Adventures with Hairy Hairdresser

PREFACE: This was the first erotic story I wrote but have never published it until now, I had forgotten about it until now

Adventures with the hairy hairdresser

I had the perfect day planned; my wife was off out to the city for the day with our daughter for their traditional Christmas present shopping. Which usually meant half a day shopping and the other half in a restaurant and wine bar, leaving a large hole in our joint bank account, but hey ho, it was only once a year.

Usually I would be in the home workshop right up to Christmas Eve working on customers' restorations, but I had managed to get it cleared and the place cleaned up, giving me an extra week to myself.

Today I thought I'd stay in my dressing gown until lunchtime, then take a quick shower. I had been left a list of house jobs to complete, but I told the wife to message me an hour before she got home so I could get dinner ready. The real reason was for me to quickly complete the jobs, and dinner was in the oven on a timer anyway.

So why on earth was that damn doorbell ringing? We had no parcels due, no visitors expected, and if it was one of those door-to-door salespeople disturbing my plans, then they were about to meet a very angry sixty-year-old in a dressing gown.

I swung the door open, and standing there dancing from one foot to another was my wife's mobile hairdresser.

"Sorry, but can I use your toilet? My next customer has cancelled, and there's no way I can get back home without wetting myself," she begged.

I could hardly say no and let her in; she shot off to the toilet, probably the fastest I'd ever seen the woman move.

Her name was Vicky, and I would say she was about fifty years old and well under five feet tall. She was one of those women that I would struggle to describe, to be honest. She always wore baggy trousers and a hairdresser's tunic top, so if there was a pair of breasts under it, all they were was well hidden.

She always seemed a strange woman, very quiet, almost to the point of shyness, but once she started talking to my wife, there was no stopping her. Vicky had eyes that seemed to stare into your soul and know exactly what you were thinking, so I was always a bit too nervous to look her in the eye, usually opting to vanish into my workshop or do some paperwork on the laptop.

Vicky reappeared in the living room, and instead of going to the front door, she settled herself into the chair opposite me. Before I could say anything, she started talking about customers letting her down and how it wasn't worth her going home to come out to her next client now. Then she got onto her husband; she wished he was good with his hands, but he was useless and didn't do anything she wanted. All I wanted to do with my hands right now was pick her up and throw her out of the front door so I could have my day back.

The few conversations I had heard between Vicky and my wife always seemed to be her complaining about why my husband can't be handy like yours and how the last thing on her mind was sex, especially with him.

On and on her voice droned. I had avoided looking at her, just nodding or saying yes and no in the right places, but finally I looked at her face, hopeful that my face would reflect my thoughts of 'Please go away.'

I was shocked and slightly annoyed that she wasn't even looking at my face. Instead, she was looking straight at my dressing gown-covered crotch. Was she worried she may see too much, or what was the woman thinking?

I should have said something like, 'My face is up here, thank you,' but she had disturbed my day, and maybe I could scare her away. My legs had been tightly shut, and I slowly opened them, safe in the knowledge that there was no way that Vicky wouldn't see at least most of the way up to my naked thighs.

She physically gulped, and for a moment I thought this was going to work, as the woman seemed lost for words for once in her life, but no, she just sat there and started talking again.

I could see her almost trying to bend her head lower and decided to step things up a gear and see what she would do next. Would she finally leave?

Vicky was so busy looking at my open legs that she didn't notice me loosen my dressing gown belt. I was actually starting to enjoy teasing her, and my cock had gone from its shrunken, relaxed state to slightly harder.

I grabbed a piece of rubbish I was going to throw in the bin at the side of her chair and started to stand up. I could already feel my dressing gown loosen, and if she chose to say anything to my wife, I'd simply say I didn't realise the belt had come loose.

I hadn't expected the dressing gown to fall open as much as it did when I took my first step towards her. It swung fully open, giving Vicky a clear view of me naked and with a semi-hard cock waving as I walked ever closer.

Vicky had already started fidgeting in the chair and was nibbling at her lip. I was waiting for her to say something or get up and go, but she just kept staring.

I was at the side of her and innocently dropped the rubbish into the bin. Watching out of the corner of my eye, I could see her breathing deeply, and my cock was so close that if I turned too quickly, it would actually hit her.

What happened next took me by surprise; her hand reached out and wrapped round my semi-hard cock. It was so tight I couldn't move if I wanted to, but the warmth of her tiny hand had made my cock fully harden. She was looking at me, not saying a word, just keeping her grip tight. The only movement she made was opening her legs.

I hadn't expected this, and I knew I shouldn't, but as I looked down at her, my only instinct was to reach down, and roughly pushing her tabard to one side, I slid my hand inside her trousers. My fingers ran straight into her twisted mound of pubic hair; there were no panties to obstruct my movement.

Thoughts ran through my head; all those times she cut my wife's hair, had she been naked under her clothes, or was it just today? The times I had squeezed past to get something, times I had felt her body rub against me - maybe she had been naked, at least down below all the time.

Her hand still hadn't moved, but as my fingers moved closer to their target, she opened her legs wider until they could finally run over her mound and find my way to her clitoris.

For the first time Vicky made a noise, gasping as my finger rubbed hard against it, her legs spreading wide and trying to force themself over each chair arm.

All thoughts of her leaving had gone from my mind; she wanted this. She actually wanted to be touched by her client's husband and I were happy to oblige.

I wasn't sure if she had set this up to happen, but there was no going back, and I pushed 4 fingers roughly into her tiny body. She was wet and tight; her trousers restricted my movement, but I roughly fingered her hard and fast.

