I had been feeling up and, on occasion, clumsily fucking a few associate band girls during dejeuner and in the afternoon time slot. I was definitely working my way up to the real good experiences when, out of nowhere, a unlike kind of experience changed my perspective.

On a Sat, being under strict fiat to get a haircut, I went to the"salon"at the corner shopping center. This exceptional location was also a teaching salon, meaning they held classes there as well. Apparently I showed up right at windup and the one instructor was just about to result. Seeing me at the room access - he must have decided he needed the one lowest job and let me in. He introduced himself at"Boots."kick asked me what I was looking for and I told him a shampoo and a square cut. He suggested we go into the teaching expanse so that no one else would call up he was open. He flipped the"open"augury to"closed"and locked the door… then led me to the vertebral column room.

Inside the teaching way was a nice leather couch that faced a beautiful old-timer Barber chair. The chairwoman stood out as it was beautifully restored in red leather and smooth brass. Everything else was white Fe. What were singular on the old-timer president were the footstools where you put your substructure while you were getting a shoeshine. There was also the standard tuffet, which I used as tennis shoe don't get polished. After checking out my hair, he stood me up and took me to the shampoo domain and, as I was wearing a storage tank top and gym short pants for my workout in a brace of minute, decided he didn't need to put an forestage on me yet. He set about washables and rinsing my hair in a very expert way. It just felt fab. When he was done he sat the chair up and led me to that beautiful barber chair. While he was wrapping the apron around me, he commented on how"tight"I was. He started rubbing my shoulder joint in what I would call a"professional"manner. But then, his handwriting moved across my pecs, over my nipples and down my stomach a bit. For the first prison term ever… I felt that minuscule shiver of prediction that I had felt from the schoolgirls I had put in the same spatial relation. My solitary reaction, was raise up, the slightest bit, to give him the most subtle approval. If I had read it right… he could try for more. If I'd misread him… I could stave off any embarrassment. But he stopped and returned to my hair. After a while of fussing with clipper, then scissors, then finishing up with clipper again he spun me around to the mirror to get my approval. I had been very unstrain during this prison term, eye closed and thinking about what had transpired. Apparently it had had it's affect as when I opened my eyes to see the progress in the mirror… I realized I had a raging hard-on. rush never commented on it and completely ignored it. He then suggested we go back to the cesspit and wash off all the clip so that I wouldn't itchiness during my workout. He suggested I move out my shirt so he could shake it out. I took off the shirt and sat back in the chairwoman - laying my head back into the sump. He proceeded to rinse the cutting off my head, shoulders and chest. Then he took a towel and gently wiped the excess off. He then motioned me back to the Samuel Barber chairman for some"clean up ”.

Sliding back in the hot seat he laid it back in an almost monotonic view. He took the towel and was drying my chest again. As his hand came in contact with the skin of my stomach and hips… I accidentally let out an audible moan. He stopped with the drying and placed his mitt flatcar on my humiliated belly. I felt his other manus move to my chest and in item, my mamilla. While he was rubbing conciliate circles around my mammilla, the first hand slowly slid into my shorts and under my jock. Within seconds, his soft hand was wrapped around my full teenage cock. He moved to the end of the death chair and started to skid down my shorts. Never hearing him say a Holy Scripture I raised my rose hip to admit my short pants to slide off comfortable. Boots adjusted the groundwork rests on the electric chair to enkindle my understructure up a bit. The position they were in allowed my knees to drop open comfortably. Next thing I know Boots had reached into a heater unit and brought out a massage oil. He also set up his clipper again. He went to work on my groin, formal and ass crack with the clipper ship and trimmed off all the inordinateness hair… leaving me a nice maculation above my stopcock so I looked somewhat convention, but clipping all the rest away. Next he pulled out a razor and shave emollient and made my nut and ass as smooth as a baby. The feeling was fabulous and I was starting to wriggle. When he wiped me down and started rubbing me down from head to toe with the oil I really started to writhe. God, my stopcock was hard. But he was leaving it alone. He continued on with an incredible rub down. It wasn't the activity that was so fantastic, but the position he had me in ; totally vulnerable. In a place that was usually to the full of people. I knew we were alone…. But the feeling of being on presentation was incredible.

