The Clean Shave Is Back In Style

My editor sent me on another of his "takes" on the current economic client. It's kind of a neat idea, but I wish he would broaden his outlook on life ... maybe it would make his assignments more interesting.

Anyway, each week, my paper is producing a guide section on where individuals and families can still find great values on dining out, car repair, day care, and now we're adding inexpensive haircuts. A guy at the newspaper told me about a local man named Gerald Petrie ... one of three brothers who are all volunteer firemen legends ... who runs a quaint, old-style barbershop. I called and the guy was super friendly and, even better, very receptive to an interview. He told me he closes everyday from 1 to 2:30 for his lunch, so we set a date.

On the appointed day, I found a parking spot about a block away from Petrie's Cutting Emporium. I grabbed my messenger bag and secured my car. The day was gorgeous ... a carpet of cloudless blue sky from horizon to urban horizon ... and I'm almost sad to have to spend it indoors. I spent a little time window shopping along the small brick-fronted shops until I spotted the iconic spinning barber pole. It was about a quarter 'til one when I actually walked in, a bell above the door announcing my arrival. Mr. Petrie ... a man of maybe 37 or 38 ... was just finishing up with an older customer, shaking out the red apron to create a storm of fine dust and trimmed hair. The gentleman stood a bit uncertainly, found his balance, and then reached for his wallet and extracted two bills ... a $20 and a $5.

The barber was in the process of grabbing a broom to sweep up the hairy debris when I saw him stare amusedly at the older gentleman. "Jensen," he said in a disapproving voice. "All I did was trim up your shaggy mane like any old dog needs. It's ten bucks ... and absolutely no tip."

"I ain't just any old dog," the man replied. "I knew your daddy when he was a boy, but apparently he was the only one in your family with any manners." And with a spin and some flair, the elderly gentleman stuffed the $20 into Mr. Petrie's hand and brushed past me.

The barber again started to sweep and motioned me in. "What'll it be sailor? I can give you about, oh, 20 minutes until I break for lunch. As long as you don't need anything super fancy, we should be good."

I held up my hands in a "wait a minute" gesture. "No sir ... I'm the reporter from the newspaper. We had an appointment to talk about your business if you still have the time."

Gerald Petrie leaned the broom back against an antique display cabinet and stepped forward with an outstretched hand. "Sure, great ... to be honest, I was just being polite. I've been on my feet since nine this morning and I can definitely use the break." He smiled as he spoke and I noticed how attractive his face was. He had thick lips and a flat nose, but his eyes danced with flecks of green and gold. Little laugh lines and wrinkles were visible from this closer distance. "And besides," he added, "your hair looks great ... really handsome. Maybe I should be pumping you for information on who cuts your hair!"

I joined in with his restrained laughter and took a seat in one of the side chairs. I think I blushed because of the way he praised my looks. Also, after I paid a little more attention, I saw that the shop owner was pretty sexy with dark cropped hair and a compact, muscular frame. "Thanks for the compliment, sir ... I go to a place across town that I really like. Been going there for years." I had my notebook out and my first question ready to "fire" when I noticed a mischievous look in his heavily-lidded eyes. "Is something wrong, sir?" I inquired.

"First off, ya gotta drop the sir stuff ... I'm Gerald." He wiped his hands on his smock and extended his left; it was nicely muscled and covered with dark hair ... it matched the scruff peeking out from the neckline of his t-shirt. Our hands connected in a hearty shake. "And secondly, I just thought of a sure-fire way for you to get a real feel for this place!"

I tried to look as excited as Gerald, but sometimes I'm not good with curve balls. I was completely surprised when Gerald suggested I sit down and enjoy a close shave with a straight razor ... it's part of his specialty men's grooming services. "I'm known for the $20 deal ... a basic haircut or trim plus a close shave in 45 minutes or less. Can't beat it."

"But you said my hair looked great," I stated as a response to his challenge, my neck itching at the thought of an extremely sharp blade poised at my throat.

"You do ... I mean, it does ... but you can't believe how smooth your face feels after a 'real' shave. It's not like any other salon experience you can buy ... it's kinda sexy!" That got my attention.

