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In the mid-1970’s I was attending college full time on a sports scholarship. After one semester of living in the dormitories, I grew tired of dealing with the spoiled idiots and arrogant slackers merely taking up space when they should have been studying and attending classes.
My mother had me out of wedlock. Her parents, my grandparents, disowned us; calling my mother a whore and me a bastard; she died when I was six. Her brother, my uncle Albert, a staunch bachelor, raised me from that point on. Uncle Albert was New York State Trooper. I spent my formative years in the company of serious, honorable men.
My uncle found me a room in the home of the widow of a fallen comrade killed by a drunken driver during a routine traffic stop.
I rented a large room on the second story with an attached bathroom. There were double French doors that opened onto an enclosed screened -in- balcony. The balcony was the perfect place for my weight bench and weights.
The rent was fifty dollars a month. In consideration of this modest sum, I agreed to take over the yard work and make minor repairs around the house as needed. I took my responsibilities seriously.
Being about two miles from campus, I was within walking distance of my classes.
My landlady, Mrs. Grace was an attractive woman in her early thirties. She was a petite woman at five foot three inches tall, weighing one hundred ten pounds. Mrs. Grace had chocolate brown hair that she kept pinned up in a large braided bun. I always wondered how long her hair was; I didn’t find out until her submission, consummating of our tryst.
In the summer of 1975 I had lived there for two years. Although not part of the original agreement, Mrs. Grace saw to it that I ate at least one substantial meal a day.
During the month of August, one of the hottest on record, Mrs. Grace asked me if I would remove the outdoor carpet from the floor of the back porch. I removed the old worn carpet and found rotten boards from moisture trapped underneath.
Naturally, she found an excuse for me to repair and paint the floor; I ended up doing the entire porch; floor to ceiling.
I spent three days on this project; replacing boards, sanding, priming and painting. The temperatures were in the nineties; because of this, I was only wearing shorts and work boots; it was much too muggy to wear a shirt.
Mrs. Grace was a very polite and well-mannered woman. It was obvious when listening to her speak that she was well read and disdained the use of slang or coarse language. I never heard her raise her voice, although at times she could be obstinate and annoying.
When we went to the lumberyard to get the materials for the porch, she personally hand selected the boards. The harried yard foremen made numerous trips to the lumber sheds; until all the boards met with her satisfaction; being perfectly straight and free of knots and imperfections; and these were boards that would be painted and walked on. Mrs. Grace was used to getting her own way.
Mrs. Grace sat outside in the shade the entire three days and monitored my progress, like a hawk watching a mouse. Always the proper lady, she wore loose, light colored muslin sundresses, with wide brimmed straw hats while out in the sun. She also kept us supplied with endless pitchers of ice cold, fresh squeezed lemonade. Mrs. Grace even offered to wet me down with cold water from the garden hose during the course of my labor to cool me down; that helped as much as the cold lemonade.
In the late afternoon of the third day, after the porch was done, she surprised me by grilling some strip steaks. We sat outside together and ate steak, roasted garlic potatoes, fresh corn- on- the cob and tomatoes. Afterwards, she went inside to tidy up her kitchen. I stayed put in my chair to relax and digest my huge meal. Mrs. Grace, God bless her, fussed over me during dinner making sure I got enough to eat.
Mrs. Grace returned with a pitcher of iced tea and two tall glasses.
She told me that she made her special Southern Comfort mint iced tea to celebrate the excellent job I did on the porch; and inquired again if I had enough to eat. Then the subject of haircuts came up… again.
Before she was married, Mrs. Grace worked as a beautician.
Her husband, twenty years her senior, insisted that she stay at home to take care of the house; he would work and provide for the both of them; a good provider, in his passing, left her very well of financially. She now worked part time, when needed, for a good friend. Her friend, Susan Banner ran a beauty shop out of her home. Mrs. Grace went there to have her long hair trimmed.
From the time I first moved in, Mrs. Grace offered to style my hair for free. She frequently scolded me saying, “You are too good looking to be walking around looking like a shaggy sheep dog”. I laughed and politely declined her kind offers. Not put off, she would tease me and say,” Someday”. Lately, she was insisting that I call her by her first name, Mary; to her annoyance, I continued to address her as Mrs. Grace.