When I was putty and completely willing to follow his Pb, he grabbed my pelvic arch and motioned for me to travel them to the sharpness of the chair. Doing that brought my knee up. Boots took out some straps and strapped my tennis place to the ottoman. Then he moved to the head of the chair and motioned for me to parent my arms up. Not sure what he used, but he bound my hands together and tied them over my head. The reality of my situation started to sink in and I got a picayune nervous… but Boots then reached over and circled his fist around my putz and got my total attention. He worked it back to its rock difficult status and then stepped back. He started unbuttoning his frock. He laid it neatly over the sofa and then sat down and removed his shoes, socks and pants. He was wearing something of a leather lash with a hole through which protruded a nice, intermediate size cock with a definitive mushroom pass. He walked back to me, saltation and shiny, circling up to the area around my heading. This was a first. His dick, which had been semi heavily, was now stretching out and becoming cadaver. He landed it on my cheek. I gasped as he rubbed it around my face and, at the Saame time began pinching a mamilla. As I gasped and my sassing opened a bit the cockhead found its way home base. I rolled my read/write head over to earmark for beneficial entry. It was smooth, hard but gentle at the same meter. It tasted of soap and clean and jerk. There was never, ever, a bad flavor about it. No disgust. No"gay"fear. nada. I was Just enjoying a few moments of providing a mystic notion and enjoying the attending. About the fourth dimension Boot's turncock had grown to maximum size and cinch, he pulled it back from my stretch. He stepped to the foot of the chair, between my outstretched human knee. His hands began rubbing my thorax, ribs, stomach and hips… growing more rough by the moment. The tending had me straining against the ropes… not to escape, but to rush him to the next steps. I was giving him my best erotic movement potential while strapped down. Eventually, I felt that next step coming. That mushroom head was at the entrance to my tight, vestal ass. I felt Boots applying an incredibly slick oil to both his turncock and my total ass crack. Then I felt a finger… gently opening me up… going consistently deeper into my ass. Shortly thereafter a second finger joined it, opening me up a bit more. consequence later… I was empty. Then the pressure level of that mushroom head reappeared. to a greater extent persistent.. more force and it popped in while I let out a yelping. kick had patience though and waited until I got used to the principal. Then I got another inch… and back out to the head. He kept working it over and over again until four of the six inch were in… just past the swollen part. How on Earth was he not cumming ? I was tight… and helpless. The last relocation of his was to put up back and drive the concluding two inch in to the hilt, prompting me to curve my vertebral column like a beef in heat. I was breathing deeply as he pulled out and push back it back to the hilt again, and again, and again. Still he wasn't cumming ! Every connection of his pelvis with my jetty brought a grown and the writhe out of me. My rooster was so severe I couldn't stand it. Just seeing it there, angry and red was torture enough. Just when I was getting into a rhythm… thrill stopped his hammering. He unstrapped my understructure and them moved and untied my helping hand from the chair… but left them bound together. He pulled me up from the chairperson and took me over to a massage tabular array the he lowered to about 2 feet off the floor. Laying me down on my stomach with my top dog through the face port he proceeded to connect my bound hands to the leg of the table. instant later I felt straps binding my knee together and then more shoulder strap binding my ankles together and finally strapping my human foot down to the mesa. Boots then took a pillow and doubling it up, forced it under my hips. I wasn't ready for the first slap to my ass and I jumped… but moaned. It wasn't hard enough to hurt but enough to take a crap me squirm. Five slaps later he stopped. It was then I felt him straddle the tabular array and my peg. My ass was the perfect peak for his still rock difficult cock. And it was then, it that beautiful prone position that I learned the meaning of a violent fuck. He was in and out of me in a most unrelenting, and pleasurable fashion. I couldn't tell if it was botheration or pleasure, but I was in no stance to stop it.

After about five mo of this, he stopped, and began removing the shoulder strap to my legs. He rolled me over onto my backbone with my hands still above my question. Untying my wooden leg he folded me over so my genu were toward my shoulders. Then he sank that cock back into my ass, driving it to the stem and he stopped. He reached down with one hand and began jacking my own cock, which had been dying to blow a freight. Not two minute later it was blowing…. More than I'd ever blown… and right into my spread mouth. here and now later iron boot pulled out of my ass and blew his stallion, full load, straight into my open mouth. He dropped my stage down and forced me to exhibit him my lip replete of come and then swallow every fall. Again… more pleasant than not. He sent me to the shower in the back and had me clean up. When I came back out dressed, he was dressed too. Ready to go, as if nil ever happened. He suggested I return within two hebdomad to keep the hair looking good and suggested that Saturday, at 3:00 PM was always a good metre to occur. It was a great summer.. and my tomentum looked great .