How I Got a Lot More Than a Haircut

The Adventures of Urlen, Chapter 11

The dim light from the car's dashboard was just sufficient for me to see the last dribbles from Fred's splendid cock reach my thumb and forefinger, which were wrapped warmly round his pulsating shaft. His shapely dickhead gleamed softly as the sticky/slippery spunk finished its last ooze and the spasms came to an end. He sighed, opened his eyes and said "That was fabulous, Urlen. Thanks!"

While he was recovering I began to reflect on how I had got myself into this situation. I'd never done it in a car before and the experience was both novel and exciting.

I'd met him a couple of months after I had finished my University degree and started my first job. Wanting to look smart I'd made an appointment to have my hair cut at a nearby departmental store where there was a salon for men in the basement. There were four chairs and four men hair-dressers and a reception desk with a pretty girl who made the appointments and took the money. Three of the men were of middle age but the fourth, at the end of the row of chairs, was much younger - perhaps 25 or 26. I know, now, that I was lucky to get Fred when I agreed to wait for the first hair-dresser to have a vacant slot. He was popular with clients who could book him in advance and did so more than his other colleagues. He was one of those young men whom women and men look at twice and think "How nice he looks!" His proportions were just right : slim- hipped, long-legged, six feet tall, and every move he made was graceful. He was good-looking too, but not flashily so, and while I watched him cut the hair of the man in his chair I could see that he was concentrating hard on the task. While the other three engaged in desultory conversation with their clients, Frederic (I knew he was called this because each hair-cutter had a name-tag pinned to their overalls) remained silent while he was cutting. When it was finished he said quietly "Will that be all, sir?" and after his client vacated the chair, it was my turn to sit in it.

"How would you like it done, sir?" he said and I said "Just a trim, I think. It gets a bit unruly."

"If I thin it a bit, it will be easier to control, sir."

"Go ahead" I said.

The feel of his sensitive fingers on my scalp sent a tingle down my spine and I watched him carefully in the mirror as he went about his business. The feel of his fingers and the gentle, almost caressing way he turned my head to judge each snip gave me a deliciously sensuous pleasure. After several minutes of silence I decided to try starting a conversation with him. "How do you like this job?" I asked innocently.

"It's OK, sir."

"First job?" I enquired.

"Second."

Conversation was proving difficult but I persevered. "Do you work Saturdays as well?"

"Just the mornings, sir. I get half a day off in lieu during the week."

This was a step forward - he had volunteered some information! "And what do you do then?"

"Sometimes I maintain my car, and sometimes I drive into the countryside."

"You like the countryside, do you?"

"Yes."

"Do you go alone or with a companion …. A girlfriend, perhaps?"

"No, usually alone."

"And do you live locally?"

"About four train stations down the line, sir. I'm usually home by 6.30."

"And home?"

"Home is with my mother. We live fairly quietly. Er - let me show you how I've trimmed your neck, sir."

He took a mirror and showed me how it looked from behind. I was pleased and said so. Then he surprised me. "I like your hair, sir. Unusual colour."

I would like to have said "And I like you" but it was too early for that. Instead I told him I'd be back for another hair cut and stood up for him to brush me down. Some hair had fallen on my knees, missing the apron he'd placed over me and as he delicately brushed this away I felt another tingle up and down my spine. I noticed, too, the faintest of blushes as he did this and that maybe, just maybe, he had done one brush stroke more than was necessary. So I said "Thanks, Frederic", really meaning it and looking into his eyes. He replied quietly "Thank you, it's Fred, sir."

For the rest of the day I found that I was thinking about him and running over in my head the conversation we had had. I couldn't get him out of my mind and within a fortnight I was phoning the store to make an appointment with him. "He's heavily booked, sir," the girl receptionist said, "But if you can come next Tuesday afternoon at 3.00 he'll see to you then."

"How about Wednesday afternoon?" I asked.

"That's his afternoon off, sir."

"OK - I'll come on Tuesday". Now I knew when his half day off was!

He smiled when he saw me arrive the following Tuesday, even though there was not much to trim off and this time we did a lot more talking in the subdued tones needed to ensure that we were not being overheard. The chair next to his was vacant, presumably because it was his colleague's half-day off, and this made talking easier. Once again I enjoyed the feel of his fingers on my hair and admired the easy grace with which he walked round my chair. I told him a bit about myself, my job and my family, even slipping in at one point that I had no girlfriend at present and asking him whether he had one.