After the first pitcher of tea, I noticed that she was nursing her drink and constantly filling my glass. During the second, third, and fourth pitchers, she was doing the same; most of mine ended up underneath my chair in the grass. I was curious and wanted to see what she was up to. I had my suspicions, and played along pretending to get drunk. After all, she was a very attractive woman. By the sixth pitcher, I feigned being a little dizzy, explaining it must be the heat. Mrs. Grace suggested that I go into the house and lie down.
She had me lie down on my back on a large overstuffed sofa, and removed my work boots and socks. Mrs. Grace went into the kitchen and brought me a cold, damp washcloth for my forehead. By then, I pretended to be passed out, sound asleep. Placing the damp washcloth over my eyes, she shook me gently calling my name.
Satisfied that I was out cold, she went back into the kitchen.
When she returned, she had a package of unopened clothesline, and a pair of blued Peerless handcuffs; the cuffs keys attached to a black kuboton.
Mrs. Grace knelt down in front of the couch were I was lying, placing the mentioned items on the floor beside her. She took the washcloth from my forehead, and started running her fingers through my hair. I felt her hot breath on my face and izmit rus escort heard her whisper in my ear,” I told you, someday”.
I was getting aroused and excited; it was getting very hard to remain calm and lie still. Mrs. Grace started lightly caressing my chest and arms with her small dainty hands; it was driving me crazy; boy, was she in for a surprise. When she stuck her hand down my shorts, and felt my erection, that was it: I opened my eyes and grabbed her by her trim waist, and pulled her tightly against my chest. The look on her pretty face was priceless. I could smell her perfume and feel her breasts pressing against my bare chest through the thin fabric of her dress.
She struggled to get free, but I gently put her arms behind her back, being careful not to hurt her. I held both of her small, dainty hands in one of mine while I reached for the handcuffs, placing them carefully on her wrists. Mrs. Grace became angry. She actually raised her voice and started cursing and threatening me, struggling violently to get free; I held her effortlessly, getting more aroused by the second, teasing her about her” potty mouth”.
I kissed her precious mouth and face in between curses and threats, holding her hair at the nape, gently forcing her head to meet my lips, my manhood pressing against her through our clothing. This time she wouldn’t get her way. I let her struggle, enjoying her helpless anger until she grew tired and gave up, lying quiet and still in my arms. Until that moment, I never realized I had feelings for her or how desirable and complex Mrs. Grace really was; I wanted her and would have her if only for one night.
Lying there, I removed the pins from her bun, taking it down and teasing her about trying to get me drunk. I told her she was a naughty little girl, while I undid her braid, her long silky ponytail reaching to the bottom of her ass cheeks. I stroked her long ponytail and admonished her for trying to tie me up and give me a forced haircut.
I ran my hands under her dress, caressing her firm ass through her panties, snapping the elastic waistband. I ran my hands up her back to discover she was not wearing a bra. I commented about this calling her a hot, sexy little vixen.
I pulled off my cut off jean shorts, tossing them to the floor, commenting,” See Mrs. Grace, no underwear, it’s to hot outside” “Listen carefully to me now; I promise I won’t hurt you. It’s too late to stop what you started”. ” Relax, take it like a woman; because I’m going to take it like a man”
I ripped her sundress at the seams, pulling it off of her and dropping the pieces casually to the floor.
I could feel her firm breasts and hard nipples pushing against my chest. I kissed her mouth; she returned my kisses, her tongue probing my mouth in return. I could feel the wetness of her arousal through her soaked panties; like her dress, I ripped them from her
Denying her my manhood, I probed her dripping pussy with my fingers, carressing her flower. I continued teasing her with my fingers until she was begging me to take her. I reached down and found the cuff key, removing the handcuffs. I broke the elastic band holding her ponytail letting her long, soft, silky mane flow down her back like a luscious chocolate veil.
I stood her up facing me, wrapping her arms around my neck.
I picked her up by her ass, and slid my erect manhood past her swollen lips into her moist pussy; greeting her sweet flower. As I pounded her, she arched her back, thrusting her hips forward, her long hair moving to the rhythm of my lustful thrusts. Mrs. Grace was a moaner; she let me know in no uncertain terms when she came.
Having satisfied her, I continued thrusting with renewed vigor, my explosive orgasm causing her to hold on tighter and passionately kiss my mouth and face. When I was sated, I carried her into the kitchen and put her on the table.
I arranged her beautiful long hair around her back, shoulders and breasts, enjoying the silky texture of her tresses. It flowed from her crown down her back, and over her shoulders and breasts like a chocolate waterfall to a dark pool around her hips and thighs.
