Her Hair


I had been at the bar about thirty minutes, waiting for my good friend Kan. We had planned to get a few drinks, and then head out to a local seafood restaurant, where they had a special on stone crab. After dinner we were going to run a few more of the bars on Duval Street, hoping to meet some interesting women.

Kan was running late, which was strange for him, so when my cell phone rang I figured something was up. I looked at the caller ID and confirmed, yes, it was Kan.

Answering the phone I said, “Hey Kan, I was wondering where you were.”

He explained he had some car trouble and wouldn’t be able to make it. Apparently one of his wheel bearing had gone bad on him and he needed to get it fixed.

“You sure you want to work on that tonight, I’ll be glad to come pick you up,” I said, hoping I could convince him to work on the car later.

Explaining that he was going to need the car the next day to travel up to his parent’s house, he had to get it fixed right away. He apologized for screwing up our plans, but promised me he’d treat me to the stone crab the next time they had a special.

“Well, I can’t refuse an offer like that. Good luck with your car and drive safely,” I said before hanging up the phone. I’d have to do the cruising by myself.

I was about to get up and head over to the seafood restaurant when an absolute goddess stepped into the bar. Wearing a pair of jeans with a neatly laced white blouse, which she left unbuttoned damn near down to her navel, she moved her sleek body through the doorway.

Once she was inside my attention was drawn to her face, or more exactly to her hair. It was jet black, pulled back so tight against her head it made me wince. In the twirling lights inside the bar, her hair seemed to sparkle as if it was still soaking wet. As she moved to the bar and sat down on a stool, I could see it was tied up into a tight bun, which also glistened in the light.

She must have noticed me looking at her, because she looked over and said, “Hello.” Simple hatay escort as that… hello, yet the voice, no the accent, it was immediately obvious she was not from Key West, hell, she wasn’t from the US.

I noticed a few of the guys sitting near me ogling her and commenting on her body, especially how her breasts were barely covered by her blouse. Before they could do anything, I immediately jumped up and sat down in the stool next to her.

Prying my gaze from the dark, black and wet looking strands of her hair I looked at her eyes and said, “That is a beautiful blouse, such delicate lace, is it from your country?”

“My blouse,” she replied, running her hand down the lace, nearly exposing her breast as she did, “no, no I got it at J.C. Penney.”

Feeling my face flush a bit, “Oh J.C. Penney… it is a lovely blouse.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m from Belarus.”

“Belarus,” I said, letting the word tease my mouth and lips. Glancing up at her hair I reached out my hand to touch it, but then pointed to the bartender instead. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” she replied.

Waving down the bartender I said, “I’ll have a Vodka Collins and the lady will have…,” I looked to her, once again gazing at the stunning black hair.

“Please, I would like a White Russian,” she said.

“Make mine a White Russian too,” I said, “and can we have it at the table over there?”

The bartender nodded saying, “Crystal will bring the drinks to you.”

I took Belarus by the hand and led her to the table, realizing I needed to know her name, I couldn’t just call her “Belarus.” Pulling out her chair for her I said, “My name is Jim.”

Once seated she said to me, “Hi Jim,” the accent giving the name the cutest lilt I had ever heard, “My name is Katiana.”

“Katiana,” I repeated, “Katiana from Belarus.”

She smiled and then looked down at the table as the waitress delivered hurma escort our White Russians. I just stared, fascinated on how her hair was so tightly woven into the sparkling bun. Once again I reached out to touch it, wanting to feel the wetness of it on my fingers, but I stopped.

I was torn, part of me wanted to grab that hair and run my fingers through it and part of me wanted to leave it as it is, so perfectly sculpted with the bun in the middle and the strands radiating out, all looking wet and wild, like the Black Sea.

We talked and continued drinking the White Russians. She had only been in the states for two months and only in Key West for about two weeks. Working at a nearby restaurant as a hostess, she planned to stay on the island for a while. Later she talked of her country, of the great upheavals they endured and finally how she got her opportunity to come to the states.

As the evening passed, we both were pretty drunk and, except for a few other drunken couples, the bar had pretty well cleared out. I figured I’d take a chance with her and asked, “Hey, would you like to come back to my place, it’s not far from here.”

She immediately smiled but said, “Oh I am sorry Jim. I would like to, but I have, how you say… period now. But I would like to help you. You understand what I say?”

“Yes,” I replied wondering what she had in mind.

“You want me too now?”

“Oh yes.”

She slid forward and then moved down beneath the table, kneeling on the floor. I felt her fumbling with my pants, so I moved my hands down and unfastened my pants for her. I watched as she reached into my underwear and pulled out my cock.

I could see my cock slowly disappear into her mouth, but realized that wasn’t what I wanted to see. Carefully grabbing the table I pushed it back and I watched as slowly, strand by glistening black strand her beautiful hair emerged from under the table. Fighting off the urge to touch it, I kept moving the table as the tight bun toward the ığdır escort back of her head came out from under the table.

She did amazing things with her mouth, as she sucked me, running her tongue over my cock, but I remained mesmerized by the hair. When her head bobbed, the light sparkled through it and wondered if it was soft and wet, or was the gel one that dried hard. I looked closer, unable to tell for sure as I could see faint hints of her scalp between the jet black strands of hair.

I reached my hand up and let it hover over the sparkling, black as her head continued to bob up and down on me. Moving my hand closer and closer I finally gave in and lightly touched the bun just as I came. Feeling the light gel on my fingers I marveled at the tight knot of the bun as my cock shot spurt after spurt of cum into her willing mouth.

In a few minutes she let my cock fall out of her mouth and she moved back next to me at the table. She smiled, licked her fingers and said, “You taste very good to me, Jim.”

I could only smile and nod, my gaze transfixed on her hair. “You are so beautiful,” I said, “your hair… your hair…”

“Jim, I need to leave now, my roommates have come to pick me up,” she said, pointing to the door.

I looked up and saw two women at the door waving. Not sure what else to do I waved back, noticing Katiana’s hair gel glistening on my fingers. Katiana then leaned over and kissed me hard on the mouth, her tongue slipping in to my mouth. She then pulled away and whispered, “Next time maybe the period is over and we can go to your place.”

She then stood up and headed to the door. Realizing I didn’t know how to reach her I shouted out, “How will I find you?”

“Be here for me. I will come back soon,” she said, looking back. She then turned and headed out the door. The last thing I saw was her beautiful black hair, still pulled tightly in a bun without a strand out of place. Even after she left her hair seemed to glisten in the light.

I reached my fingers up to my mouth and tasted her hair gel, wondering what her pussy might taste like. Not wanting to miss her, I’ve come back to the bar every night since then, hoping for another glimpse at her glistening wet, jet black hair, wanting to touch her incredibly tight bun.

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