"No" he said shortly.

"So what are your interests, then?"

He paused before answering, concentrating on his work with the scissors. Then he said "I like cars and music; the countryside; I watch TV and I read quite a lot."

"What do you read?"

"Novels - and that. Usually romantic, but not the usual stuff. I'm quite tired after standing on my feet all day, so I like to relax in the evening with my feet up."

"You don't go out much, then? To the pub, perhaps?"

"I can't afford to drink much and I certainly can't afford to upset clients by smelling of alcohol. One complaint, followed by a second, and I'd be sacked." A pause, then "You're asking a lot of questions …"

"I'm interested, that's all."

"That's all right, sir, I like talking with you."

This was progress and we talked some more about cars and the places he visited in the countryside before he finished trimming my hair. When I stood up, he brushed me down - again that lingering brush stroke on my knee! - and, emboldened, I asked him if he'd like to meet me in a pub on Saturday evening. He looked at me closely, then took a piece of paper from his pocket and said quietly "Phone me on that number tonight at 8.00." Then, more formally as I left to pay at the desk, "Good day, sir!"

I fancied him so much that I thought eight o'clock would never come, but eventually the clock struck eight and I dialled the number he had given me. He answered at once and I said "Is that you, Fred? This is Urlen "

"Funny name," he said.

"Yes, it's Danish. My mother's Danish. When I was born my parents spun a coin to decide who should name me - and my mum won. How about making an arrangement to meet?"

"OK" he said slowly, and I knew then that not only did he understand my interest in him but that it was possible that he was interested in me. I became very excited.

"Can we meet, then, this Saturday, say, eight o'clock?"

"Where do you suggest?"

"Lets go to a pub in the country. You could show me your car and we could go in that, if you like."

A pause while he thought, keeping me on tenterhooks. Then "OK - we'll meet in the car-park of the George and Dragon" and he went on to give me directions for finding it together with the number of his car. "Then we'll drive out to a pub I know in the country. See you at eight on Saturday." And he put the phone down.

From Tuesday to Saturday seemed like a month and to contain my mounting excitement I worked hard at work during the day - and worked pretty hard at night too, imagining how things might turn out with Fred on the Saturday evening.

When at last the time came and I met him in the car park, he opened his car door, gave me a grin and said "Hop in. It's good to see you." The night was dark and I could see only his outline as we turned out of the George and Dragon car-park onto the main road, heading for the country. He seemed different, more in charge, and I realised that though I thought I had so far taken the initiative, he was in fact two or three years older than me. As soon as we had left the traffic behind us he put his hand on my knee and left it there for a moment before replacing it on the wheel. It gave me a frisson and to show that I understood, I reciprocated by putting my hand on his knee.

"Something you should know," he said quietly, as we bowled along. "I don't think of myself as gay or queer. I like women, but I like men too. One day I hope to buy a hair-dressing business in a village or small market town and live in the country - and maybe get married too. But for now .." and here he covered the hand I had put on his knee with his own, "But for now, this is what I want to do. I fancied you the moment I saw you." He giggled quietly. "You know, I've always liked red hair."

He drove well and for the rest of the journey we were able to talk fairly intimately about our lives and our sexual experiences. I told him that I thought of myself as being bi-sexual and that I'd been attracted by him as soon as I saw him. He said he knew he was attractive to men as well as to women, but he didn't like promiscuity : he'd had one or two affairs with men but was presently unattached.

By the time we turned into the car-park of a country pub, seemingly miles from anywhere, we were relaxed with each other. The pub, however, perhaps because it was a Saturday evening, was full of people and smoke. Fred was so attractive to look at that he got plenty of stares from men and women and there were several looks of appraisal of me, too – and not just because of my red hair. After we had had one pint of beer we felt we had been there long enough, but maybe there were other reasons for our haste in leaving! As we walked towards the car Fred looked at his watch and said that his mother would just be getting home from her weekly Saturday game of Bingo. How was I fixed if we went back to my place? I told him my mother would be in so there was no chance of us being able to meet up there. "Well, there's nothing wrong with the car," he said, "Lets go and find somewhere where we can be quiet and unobserved."

