The smoking Hairdresser – Smoking Fetish Story

I was already slightlybreathless when I opened the door of the small barber shop. It wasalready late in the day and I had rushed from my job to get therebefore they closed. I had been there a few times before and had goton with the barber who owned the shop quite well. We had a mutuallove of the music of The Beatles and 1960s and 70s music generally. I knew that even if it was a bit late in the day he would make timeto cut my hair.

I was surprised howeverthat when entering the shop the usual barber wasn’t there, but awoman was in his place. She was already busy cutting the hair of agentleman in the seat – the only other customer. On hearing meenter she turned around and looked at me. She had honey colouredskin, Mediterranean looking, I guessed Spanish. Her hair was pulledback in a pony tail to keep it out of her face whilst she worked.

I got the immediatesense that she was highly annoyed that I had entered the shop justbefore closing – it was after all a Friday night she probablywanted to get home but I took my seat a waited.

A few minutes later shehad finished cutting the hair of the guy in front. He got up andpaid, made some small talk and left the shop. As she was finishingputting the money into the till she gestured, without speaking, forme to take the chair.

I sat and removed myglasses, wordlessly she placed the cape around me and the rubbercollar on top. I’ve never really liked getting my hair cut. Havingto take off my glasses and having my arms restricted by a cape drapedover them always put me on edge, made me feel vulnerable. She ranher hand briskly through my hair and gave a sort of exhale-sigh. Ifelt I had to apologise for my lateness;

‘I’m sorry I’ve madeyou stay late… it’s just i’ve finished work and i’ve got a bigmeeting tomorrow so I need my hair cut, i’m sorry.’
She didn’t reply atfirst, she tipped her head to one side.
‘That’s ok’ she said, aslight hint of an accent there but pretty good English. ‘But wouldyou mind waiting a minute whilst I have a cigarette? It has been abusy afternoon.’
I was glad the cape wasover by body because I instantly felt my penis harden, I replied, mymouth inexplicably dry.
‘Of course, go ahead.’
She smiled and said shewould go outside and she would be only a minute.
‘You don’t have to goout!’

God, even now I don’tknow why I said it.

I’m not usually aforward guy but I went ahead and said it. I don’t know what I wasexpecting, anger? Offence? A scream? The few seconds that followedstretched into hours in my mind. I had visions of scrambing from thechair, the cape wrapped around me only for my obvious excitement tobe visible to her through my jeans. Hot red embarrassment floodedthrough me.

Instead she just stoodthere, her head to one side again, looking at me, silently judging. I didn’t know where to look and just stared at her. She wasn’t mytypical sort of girl looks wise but the way she stood there with akhaki t-shirt tight over her breasts, dirty-blonde air and hernaturally curvy build, good hips in tight jeans and of course thepacket of cigarettes and lighter already in her hand just did it forme. I could already see she had an… active chest, rising andfalling she she breathed. The cigarettes couldn’t have helped.

I really don’t know howlong we stood there looking at each other but it was she who brokethe silence.

‘I can’t… it wouldsmell and…’
‘Look’ I said ‘You cando it whilst you cut my hair, i’d… um…’
‘You’d like it?’. Wasthat an accusation? Intrigue?
I swallowed hard, adeep hot feeling in my stomach, oh god am I saying this? This weirdshit?
‘Uhh… yeah… it’d benice.’ I said.

My heart sank as sheturned around and moved towards the door, I watched her noticing herrounded bottom and those swinging hips as she walked to the door.Disappointment, disappointment – and relief – started to pinch atmy stomach. A stomach that suddenly lurched when I realised that shehad in fact turned the silver lock on the door and was now pullingdown the blind of the shop window.

‘I don’t want customersseeing me doing this’ she explained ‘ they might think… that thisis… normal’.

She came back and stoodbehind me. ‘Head forward’ she said. I obeyed.

Once or twice she ranher right hand through my hair again, ruffled it slightly. Shereached for the packet she had placed on the shelf under the mirrorand pulled out a cigarette, placing it between her dark lips. Iwatched her in the mirror, my eyes locked on her as she continued toplay with my hair. She picked up her scissors and lighter and litthe dangling cigarette.

