Chapter 6
Shampoo
Perth is a very pretty, quiet rural town on the banks of the Swan River, but it wasn't overactive at nighttime. I decided my hair needed doing, so I wandered along to find a hairdresser's which appeared reasonably modern. The clothes I saw in the shop windows looked almost Victorian. I'm sure Perth has grown up and outward since I was there, but after visiting most of the other big town, I liked the countrified atmosphere of Perth best of all. It was like a large English market town of many years ago.
I found a hairdresser's, but they were just putting the Closed sign up when I managed to sneak in. I went past the receptionist and up to a small, neat, tanned, big-boobed girl who turned out to be the owner of the salon. I pleaded with her to do my hair. She said she'd do it herself and sent all the juniors and the other stylists home. She gave me a gown and led me to the basin. I lay down with my feet up and my head back while she shampooed and massaged my head with her experienced hands. I love having a really good head massage. In so many places they slop water all over your head, and most of it goes down your back, but to have an expert and lengthy massage during a shampooing, whether it's done by a man or a woman, always produces a lovely tingling sensation all over my body. We said a few polite words to each other, and then I lay back and enjoyed this very fine feeling, almost as good as an excellent blow job.
As with all good things, it came to an end. My hair had been washed to perfection. She sat me in front of the mirror and remarked that the ends of my hair needed a little trim. Although she had used plenty of conditioner, the ends were still very dry. One of the penalties of flying is the drying up of the skin-and hair.
She asked me if I would mind standing up as she preferred cutting hair that way. I did as I was asked and stood up. She came very close to me and started trimming the ends of my hair starting at the sides and working around to the back. She was slightly shorter than I, and I could feel her hot breath on the nape of my neck and the gentle pressure of her body on my back. It was as though the contact were accidental. It was so slight that you couldn't take offense, and yet if you wanted to take advantage and give her the smallest encouragement, you knew you wouldn't be rebuffed.
I was still tingling from the massage. The contact between our two bodies was producing an electric current which transmitted little shock waves at intervals between us. She was busy at the nape of my neck with the scissors and a comb. The gentle clip, clip, clipping of the shears and the feeling of the hair being lifted up from the nape of my very sensitive neck was sending very fast signals to my crotch. As she came around to cut my bangs, she moved in closer, and the heaving of her huge breasts was busy sending messages all of its own. After the roughness of Aussie Frank, this super-soft seduction was like a soothing lotion to my aching bones.
She sat me down and proceeded to blow-dry my hair. I let the cape slip from my shoulders and unbuttoned the front of my dress to brush some of the hair that had fallen down between my bare breasts. She switched off the hair dryer, put down her brush, and helped me with my task. She reached out for a little soft bristle brush, and taking the initiative, she unbuttoned some more buttons and swept her brush with soft strokes around my breasts, drawing it back and forth over my erect nipples. We hadn't spoken a word except for our early brief exchanges.
I pulled back the chair and slipped as if in a coma to the floor. She opened the rest of my dress and pulled off my panties. Then she left me for a moment, but soon returned with a dollop of shampoo on the end of her finger and worked it into my pubes. She treated my bush as though it were a very small delicate head of hair, massaging in the shampoo, her fingers kneading, stroking, caressing. My pussy had always received some attention during lovemaking, but never for so long or with such expertise. I thought I would pass out from the sheer pleasure of it all. Whatever else might be lacking in Australia, their hairdressers were the best in the world! (At least the one I had found was!)
I looked down at her fine soft hands as they toyed amongst the thickening foam. Once more she left me and came back with a little bowl of water to give me a rinse. She cupped the water in her hand and let it trickle all over my cunt and down between my legs and onto my dress. She repeated this delightful procedure until the hairs on my pussy were completely free of foam. She then got her hair dryer and switched on to a medium temperature. She aimed it so the warm air blew across the top of my pubes. My tuft looked like a fertile Cornish field of corn, rippling under the soft summer breeze. She then changed direction and blew the warm air straight between my legs. She moved the dryer up and down and in circular movements so that the warm air breathed into every part of me. I kept quiet and kept coming and coming and coming. She made no attempt to release her throbbing breasts from the constricting bodice of her dress.
