The Hairdresser - Part 2

The Hairdresser

Part 2 of 4

Story by Ben

I could not concentrate that afternoon.  In my head I went over and over every detail of the time spent at the hair salon.

Had I imagined everything?  Had Daniel really rubbed his groin against my elbow?  Hairdressers often have to lean over clients, and a bit of movement is inevitable.  Had his hand really lingered in mine when he handed me his business card?  Perhaps it was just wishful thinking on my part.  And all the smiles?  Perhaps he is just a smiley person; perhaps he smiles a lot at all his clients.  And what did he mean by a "longer and fuller massage"?  He said he was an experienced masseur.  Perhaps he is just that: a masseur, who does proper massages for people with sports injuries or people who need massages for coping with stress. Perhaps I was wrong to think that the twinkle in his eyes and the way he had said it suggested something more sensual, even something sexual.

I remembered every touch.  His fingers on my head and my neck during the head massage, gliding so delicately over my skin, seeming to play with my ears, touching my cheeks; the sensual way he had massaged my scalp; his gentle hold when he took my head into his hands to dry my hair.  I remembered his beautiful olive-skinned face and his bright brown eyes.  The top two buttons of his black shirt were undone, and I had seen his olive skin continuing down onto his chest.  I normally only go weak at the knees over a guy's chest if it is hairy, and from what I had seen I felt sure Daniel's chest was completely smooth, and yet I found myself fantasizing over it, imagining myself unbuttoning his shirt, running my hands over his beautiful smooth skin.

All the time my cock was straining in my pants, and I was not following the discussion in the meeting that I was in; I was lost in another world.  I was sure that if Daniel had walked into the meeting room and just put his hand on my shoulder, I would have shot my load instantly in my pants.  I told myself I had to do something about the situation.  I needed to release the tension in my pants so that I could concentrate on work.  In a break between meetings I headed for the office toilets.  I locked myself in a cubicle, lowered my pants and sat down.

My cock was staring up at my, pleading for release.  It seemed like years since I had had such a powerful erection.  I put one hand around it and stroked it, just once.  I knew that, if I stroked it a second time, I would cum immediately.  I desperately needed that release, but I wanted to hold onto the intensity of the sensation in my body for a short while at least.  I did not have long. I needed to be in another meeting in a quarter of an hour.  But I wanted to make the most of those few minutes.

My cock was quivering all on its own after that one stroke.  I kept my hands away for a while, until it calmed down a little - but only a little: I did not want to lose the intensity of the feelings that were coursing through my body.  I took hold of my cock very gently, with just the tips of the fingers and thumbs of both hands: the tips of my thumbs on the upper side, and my fingertips on the lower side.  

The tips of my two index fingers were at the top of the shaft, just below the head of my rigid cock.  I made small movements with those two fingers without taking them off my cock.  In fact, they were barely movements at all: really I was just applying pressure and releasing pressure.  The intensity of the feeling increased.  I reduced the pressure to prevent myself cumming, then pressed my fingertips into my cock again.  I could no longer restrain the need for release.  My juice shot all over the floor of the cubicle in stream after stream.  I could not remember such an overpowering orgasm.  It seemed to last forever.

I sat there, numb, for a few minutes.  Then I realized I had to clean the floor and get to my meeting.

At least I could concentrate on work now.  I could think more clearly.  But I knew that I still had to find out what Daniel had meant by a "longer and fuller massage".   And soon.  He had said I could call him when the salon was closed.  I checked the salon opening hours on his business card and decided I would call him that evening, as soon as the salon closed.