"Sexy?" I sat my messenger bag on the floor and got to my feet.

"I don't know about anyone else," he declared with a dreamy look on his handsome face, "but between you and me, I actually get an erection when I treat myself to a straight razor shave at that spa across town. The feel is just so damn manly."

I looked at Gerald with an appraising eye, trying to see if this conversation was leading anywhere near the fantasy images my mind was creating of him massaging a meaty prick between two thick, hairy legs. "You mean you 'cheat' on yourself with other stylists?"

He could tell I was weakening. "Every once in a while I like to be on the receiving end, ya know what I'm saying?" As he chuckled, more images of Gerald ... this time with his chunky ass impaled on a huge black cock ... flew across the movie screen of my imagination. I agreed to be his guinea pig for the sake of the article.

"You won't be sorry," he exclaimed as he hurried over to latch the door and draw the shades. "This doesn't bother you, does it? It's just that if I don't lock the door and make it look like I'm out, people keep banging on the door like I'm on call 24/7 when they need their bangs trimmed." I assured him I was fine, so he came up to me and sat my messenger bag down on the chair. As he guided me to the chair, I became aware of his subtle cologne ... something spicy with a hint of citrus. I stood in a stupor before another barbershop icon ... the manly and surprisingly sexy barber chair. The one in Gerald's shop was steel with shiny black vinyl padding. Ornate head and foot rests promised support or the possibility of a NASA blast off. Levers on the side of the chair allowed the barber to position his customer in a variety of arrangements. If this chair could talk!, I imagined.

Gingerly, I climbed into the chair. Slight squeaks sounded as I scooched around to get comfortable. Once situated, Gerald spun the chair around so I was facing the mirror. With a bit of panache, he snapped a fresh cape from a basket underneath a cabinet and brought it down over me. Then he inserted a paper collar protector before tying the cape at my neck; his hands brushed lightly against my skin sending a shiver straight down to my moistening asshole.

"This is like crack, my friend. Once you have a Petrie shave, you will be back like once a month or just before every big occasion where you need to look and feel your best ... I guarantee it." His enthusiasm was contagious and I saw my reflection smile broadly. I also felt my pecker stir restlessly in my pants, so I fidgeted a bit to rearrange my equipment.

Gerald came around from behind the chair and busied himself at the counter space to my left. He plugged in what looked like one of those single-cup coffee makers and then opened a drawer for some materials. As he rooted around a bit, I watched both the man and his counterpart in the mirror. He was on the shorter side of ... maybe 5' 10" ... with overdeveloped arm and chest muscles. His ass appeared round and firm, but his legs were surprisingly skinny and a bit bowed. Wonder if that volunteer firefighting really works the upper body?, I mused.

After a few moments, my attention was captured by a strange rubbing noise. Highlighted in the mirror, Gerald had a leather strop and was dragging the blade of a gorgeous-looking straight razor ... spine first ... across the rough surface. I remembered reading that using a strop was different than an actual sharpening belt or stone because the leather used some type of abrasive crystals or powder to hone the edge without actually removing the metal. It was all about movement and friction, and watching Gerald work that strip of hide was making my bone painfully hard. I double checked to see that Gerald was concentrating on his preparations; he was deep in his work so I again adjusted my johnson, flattening it against my pubis.

"Well, now," Gerald crooned, actually making me jump in the barber chair because I thought he'd noticed me touching my junk, "let's get this show on the road!" With the pull of a lever, the chair reclined a bit making it easier for the hunky cutter to access my barely-bristled mug. Gerald quickly smeared his hands with some type of tonic and lightly spread it with his fingers over my cheeks, neck, and jawline. The sensation was brisk and the aroma pungent. I must have flared my nostrils, because Gerald explained that the liquid was used to open up my pores and loosen my skin's 'grip' on the hair follicles on my face. After a few seconds of evaporation time, Gerald cupped his hands near the small 'percolator' and produced a small mound of hot shaving cream. Standing behind me, he worked the rich lather over my cheeks and chin, gliding his hands to sensually cover every surface inch he would be 'cutting' with foam. The whole prep process was sexy as hell and I felt my eyelids dropping in relaxation. My cock, however, was still wide awake and agitated; my right hand again snaked over under the cover of the cutting cape and tamped down my stiffy. I almost moaned from my own touch!