On the table with her, were the tools of her trade; scissors, combs, hair clips, thinning shears and electric clippers; complete with a variety of guide combs. The tools that she sought to shear me against my will.
“Mrs. Grace “, I said, “I think we have established that I don’t need the handcuffs to make you behave”. “I’m going to let you have your way”. I sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. ” Go ahead and give me a haircut”. “But, I, I need to get dressed first”, she stammered. “Absolutely not”, I corrected,” Cut it as you are”.
Mrs. Grace complied with my request.
It appeared that the idea appealed to her because after the first initial snips, she was rubbing up against me with her breasts, while she was cutting my hair; erotic doesn’t begin to describe that haircut. Erotic aside, her skills as a stylist were impressive, the haircut precise and perfect; I should have taken her up sooner on her offer.
When she was done I complemented her on the haircut, sharing my thoughts about the experience and confirming her “Shaggy Sheep Dog” observation, adding,” Now it’s your turn”.
I sat her down in the same chair, and picked up the scissors.
I had no idea where to start, never having had the opportunity to cut a woman’s hair before. I played with it for a while, pulling it back into a ponytail then twisting it into a bun.
I said to her, “Mary, did you ever see the Television show Get Smart staring Barbara Feldon?’ Surprised and delighted that I would call her Mary, she smiled and said that she loved that TV show, asking,” what about Barbara Feldon, Agent 99?” “Well, I just love her bangs”.” I really like the way she wears her hair” “I think you would look lovely in that hairstyle, especially with those bangs.”
“I have no idea what I am doing and your hair is so beautiful…” I said. “Do you want me to me to wear my hair like that?” she asked,
I kissed her and replied,” You would look gorgeous with bangs”
“Your wish is my command”, she teased, standing up and hugging me. “There are hair ties in the drawer by the sink, would you get me a couple?” she asked sweetly I brought Mary the hair ties and she braided her long hair in a single braid down her back, securing the bottom with one of the ties. Positioning izmit escort the second tie on her braid in the middle of her back, she handed me the scissors and said” Cut it off just above the elastic band”.
Taking up the scissors, it seemed to take forever to cut through that thick silky braid. Mary stood up, unbraided her hair, bent her neck back and shook her head. Her hair now reached the middle of her back and felt thicker and fuller. Mary said, “Thank you for not cutting it short, I hate short hair.” I was afraid that you would use the clippers” “I can live with this length” “Even with bangs I can fix it dozens of ways for you, if you will have me”. I picked her up a second time and carried her to her bedroom. We made slow gentle love and afterwards showered together. We fell asleep in each other’s arms.
In the morning, Mary went to see her friend Susan
Mary returned with the same beautiful eye framing bangs. The front was pulled back and secured with the same small curled ponytail, the rest, and loose curls cascading down to the middle of her back. Susan had duplicated the style to perfection, except my Agent 99 was more beautiful then the original and with much longer hair Her excellent reputation for specializing in long hair was well deserved.
Mary said that Susan had to even up the bottom where I cut the braid off; explaining that it was necessary to cut two more inches off to get the bottom perfectly straight.
Mary told me that after Susan finished with her, she announced that Mary’s bangs made her look ten years younger. I agreed, I told her she could pass for twenty, especially with her hair down.
I kissed her and asked her if she would like another chance to seduce me? Mary commanded,” Take everything off, now!’
I meekly complied, my manhood standing at attention.
Mary went down on her knees and started licking and sucking.
I buried my hands in her hair, playing with her long curls.
She was fabulous; I never had oral sex before.
As I played with my lover’s hair, I thought to myself, there is more then one way to bind a man and render him helpless.
This story is a variation of Agent 99. The plot changes in the kitchen after Mrs. Grace finishes giving her lover a haircut. The story resumes at:“Now it’s your turn”.
Agent 99:Alternate Haircut/Ending
“Now it’s your turn”
“Please put your hair in a low ponytail and braid it for me. Mrs. Grace quickly complied. In no time a long silky braid was hanging down to the top of her tight little ass. I stroked her braid, adding another elastic hair band just below her neck.
I made Mrs. Grace bend over the kitchen table placing her hands flat on the top. I entered her a second time, my manhood probing her moist flower, pinning her in place.
I took my time with her, running my hands over her neck and shoulders; caressing her breasts, feeling her nipples swell and harden; her sweet juices flowing as her urgent
need was rising.