"You know somewhere, do you?" I asked; and he nodded and said "I think so."

I hugged myself as we turned out of the car-park and onto a narrow, single-track lane that ran steeply up the hillside behind the pub. There were stone walls on each side as well as trees with interlacing branches so that the road twisted and turned within a leafy tunnel. The leaves were beginning to fall and in the gaps of the foliage I could see the stars and a crescent moon. There was nowhere to pass if we met another vehicle but Fred said that there was field-gate higher up where we could park and where it was more or less level. He thought it unlikely that anyone else would be using the lane, and if they did, we would get plenty of notice from the approaching headlights. It seemed that he had been here before but I didn't like to comment on it.

When we arrived at the field-gate, Fred backed the car into it so that we were facing down hill and at an angle from the road. He opened his car door and saying "I must have a pee" got out and stood without any embarrassment a few feet from the car and opened his fly. I wasn't sure that I wanted to pee, but thought I would try, so I opened my door and got out to join him. By this time a stream of liquid was gushing onto the ground in front of him and for a moment I was tempted to put my arm round his waist while he was still urinating. But I was too shy so I fumbled with my fly instead and took out my dick. Unfortunately I was so tense, with his body so close to mine and the climax of the evening just seconds away, that my pee just wouldn't come!

Meanwhile he had finished and putting his unseen dick away in his jeans he did what I had wanted to do to him – put his arm round my waist and said "When you've finished you'll find me waiting." Then he got into the car and closed the door.

I decided I wouldn't try to pee any longer and went round to the passenger side of the car to join him. Then we were like two clockwork motors which had been tightly wound up and released at the same time. We literally sprang towards each other, our arms outstretched and fastening round each other. His head rested on my shoulder – and mine on his; then slowly our heads came round and our lips met and a passionate kiss developed. I dropped my free hand down to his lap, then scuffled his shirt up from his jeans so that I could insert my hand underneath the shirt. Then I moved it slowly up his midriff and onto his chest where I could feel his nipples go hard with excitement. Soon he was doing the same to me; and all this time we were kissing and twisting in our seats.

He was the first to withdraw, taking his hand from under my shirt and winding the knurled knob that lowered the back of his seat. While he did this I explored his inner thigh and he opened his legs to make this easier. His jeans were tight and I quickly found and fondled the long ridge, running down his thigh, made by his hard-on. When his seat-back was fully reclining, he put his hands on the buckle of his belt and undid it. Then he opened the top of his fly and unzipped it. He did this with all the easy grace he displayed in the hairdressing salon. Then he inserted his hand into his underpants, drew his dick upwards, withdrew his hand and invited me to put my hand inside.

It was one of the most wonderful moments of my life! His dick was warm, willing and inviting. Gently I eased it clear of his underpants and in the dim light I could see that it was like him – beautifully proportioned, long, straight and graceful. I eased back the foreskin, then wrapped my fingers round his shaft and stroked it slowly. It moved so silkily and easily that I could tell that he was a practised wanker! He reacted without inhibition to my stroking, easing his hips forward in the seat and using one hand to ruffle up his shirt so that it would not get wet when he shot his load. With his other hand he managed to grab my free hand and to hold on to it, grasping it ever more tightly as he felt his orgasm approaching. I stopped stroking, briefly, to see if he had any pre-cum and was thrilled to find a small bubble which I spread over his dickhead. This sent him almost wild with ecstasy and he let go his shirt to urge my hand on his dick to its previous rhythm. He said nothing as he went over the edge, but his breathing was shallow and he was bucking his hips.

The first shot narrowly missed his shirt and the second landed on top of the first, making a small pool of quivering spunk. Then the spasms diminished and the last trickles oozed down his slender shaft. "That was fabulous, Urlen," he sighed, opening his eyes and looking into mine.

It took him a minute or two to recover; then he cleaned up with a cloth he had put in the side pocket of the car door and wound the back of his seat up. At the same time I wound mine down and prepared for action. I was wearing tracksuit trousers and the flimsy cloth did nothing to hide my excitement. Even in the dim light from the dashboard the tent pole was an obvious sight! He fingered it through the cloth with relish, then motioned to me with his hands to pull my trousers down, which I did together with my underpants. My dick stood out, straight and proud and he took it in his hand, admiring its length and hardness and the pre-cum oozing out from it. Then, with a laugh, he reverted to 'hairdresser-speak', saying "And how would you like it done today, sir? A nice blow job perhaps?"

