“Cute”, how I hate that word!
She always used it even though there were only fifteen months between us.
Far better than my sister’s ‘squirt’.
****
The evening when I had headed for the bathroom for a call of nature (which meant passing my sister’s bedroom) and Liz had stepped out headed in the same direction, without a top had almost caused me to explode there and then. She had been wearing jeans, tight jeans which hugged her gorgeous arse perfectly, and a blue, lacy bra. All and I do mean all of the blood in my body diverted to my face and to my cock. It’s an absolute wonder I didn’t collapse and die on the spot of a cardiac arrest.
“Hey, Martin do you mind if I go first?” she asked as if her hard nipples weren’t visible through the sheer cotton of her bra. I think I managed a reply but my brain was starved of haemoglobin so the memory is somewhat vague.
I wasn’t there when she came out of the bathroom. I was busy in my own bedroom pumping my penis for all it was worth. It’s hard to say (pun intended) but I’m pretty sure that I have never ‘cum’ so violently or so much before that point in time.
And then I heard my sister’s bed creak loudly and curiosity dragged me to my window…
****
Life goes on.
The years passed and a few months later I lost my virginity to a willing accomplice. Of course, I never let on to the girl that she was the one who popped my ‘cherry’, maybe one day I will if I meet her again.
I did okay at school and managed to scrape a place in university and had a good (if not as educationally beneficial as it could have been) time there. I returned to the place of my birth in the summer after my final year and got a job doing house removals while waiting for my final results. I was confident that I had passed but how well was another matter.
It was a glorious Midsummer’s Day and the sun was beating down although looking up I could see large, billowing clouds starting to form. I had filled out nicely with the help of joining the ‘Uni’ rugby team and a natural genetic disposition not to put on massive amounts of weight with the discovery of large quantities of alcohol.
The house removal I had been doing that day had gone well and we had finished by three in the afternoon. I passed on a lift back to the yard which was handy for my parents’ house deciding to enjoy the remains of the afternoon and wander my way back through the town. I’d spent an hour in the park with my top off and rolled up beneath my head on the warm ground absorbing some of the sun’s rays. I was in that pleasant phase somewhere between sleep and wakefulness vaguely listening to the world around me, the barking of dogs, the laughter of children, and the occasional snatch of conversation. The sun warmed my exposed flesh nicely while the light breeze softly caressed it.
I was just thinking of sauntering to a local pub when what felt like a pebble landed on my chest just below my left nipple. My consciousness jerked fully awake before I realised that it had been a large drop of rain rather than my fear of a bird dropping. I opened my eyes as the oddly warm water ran down the side of my ribs and looked up at the huge Thunder cloud that had risen above me. A second heavy drop landed on my thigh as I sat up and unfurled my t-shirt and pulled it on. I looked about the park and saw various people wrapping up their picnics and gathering their pets and children. I smiled and stood and stretched as more and more drops began to fall all around.
I turned my head up to the sky, stretching my hands as far out as I could, feeling my muscles creak and relax. The cloud broke and the few drops turned into a teeming downpour within seconds. With my eyes closed I let the heavy water cascade down all over me. In less than a minute I was soaked by the warm rain.
The world outside my eyelids lit up and highlighted the small capillaries within. A second later the deep bass rumble of thunder rolled across the park. I slowly turned within the downpour, enjoying the fresh sensations. A smile remained fixed on my lips as I imagined kids pulled beneath the shelter of trees asking their shepherding parents why they couldn’t go out in the rain like the ‘man over there’. I imagined the response to be along the lines of ‘he’s just silly’ or ‘odd’ or even ‘mentally disturbed’. My smile opened and I drank down the fresh water from the heavens as flashes and rumbles continued to rip through the day.
Some of the lightning and thunder were almost in sync and I wondered how close it was to me. I also wondered did those parents protecting their offspring realised that lightning much preferred to strike trees rather than ‘eejits’ standing in the middle of a field.
The thunderstorm ended almost as quickly as it had begun and I opened my eyes to look up through the last few remaining drops descending from an apparent infinity to land around me. The heavy cloud had dissipated almost completely and the last thin threads of cloud were evaporating as I watched. The sun beat down once again on my back and I could feel my wet clothing begin to steam. I gave myself a final shake and began to stroll towards the park exit as hesitant heads peeked out from beneath their shelters. There was no sign of ‘grounding’ anywhere nearby and I was slightly disappointed but the smile remained on my lips from the distrustful stares of parents and the envious stares of children.
