Chapter 10 Henry #2
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 its en 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 was really interested.
I was about to pitch a full-on tent and these loose jeans were going to hide nothing.
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 repositioning his 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?”
Mmm, smooth. His skin had been smooth, too, I remembered before I could stop myself. Almost hairless except for a thin happy trail and a trimmed patch around his cock. The glide of my dick inside him had been smooth, too.
Annnd there went my dick again.
“Hold this?” The brush projected over my shoulder again, startling me out of my thoughts, and I reflexively took it as Jamison went back to work braiding.
We traded the brush back and forth a few times, and within a few minutes he’d fully braided the length of my hair and was proudly snapping the elastic onto the end of the braid.
“There.” He dropped the braid, and I felt the weight of it slap against the top of my back.
“That actually looks pretty good, considering this is my first time trying it.” He paused, then stroked a finger down my braid.
“Do you want me to take it out, or leave it like this?”
“Leave it,” I managed hoarsely, then quickly leaned forward to snag my glass and take a drink. Get your mind out of the gutter, Hen, I urged myself. You’re friends. When that pep talk didn’t cool my dick down much, I stuffed a handful of pretzels in my mouth, nearly choking myself.
Well, it wasn’t fun, but it did calm down my would-be erection.
I could be thankful for that. I turned out of the sideways posture I’d assumed for the braiding and sat back against the back of the couch, feeling Curie bat curiously at the end of my braid as my head came to rest near her paw.
I reached back to pull it out of her grip and took the opportunity to run my hand over Jamison’s work, evaluating.
“Not bad,” I told him, offering a smile.
“Especially for a first attempt. Half the time when I do it I find strands just sorta hanging out on the sides afterward and then I have to decide whether to re-do it or just deal.”
“It was probably a lot easier for me considering you wouldn’t be able to see what you’re doing on your own head,” he pointed out. “I kinda can’t believe you can even do it blind.”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “You get the hang of it.”
Jamison picked up his glass, which was empty of liquid, and sucked an ice cube into his mouth.
I tried not to drool at the sight. He rolled the ice around in his mouth for a few seconds, then released it back into the glass.
That probably should have been disgusting rather than hot, and yet somehow…
I coughed, forcibly breaking my gaze away from his lips. “So, uh,” I squeaked out, “what now?”
Yeah, great, Hen. Demand he entertain you. That’ll make you popular.
He cocked his head to the side consideringly, then reached out a finger and pushed an escaping strand of my hair behind my ear, bringing up goosebumps on my skin yet again. The man had to be trying to kill me, there was no other explanation. “Another drink?” he suggested.
It was fifty-fifty whether another drink would suppress my libido or enhance it.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to take the chance.
Plus, the last time we’d gotten drunk together hadn’t ended very well.
Well, it had been a damn enjoyable fuck-up, I allowed mentally, but still, there was fucking up involved and we didn’t want to do that again.
I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice caught.
Clearing my throat, I tried again. “We could, uh, watch a movie?”
“Netflix and chill?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me playfully. “You bad boy.” He reached out and flicked the end of my braid with the tip of one finger.
I choked on my own spit at his teasing. “No,” I hastened to get out through my attempts to clear my throat, “I just meant…I mean…we don’t…” I was turning bright red again and this time I wasn’t sure if it was the embarrassment, the choking, or both.