Hello once again. This is the She-devils Barbershop with one of our archived stories we sent out to our members in March of 2009. Gillian is on our current E-mail list, and as best we can tell, we believe this is a true story. She included her picture, but we will not post it here.
A Mandatory Trip To Me, The Barber By Gillian
“I’d go out with you if you had a decent haircut," I said to Jimmy in the summer of 1964. I was 17 years old, and Jimmy was only 16. I thought he was the best looking boy in school, but he was a Beatles fan. His moptop haircut made him look stupid in rural Iowa in 1964.
I grew up in the corn-growing farm region, and liberalism was not in our vocabulary. It was liberal to grow anything other than the standard corn varieties, and the nearby farm that grew an unusual strain was considered liberal and bordering on a communist plot. When Jimmy grew his hair out to three or four inches long, he became subject to shunning by the rest of the children in Shenandoah, Iowa.
Jimmy had been attracted to me since he was 12 years old. I lived three miles from him, and many times, he would walk the three miles to see me. Now, at the age of 16, he could drive and make the trip every day. He wanted me to go to the drive-in theater in Nebraska City, just across the Iowa-Nebraska border, but I wouldn’t be seen in public with the commie boy.
Finally, one evening in June of 1964, I issued Jimmy an ultimatum. Either he got his hair cut short like a good boy, or he could no longer come up to our farm and see me. But, if he got a short haircut, I would go out with him to the movies.
The next day Jimmy came to the farm and told me he would get a haircut. He asked me how much he would have to get cut. I told him it had to be at least a crew cut and preferably a burr haircut. My dad and two younger brothers sported burr haircuts, and if it was good enough for them, it was good enough for Jimmy.
Jimmy balked and said he couldn’t get all of his hair cut off, and I told him that he needed to leave and never come back to our farm unless he was burred. I expected that to be that and never to see Jimmy’s car driving onto our farm. Jimmy was quiet for a minute, and then he asked me if I would go with him to the barber shop for support. I told him he didn’t need to drive all the way into town. My mom had been clipping my dad and brothers for years, and I knew how to shave hair from watching her wield her Oster clippers on their heads. All she did was run the clippers all over their heads, and it sheared all their hair off except for a fine stubble, much like 5 o’clock shadows.
“You don’t have to drive all the way into town; you can go to Gillian’s special barber shop," I told him.
He gulped and muttered, “You mean you’re going to do it?"
“Yup," I replied.
“But, you aren’t a barber. You can’t cut hair," he responded in a staccato voice.
“Have you seen my two brothers? Who do you think cuts their hair?" I replied, even though it wasn’t really true. I knew there was nothing to it, and that anyone who cut could grass with a lawn mower could give a burr haircut with clippers.
“Well, what’s it gonna be? The burr haircut or the brush off?" I asked.
Jimmy thought about it for a few seconds and then got out of his car. He walked slowly up the steps with me following a step or two behind him. You would have thought he was taking his final steps to the gallows instead of to our garage.
Once we were inside the garage, I accompanied Jimmy to our mud room. That was where mom cut the boys’ hair. I sat Jimmy down in the seat and opened the drawer near the washing basin. I pulled out the clippers, the oil, the cape, a comb, and a mirror. I wanted Jimmy to get a good view of his hair being clipped off and thrown onto his lap. This was to be a semi-punishment for all the harassing he had done to me for three plus years. I wanted him to see what he was being forced to sacrifice for just one date with me.
I plugged the clippers into the wall outlet and turned them on. I placed three drops of oil on the blade and let it run a few seconds to let it soak in. I placed the cape on Jimmy and began to comb his long locks straight so that they would allow the blades to get a good cutting path.
Once I had Jimmy’s hair combed straight, it was time to turn him back into a proper, red-blooded American boy. “Say goodbye to your mop!" I muttered loudly.