Mrs. Grace was pushing back, her curvaceous hips gyrating, impaling her self on my manhood; the volume of her moans increasing as her orgasm was cresting.
Taking her long silky braid in my fist I cut it off with her scissors, pushing her orgasms to crest and flood through her body in waves of pleasure, her shorn hair falling about her face.
I stood there running my fingers through her thick brown hair; fluffing it about. Mrs. Grace’s once ass length tresses now just fell to the bottom of her collarbone in the front, slightly longer in the back just brushing her shoulders.
I withdrew my manhood and stepped back; I could wait. Mrs. Grace turned facing me, her beautiful face was flushed and her eyes bright with tears. I pushed her hair back and wiped away her tears. Smiling, she shook her head from side to side; her shorn hair dancing about her face and neck, then gathering it in her hands, putting it on top of her head and letting fall back down.
Mrs. Grace put her arms around my neck. She got up on her toes trying to kiss me. I bent over placing my hands on her ass cheeks squeezing while kissing her sweet mouth.
Looking into her green eyes, I announced,” Put on a pair of blue jeans and some old shoes” “We’re going riding”
“But I don’t have any blue jeans” she said placing her hands on her hips and pouting”. “ I want to do you now”
I picked her up again and put her on the table. “Are you going to behave?” I admonished. “I’ll behave”. ….“Are you going to cut my hair again?” she asked in a small voice, looking worried. “No…. please wait right here.” “I’ll be back in a few”. I sternly replied.
I returned dressed in jeans, a white tee shirt and my black engineer boots. I handed Mrs. Grace a pair of her panties and my new canvas work shirt. “Put these on.” “I’ll try to find you some suitable shoes and get my ride ready”.
Taking my time and making her wait, I returned to the kitchen. While I was gone Mrs. Grace had washed her face free of all makeup. In addition, she had parted her hair down the middle and put it up in two high pigtails just behind her ears using the elastic bands from her severed braid. My shirt obviously too big for her hung down almost to her knees, but showing off her shapely legs as I knew it would.
My heart melted seeing her standing there; Mrs. Grace looked absolutely cute and precious. Pigtails in her hair…freshly scrubbed face with her peaches and cream complexion……….. She looked like a girl in her late teens or early twenties getting ready for a date.
Mrs. Grace walked over and hugged me resting her head against my chest. I stood there for a while just holding her and stroking her hair, thinking………
Earlier in the day she was my landlady; Elegant and gracious…in flowing dresses…hair in a braided bun. Yet… she surrendered willingly…the change in her appearance and demeanor was amazing. In many ways she was my superior, financially for one…. intellectually in the venues of Art and literature…. the theater. I knew I was rough around the edges…. growing up I never had a mother to smooth those edges…my manners were adequate…. Mrs. Grace’s were impeccable. I excelled in math and science, mechanics and architecture. She was no push over; if she made up her mind she could be as hard as iron, strong, and assertive; traits I respected. If she could compromise so could I.
It took several pairs of my heavy cotton work socks for my work kocaeli escort boots to fit her. They were necessary for her to get a firm purchase on the pegs.
My ride was a 1975 Harley-Davidson FLH 1200 Electra Glide Touring Bike. My brother bought for me when I graduated with honors from high school.
Mary had never ridden on a motorcycle before and hesitated to get on. Handing her my spare Helmet,” Trust me Mary my love, you’ll love it” “Just put your arms around my waist and hold tight”. Mary…I called her Mary.
Not hesitating any longer she climbed on. She leaned forward kissing the back of my neck then snuggled close and tight, wrapping her arms around my waist. It was past midnight when we left. Nobody was out on the country roads I chose for us; we owned the road.
I went slow at first and gradually increased my speed up to the posted speed limit when I felt her relax and get her balance down. After a couple of hours of riding I opened it up on the straight- a –ways. Listening to her squeals of delight, the wind rushing by so cold and refreshing on that warm summer night.
We pulled off on a secluded dirt lane and parked in a stand of trees two miles from the macadam road. We walked hand in hand to the open hay field behind the trees shielded from all eyes.
We stopped and kissed. Mary took off my tee shirt and ran her dainty hands over my chest. Placing her foot behind my leg, she tripped me pushing down into the soft grass.
“It’s my turn now lover; don’t move”.” Just do what you are told and behave” “Trust me, you’ll love what I’m going to do to you”, Mary said sternly, as she stood over me, smiling.
