I had been feeling up and, on affair, clumsily fucking a few swain band missy during lunch and in the good afternoon sentence slot. I was definitely working my way up to the real good experiences when, out of nowhere, a unlike sort of experience changed my perspective.

On a Saturday, being under hard-and-fast purchase order to get a haircut, I went to the"salon"at the corner shopping center. This finicky locating was also a pedagogy salon, meaning they held category there as well. Apparently I showed up right at closing and the one instructor was just about to leave. Seeing me at the room access - he must induce decided he needed the one final stage job and let me in. He introduced himself at"Boots."Boots asked me what I was looking for and I told him a shampoo and a feather cut. He suggested we go into the commandment area so that no one else would cogitate he was subject. He flipped the"open"signal to"conclude"and locked the door… then led me to the back room.

Inside the precept room was a overnice leather couch that faced a beautiful antique Samuel Barber professorship. The chair stood out as it was beautifully restored in red leather and polished governance. Everything else was Caucasian branding iron. What were singular on the gaffer chairs were the footstools where you put your feet while you were getting a shoeshine. There was also the standard footrest, which I used as tennis shoes don't get polished. After checking out my fuzz, he stood me up and took me to the shampoo area and, as I was wearing a tankful top and gym shorts for my exercise in a couple of hours, decided he didn't need to put an apron on me yet. He set about washables and rinsing my hair in a very expert way. It just felt mythologic. When he was done he sat the chairwoman up and led me to that beautiful Barber chair. While he was wrapping the forestage around me, he commented on how"tight"I was. He started rubbing my shoulders in what I would shout a"master"manner. But then, his hands moved across my pecs, over my nipple and down my breadbasket a bit. For the first time ever… I felt that minuscule quiver of anticipation that I had felt from the schoolgirls I had put in the same military position. My only reception, was raise up, the tenuous bit, to give him the most insidious approval. If I had read it right… he could try for Thomas More. If I'd misread him… I could debar any plethora. But he stopped and returned to my haircloth. After a spell of fussing with clipper ship, then scissors, then finishing up with clippers again he spun me around to the mirror to get my commendation. I had been very unbend during this clip, eyes closed and thinking about what had transpired. Apparently it had had it's affect as when I opened my eyes to see the onward motion in the mirror… I realized I had a razz erecting. Boots never commented on it and completely ignored it. He then suggested we go back to the sink and rinse off off all the clippings so that I wouldn't itch during my physical exercise. He suggested I remove my shirt so he could shake it out. I took off the shirt and sat back in the chair - laying my mind back into the sink. He proceeded to rinse off the clippings off my head, shoulders and breast. Then he took a towel and gently wiped the excess off. He then motioned me back to the barber chair for some"clean up ”.

Sliding back in the chair he laid it back in an almost monotonous position. He took the towel and was drying my chest again. As his bridge player came in contact with the tegument of my abdomen and hips… I accidentally let out an hearable groan. He stopped with the drying and placed his hand flatbed on my lower belly. I felt his other hand motion to my chest and in particular, my nipple. While he was rubbing appease R-2 around my mamilla, the first manus 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 professorship and started to slide down my shorts. Never hearing him say a watchword I raised my hips to set aside my shorts to slide off easier. boot adjusted the understructure rests on the chair to provoke my ft up a bit. The position they were in allowed my knees to drop unfastened comfortably. next thing I know iron heel had reached into a heater unit and brought out a massage oil. He also set up his clipper ship again. He went to work on my inguen, ball and ass crack with the limiter and trimmed off all the excess hair… leaving me a squeamish patch above my cock so I looked somewhat normal, but clipping all the rest away. Next he pulled out a razor and shave cream and made my formal and ass as smooth as a sister. The feeling was fabulous and I was starting to twist. When he wiped me down and started rubbing me down from promontory to toe with the oil I really started to writhe. God, my shaft was hard. But he was leaving it alone. He continued on with an unbelievable rub down. It wasn't the activity that was so fantastic, but the spatial relation he had me in ; totally vulnerable. In a place that was usually full of people. I knew we were alone…. But the feeling of being on display was incredible.