I began his haircut in the nape of his neck. I guided the blade up the middle of his nape and continued moving them upward onto the top of his head and forward until there was no hair left at his forehead. A two-inch wide and eight or nine inch length path of four-inch hair fell onto the cape on his lap. He looked down and saw what looked like several feet of hair piled there, and then he grabbed the mirror to see a white line separating the left and right side of his head. It looked like a line or demarcation. I contemplated where to cut next. So, I decided to rub it in and turn his line into a cross. I went to his left side and swiped my next path up his side, over his top, and down his right side. Now, he had a giant cross on his head. Next, I made an “X" on his top, and that made him have a scalped asterisk. At this point, I began to scratch my fingernails on his shaved parts. He was definitely not having a good time, and I loved the great amount of power I currently held.
After I scratched him for about 30 seconds, I decided to go ahead and get it done. All my remaining passes were done so that as much hair as possible fell on his lap in front of him. I wanted him to get a good long look at all that messy hair piling up. Maybe, he would realize just how crazy he was for growing his hair as long as a girl’s. Maybe, he would see all that hair on his lap and realize he could never grow it long again because it would take forever. Maybe, he would realize that none of the girls in this part of Iowa would ever allow him to have long hair and have anything to do with him.
It took quite awhile to cut all of his hair off. His long, thick hair didn’t want to cooperate. I had to make several passes over his top to get every hair into the path of the blade. Finally, I got all of his hair cut off. He was reduced to 5 o’clock shadow. Boy, did Jimmy look good with a burr haircut. His beautiful blue eyes had been hidden by all that hair. His handsome face now was easier to look at once his hair wasn’t hiding it.
Something happened when I removed Jimmy’s cape. I noticed he had a wet spot in his pants. I rubbed his burred head and noticed the bulge in his pants press harder against his zipper. Obviously, the act of either clipping his hair off or rubbing his burrs had aroused him. What’s funny is that once I saw his wet spot and erection showing through his pants, I got highly aroused myself.
This was the mid 1960’s in rural Iowa. I didn’t know a boy or a girl my age who wasn’t a virgin. Nobody did IT until they were married; at least, that’s what I thought. I was still a virgin and had never once even thought about having sex until I was married. That all changed about two seconds after I removed Jimmy’s cape. I threw myself into Jimmy’s arms and began kissing him hard and with tongue. I wanted to have sex with him on the spot, but it turned out Jimmy actually had high morals. His commie looks disguised the fact that Jimmy was an honest, good boy.
Now, I was the one on the attack and Jimmy was having to put up a good defense. I had plans to go to the movies with him and not see one second of the film. Jimmy actually wanted to go to see the movie and eat popcorn and drink pop. Now, Jimmy was a little worried about being alone with me in his car. That kiss had taken him by surprise.
I remember vividly the movies we saw that night—it was two oldies but goodies. We watched a double feature. The first movie was “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes," and the second one was “Niagara." When Marilyn Monroe first popped up on the screen with her breathy voice, I began whispering in a breathy voice to Jimmy. I was always glad I was a real blonde, but now it was finally going to play to my advantage.
Jimmy started to get hot. He went for popcorn and pop. When he got back, I had unbuttoned my blouse as low as I could without taking it off. I had my bra unclipped in the back and ready to lose it at a simple flick in front.
Jimmy didn’t notice right away. However, I let him see me “accidentally" drop some popcorn in the crack. As I went to retrieve it, I flicked my bra off and down. Jimmy got to see a close-up view of my 36CC’s. He couldn’t take his eyes off of them. I went for the kill. I immediately planted another hard kiss on him. I reached for his pants and found his button. I unfastened it and slowly began to unzip his pants. He was not anticipating any of this, and he really didn’t have much time to take it all in. I lowered his pants, but he was sitting in a way that wouldn’t allow me to get them down very far. At least, I was able to reach in and grab hold of his now erect penis. He was already beginning to cream up. I wanted him to get on top of me and give me a good ride, but there’s no way he was going to do it. So, I took command and grabbed his legs and pulled them over towards me. I lowered my pants and got on top of him. He wasn’t ready to have sex, but I wanted it then and there. It’s not like anybody else was watching the movie on a late Friday night in June of 1964. There were dozens of teenagers and 20-somethings all doing what I wanted to be doing.