Mary took the pigtails out of her hair and shook her head.
She knelt down next to me running her hands over my chest, kissing and licking, her hair tickling my chest; her hands at my crotch; fondling my manhood through my jeans. “Now, close your eyes”, she commanded. Naturally, I complied. Mary got undressed. “Keep them shut and don’t open them until I tell you”
She pulled of my boots and undressed me, my member standing at attention.
Mary went down on me taking my manhood in her mouth. She was incredible…. I never had oral sex before. Mary licked and sucked, her tongue fluttering, teasing, and probing. Bringing me to the brink, slowing the cadence; making me wait; taking control. It was worth the wait…
my orgasm was incredible…I was absolutely drained.
We lay in each other arms and watched the stars
and awoke with the sun rising through the trees.
Dressing quickly we drove home before it was full light.
When we got home we were both still tired. We took showers and Mary invited me into her bedroom to sleep.
When I woke up, Mary was gone. I went downstairs; Mary’s car was not in the driveway. I went into the kitchen and found it clean and spotless. The scissors, electric clippers and combs were put away. There was a note for me on the table. I found something to eat, showered, shaved, and put on some nice slacks and a dress shirt.
Mary got home at four in the afternoon. I watched her through the kitchen window as she got out of her car with her packages.
A new Mary walked into the kitchen and posed for me showing off her new outfit. Mary was wearing a classic black form fitting waist length ladies jacket; single zipper with slash pockets .She had on tight fitting blue Levi’s tucked into her black engineer boots. To complete her new look, Mary was wearing a green helmet. Her green eyes were hidden behind gold-framed Ray Ban Aviators with polarized gray lenses.
Mary took her new helmet off and shook out her hair.
She must have went and saw her friend Susan. Mary had long pageboy cut with super long curved eye and face framing bangs. Taking of her glasses I saw that that she had on dark mascara, dark eyeliner plus purple eye shadow.
Mary had rouged her cheekbones and was wearing bright red lipstick. Mary slipped of her jacket dropping it to the floor. Underneath she was wearing a traditional long sleeve Chinese silk blouse. It had a Mandarin collar and frog buttons. It was embroidered with delicate flowers of red and gold, pink and violet. Mary looked mysterious and exotic; I loved it, especially the haircut. Mary unbuttoned the top three buttons to flash her lacey red bra underneath.
I walked over and reached out and took her dainty hands.
Mary read my mind. “We don’t have time for that now”
“You look nice, I see you found my note”, she said “Yes, thank you” Why don’t we have time?” “ I’ve scheduled you for a fitting in one hour” “What kind of fitting?” “For a suit of course” she said moving close and putting her head against my chest. “Why do I need a suit?” I asked, playing with her hair. “You can’t take me to the opera wearing a tee shirt and blue jeans” she replied snuggling closer. “We are going to the opera?” I asked. “Yes, I have tickets for third row seats in the middle two weeks from now” “Besides your suits will be ready by then”. Suits as in plural?’ I asked.“ I selected some wonderful material for you in summer and winter weight wool: blue, gray and brown.” “I suppose I’ll need shoes then?” I added. “Just two pair, your basic black and brown…cordovan makes three if you want to do it right” Mary answered. “What about ties?” “We can picks those out together” “ And shirts?” “ White of course”. I can’t have my Richard going around wearing any of those sissy pastel colors!” she answered looking up at me and frowning.
“Who is going to pay for everything? “ “You will of course,” she answered rubbing my face with her hands.“ How in God’s name shall I pay for them pray tell?” “ You did a wonderful redoing and painting the porch; now the rest of the house looks shabby.”’ I can’t very well charge you rent anymore”…”I’ll pay you to scrape and paint the house”…. “We can do it together, this time I promise I just won’t watch,” she answered, unbuttoning my shirt and kissing my chest.” You will look so handsome in your suits.” “ I promise to be especially grateful when we get back home.” There was no sense arguing with her on this, her mind was made up…. case closed.
Mary went upstairs to change and returned wearing a long blue summer dress with white lace on the collar and sleeves. Mary had pulled her hair back into a French twist with long bangs. The engineer boots replaced by sandals. Her makeup was more subdued. The eyeliner and mascara much more conservative, with her eye shadow in keeping with her skin tones. Mary’s cheeks were lightly rouged. The red lipstick remained. My elegant gracious lady was back. When iron meets iron there are bound to be sparks.
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