Her hips were thrusting up and down against me, and her moans were loud, and words so dirty came from her mouth.

"Fucking do it harder; fucking do it for me."

Her body writhed as my fingers worked inside of her soaking wet pussy.

"Harder, harder, be rough, harder, you bastard."

Vicky was usually such a quietly spoken person, and this change in her shocked me but turned me on more at the same time.

Her hand was still gripping my hard cock, not trying to move it, just squeezing tighter and tighter. Suddenly her body bucked upwards, her hairdressing tools spilling out of her tabard, and a loud groaning cry came from her. Vicky went rigid, the only sound being the loud groan as her juices didn't just run down my fingers; they spurted past, down onto my arm, and must have soaked into the material of her trousers.

I had never known a woman's orgasm like this, but she was definitely orgasming, and the juices coming from her showed no sign of stopping. As her body finally relaxed, her combs, brushes and scissors fell onto the floor. I don't know why, but sticking up from the pile was a hairbrush she always used on my wife. It's a handle pushing upwards like an erect penis, rounded at the end, and just asking for me to reach out for it.

Vicky's eyes looked at me, and she knew what was coming. I grabbed the brush and flipped it pushing it past the waistband of her trousers. The hard bristles caught on the mass of pubic hairs, and she winced as I yanked it clear. The handle was the perfect shape, and I rammed it hard into her.

She moaned loudly, and this time was pumping my cock so hard with her hand that I thought she was trying to rip my foreskin off.

The brush was hard to grip with its stiff bristles, and it took hardly any time at all for her to get to orgasm once more as another load of her juices sprayed down the handle.

I pulled the brush out and threw it to the floor, then prised her fingers from my hardness, grabbed her tiny body, rolled her over, and pulled her onto her knees in front of the chair. She wanted it rough, and I wanted her right now. I pulled at her trousers, bringing them down enough to expose her curvy backside and just enough of her hair-covered pussy, which was now open, wet and already abused by my fingers and her own hairbrush.

I couldn't resist slapping her curvy cheek, maybe a little harder than I had planned, and was met by, "Do it again, you bastard." How could you know I'd like that?"

This time I slapped her other side and then both together as she started to groan again.

"Fucking get in me right now and do me hard."

Not that I needed asking twice after the punishment her hand had just given my cock. I positioned myself behind her and rammed my wide cock into her hard, enjoying her gasp of shock as my balls hit her curvy backside. Some type of animal instinct took over, and all I could think of was fucking her sopping wet pussy as hard and fast as I could.

Vicky was groaning, and her fingers were digging into the arms of the chair with every rough thrust, her hips bouncing upwards.

My hands reached under her tabard and top and found her well hidden breasts. How she had managed to hide a pair this big I'll never know. Under my fingers they felt massive hanging down, and I dug my nails into her nipples, causing her to buck back at me even more.

Her pussy was sopping, and once more her body went rigid, but this time she screamed out loud.

"Fuck yes, fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, yes, yes."

Not letting her recover, I rammed in again, my hands gripping her breasts as hard as she had gripped my cock.

I had never expected this from such a quiet and mild-mannered woman, but the rougher I became, the more she delighted; she seemed to get more.

A second then third orgasm came quickly, and my cock was pulsing, although her orgasms seemed to creep up on her without warning. I was desperate to hold on until I forced one more out of her.

I was no longer sure if I was being rough because she had disturbed my day, because this behaviour was so unexpected or because with every thrust and grope she was begging me to be rougher, but whatever it was I was hammering into her.

As I felt her body go rigid for the fourth time, my cock could take no more and shot hot cum deep inside.

I had never felt so much leaving my balls, but it kept spurting and spurting my body, unable to stop thrusting until I felt my cock shrinking back. I collapsed onto her small body in a sweaty mess, my hands still on her massive breasts.

Vicky lay there panting as I finally pulled out of her, watching as my cum and her juices trickled down her backside and onto her trousers.

Gradually she turned and smiled, then looked towards the clock. "Oh shit, I'm due at my next client in ten minutes." Looking down at the sticky mass that once was her clean trousers, "I can hardly go like this."

I laughed; she had just fucked her client's husband, something I doubt she had ever done before, but all she was worrying about her appearance for the next client.

Although my wife was taller, I knew there was a charity bag of clothes. Sure enough, there was a pair of trousers that were a little too long, but they would have to do.

It was as if Vicky was enjoying teasing me one last time as she stood there facing me, slowly pulling the trousers up over her still dripping naked pussy before lifting her tabard and top, finally showing her huge breasts before rearranging herself and looking like her usual self.

I watched as she headed back to her car, smiling back at me before driving off to her next client.

Heading into the kitchen, I looked at the wall calendar and suddenly got bought back down to earth. In my wife's writing, it clearly said the hairdresser is due in two days' time.

How would Vicky react when she came back? I was filled with dread as her car pulled up and she headed down the path, although part of me was turned on knowing that she was naked underneath those baggy clothes.

I let my wife go to the door and sat nervously in the other room. Before long they were chatting, and I heard Vicky get round to her usual subject of her husband.

"You'll never guess, but I got home from work the other day, and something had made me horny. I jumped on my husband and gave him his best sex ever. He said, "I don't know what put you in that mood, but whatever it is, you should have it more often."

My wife laughed, and the chat went back to the usual things. I gingerly walked past the open door; both my wife and Vicky smiled.

Vicky was standing behind my wife and had the hairbrush in her hand; teasing me, she rubbed the handle up and down before getting back to the cut.

I knew that this wouldn't be the last of our adventures.