Jimmy began to object, but I began to use my superior reasoning power. I told him that he got the burr haircut for me, and that was a pretty strong action showing that he wanted me even at such a high cost. I told him this was my way of showing him that I was just as serious. That was a load of crap. I just wanted to get laid, and Jimmy had made me extremely horny since the end of his haircut.
I realized that I would have to basically rape him to have sex with him in the theater.. I suggested that we pet hard and heavy until the movie was over and then drive to Waubonsie State Park on the way home and do it there. Thinking he bought some time to avoid losing his virginity, he agreed.
I began to stroke Jimmy’s erect penis, and he tried to stroke my breasts. He didn’t know what to do, and I had to help him by taking his hand and guiding it where it needed to go. Later, I took his hand and placed it on my clitoris. If you thought he was clumsy on my breasts, he was downright timid down below.
On the other hand, I had no trouble getting him to cream all over his pants and cum hard. It took four napkins to clean him off.
The movie ended at 10:45, and we began our commute back to Shenandoah. Just after we crossed the Missouri river back into Iowa, I reiterated that we were at the state park, but that we would need to stop at a gas station to buy condoms. Jimmy told me he couldn’t do it. I told him of course he could, thinking he was talking about sex. It turned out he was talking about buying the condoms. He couldn’t bring himself to go into a gas station and buy them. I told him nobody would know. He just had to go in their bathroom and put in a quarter. He was relieved.
We stopped at a Sinclair station that was open until midnight. Jimmy went in and got the bathroom key while the attendant was pumping gas into his car. He came out with two condoms. He was really thinking ahead in case one broke.
We drove a few miles east and entered the park. There were several cars there with young couples doing the same thing. That Sinclair station must have sold a lot of condoms.
Jimmy told me he was scared and wasn’t sure we should be doing this. I told him that I couldn’t resist him with his burr haircut, and that he was torturing me by not wanting to do it a 100 times that night. My hormones were in a hot rage, and I needed him in me really fast.
We found a semi-secluded spot far enough away from other cars. It was almost 11:30. The park was open 24 hours, but everybody knew that you had to be finished with your hanky-panky by 1 AM. That’s when the state fuzz made their rounds evicting all the lovers from the park. It could be embarrassing to get a flashlight and knock on your window while you are in the act.
I told Jimmy to shut up and hop in the back seat. His 1956 Ford was big enough in the back seat for a family of four to live in. There was no problem with room for two teenagers to get it on in. I was nude within 30 seconds of hopping over the seat into the back of the car. Jimmy fidgeted around, and I had to encourage him to hurry up. I planned on him using both of the condoms, and we had about 90 minutes to be finished and on our way.
Jimmy was finally naked. It was really too dark to get a good look at his specimen, but from my feeling earlier, I knew it was more than adequate in length and thickness. I took the first condom and properly placed it on him. Even though I was still a virgin, I knew a lot more about the subject and knew how condoms needed to be fitted.
Jimmy was too timid. He treated me like I was made of porcelain. He couldn’t put his full weight on me, even though I was not built like a model. I grew up on a farm and I was athletic. I could have beat Jimmy in a wrestling match. I knew this was going nowhere, so I turned the tables and got on top of him. He was in for a rough ride. I wanted hard sex, and Jimmy was in for a bumpy ride.
Leading the action made short work of Jimmy. I pressed hard and fast, and it made him explode within two or three minutes. He blew hard and was totally worn out. He said it made him really sore. I wasn’t ready to let him stop. I kept thrusting up and down, and within 10 minutes I exploded hard. I had masturbated with stiff, phallic objects before, but this was nothing like that. My orgasm was much more intense than anything I expected. After we cleaned up a little, I stroked his penis and made it erect once again. I placed the second condom on, and it went on slowly. His stickiness made it difficult to get it onto his shaft.
