Just a Trim


A bearded couple go to a gay-friendly barber shop for just trim. Things take an interesting turn

My guy and I had taken our trip to a pretty famous barber down town. The prices were good, and the barbers were very gay friendly, as we have heard from others.

I had wanted a simple trim and shave for my hair and my man wanted his beard trimmed down. He had been growing it out for a few months and it was a fluffy brown bush on his face with a hint of silver. I liked it that way, and kind of wish he had grown it out a bit more, but I wasn’t going to stop him from shortening it if that’s truly what he wanted. He felt the length made him look older, and he really wasn’t wrong.

We pulled up to the small parking lot outside of the barbers, and sat in the car for a bit since we still had about 20 minutes before our appointment. I scrolled through tumblr on my phone, while my man was checking his emails.

“Do you know what you want to get?” he asked me absentmindedly.

I shrugged, and looked over to him, “I think just a trim. Might cut down this longer hair on top.”

I ran my hands through my dark brown hair, hating how long I had let it grow. It wasn’t that long, but long enough to where I felt uncomfortable. I normally sported a fauxhawk, which looked good with my own bushy beard. Though, it could never reach the length my guy had.

“I think the longer hair looks good on you,” he said, rubbing the back of my head.

“Thanks, handsome. But you know I don’t like it. Besides, I’m not stopping you from shortening your beard.”

“True. I guess we’ll just have to deal with each other,” he said with a snarky grin.

Before long we had left the car and moved ourselves into the barber shop. Inside were four barbers total, and we had scheduled back-to-back appointments with the same stylist. He was a tall bear of a man- sporting a silver goatee and thick silver piercings in his ears that were heavy enough to tug the lobes downward.

“David!” The barber called when he saw us. David was my man’s name, if I hadn’t mentioned that prior.

“How are you?” David replied, giving the towering man a hug.

Now, my man and I aren’t short in the least. Both of us stood over 6 feet each, but even we had to look upwards a tad to meet the barber’s gaze.

“I’m doing great! Another day in paradise here. I see you’ve brought your boy!” I cringed, being called a ‘boy’ by one of David’s friends. I considered us equals, even though I had a slight fetish for the daddy/boy relationships. Though, it wasn’t our style. Even with a 15 year age-gap between us.

“He’s actually my man, but yes. This is Ben,” I beamed that David had corrected him, and shook hands with the barber.

“Oh, excuse me! Very nice to finally meet you. I see your pictures on David’s facebook all the time and he always talks about you! My name is Trace.”

I nodded awkwardly and ushered for David to take the first spot. He sat in Trace’s chair while I took a seat near the window 8 feet away, pulling my phone out again. Trace had draped a cape over David’s body and prepared him for the trim. I still found it a bit funny that he would go to a Barber shop just to have his beard shortened, and that he was bald on top.

Trace and David were having a polite conversation back and forth, and I half-listened while I was once again scrolling through my tumblr.

“So you want it shorter? Why’s that, handsome?” Trace asked, prompting my ears to twitch and glance up at them.

“I just don’t like it too long. It gets pretty messy by the time I wake up and it’s a bit of a tangled mess,” David had answered, staring at himself in the mirror.

“I can fix that, then. Let me comb it out before I trim it so I can make sure everything is nice and even.”

Trace had looked my way and gave a sly wink as he pulled out a silver comb from his apron. I flushed a little, wondering where his flirty attitude was coming from. I also wondered why he hadn’t grabbed a comb from the barbicide on the counter.

David just relaxed while Trace ran the comb through his beard again and again, the hairs starting to loosen up and hang lower.

“Look at this silver in your beard. Not too long and you’ll look like me, eh?” Trace teased. David hated the silver, and always considered dyeing it. But the silver didn’t seem too prominent yet. Just a little noticeable.

“I don’t know. I was thinking of coloring it. The gray makes me feel so old.”

“Really? I don’t think coloring it would help. You’ve got a lot of silver coming through. It would take a lot of dye, and you’d have to keep up with it,” Trace was explaining, still dragging the comb through.