From above me, I was startled from my reverie as Gerald asked me if I was ready. My eyes popped open to see him hovering over me ... slightly to one side ... with a gleaming razor in his hand. The razor was actually erotic in a way. It looked to be antique with intricate gold leaf inlay along the shoulder part of the blade and on the handle. Gerald used a two-fingered technique, both digits firmly resting on the razor's tang to keep the blade under control. The rest of his fingers were pressed into the jimps on the handle. I felt suddenly very safe at the hands of this hot haircutter.

I followed Gerald's movements closely as he placed the blade against the lower part of my neck and pulled the blade across my skin in an exquisitely slow manner. He worked in an obviously practiced pattern, using his fingers to push my head into various positions and using the non-cutting spine of the razor to remove excess shaving foam. My skin tingled and I felt almost giddy at the feel of his powerful form being so close to me.

To keep my mind off the blade at my face, Gerald made small talk. He talked about his brothers and his years as a fireman. Apparently, every firefighter in the county came to Gerald for their hair care needs, as well as their friends and family. Gerald also surprised me with questions about my work. He phrased and timed his inquiries so I could answer without jeopardizing my carotids or vocal cords.

"So, Danny at the paper turned you on to me and my shop?" I nodded timidly. "Did he give you any suggestions on questions to ask? Or try to get me to talk about anything in particular?" I didn't answer because Danny had, in fact, tried to coach me on the interview. "No answer, huh? Don't sweat it, kid ... Danny's been busting my chops since our high school days. He still sees himself as our class clown. 'Dipshit' is more like it." I looked up to see him grin; he had a great smile.

Gerald stopped for a moment, actually extending both arms away from my face. "Oh, God," he asked, "please tell me he didn't tell you to call me Petri Dish?!"

"He did," I confessed, "but I'm not here to embarrass you ... and," I paused to drop my voice like the barbershop might be bugged, "I don't think much of Danny either."

Gerald nodded and resumed his work in a more leisurely manner, shifting my head by maneuvering my chin with his left index finger to see the angles of my face in the overhead lights. He eventually picked up the conversation where he'd left off. "Danny loved my brothers ... they were older than us and had a reputation for getting into trouble. They also dated a whole lot of girls, and Danny started calling us each 'Petri Dish' because he said we were spreading around more cum than a fertility lab." He paused momentarily as if making a decision about something. Then he added, "I was sharing some of my seed, for sure, but it wasn't with the ladies ..."

My eyes suddenly looked down ... this line of conversation was really getting my 'nads in a twist. I was just flexing my fingers to attempt another "adjustment" when Gerald laid a hand on my bicep. "Are you gonna keep playing with that thing or let it out of its cage?" I barked a shrill little nervous laugh. Gerald laid down the razor, wiped his hands on his work smock, and pulled my cape to the side.

Slowly, the barber ran the flat of his hand along the bulge in my pants. I was silent as he drew closer, his hot breath on my slacks. Without waiting, Gerald reached a hand under my back and rump, urging my to stand on the footplate of the barber chair. With a bit of a wobble, I balanced with a hand on Gerald's sturdy shoulder. He swiftly got my pants unfastened and slowly peeled my khakis and boxer briefs down below my knees; my hard cock bounded up tasting freedom.

Gerald had me retake the seat ... the vinyl felt cool on my ass. He deftly worked the lever control to tilt the chair back a bit more and used his one foot to adjust the angle of the foot rest so I could stretch my legs and push my pelvis forward. Without saying a word, the sexy business owner swallowed my cockhead. "Ahhh, fuck," I hissed, dribbles of shaving foam still dotting my face. "Watch the teeth, dude ... yeah, yeah, just like that ... ooohhh!"