Even as I left through the west gate, I could feel that most of my T-shirt was already dry although my jeans would take considerably longer. I skipped across the circular road that encompassed the park and through a small side street that would take me on to one of the main drags radiating from the town ring road. It wasn’t the most direct route home but did take me past a couple of good pubs. I decide against the Combermere and headed further down the freshly washed street with my eye on the Halfway House a mile further down.
The sun was reflecting strongly off the steaming black surface of the road as cars zipped by. I regretted not having brought any sunglasses out with me but it couldn’t be helped.
There were plenty of attractive females walking up and down either side of the road, and quite a few men as well but I wasn’t interested in them. Most were wearing the abbreviated dress of the summer so long legs and breasts restrained behind tight tops were on display. A few had been caught in the rain, one, in particular, wearing a white blouse, added nicely to the scene. The white blouse was drying quickly and I wondered if it had been completely see-through when she had been caught by the downpour. She saw my eyes glance down as we passed going in opposite directions and I think her embarrassment was also mixed with an appreciation of being appreciated. I was almost tempted to turn on my heels as I twisted my head to survey her ass in her mid-thigh length pleated (not so neat now) skirt. I couldn’t think of a suitable excuse or introductory line so carried on towards the Halfway.
Just as I passed the Castle Hotel, I glanced at the steps that ran down to the small retail unit below it. This had been Liz’s Salon, my elder sister’s best friend, that I had visited so often in the year before heading for university. Strictly speaking, it had been her mothers’, also called Elizabeth, and within months of leaving school the elder Liz semi-retired and the younger gradually took over.
The fond memories of those exquisite hours of torture rose in the back of my mind and caused a little stirring within my crotch. I knew that she had left the premises a year before and now did home visits. I was one or two steps beyond it when I sensed movement in the corner of my eye. A blonde was stepping through the door into the bright sunshine shielding her eyes from the glare. I turned back to the path in front of me and carried on my way.
“Martin?” said a voice behind me, “Little Martin?”
I stopped mid-stride and turned to look back at the origin of the voice. I stared at the woman who was now halfway up the steps and had donned a pair of large sunglasses. The hair was blonder than I remembered but the breasts cocooned within a tight thin blue top seemed every bit as familiar as those I saw so many years ago on the landing outside the bathroom. “Liz?”
She walked up the last few steps as I walked back toward her. “I thought it was you, Emma had said you were knocking about this summer. How are you?” she reached me and her slim hands rested on my biceps and she had to raise herself onto her toes to place a peck on my cheek. She relaxed back onto her feet and looked up at me, “I guess not so little anymore?”
“You know how it is, you can try everything but sometimes it’s just not possible to stunt your growth. I’m good and you? I thought you’d moved on...” I said nodding to the salon.
She glanced back and my eyes dipped to that neck I had wished to lick for so many years, “Oh, the Salon, yes, I have, but I still have the lease and sub-let it. I’m just in between tenants and was cleaning it up and checking for any repairs that needed making.” She turned back and might have seen my eyes rising back to meet hers and maybe the tip of my tongue retreat back into my mouth.
“Got to say you’re looking good,” I said wanting to add ‘good enough to eat’.
“You’re looking good yourself, Uni obviously suited you... not sure I can call you ‘cute’ anymore though...” she said with a smile showing those white teeth I wished to run my tongue along. The capillaries within my cheeks gave an involuntary response.
Knowing that my cheeks were reddening made it worse and I blushed completely at that single word. Her smile trembled, “You didn’t like being called cute back then, I guess?”
I shook my head and smiled back at her, “I don’t think any teenager likes it especially when...” I paused gauging my words, “especially when they want to be seen as a man.” I added in a much deeper voice.
Definitely a better response than saying that I had wanted to strip her naked and put the almost permanent erection whenever she was around inside her. Thinking of permanent erections, it seemed to be making a comeback somewhat uncomfortably twisted within my jeans. She took that moment to step back and appraise the adult me. Almost subconsciously I puffed out my chest and raised myself to my full six-foot-three height.
“Well, you’re definitely a man now. Has it been raining?” she looked about her only now noticing the steaming pavements and road.
“There was a little shower... and quite a bit of thunder and lightning, I’m surprised you didn’t hear it?”
She nodded back towards the Salon, “You hardly ever hear anything down there in the dungeon and I have been vacuuming, so I guess it was then. You seemed to have gotten caught in the middle of it.”
“You could say that... still you got to like how a little rain clears the streets.”
“You got time for a tea or coffee?”
“Certainly” I replied. As if I was ever going to say no to spending time with Liz. Liz turned away and led me back to the salon. Her ass, clad in tight denim, as I had often seen it before, looked just as biteable as ever. It was a shame she carried her phone in her back pocket ruining that aesthetically perfect derriere. In my own opinion anyway!