She turned the dryer on to cold and ran it all over my body, around my neck and armpits, over my boobs, around and around my tummy and up and down my thighs. She aimed one cold blast right between my legs and then switched it back to warm in order to finish me off properly. How it was possible I don't know, but as soon as that warm stream of air hit me directly between the legs, I came again. She switched off the dryer, got a brush and comb, and proceeded to comb out my hairs. She parted them in the middle and brushed away at them, softly smoothing them out to the sides.
She got up with a smile and said she'd finished. I fumbled back into my panties and buttoned up my soggy, crumbled dress. I reached into my handbag for my purse. After all, she had washed, cut, and dried half the hair on my head.
"No charge," she said opening the door and letting me out into the street.
I stumbled the few blocks to the motel. Although I was quite dazed by it all, I couldn't help but notice the stares of the passers-by at my hair, one side completely dry, the other side soaking wet, and my sodden dress. I ran the last few steps to the motel, dashed up to my room, and sat down on my bed to ponder on what had happened.
like everybody, male or fernale, I have always wondered what it would be like to make love to a member of my own sex, but have never gone out of my way to find out. I don't really know the reason why I have never pursued this. I suppose on reflection it's because I've always been so nuts about men and perfectly satisfied with their equipment and the feelings that we have produced together. (Not all of them have been fantastic, but you can't expect perfection every time. You certainly can't have an orgasm to order.)
I have always enjoyed exposing my body to a new man. His admiration at the sight of my body always excites me greatly. The thought of him undressing me and seeing everything I've got for the first time turns me on above everything else. The men I've slept with have always been appreciate of my body. They have always touched, kissed and caressed me and have been eager to thrust their weapons between my legs. Perhaps I fear a woman would be jealous of my body and therefore not desirous of it. From my own point of view, however titillating the foreplay has been-the pussy licking and cocksucking and all the other marvelous acts a man and woman can do together nothing-beats a man's hot hard penis sticking into the depths of your womb if you are brought up to the perfect pitch. He's the superb end to a superb fuck. I think that although the sensations produced with this girl had been great (and I'm sure many a woman has felt herself slip into this semi-coma at her hairdresser's) it left me wanting, wanting something only a man can provide. Men, I love you!
Hilary burst into the room. "Where have you been, and what have you been up to?" she asked.
"I went to have my hair done," I replied.
"Well, I know things are a bit primitive in Australia, but surely they could do your hair better than that and without soaking your dress," she added.
"I've just had the best blow job of all time," I explained, sitting smiling like a cat which has just had a saucerful of cream.
Our new flight deck crew arrived, four merry men bringing us the joyous news that we were taking the aircraft empty to Singapore! I was to find out that empty sectors like this occurred quite often on the return run from Australia because they were immigrant flights: the government paid for the return trip, so if the airline couldn't find any passengers to bring back to London the aircraft returned empty. This was fantastic for the crews. We took it in turn to look after the flight deck, slept, read, and fucked intermittently during the flight!
The four men were all ready for a bit of fun-Captain Fred, First Officer Bill, Engineer Ernie, and Navigator David. They'd flown out from London together and got on like a house on fire. They even got Sally and Joy, the other two girls on our crew, to come out of their shells a bit. We spent a nice time having dinner together, as we were leaving the next morning.
We piled out to the aircraft, stowed all our luggage, and sat ourselves in the back of the aircraft because it helped with the weight load on takeoff. We'd been going about an hour when Hil and I thought it would be a nice idea to change into something cooler than our uniforms. So we slipped into diaphanous nighties and went to serve the flight deck a cup of tea each. They roared with laughter at the sight of us, and soon everyone from the captain down was in night attire! The flight deck crew looked ridiculous sitting flying the aircraft in their striped pajamas!