More and more of my cock disappeared into Gerald's hungry maul. His tongue clung to my dick, and he used his hand to manipulate my foreskin in sync with his bobbing head. This dude was good, I silently praised. As my body writhed in pleasure, my right hand reached out and worked its way into Gerald's crotch. He playfully batted my hand away and worked to open his own zipper. After a few seconds of fumbling, Gerald curled his torso around so I could see the very pale, very circumcised 8-inch pecker that appeared through his pants like a slab of polished marble. I again attempted to stroke his stick, but Gerald blocked my advance. He clumsily scooted a bit toward the counter and I heard the quiet "woosh" of the hot foam dispenser. Gerald mumbled loudly around my stiff prong as he applied the warm cream to his dick.

I continued to encourage Gerald with little curses and an occasional push on the back of his head. But after a few moments, he stood, still slowly jacking his piece. "How much do you trust me?" he asked in a voice like a marathoner after a race. His forehead was moist and his cheeks and neck were pink from exertion. "Dude, my fuckin' cock's been in your mouth ... I trust you enough!"

"Good!" Grabbing my cape, Gerald abruptly stripped it off, roughing up my neck and shredding the thin paper collar protector. He jumped to his feet and moved to the sink area of his work cabinet. As I caught my own breath and smeared a little pre-cum around my knob, I heard the sound of running water. In seconds, the faucet shut off and Gerald was kneeling at my feet with a ceramic cup and a bristly shaving brush. "I'm gonna shave your nuts, sport," he declared like it was just an everyday part of the grooming service he provided to customers.

"Huh? You wanna shave my boys with a straight razor? A fucking super-sharp straight razor?"

"Come on," he pleaded. "I sooooooo wanna try this on you. I shave my own balls all the time, and you know I have a steady hand." I reached up to assure myself that no blood was running from my face or neck from his previous trimming. I must have looked a little startled, "and just before you got here, I shaved old Jensen's nuts and you didn't see him complaining."

I froze, staring into his eyes to see if he could possibly be serious. It took him maybe two seconds to crack up. I laughed loudly, which must have given him the confidence he was looking for. He whisked up a cup full of lather and started groping my bag, kneading my jewels and pulling the skin in a rough manner. With lavish strokes, he coated my entire groin with froth. He leaned very close, this time to take a critical view. "How many days since you did this yourself?" I told him it had been over a week since I had the opportunity to "gussy up" my manberries. He asked me why I never thinned out my pubes and, again, I told him I did on occasion, but really just hadn't had much freetime for grooming my groin.

Still kneeling, Gerald felt along the counter and quickly found the razor. He inspected it closely, assessing its cutting edge. Apparently satisfied, he leaned in close and, blocking my cock and pulling my bag up short with the flat of his one hand, he began manipulating the razor over my sac. I sat perfectly still, my breath stilled in my chest. My eyes refused to blink; they were riveted to the action. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Gerald worked the blade and spine of his finely-crafted razor over my tender scrotum. The feel of steel on skin was indescribably sexy, and Gerald's heavy breaths provided additional stimulation. Since I wasn't a particularly hairy person, it took only a minute or two to finish his work. But, taking a bit of artistic license, Gerald pulled my penis down flat and with a few deft swipes left my pubis completely smooth.

"Dude?" I piped. "Bald ... the talented barber leaves me bald?"

"You're not a chihuahua or anything, fella," he quipped in reply. "I see a bit of man fur right ... down ... here!" Gerald scooted the cup back onto the work counter and placed his razor next to it. Without warning, his hand rotated and his index finger snaked out to snag the edge of my slightly-stubbly asshole. "See, you could use a bit of a trim right here," he suggested as his wide finger wormed inside right up to its second knuckle. Crooking his finger to pluck at my inner nut, the barber teased me ass forward to the very edge of the vinyl seat. I could feel the collected sweat between the seat and my skin as I shifted position.

