I can tell you've had a lot of practice."
Shane grabs my hair and thrusts his dick all the way inside. I resist the need to gag by breathing through my nose.
"You have no idea how good that feels," he says. "Now I know why I only let guys suck me off. I wasted years waiting for girlfriends to do it the way you do."
I'm happy to get his compliments. I worked hard to perfect my skills and I want him to enjoy them.
Shane turns it up a notch, fucking my mouth without prejudice, punishing my throat. His thick tool more than makes up for its shortness as it fills my mouth completely and pushes against the inside of my mouth. Another bonus is that his precum is plentiful seeping out of his piss slit. There is so much that a couple of times I thought he had actually cum.
"Open that mouth all the way," he commands. "You wanted my Irish dick, now act like it's the last dick you'll ever suck. Make this your best blowjob ever."
Suddenly his voice gets higher. "Dude, you are an incredible cocksucker. I am getting close. I can feel my cum rising from my balls. Tell me, do you want my cum more than anything in the world?"
It is a question I can't answer as his dick is blocking my vocal cords. I can feel his mushroom cap pulsate -- and then, even though I'm ready, I'm shocked at how much thick juice hits the back of my throat and slams against my tonsils -- shot after shot of young Irish cream.
"I want my complete load in your belly and none on the floor. Don't spill any or I'll kick your ass," he threatens. "It's a privilege to get my cum."
On my end, I have no choice but to swallow. He warned me not to spill his precious seed. Before I let it slide down my throat, Itaste it. I do feel privileged. His cum tastes sweeter than anyone's I can remember. It's not too very salty, not overly starchy, although there is possibly a hint of nicotine from his habitual smoking. But that could just be my imagination. As his cum graces my belly, my mouth is left with the residual flavor of flavorful cream.
"Shane, could you take off the blindfold?" I meekly ask. "Please. I really want to see your dick. I just want to -- I bet it's beautiful."
He unties the handkerchief covering my eyes. And there he is standing tall. And there it is, drooping out of the fly of his boxers. It is a perfectly circumcised example of young American manhood.
I crawl on my knees toward him. When my face is an inch away, I look up at his smug face and say, "I'm ready for more, Shane."
He looks down at me and smirks. "Dirty old man. You can do the back this time." And he turns around and lowers his boxers to his ankles. He pulls my head onto his ass. "Hope you like it sweaty."
Thanks, guys, for reading my stuff. As you know nifty.org relies on donations for writers and readers to keep this site viable. Please be generous and contribute.
Other stories I've posted are in Encounters: The Bass Player, The Pact (both Sept. 13,'17), James (Jan. 26, '18), At the Underwear Rack (2 parts,
April 23 `19). Aleksandr (Aug. 19 and 21, 2020). In Urination there are Drink It (2 parts, Sept. 24,'18) and Lesson at Rock River (Nov. 6,'18); In Adult Youth, Aaron's Basement (Jan. 12,'18); In Authoritarian, Taken in the Woods (May 28,'18), Forced Reenactment, Nov. 12, Dec. 14; The Punishment that Wasn't (Feb. 9, April 2 2020); In Camping, the 4-part Camping with Josh (Sept. 24, 18) and in High School -- William the Great (3 parts, Jan, 16, '19). In Incest, How Did My Bro know, March 16 '20)and Greek Reunion (July 17'21)
Be glad to hear from you if any of these stories excite you.
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