Purpose of the blog

A place to help "hair interested" people embrace, explore and experience their special feelings with others who may have similiar hair interests. Encouraging interactive participation in the "hair interested" community to discuss, learn and to increase social awareness and acceptance.



Thursday, November 3, 2011

Great words about hair.

If someone asked me to comment on this story this is what I'd say: "Fantastic. Elegant and erotic. Also subtle, few words saying it all, defining the mood, and surprising the reader with a non-expected ending, which, by the way, is almost a start too". This is Cliper2's tale called A story in search of a title. Here follows a sample of it, the complete story is published at the Hair and Stories page.
Posted by Harriet.



Sitting alone as her stylist, Sue, took the call by the reception desk, Gina allowed herself to enjoy the cool feeling of silk on bare shoulders. She didn't have the courage to take off her bra when she donned the smock. Still, her nipples were hard, had been hard, since she walked in the door. And her center had been growing ever more wet and wobbly as the morning passed.
Her feet were spread, not crossed, propped firmly on the footrest. And the vinyl chair was cool on her bottom, even if she didn't have the courage to go without her panties, as a good sub would. But they knew her here. She couldn't, just couldn't. Not this time. Besides, she was just exploring, just touching a trembling finger in the pool of this submerged desire.
Some things she could still hold at arm's length. Not exactly in denial, but safely out of reach and out of mind often enough. But now she eyed Sue's clippers, sitting haphazardly on the shelf. They were just below the mirror so there were stereo images of them, a double tease. Just out of her grasp. But there. So close.
She had begun to fantasize about a pair of clippers and a pair of firm hands more and more. Was she any closer to them? Metaphorically? Yes. Really? She didn't permit herself an answer.
She did permit herself the fantasies. They were gauzy tapestries, far away from the violent reality that gave them birth. Vague, impressionistic. The truth was she'd never seen a pair of clippers work. Not in that way, at least. She chuckled and remembered his admonition to rent that otherwise forgettable Demi Moore film next week, sit naked alone and watch the pivotal scene. That scene. Cinematic reality.
PLEASE, READ THE COMPLETE TEXT ON HAIR AND STORIES.

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