I looked up, wondering why he said David had a lot of silver. It never seemed like that much, but my eyes almost seemed to deceive me when I caught his reflection. Not only had the hair seemed a bit longer, straighter, but there was all of that gray and silver surfacing. It must have been hidden under his brown.

“I suppose… It does seem a bit…lighter than I thought…,” David noticed, tilting his head a little.

I wasn’t paying much attention to my phone anymore, and watched closely while the comb pulled the beard further down. I could swear I saw the colors draining from it, creeping further up until there wasn’t really any earth tones left except for those in his mustache.

“Look at this beautiful silver mane you have, darling. You couldn’t look any younger if you tried, but you don’t have to,” Trace chided, brushing behind David’s beard now. Most of the tangled fluff had tamed itself and the 3 ½” beard David sported before with browns and chestnut looked like it had reached about 10-11”.

I felt my pants starting to tighten, getting a bit turned on despite my confusion. David looked…really good like that. I had to adjust myself, and I’m pretty sure Trace caught me as I noticed him smiling at me again.

“Yeah, it took a while to grow out… I suppose I could just embrace the silver. But my mustache looks off since it doesn’t look as aged.” I was surprised to hear David say that, obviously, but I wasn’t sure what I should do. Did he realize how different he looked? Did he care?

“That’s a quick fix, handsome. Let me touch that up a bit,” Trace replied, bringing his silver comb to David’s upper-lip and stroking downwards. Instantly, I saw the short-trimmed ‘stache growing longer and losing its color just like the beard. Now that I expected it, it seemed even weirder before my eyes. David had never grown his mustache out since he hated the hair getting in his mouth. Now, there were silvery strands covering his lips.

Trace started to brush the mustache outwards to the sides of David’s mouth, and the hairs fluffed up to a rounded appearance. No color was left everywhere except for David’s eyebrows at this point.

Trace then grabbed David’s beard, putting the comb aside and started to stroke it with his hands and straighten it further. It stretched all the way down to my man’s belly that protruded under the cape.

“There we go, all brushed out… Now tell me, Daddy, how short you wanting this thing?” Trace asked while running a finger caressingly over David’s mustache.

I heard my man grunt- a sensual grunt I only heard him do in the bedroom before, and he answered, “Just take off a half an inch. Maybe less. I just want the shape even.”

The barber grinned and replied with an enthusiastic “Yes, sir!”

There didn’t seem to be any magic or tricks this time, as Trace dutifully followed orders and shaped up the bottom of the beard. When he was finished, he leaned in and planted a full kiss on David’s mouth. I should have jumped up. I should have been mad. Instead, I was holding my crotch and trying not to show my arousal. I noticed that nobody else in the shop was looking towards us, as if we were invisible.

The cape was removed, and David was ushered out of the chair. He looked towards me with an almost-lustful look in his eyes, though I couldn’t tell since he seemed a bit tired. Wrinkles had formed around his eyes showing even more age. He certainly didn’t look like he was in his early forties- more like he was creeping into his sixties.

“David? H-how are you feeling…?” I asked tentatively, standing up and keeping a hand over my crotch.

“Feelin’ good. Feelin’ a little worked up, even,” he replied, his voice sounding a bit more gravelly. He ran his hand through his long silver beard and grunted again at the soft feeling between his fingers, while his other hand played with a tent in his shorts.

“A good trim can be erotic, right Daddy Dave?” Trace asked, squeezing my man’s ass. David smiled through his thick ‘stache and rotated a little to give the barber another kiss. When they separated, David was panting and slightly drooling into his beard.

“Fuck, you’re right. Gonna need ta come here more often, huh?” David, or “Daddy Dave” as Trace had referred to him replied. His speech had a hint of a southern drawl now, which of course was unnatural with him being from California.

“At least once every two weeks, I say. Got to keep that beard shaped. What about your little man, here? Ready for his cut?” Trace had teased, looking my way. I felt a shiver run down my spine and ignored being referred to as a ‘little man’.

I was ready to protest, possibly just walk out when Dave replied for me, “Yep. He’s overdue. Git in the chair, little man.”

