It was time for a haircut. Haircuts are the best!

Okay, maybe that sentence needs an explanation.

How long did it take you to find a haircutter that you liked? One that knew your preferences, but was open to new ideas that you brought. One that was dependable, close to home and, above all, one that you were compatible with.

When my wife and I moved into our new neighborhood, I went to about six of them. I wasn’t thrilled by any of them.

In the meantime, my wife had an even harder time! She still hasn’t found a stylist she can depend on. Every one of them has let her down over the various styles and colorings she’s had done.

Several months ago, I was mentioning that I was about to go for a cut, but couldn’t decide where to go. She recommended a spa close by that she had been to recently. She didn’t like what they did to her hair but maybe I’d like them.

You know how much easier it is to please men than women over things like this, so I thought, what the hell! I’ll give them a go.

I drove there while she was at work.

When I walked in, I looked around and was pleasantly surprised to see a roomful of Vietnamese women. My wife knew I had a thing for Oriental girls. She didn’t appreciate it much, but there you go. That was why she’d recommended this place to me. She knew it would appeal to my “Asian Thing”.

They all had thick accents and they directed me to a chair. The woman about to cut my hair was a woman in her thirties or so. She had horn-rimmed glasses and stood just to my shoulder when I was standing. When I sat down, her very generous bust, rare with Vietnamese girls, was about even with my face.

I told her what I wanted and she went about it very professionally. She tilted my head this way and that by placing her hand on my chin and directing me. Her hands were soft and her touch very gentle.

She leaned forward at one point to smooth out the hair on top of my head. She had tilted my head downward and then reached. My nose was neatly tucked into her cleavage for about fifteen seconds.

When she leaned back to inspect her handiwork, she saw my eyes continuing to linger on her breasts. She smirked and went back to work. The next five or so minutes of cutting included her placing my head either close to or buried in her ample bosom several times.

When she was done, she beamed at me and I realized that, even though she was no teen girl anymore, she was definitely a looker!

“You come back?” she asked me in her heavily accented English.

“Definitely!” I said with a grin.

She patted me gently on the cheek and gave me a very saucy smile.

I did go back to see her many times. I was getting my hair cut about every six weeks or so, and each time she treated me to several closeups with her boobs and held my head and face pressed into them a lot.

Needless to say, I was enjoying the hell out of getting a haircut. So, like I said, haircuts are the best!

The last time I went for a cut, I grinned as I walked from my car.

I was having a problem with an old injury that day. It happened when I was a young teen playing football. Someone blindsided me and tackled my ass. Ever since that day, there are times where I can’t put any weight on my left leg and it causes an awful limp. The pain usually goes away on its own after a few days so I just grin and bear it.

I limped into the shop and my favorite haircutter smiled broadly. When she saw me limping, she asked me what was wrong. I told her about the old injury and she frowned as she studied my posture.

“I can fix!” she said, “We have massage here. We fix!”

I politely declined. The injury, as far as I could tell, was a problem in the joint between my upper thigh bone and the hip. The center of the pain was at the top of my leg and nestled just to the left of my balls.

I didn’t tell her that of course. I just said that it was in an awkward place and it would be hard to reach.

She shooed away my objections and, with the help of one of the other ladies, a younger and very attractive girl who spoke almost no English, they ushered me to a back room.

I looked through the door and saw a massage table. As much as I would have liked to get a massage from either one of these girls, I didn’t think this was THAT kind of massage place and I didn’t want them to think of me as a pervert.

“You take off clothes!” my haircutter said, “We come back!”

“My clothes?” I said, still worried that they would get the wrong idea about me.

“Yes!” she insisted, “You take off all clothes! We help!”

They shoved me through the door and I heard them tittering to each other as they closed it. I grimaced and sat on the bed to think about it.

'They did say to take off all my clothes!' I thought to myself.

What the hell! I stripped down to nothing and lay face down on the table. This wasn’t my first Asian Massage Parlor rodeo.

After a minute I heard a knock on the door. I said I was ready and the two women came in.

They studied me as they stood over me and the second girl spoke in Vietnamese. My haircutter responded and the other girl nodded.

“Where is pain?” my cutter asked.

“Well,” I said haltingly, “It’s at the very top of my left leg where it meets my hip.”

She reached in between my thighs and started squirreling her hand around. I spread my thighs apart and she reached deeper.

“Here?” she asked, with her hand on the base of my buttocks.