"How would you like to do it?" I asked, and he said "I'll suck, if I may."

"Sure" I said, "But I'll let you know when I'm going to blow. I'm clean, but sperm in the mouth could be dangerous if I wasn't."

He agreed and went down on me, very gently caressing my dickhead with soft lips. He stroked me quite slowly with his hand while his tongue conjured wonderful sensations from my dick. To sharpen the sensation even more I asked him if I could hold his dick while he was doing this, and for answer he took his hand off mine, unfastened his fly and pulled out his dick. After his orgasm it was only semi-hard to begin with and it was difficult for me, given the position of our bodies on the car seats, to get a really good grasp; but the keener he was for me to cum, the more his dick stiffened until we were both going at it full tilt. Eventually I could hold out no longer and I cried "I'm going to cum!" He withdrew his mouth and wanked me vigorously with his hand. At the same time he grunted and I felt his dick go wet just as I came all over my stomach. He had cum again – and we had cum off together.

We were too exhausted even to round it off with a kiss! He was sweating with the effort and I had just had one of the most satisfying orgasms of my life. For several minutes we lay there, inert and contented, happy in the knowledge that good times lay before us.

After we had cleaned up and he had restarted the car engine, he said "What about next week? If we could meet earlier, that is, as soon as my mother goes to Bingo, we could use my place, if you like."

I was delighted and so the agreement was made.

The following Saturday we met as arranged. I knocked on his door and he opened it at once, so he must have been waiting for me. He closed it immediately and beckoned me to follow him through the living room into the kitchen at the back. "Next time you come," he said quietly, "Come to the back door off the passage at the side of the house. That way it will be difficult for anyone to see you arrive and my mother won't be told I'm having a visitor." With the kitchen light off, he opened the back door to show me the passageway, then as soon as he had closed it our arms were around each other. This was a kiss of sexual passion, with my fingers ruffling through his hair and he gently grinding his hips against mine so that our dicks, erect with lightning speed, rubbed against each other through the cloth of our jeans.

Only one thing could follow such a contact. Removing his lips from mine he whispered in my ear "I think we'd better go upstairs straight away"; and he led the way up to his bedroom, with me following silently behind him. As there was no-one in the house except ourselves such quietness was unnecessary but it added excitement to the occasion – as if we were not already excited enough!

His bedroom reflected what I had already learned about his personality. It was clean, tidy, comfortably furnished and indeed elegant. It was full of books and records of music, and his interest in cars was apparent from posters on the walls which showed famous marques and the working of the internal combustion engine. Taking a towel from a hook on the back of the door, he spread it on the double bed and motioned to me to put my clothes on an empty chair that stood next to it. Then, going to his side of the bed, he started to undress, and, following his cue, I did likewise. We finished taking all but our underpants off, then turned to look at each other, both of us sporting hard-ons so visible that with one accord we dropped our pants to the floor and met at the foot of the bed in another passionate embrace. This time there was no cloth in the way as he moved his hips and dick against mine, so I put my hand down and held both of them together, mine already juicy with pre-cum. Then, slowly, he sank to his knees and taking my dick in his hand he put his soft lips over my knob and gently caressed it. It was heaven – and I knew I would have to be careful to avoid ejaculating there and then. So I withdrew and threw myself on the bed, where he joined me, massively fired up. Now it was my turn to take his dick in my hand and to caress it. And while I did this my free hand gently cupped his balls, which made him moan with pleasure, and his dick harden even further. He was on edge, head thrown back on the pillow, eyes closed and about to cum, so I speeded up my stroking and within seconds he was gasping "Here it cums" and a long ribbon of spunk shot from the tip of his glans and landed in a pool high up on his stomach. This was followed by several more shots until his orgasm was over and the spunk stopped flowing. Then I bent down and encircled the throbbing, slippery glans with my lips while he arched his back and moaned and laughed at the same time in ecstasy : "Ooh …aah…ooh… aaaah … aaaaah …"