Dave had repeated the degrading nickname, and with his urging I felt compelled to obey. I started to shake a little sitting in the chair. Trace had repeated his steps before and covered me up with the cape.

“Now, boy…what do you think you want, huh?” Trace asked.

“I um…I just want the length cut…a fauxhawk, please,” I answered with a nervous tone. Trace just chuckled and pulled out another comb from his apron. This one had a purple tint.

“Really? You boys look good with some length, though,” he started as he ran the comb over my head. The contact on my scalp spread as a fuzzy tingling. He continued, “Not too long, but maybe a classic cut. Something to make your Daddy proud.”

My hair began to gain some volume, turning wavy and I noticed the same color draining from each strand. Though it wasn’t turning silver.

“Daddies like their boys stylish. Maybe a bit feminine, right? It shows who belongs on the bottom in the relationship…,” he continued to speak, my hair now taking on a silvery purple. My brain felt like it was filled with cotton, and I couldn’t do anything but let him continue.

I looked over at Dave, sitting in the same seat I was planted before and watched him playing with his bulge through his cargo shorts and grinning at me. I felt a sense of obedience to him. No longer like a partner and more like I owed him a debt.

“I know what boys like you want. I’ve been reading your thoughts since you stepped in. And I know what Daddy Dave needs. He’s older, and it takes a lot to get him hard these days. He needs a freak. Someone that will suck him off wherever. Cater to his kinks. Right Daddy?”

“Mmmyeah… I want a freak,” Daddy said, tugging on his beard a little while playing with himself.

“Sure you do! A freak with silver piercings and bright colorful hair. A chubby ass that’s never satisfied and always stuffed with either a plug or Daddy’s thick cock,” Trace commented, teasing me, fucking with my head. I couldn’t help but moan and play with my own dick underneath the cape. Trace leaned down to bite my ear lobe playfully, and then started whispering, “Daddy’s going to buy some new toys for you. Maybe some leather. He told me you have a collar hidden under the bed, and I promise you he’s going to start using it on you…”

He was right. I had that collar for years and I never got much use out of it. David was always a bit freaked out by it, but Daddy Dave here seemed just like the type of man I needed to utilize it. Make me feel like a worthless bitch at his command.

I opened my eyes and looked back in the mirror, seeing the shimmering purple throughout my hair. Trace was shaving the sides down and created a line where my hair was parted on the side. It’d look so dashing if it wasn’t for the color. I looked like I belonged on my knees. Just as I thought it was done, Trace had taken the razor he used for my sides and started shaving my beard off. This was something that pulled me a bit out of my lustful stupor, but Trace began talking again to calm me.

“A boy like you doesn’t need a beard. Your Daddy has enough for both of you to handle. Just forget you ever had one.”

And I did.

My Daddy and I could barely even get to the car before he had opened his fly and was forcing my head down to swallow his thick cock, there in the parking lot.

“Ah fuck! Suck it, ya little shit. Choke on your Daddy’s meat!” Dave exclaimed, tugging my purple hair. I could only moan as a response, and coated his dick in my saliva. It was so musky, so old. I loved how the silvery pubes and thick trail of hair on his belly rubbed again my face.

Before long, Daddy Dave had pulled my head back and unloaded a torrent of jizz into my purple hair. The after-cut styling was ruined, but I felt like it matched me a bit more with the white streaks and tufts of pulled hair sticking out. I looked like I was used, and it turned me on even more. Especially when the cum started to leak down over my face.

“Trace was right, wasn’t he? I don’t need no coloring. That’s for fags like you, huh boy?” He gathered some of his jizz on his thumb and stuck it into my mouth. I nodded, staring doe-eyed into his face. God he was so fucking hot.

Daddy Dave had ordered me not to touch myself, and wanted me to wait until we came back to the barber in a couple of weeks. He said that my load is reserved for Trace as a nice tip for being attentive to our needs. He knew exactly what we needed.

Trace watched what we had done in the car and watched as we pulled out of the parking lot, smiling wide at another pair of satisfied customers. He couldn’t wait to see how much further our changes will take us once we return.

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