“No, it’s where the leg bone meets the hip,” I said.

“Ah,” she said with a nod, “You turn over!”

I shrugged and rolled over onto my back.

To her credit, my cutter didn’t bat an eyelid as my genitals came into view. The other girl blushed slightly and smiled.

The second girl stepped forward and raised her eyes to study the ceiling as she delved into my intimate parts with her hand. With her eyes half-closed, she felt around, squeezing various bits of flesh as she went.

Eventually, she hit the jackpot. I stifled a grunt of pain and my hips lifted slightly off the table.

“There?” the girl said, rather unnecessarily I thought.

I nodded and grimaced as she prodded the affected area.

“Okay,” she said with her bright smile, “I know!”

She said something in Vietnamese to my haircutter and the woman nodded. She stepped to the end of the table and grabbed my left foot. She started to pull while the second girl moved her hand around behind my balls.

She frowned once or twice and looked down at my genitals. She spoke in Vietnamese with a hint of frustration and my haircutter giggled. The second girl grimaced and spoke again and the haircutter responded to her.

The girl left the room and my haircutter stepped up close to my head.

“She say she need more help,” she said, “She get another girl to come.”

The woman returned, this time with another of the spa employees in tow. This girl looked down at me and grinned unabashedly. Her eyes never seemed to leave my groin as she took her place at my feet. She gripped my left leg hard and pulled. My haircutter placed her hand over my cock and balls and grinned at me.

“She say she cannot reach properly,” she said, “Need to hold these to one side so she can work.”

Without waiting for my opinion on the matter, she held my junk to the right, stretching them across to my thigh. Meanwhile, the second girl reached down toward my upper thigh and placed her finger against the side of the joint. I could feel that she had definitely reached the center of my problem.

Then I developed another problem. With all this attention from three women on my genitals, they responded in a predictable way.

My cock began to lengthen and my haircutter’s eyes went wide. She could feel it grow in her hand and she smiled like a schoolgirl as it blossomed to its full length. She moved her second hand to help with holding everything to one side until my balls were safely encased in her left hand while she gripped my rod with the right.

The girl at my feet giggled but kept up with the traction to my left foot. The second girl, distracted by the third girl, looked up and saw my cock at full mast in her friend’s hand. She looked at my haircutter and asked an urgent question. She simply smiled and started stroking my length.

The girl reaching under my thigh gasped but she went back to working on my hip. The third girl pulled harder at her insistence and then I felt something pop.

The girl lifted her hands away and told the third girl to release my foot. She eased it back into place and the two of them smiled at each other.

My haircutter, still slowly stroking my rod, smiled and leaned close.

“Feel good?” she asked.

I nodded and she spoke loudly in Vietnamese. The other two girls quickly left the room and the woman leered at me.

“Now I finish!” she said.

She lowered her mouth onto my cock and started sucking. I groaned out loud and she looked up with a smile and shushed me.

“No noise!” she said.

She went back to sucking and my eyes rolled back into my head. She had an expert technique and I just reveled in the sensations. After another three minutes, the girl took her mouth off of me and grinned.

“You very strong!” she said.

Then she went back to sucking, this time while stroking the length. She mumbled as she worked and the vibrations made my balls tingle. She pushed a finger into the opening of my anus and tickled it. She moved her mouth a little quicker and then took the whole length into her throat.

When she tickled my balls with her nails, I felt like the head of my penis exploded!

She grunted as I shot my load and then looked up at me with a big smile. There was semen on her teeth and dripping over lips and down her chin.

At that very moment, I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

“You very strong!” she said once more.

She stood up straight and wiped her mouth and chin with a towel. She looked down at me and gave me a big smile once more.

“You come out for haircut now!” she said.

She left the room and I stared at the closed door in shock for several minutes.

I eventually got dressed and stood up. I noted with some surprise that the pain my hip was mostly gone! Hooray!

Then I made my way out to the salon. There were two neighborhood women getting their hair styled and one guy sitting waiting for a cut. A third woman was having her nails done.

I tried not to feel self-conscious as I went to the barber’s chair and no one seemed to notice me. I sat down and looked around the room once.

I was wrong. Someone had noticed me. The girl painting the woman’s nails was the third girl who had been called in to help with my treatment. She was grinning slyly at me. She looked furtively toward the woman whose nails she was painting and then winked at me.

She continued to grin and watch me out of the side of her eyes as my haircutter gave me my usual.