Marcus walked into the shop on a quiet Tuesday afternoon, needing a fresh fade before the weekend. The place smelled like clipper oil and aftershave, and behind the single chair stood Jamal, six-foot-three, broad shoulders stretching a black tank top, dark skin gleaming under the lights. His arms were thick with muscle, and when he turned, his eyes locked on Marcus like he already knew why the guy had come in.
Take a seat, Jamal said, voice low and rough. Marcus sat. Jamal draped the cape, then ran his big hand over Marcuss head, feeling the curls. The touch lingered. What you want today?
Low fade, clean up the sides, Marcus answered, but his voice came out tighter than he meant. Jamal smirked, flicked the clippers on, and started working. The vibration traveled straight down Marcuss spine. Every time Jamal leaned in, his crotch brushed the back of the chair, and Marcus could feel the heat of him.
Halfway through the cut Jamal stopped. You keep shifting. You good?
Yeah, Marcus lied. His dick was already half hard under the cape.
Jamal chuckled, set the clippers down, and locked the front door. Aint nobody else coming in. You can stop pretending. He pulled the cape off, revealing the obvious bulge in Marcuss jeans. That for me?
Marcus swallowed. Yeah.
Jamal didnt waste time. He grabbed Marcus by the chin, tilted his head up, and kissed him hard, tongue pushing in deep. His other hand went straight to Marcuss crotch, squeezing the growing cock through the denim. Get up.
Marcus stood. Jamal spun him around, bent him over the barber chair, and yanked his jeans down to his thighs. The cool air hit his ass. Jamal spit in his hand, rubbed it between Marcuss cheeks, and pressed two thick fingers inside without warning.
Marcus groaned, pushing back.
Fuck, youre tight, Jamal muttered. He worked the fingers in and out, scissoring them open, getting Marcus wet and ready. Then he pulled his own cock out, heavy, veined, dark, already leaking. He rubbed the head against Marcuss hole, teasing.
Beg for it, Jamal said.
Give it to me, Marcus answered, voice raw. Fuck me.
Jamal pushed in slow, letting Marcus feel every inch stretch him open. Once he was balls deep he paused, hands gripping Marcuss hips hard enough to bruise. Then he started thrusting, long, deep strokes that made the chair creak. Skin slapped skin. Jamals balls swung against Marcuss ass with every drive.
Take that dick, Jamal growled. He reached around, grabbed Marcuss cock, and stroked it in time with his thrusts. Precum dripped onto the floor. Marcus pushed back, meeting every slam, moaning loud.
Jamal pulled out, spun Marcus around, and lifted him onto the chair. He hooked Marcuss legs over his shoulders and drove back in, deeper this time. The angle hit Marcuss prostate dead on. Every thrust made him see stars. Jamal leaned down, biting at Marcuss neck while he fucked him harder, faster, the chair rocking under them.
Gonna fill you up, Jamal grunted. His rhythm turned sloppy. He slammed in one last time and came, cock pulsing, hot cum flooding Marcuss hole. Marcus jerked himself the rest of the way, shooting across his own stomach and the cape still hanging off the chair.
They stayed locked together, breathing hard. Jamal pulled out slow, watching his cum leak out of Marcuss stretched hole. He wiped it with his thumb and pushed it back in.
Same time next week, Jamal said, voice calm like nothing had happened. You need another cut.
Marcus pulled his jeans up, legs still shaking. Wouldnt miss it.
Jamal unlocked the door, wiped the chair down, and went back to cleaning his clippers. Marcus walked out into the street with cum still slick inside him, already counting the days until his next appointment.
