My hair fully un-braided, he let it drop to my neck and reached out to snag his glass off the coffee table. “I need liquid courage to forge ahead,” he announced dramatically.
“Is my hair that scary?”
“Terrifying,” he agreed solemnly, then took a sip, slurping what was left in the glass. “Of course, now it’s also all tangled from me pushing it around in circles, which doesn’t help. Do you have a brush?” He put his glass down and sifted a hand through my hair, trying to straighten it and incidentally giving me shivers again. Who knew it would feel so good to have someone playing with my hair?
My dick twitched again. No, down boy! This is what the alcohol was supposed to help with! I snuck a hand into my lap and subtly - hopefully - pressed the heel of it into my groin, urging the beginnings of the erection away.
Nope, that wasn’t helping.
Brush!
I jumped to my feet. “Yes!” I said, too loudly. “Let me just…go get my brush.” And before he could reply, I’d dashed out of the room. I made my way to my bedroom and itsen suite, where my hairbrush lay on the vanity. Now well out of Jamison’s view, I took the opportunity to thump my burgeoning erection into submission. We were friends. He was learning to braid. He wasn’t here for sex. He’d probably be shocked and horrified if I offered him sex, given how last time around had gone. Nobody wants to bone the irresponsible guy.
My groin was still tingling. I took deep breaths for a few seconds, and the tingle started to fade. Ok. Ok, good. I could go back out there without embarrassing myself too much. I ran my fingers over the bristles of my brush, giving myself another sensation to focus on other than my cock, and felt it relax another fraction. Phew.
Picking up the brush and still taking deep breaths, I made my way back out into the living room, where I found Jamison deep in conversation with Curie as he petted her.
“- soft,” he was saying. “You and your daddy both. Does it run in the family?”
He thought I was soft? I was going to choose to believe he was referring to my hair and not my belly, for the sake of my ego. “Conditioner,” I announced as I walked fully into the room. “It works wonders. On people. For Curie, I guess it’s just spit.” I winced. Sexy, that was not. Not that I wanted to be sexy, I reminded myself.Friends.
He grinned at me, unashamed of being caught discussing things with my cat. “Maybe I should try spit on my hair, just to make sure it doesn’t work for people.”
“I’m pretty sure it won’t help.” I sat down with my back to him and offered him the brush over my shoulder. “Do you know how to brush long hair?”
I felt and heard him adjust his weight behind me. “There’s a trick to it?”
“Sort of? You can’t just yank the brush down or it will hurt me, especially if there are tangles. So you sort of have to support it at the roots with one hand and then brush it with the other. That way you’re putting the tension you draw on the center of the strand and not on where it connects to my scalp.”
“Damn, long hair is more complicated than I realized.” He carded the fingers of his left hand into my hair near my scalp, then brought the brush in his right hand to it. “Like this?”
I nodded. “Exactly like that.” Annnnd my dick was stirring again. Fuck my life. I slouched a little, hoping to disguise the movement in my pants.
The brush gently traveled down my strands, then he repositioned his left hand a bit to the side and did the whole thing again. It was somehow simultaneously soothing and stimulating, feeling his fingers tickle my scalp. “Smooth,” he remarked as he drew the brush down the last section of my hair. “You really do have such beautiful hair.” Without warning, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my hair above my ear.
I gasped and jerked upright.
“Sorry!” he exclaimed, yanking his hands out of my hair. “Sorry, it was just…there. So nice. Never mind. Let’s try braiding again.”
Before I could think of a reply, he’d handed me the brush over my shoulder and started sectioning my hair again. I sat, frozen, as he mumbled his way through the weave for a minute. He’d kissed me. Well, he’d kissed my hair. Which was part of me. Fuck, now my dick wasreallyinterested. I was about to pitch a full-on tent and these loose jeans were going to hidenothing.
Jamison either didn’t notice or was too polite to remark on my bulge, even though he’d have a clear view of it over my shoulder. Instead, he carefully braided my hair, occasionally repositioninghis hold to get a better grip or to catch fly-aways. “This isn’t so bad once you get the hang of it,” he remarked casually as he reached the end of my hair. “Now how do I make it stay like this? Just let go?” He started to do that.
“No!” I yelped, and his hands froze. “If you let it go it’ll unbraid itself,” I explained. “You have to put an elastic on the end to keep it in place.”
“Really?” he asked curiously. “Even though it’s all twisted together?”
I nodded as much as I could without dislodging his grip. “Unless it’s wet, hair will pretty much always try to return to its original position after you manipulate it.” I pulled my hair elastic off my wrist, where I’d stored it after I originally took it off, and offered it to him over my shoulder.
“Huh.” He took the elastic with his left hand, still holding my braid with his right. “Could I…would you mind if I tried the braid again first?”
Sure, more intimate touching, what could possibly go wrong. I stifled a sigh, not wanting him to feel unwelcome. “Sure. Go for it,” I managed to say without it sounding too weird. I hoped.
He slipped the elastic over his own wrist and then gently unbraided my hair. I handed the brush back to him over my shoulder, and soon he was stroking it through my hair soothingly.
I managed to relax into the sensation instead of letting it get me worked up all over again. It was actually really nice, feeling someone’s fingers play over my scalp as a brush smoothed my hair. I wondered if there was a polite way to ask lovers to do this without coming across as fetish-y.Ooh baby, brush my hair.
“I’m gonna try to use the brush as I do it this time,” he informed me as he started sectioning my hair again. “Keep things smoother, you know?”
