Fingering the hair stylist in my lap [M][F] [long]

Some time back, I was working a retail job at a local big city mall while I went to post secondary. I had just recently finished my first semester after moving to the city, and picked this job up to bring in some side cash. One rainy winter night as I took a very late dinner break, I decided to go get a quick hair cut. Now, this particular mall was undergoing extraordinary renovations at the time. That, combined with the late hour, pouring rain, and winter darkness, meant foot traffic was hard to come by. My co-workers and I would often spend 30-60 minutes just standing around talking about hobbies.

So of course, it was no big surprise when I walked into a barber shop in the back corner of the mall, behind a stairwell, under a boarded up department store, about as far away from the main entrance of the mall as you can get – and encountered nobody along the way except for the single hair stylist “working” there. She turned in her chair and looked up at me from the phone sitting in her lap as I walked in. She was pretty – an asian with long, flowing black hair, and C cup breasts amply displayed by her tight V cut black top. As she stepped out of her chair, her shapely thighs covered with even tighter black yoga pants came into view. She looked to be about 5’4”. I couldn’t tell if she was dressed for comfort or dressed to show off. One other thing stood out.. she was wearing a little dust mask, the kind you see often in Asian cityscapes.

Now a little bit about me. I’m 5’11” 170 pounds and in reasonable athletic shape from bike cardio. I have blue eyes, and dark brown hair streaked with grey, despite me being in my early 20s at the time. My hair is just below shoulder length; straight at the top, slightly wavy in the middle, and ending in long curls. A little bit of short dark stubble surrounds my face.

Back to the cute girl, “Hi!” she said. “First customer tonight!” The boredom was very relatable. I smiled at her excitement, and just a little bit at her very thick accent. She was clearly new to town too. “Hi” I said back, as I reached behind my head and pulled my hair free of its ponytail. “I just need an inch and a half off this to clean up the split ends.”

As soon as my hair was free to rest on my shoulders, she immediately stopped looking at my face. “OK. This way, follow me.” she said, a lot less excitedly and a lot more shyly. She turned around to walk towards the cutting chairs. Her reaction and sudden swing in tempo surprised me. That, combined with the incredible sight of her tight yoga pants perfectly outlining every movement of her firm and round ass, left me stunned in place. *Dressed to show off*, my thought from earlier concluded itself. When the object of my attention disappeared around the corner, I managed to rouse myself from my daze and quickly catch up.

I turned the corner to see her standing at a chair. “Here ok?” I nodded. A good 2 meters of wall separated us from the front of the shop and the casual prying of any shoppers. She was staring at a point just above my shoulder with her hazel eyes. She didn’t seem to want to look into my own. “You are very cute. Very beautiful hair.” she said, her dust mask crinkling as she smiled and then giggled. I was a bit taken aback by her bluntness, which probably reflected on my facial expression. Her interest in my shoulder disappeared as she shyly looked down at the ground. I broke out into a warm smile myself. This girl was adorable.

As she turned to get her utensils ready, I finally mustered a reply: “Thanks. It took quite a few years.” This was surely an incredible revelation to a hair stylist with long hair herself. I berated myself briefly, but she giggled again at my comment anyways. My confidence restored, I sat down in the chair. The next few minutes of hair trimming, she repeated comments of “so smooth”, “very cute”, “beautiful curls” and “the grey is so shiny” periodically – almost more to herself than to me, I think. We began a conversation.

Her name was Grace, a pretty typical “this is my English name” sort of moniker for someone fresh to the city. We complimented each other on our hair, talked about school, and eventually drifted on to the melancholy topic of how hard it was to make friends and date in town. Our conversation became familiar and easy after that, as though we saw a solution to one or both of those problems in front of us. 15 minutes seemed to pass in less than 2, and she spoke English relatively well considering her accent. At this point I could tell she was taking her time with my hair on purpose. Each moment of idle chatter it seemed that the tension in the atmosphere was building. She let me lift her shirt a bit to see a tattoo of some Japanese characters above her left hip on her back. I made a point of touching her skin ever so lightly with my fingertips as I did so. She shrank away ever so slightly from my touch, but moved back and let me finish my caress. Her breathing seemed louder afterwards, and she was no longer just grabbing and cutting my hair, she was caressing it first. Her breasts “accidentally” brushed against my shoulders and arms whenever she switched sides. The tease was dominating both of us.