Her first inhale wasbeautiful to watch, hands-free the cigarette bobbed upwards and itstip glowed fierce red. Her cheeks hollowed, she lifted her righthand – still holding the scissors – and removed the cigarette. Her mouth hung open slightly and I watched with rapt pleasure as thefew tendrils of smoke that had begun to drift from her lips werequickly sucked into her throat, down her bronchi and into her lungs. By this point the cigarette smell had encircled my head and I couldclearly see in the mirror those tight-shirted breasts rising justinches from the back of my head. I could have come.

I watched her breastsrelax as a cloud of smoke came down from over my shoulders,enveloping me. She continued to smoke the cigarette as she silentlybegan cutting my hair. Most of the time she dangled the cigaretteinhaling small amounts of smoke with every breath she took,occasionally she would pause to pull the cigarette from her lips andmake a perfect open-mouth inhale. These deep, sensuous drags seemedto excite her and I could visibly see her nipples begin to poke frombeneath the soft cotton of her t-shirt.

Soon the cigarette waslittle more than a butt, pausing again in her cutting she looked atme in the mirror. Up until this point her entire focus had been oncutting my hair, she looked into the mirror and into my eyes. Ithink I may have been sitting there, probably with some dumbstrucklook on my face, desperately resisting the urge to stroke my swollenmember. She smiled, reached for the packet on the shelf pulledanother long white tube out. She held the butt of the firstcigarette between her fingers and placed the new cigarette betweenher teeth. Clamping her lips, right over the filter she lit it fromthe glowing cherry of her first nearly dead cigarette. She droppedthe expended butt on the floor and crushed it beneath her trainingshoe.

She had clearlysatisfied some deep urge for nicotine as she smoked this secondcigarette much more slowly. A lot of the time she kept it in thehand she was cutting my hair with, letting the swirling smokeencircle my head only pausing to take long and slow drags. I couldhear the gentle crackle of the tobacco as it burned, hear the intakeof breath as the smoke infused through her body, her rhythmicbreathing, a slight breathlessness, those erect nipples so close tothose little hairs on the back of my neck. I could almost feel thewarmth of her breasts, smell the smoke on her clothes – the stalesmoke, a rich undercurrent beneath the fresh, mingling with thesubtle perfume she wore, now just a background note to the headyaroma.

I looked through themirror around the room, a pall of smoke, blue-grey in the lateafternoon light that peeked through gaps in the window-blind, beamsof sunlight shooting through like something from a film and in themiddle of it all was this beauty, snip, snip, snip as my hair fellinto my lap and ashes tumbled from the delightful pleasure that sheheld alternatively between her fingers and her lips.

I don’t know how long Isat in that chair for, stunned into silence, a sort of euphoric dreamas she continued her smoky purpose. Eventually I became aware thesecond cigarette was reaching its end and she had moved her headlower, next to my ear, close to my right cheek. She drew the nearlyspent butt to her lips, one last draw of concentrated nicotine, Icould see the filter dented where her lips had powerfully clampedaround it, her fingernails sleek and perfectly trimmed. She openedher mouth, inches from my face, smoke rolling, trickling over herwhite teeth and she inhaled that smoke again into those aching lungs. She held it there. Time seemed to slow, the smoke hanging in the airand then…

…from lips andnostrils a stream tumbled out, a talking exhale. The teeth, whiteand perfect like crests of waves through an ocean of cloud, the warwetness of her tobacco breath pungent in my nostrils. I could seethe light, almost invisible hairs on her cheeks, the subtle hairsthat trap the smoky scent.

‘Do you like it?’. The residual smoke in her chest came out with her every breath as Ifelt the hotness of it on my cheek, my neck. Her tongue jutted outand licked me, her teeth gently bit my ear lobe. ‘I’ve finished’ shesaid in a smoky whisper, ‘Come again soon.’ And well… I did.

Story by rjmrjm

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