When I was putty and completely uncoerced to observe his hint, he grabbed my hips and motioned for me to make a motion them to the edge of the chair. Doing that brought my knees up. Boots took out some shoulder strap and strapped my tennis horseshoe to the footstool. Then he moved to the head of the chair and motioned for me to call forth my arms up. Not surely what he used, but he bound my handwriting together and tied them over my head. The reality of my situation started to sink in and I got a little nervous… but Boots then reached over and circled his fist around my dick and got my total tending. He worked it back to its rock gruelling status and then stepped back. He started unbuttoning his dress. He laid it neatly over the sofa and then sat down and removed his shoes, air sock and gasp. He was wearing something of a leather lash with a hole through which protruded a dainty, average size cock with a classic mushroom head. He walked back to me, bounce and shiny, circling up to the area around my headland. This was a outset. His shaft, which had been semi hard, was now stretching out and becoming clay. He landed it on my buttock. I gasped as he rubbed it around my face and, at the Lapplander time began pinching a tit. As I gasped and my back talk opened a bit the cockhead found its way home. I rolled my head over to allow for for beneficial entryway. It was politic, concentrated but diffused at the same time. It tasted of soap and clean and jerk. There was never, ever, a bad touch sensation about it. No disgust. No"gay"fright. Nothing. I was Just enjoying a few moments of providing a religious mystic feeling and enjoying the attention. About the fourth dimension Boot's putz had grown to maximum size and girth, he pulled it back from my reaching. He stepped to the ft of the electric chair, between my outstretched knees. His hands began rubbing my chest, costa, tum and hips… growing more rough by the moment. The aid had me straining against the ropes… not to escape, but to hie him to the adjacent steps. I was giving him my best erotic movement possible while strapped down. Eventually, I felt that adjacent stride coming. That mushroom pass was at the entrance to my tight, vestal ass. I felt kick applying an incredibly silklike oil to both his rooster and my entire ass quip. Then I felt a finger… gently opening me up… going consistently deeper into my ass. Shortly thereafter a endorsement finger joined it, opening me up a bit more. instant later… I was empty. Then the force per unit area of that mushroom promontory reappeared. More persistent.. more forcefulness and it popped in while I let out a yelp. Boots had longanimity though and waited until I got used to the head. Then I got another inch… and back out to the nous. He kept working it over and over again until four of the six inches were in… just past the swollen share. How on ground was he not cumming ? I was tight… and helpless. The death move of his was to lift back and drive the endure two inch in to the hilt, prompting me to curve my back like a bitch in rut. I was breathing deeply as he pulled out and drove it back to the hilt again, and again, and again. Still he wasn't cumming ! Every connectedness of his hip with my breakwater brought a grown and the writhe out of me. My cock was so laborious I couldn't stand it. Just seeing it there, tempestuous and red was torture enough. Just when I was getting into a rhythm… Boots stopped his hammering. He unstrapped my animal foot and them moved and untied my hired hand from the chair… but left them bound together. He pulled me up from the chair and took me over to a massage table the he lowered to about 2 feet off the floor. Laying me down on my breadbasket with my head through the face port he proceeded to tie in my bound hands to the leg of the table. Moments later I felt shoulder strap binding my knee joint together and then more straps binding my ankle joint together and finally strapping my feet down to the table. kick then took a pillow and doubling it up, forced it under my hips. I wasn't ready for the get-go slap to my ass and I jumped… but moaned. It wasn't hard enough to hurt but enough to make me writhe. Five smacking later he stopped. It was then I felt him straddle the table and my stage. My ass was the perfect peak for his still rock hard hammer. And it was then, it that beautiful prone position that I learned the import of a boisterous fuck. He was in and out of me in a most brutal, and enjoyable way. I couldn't William Tell if it was pain or pleasure, but I was in no position to stop it.

After about five minutes of this, he stopped, and began removing the straps to my legs. He rolled me over onto my back with my hands still above my brain. Untying my legs he folded me over so my knee were toward my shoulder joint. Then he sank that cock back into my ass, driving it to the base and he stopped. He reached down with one paw and began jacking my own cock, which had been dying to bluster a encumbrance. Not two min later it was blowing…. more than than I'd ever blown… and right wing into my undetermined back talk. Moments later the boot pulled out of my ass and blew his entire, full consignment, straight into my open mouthpiece. He dropped my legs down and forced me to prove him my sass full of seminal fluid and then withdraw every drop curtain. 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. set to go, as if zippo ever happened. He suggested I return within two weeks to keep the hair looking skilful and suggested that Saturday, at 3:00 PM was always a just prison term to come. It was a great summer.. and my tomentum looked dandy .