As she came around the front of the chair to trim up the last bit. Her short stature meant she had to lean in quite aggressively to comb my hair out. Her breasts were on display right in front of me. The fabric of her shirt was thick and robust, so much so that she didn’t seem to find a bra necessary judging by the lack of straps or anything but her shirt covering her tits. My cock was now uncomfortably hard. This girl knew exactly what she wanted, and it was fucking hot.

“How about a shave too?” I blurted out. *Fuck*, I thought. *That was supposed to stay in my head.* She quickly glanced at me, and then down at herself. Realizing the erotic display I was witnessing, she shrank back from me in embarrassment. *Maybe she doesn’t know exactly what she wants, and I’m just making horny assumptions.* The embarrassment of my apparent misinterpretation had me red faced, and I could tell she was blushing under her mask as well. Wordlessly she spun around, took her dust mask off, grabbed an electric razor, and turned back towards me. Furthering my embarrassment, I couldn’t disguise my interest in her now fully visible face. Her blushed cheeks were smooth and elegant, surrounding a gentle jaw line. Her firm, rounded lips were perfectly accented by a small nose and mouth, completing the petite and voluptuous look her whole body gave off. “Sorry, I..” my sentence trailed off. I was going to say I didn’t actually need a shave, but I figured that would have been atmospheric levels of awkward. Instead.. “You’re very pretty yourself.” *Nice, that was even worse.* We both laughed nervously.

What happened next was very abrupt and confusing. Rather than going around the side of the chair to reach my jaw with the razor, and rather than leaning forward again to repeat the tantalising display of moments ago, she picked the worst of both worlds thinking that it would be the best instead. She placed her right leg between my legs, and stepped forward with her left leg over the top of my right thigh in order to bring her close enough to comfortably shave me. Unfortunately she significantly underestimated her clearance with how high the chair was boosted, and ended up with her pussy placed directly on top of my leg, just above the knee. This didn’t seem to deter her. Was it embarrassment at her error in judgment? A reluctance to admit “sorry I didn’t mean to slide my pussy around on your leg”? *I can relate to that sentiment.* Or perhaps the sexual tension was really there after all? She stepped in a bit closer with the razor, which caused her pussy to drag along my leg a good inch, and brought the razor to my jaw. My awkward misgivings vanished abruptly, and I turned the clock back 2 minutes. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

I looked at her the whole time she shaved me, but her attention never drifted from her work. Every light caress of her hands against my face made my cock tremble. Her breathing picked up pace again, and I swear I could feel her ever so slightly gyrating her hips on me. Time seemed frozen for both of us. The frustration and tension reached a breaking point for me; I felt the only thing keeping us from losing ourselves in each other was a few seconds of eye contact. That elusive, electric moment would break down our inhibitions and let our passion and lust take over. An idea came to mind. My cock was fully erect, and having 8 inches squished by my boxers and pushed under my leg was very uncomfortable. So I adjusted my leg to let my cock spring out from its trap. Of course, that was also the leg the girl was straddling on her tip-toes. This had the side effect of pushing my leg slightly up into her pussy, and then forward a bit along her warm slit.

Her reaction was immediate. She gasped and brought her hips up in a little jiggle, then fell forward slightly when her gravity brought her pussy back down onto my leg. The razor clattered to the floor as her left arm grabbed the chair’s arm rest and her right arm went to my shoulder, and gripped it hard. Her face was right beside mine, and her chest was pressed firmly into me. My hard cock was pressed right up against her thigh. I don’t know if her reaction was surprise, pleasure, or a combination of the two.. but it was so fucking hot. She pulled her head back, and finally looked up at me, her hazel eyes not shyly blinking away from mine like before. I had been right. At that moment, we both lost it.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8dfyx3/fingering_the_hair_stylist_in_my_lap_mf_long