Date: Wed, 11 Aug 2021 16:31:46 -0400 (EDT)
From: doctordestiny@comcast.net
Subject: SHANE THE BARBER

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.

doctordestiny@comcast.net