I followed her down the steps and into the Salon. It wasn’t really a ‘dungeon’ as Liz had referred to it. The front area was brightly lit with artificial lighting and at the rear was a large skylight that flooded the hair-washing area with natural light. I smiled once again as I remembered looking up through that skylight as the clouds skittered across the blue sky and Liz’s fingers ran the shampoo through my hair. Her left breast, for she always washed my hair from the right, always on the periphery of my vision.
Two large barber’s chairs dominated the centre of the small unit and the walls were lined with mirrors and shelves and portrait pictures of stylish hair sculptures as any Hair salon in the world probably was. Of in an alcove to one side sat a large comfortable looking sofa with a pile of magazines on a table for those waiting to be seen.
She led me past the chairs to a small area screened off at chest height from the main body of the Salon where the basic tea/coffee-making facilities were located, “Tea?” she asked.
“Given it up... could never get a decent cuppa in London cafes. Confirmed caffeine addict now... very strong, a kiss of milk and one sugar please, Liz”
She raised her thin eyebrow, “A kiss of milk? What sort of kiss?”
I laughed, “You know, no one has ever asked me that... I guess I mean just a peck on the cheek so to speak!”
She smiled back at me and turned to make the coffee using a small expensive looking Italian machine. Hanging just to the side was a sombre-looking calendar and it took me a second to recognise it from our school days. “A bit sombre for a hair salon?” I asked.
“Hmm… what?” Liz replied casting a look over her shoulder.
“A saint’s day calendar,” I explained. I drew closer and examined the two women beside a mirror in the Baroque painting above the days of the month. I thought it might be a Caravaggio. I could feel my eyes dilate as I inhaled Liz’s perfume which I knew with certainty was Poison by Dior.
“I really like the paintings and Emma gets them from church… she still goes!” she added raising an eyebrow.
“Been a long time since I was a believer… ‘bout the same time I stopped wearing a watch. Always wondered about that?”
“Hmm…” she simply replied and turned back to the coffee machine.
My eyes once again dropped and admired her figure before I moved away and stood beneath the large skylight looking up at the now completely blue sky. I looked in one of the mirrors on the back wall and for a moment was convinced I saw Liz just turning away. Once again, I puffed out my chest but this time, I also tensed my buttocks (just in case). I wanted to slip my hand inside my jeans to coax my swelling cock into a more comfortable position but I didn’t dare. I noticed for the first time since the thunderstorm that I was feeling the cold from my damp clothing as I stood there obviously no longer in direct strong sunlight.
I glanced at my chest and saw both my nipples were hard and quite obvious through the cartoon figure adorning my T-shirt. I suspected that wasn’t totally from the chill. The gurgling of the coffee machine ceased behind me and I watched Liz’s reflection approach me carrying two steaming mugs. “All those feet of hair over the years you had washed just there and where has it all gone now?” she asked.
I ran my fingers over my head; I’d had long hair before I went to university, just passed my shoulders and now it was closely cropped to my scalp.
“You know how it is, all those evenings I had to spend washing it” Liz placed the mugs down on one of the small tables between the wash basins and reached up and ran her fingernails over my scalp. Goose pimples exploded all the way up my spine. “Ohhh... that’s nice...” I almost purred.
She pulled her hand away and for the first time she looked like she might be blushing, “S... sorry... a little forward...”
I smiled at her as she quickly sat down on one of the reclined seats and lifted her mug in front of her in a very defensive gesture. I sat in the next chair lifting my own coffee, “Seriously, I didn’t mind. I do miss the...pampering of having my hair cut, using clippers by yourself just isn’t the same!”
“No girlfriend to help you out?” Liz enquired as she lifted the steaming coffee to her lips.
“Not at the moment... not for...” I counted the months in my head, “Must be five months now. She was the one who got me to cut my hair. I think she didn’t like me having longer hair than her.” I smiled.
Liz’s eyes glanced up at the close cut of my scalp, “It’s a bit severe for my liking, I prefer a little more length... and you did have ‘good’ hair.”
I smiled at the ‘good hair’ remark imagining it to be a typical hairdresser’s turn of phrase. I placed my mug on the small table between us and sat back in the chair, nestling my neck into the sculpted curve of the hand basin. A broad grin crept over my face. “What’s so funny?” asked Liz.
I flicked my eyes towards her light blue ones, “I was just thinking... are you a hairdresser or... a Follicle Technician?”
“A Follicle Technician, I like that though a Filamentous Biomaterial Engineer sounds even better!”
I laughed...