The first officer got out of his seat and let me get into it and have a bash at flying the aircraft. The captain took it off automatic pilot, and keeping a firm grip on his own joy stick, he instructed me on what I should do and which dials I should watch. I had a hell of a job stopping the aircraft from banking too steeply to the right and left. I was also going cross-eyed watching the dials to make sure I kept the aircraft in a straight line. Sally came tearing up from the back of the aircraft and said, "Get that lunatic out of here. I've just hit the ceiling three times." And just when I was beginning to get the hang of things-or so I thought!
Hilary and I decided to go a little further in our game of undress so the next time the flight deck buzzed for refreshment, they were served by the two of us (Sally and Joy had retired to the far end of the aircraft in disgust) wearing nothing but our hat, gloves, and shoes! They cracked up! It was a good job the aircraft was on automatic pilot, as we might have gone into a steep dive.
I must have been getting a thing about first officers, because here was another one! I fancied Bill. He was slim and blonde with Nordic features and a mouth that almost cut his face in half when he grinned. He left the flight deck and came to the galley where I was sitting stark naked except for my hat (we had been told in training that the first thing to do in an emergency was to put our hats on so we were easily recognizable by the passengers). Bill came and sat on a jump seat beside me.
"Fancy joining the 'mile high club'? " he asked, giving me his ear-splitting grin.
"I'm all for it if you are," I replied, "but I don't particularly want an audience," I added. "Do you?" I asked.
"No," he answered. "Then there are only two places," he pronounced, "the hold or the John."
So we tried it in the forward John. I was perched on the basin, my legs apart and dangling down while Bill tried to stand on tiptoe to inch himself into me. We looked so daft and laughed so much that we called the whole thing off and decided to head for the hold. We drew the curtains across the midship's galley. Bill lifted off the cover, and we crawled down into the hold. It was bitterly cold and very uncomfortable, but at least there was enough room for me to lie down and for Bill to get on top of me. There was no romance or passion-a swift kiss, a quick fumble with my cunt, and Eureka! Bill was inside me! I didn't even experience the beginnings of an orgasm, but then that wasn't the object of the exercise: I simply found it incredibly funny to think we were flying high up in the sky at goodness only knows how many thousands of feet and banging away, in the dirty hold of an aircraft! How Bill managed to retain his erection with me lying giggling below him. I just don't know! I really enjoyed it, but it was more the sheer devilment of being able to carry out the deed than any pleasure one might get from doing the deed itself. Not that having Bill's nicely proportioned cock inside me wasn't a great feeling, but it was the sense of achievement at having made it at all that gave me the greatest pleasure.
"You're the only girl who has giggled and laughed all the time I've been fucking her. You weren't exactly a great help," he gently chided her.
"I know, darling," I replied, "but the whole thing was simply too much for me to keep a straight face. I think you were marvelous to keep a straight dick."
He pulled his pajamas together, tied the cord, and helped me crawl back out of the hold. We were both freezing, so I went into the galley to make us a nice hot cup of tea only to find that I had turned the water on to fill the water urns before we'd left, and the whole place was awash with water. I quickly turned off the water supply and mopped up the mess. If it had been left any longer, it could have been very dangerous with all that water seeping into the electrics. Bill helped me, and soon we had the galley spick and span. I wrapped myself in a blanket, and we sat down together with our steaming hot cups of tea. I promised him that at Singapore I'd really give him the works. After all, I had to make up for my behavior-or, rather, lack of it-down in the hold. He quite understood and cuddled me until I was warm and gave me a kiss and said, "Now, don't forget. You've promised me your body in Singapore."
We all changed back into uniforms for our arrival in Singapore. But bad news was waiting for me. The Number Four on a flight into Bangkok from Hong Kong had gone sick, and I was flying there immediately to replace her. As our crew had six days to spend in Singapore, they could easily find another girl to take my place and make up their crew. I said a tearful good-bye to Hilary, not knowing when we'd meet again. At this rate, I'd never get back to the UK. Bill was desolate and livid at the same time, for he had been lusting for more of my body.
"Never mind," I said. "We'll make it soon, I'm sure."