Gerald continued to coo softly as he tickled my sensitive hole and rubbed the lining of my chute. My crevice responded my fluttering and loosening. Soon his finger was jammed up as far as it will go. Gerald sawed that finger back and forth like a little penis fucking my gash. I was panting again in ecstasy. But he still wasn't finished with me. Again, I heard the sounds of Gerald's free hand pawing over the surface of his station. Suddenly a quiver ran through me from a sound like a model airplane engine. Gerald turned to face me and in his hand was a vibrating mechamism with three large rotating beads. "It's a scalp massager. It's from the 1950s and my clients absolutely love it as a finishing touch to a great haircut," he explained.

"But I didn't get a ..." His intentions hit me suddenly.

"Yes ... you did," and I screamed out loud as the massager made direct contact with my nuts. They danced ... they jiggled ... and they almost detonated. I begged Gerald to stop and he surprisingly obeyed.

"I've put in a long lunch hour, man ... the meal was tasty, but I wanna see you work for it. I wanna watch you finish yourself off." Hunky Gerald got quickly to his feet and removed his smock. His dick and balls were still proudly sticking through his open zipper; his pecker was hard and wet with ooze. I locked eyes with his meat and began sliding my hands over my own twig and berries. I moaned softly with closed eyes as I really started roughing up my cock. My strokes were long and tight, and the fingers pinching my bag were just reminding me of the exquisite torture of the scalp massager. I managed to shriek a single "FUCK!" before I let loose. I opened my eyes to see how big my load was ... it felt tremendous ... when I'm shocked to see that Gerald had moved in right under my 'nads and was staring back at me with his face covered in my batter.

As my breathing evened out and I deposited the last few drops of semen on the bridge of his once-broken nose, Gerald rose and retrieved a hot towel. He dabbed at my wilting weiner and then started to wipe off his face. As quick as I could, I snagged one of his belt loops and jerked him bodily in my direction. He stumbled into the side of my chair and I used his momentary disorientation to get a vise grip on his pecker. "You wanna see me work? How 'bout this?" My hand started a staccato movement on his cock, quick jacks accompanied by squeezes and deep palpations. It didn't take more than a dozen strokes to bring Gerald's lava bubbling out. His jizz dripped in ropey strands to the floors and onto his shoes. I apoligized; he laughed and ruffled my hair.

After a moment I stood and stuffed my still-sticky prick back inside my trousers. I got my wallet out to pay ... journalist's integrity is really not an issue when a blow job is involved ... but Gerald held up his hands to stop me. "Your money's no good here, but your cock is prime stuff in my book." His smile was truly dazzling. He handed me a receipt that read "$20 ... paid in full ... come back for that other shave I promised any time." There was also a folded up piece of paper; it was his phone number.

My emotions were mixed up. I felt sad because realized that I didn't have much information about his business. I was also happy because Gerald had played me like a slide trombone. All in all, I really didn't care ... I could ask him all the questions I needed to later because I had every intention of giving him a ring in a few days. Turning to retrieve my reporter's gear, I saw Gerald standing halfway between the barber chair and the door. While I was getting myself together he had apparently unlocked the front door and opened the shades. He was haphardly using a second towel to wipe my goo from his handsome face. I approached him slowly and asked, "Well, if you won't take my money will you accept something else?"

He looked at me oddly. I just closed the remaining distance and scooped up a small drop of my cum that still adorned his strong chin. I plopped the finger in my mouth and swooned a bit from the pungent taste. Withdrawing my finger, I grabbed him forcefully and mashed my lips to his. Our teeth gnashed briefly before my tongue entered his mouth to make friends. The kiss seemed to last for days.

Suddenly there was a hand on the latch of the barbershop door and we barely had time to break apart. I offered a friendly wave goodbye as Gerald greeted a man and his six-year-old, tow-headed son. As I turned to leave, my vision caught sight of a tip jar stuffed to the gills. I saw that the barber was splitting his attention between my departure and his news customers. He looked on almost angrily as I ignored his earlier request and deposited a crisp $50 through a jagged slot cut in the jar's lid.

As I walked back to my car through the early afternoon sunlight, there was a spring in my step and a tingling sensation in my nuts. I'm gonna have to really work hard to pull something together to show my editor, I thought to myself, but fuck it, I'm the guy with the smoothest scrotum in town!!

HEADLINE: The Clean Shave Is Back In Style