This time, we were much more comfortable. I went much slower. Jimmy lasted for nearly 30 minutes, which was terrific. It allowed me to climax twice during this second attempt. When he came hard, he was for all practical purposes knocked out cold. He fell asleep and actually began to snore. I waited around until 12:45 to see if he would wake up on his own. He was fast asleep. I thought about waking him up, but instead, I got dressed, took the keys from his pants on the floor below and began driving home. He didn’t awaken until we were turning onto highway 59, about three miles from home. He was a little frightened. I told him he had five minutes to get dressed before he was to drop me off at my house. I tried to look through the mirror to see how he got dressed in the back seat without being conspicuous that he had no clothes.. He got his second shoe on just as we turned into my farm. By the time we reached the end of the driveway, he was attempting to cross over into the front seat.. He couldn’t do it with the car moving, so he had to wait until I stopped. He got out of the back seat, and I got out of the front seat.
I think he was nervous that my mom or dad would be waiting with a shotgun, but they were fast asleep. They knew at 17 that I could take care of myself, and I wouldn’t allow a boy to take advantage of me. They just didn’t know that I would take advantage of a boy.
The next morning, my mom asked me if I had used her clippers. She noticed a few hairs on her clippers when she was shearing my brothers. I told her that I had given Jimmy a burr haircut, and she was quite pleased. She was not happy with Jimmy’s moptop and was a little worried that people might talk about the communist boy coming over to court their only daughter. My mom didn’t know I had lost my virginity 6 hours earlier. She didn’t know for nearly 20 years when I finally told her. By then, Jimmy and I had been married for 16 years and had three children of our own..
Jimmy kept the burr haircut until about 1970 when we moved to Omaha. I let him grow it out to a long, tapered crew cut through the first part of the 1970’s and then relented and let him grow it back to a mop circa 1976. As he neared his 40th birthday in 1988, he began losing his hair on top. I didn’t like the look. One day in the summer of that year, with our son and two daughters away at camp, I went to a barber supply store and purchased a professional Wahl clipper. I bought shaving equipment including a professional razor.
A couple of nights later, I told Jimmy that his receding hairline was not flattering, and he needed to go back to the close cropped haircut. He knew by now not to argue with me on the subject. He asked me if I had made an appointment at his barbers. I told him he had an appointment that night at Gillian’s. He laughed and remembered all those years I clipped him to the skull. He said something like “so long hair," knowing he was going to lose it all once again. Only this time, I was going to go smooth rather than stubbly.
It took no time at all to clip all of Jimmy’s hair off. Just like it had done in days gone by, the clipping made me very aroused. After I turned off the clippers, Jimmy got up, but I pushed him back in the chair.
“Not so fast. I’m not done with you yet," I said sternly. With that, I took a dish towel and saturated it with hot water. Then, I placed it on his scalp. While he was trying to figure out what I had in mind, I began lathering up a shaving brush. He realized his fate the second I removed the towel and began to lather his scalp. He asked me if I could do it without hurting him, and I told him not to worry. I actually had no idea whether I could do it without cutting him everywhere.
I took the razor and got it hot and wet. I began just above his forehead and slowly guided the razor back toward me. I barely put any pressure on his scalp, and I was quite pleased when the first stroke backwards produced a bald scalp free of nicks or cuts. It allowed me to relax. I took more than 10 minutes and had to reapply the cream a couple of times, but in the end, I had a bald husband sans blood. I rubbed baby oil over the top of his head and took a towel and buffed him until his bald head shone like it was alit with a small watt bulb.
After he was finished, we retired to bed and acted like teenagers once again. Of course, we didn’t go to a gas station and buy condoms. We should have. Our wonderful mistake was our third daughter, born on March 28, 1989. Lovely Chrissy is now nearing her 20th birthday, and she is of all things a student at a barber college. That’s what made me write this story. Somewhere out there is probably a future client that will become her husband. Chrissy’s father is bald, and her brother has a 0-guard burr. Chrissy always loved rubbing her brother’s stubs, and I’m sure that’s why she wanted to become a barber. I expect one day soon, she will be giving some guy a burr haircut and losing her virginity. Hell, she might have already done so. I cannot in all honesty try to stop her. I know what it’s like to be her age.
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