The first thing that attracted me to Janine was her long hair. I know that sounds kind of shallow, but then you've never seen her hair. I almost didn't.
My first glimpse, at a company picnic, was serendipity. I was watching one of those three-legged races. Janine and a girlfriend were running, but not very well. I had barely noticed her until she fell down, when the impact must have knocked her bun loose. As she got up, up with her came a flowing cape of deep brown hair. The wind was strong that day, and blew it all around her. I was suddenly awe struck by her beauty, but somewhat puzzled by the embarrassed look on her face as she quickly gathered up her hair, twisted it up and fastened it to her head. It puzzled me why a woman with such beautiful hair would hide it. I've always had a strong attraction to women with beautiful hair -- the longer the better. I was too shy to approach her that day, but I knew I had to meet her.
I asked around and learned her name is Janine. Then it dawned on me who she was. She works in the legal department of our large Midwestern corporation, where she's charge of the paralegals
Janine was always getting her name in the company newsletter for serving on committees, everything from Christmas party planning to a group from legal doing pro bono work for battered women. Sometimes the articles had a small picture of her, an attractive face with a rather severe-looking bun.
I made up excuses to visit her department on the other side of our office campus. I even signed up for a committee she headed to get to know Janine.
Work committees are usually excuses to goof off, but she runs a tight ship. I asked one of her workers if she was always like that. "Janine knows what she wants," the woman said. "And she doesn't take bullshit from anyone." I hoped she would want me, and after a few weeks, I eventually got up the nerve to ask her out on a date. When she agreed to see a movie with me, I couldn't believe it.
All this time when I'd seen her at the office, Janine always wore her hair up. I hoped she might wear it down on our date. I even wore a short-sleeved polo shirt, hoping I might be able to put my arm around her during the movie, just to feel her hair against my forearm. Even though she dashed my hopes that first evening, we had a great time. The movie was mindlessly funny, and we laughed at many of the same jokes. We talked during a late dinner, mostly about work -- not too much about ourselves. I was getting worried she wasn't interested enough in me, but when I asked if I could take her out again sometime, she said yes.
"When's good for you?" I asked.
"Ask me next week," Janine replied.
Now I thought she was putting me off again, but I didn't say anything.
All the next week I practiced being a good sport when she shot me down. Because of her work with abused women, the last thing I wanted to think was that I was obsessed with her, or wouldn't leave her alone if she wanted me to.
I stopped by her office with the excuse of talking about committee work. She saw straight through it.
"You've got me," I confessed. "I wanted to ask you out again."
"You did," Janine said, without the hint of a question mark in her voice. I felt like I was 13 years old, asking for my first date.
"Yeah. I thought maybe we could see a concert at the bowl. Take a picnic supper."
"Before I agree, I want to know something," Janine said. "You must answer truthfully." I felt like I was being cross-examined.
"I'm always honest."
"What did you tell people about our date last week?" she said.
Oh, God, I thought, a test.
"Nothing," I said, hoping this was the right answer.
"And you're sure?" she asked. I nodded.
"I don't like people talking about me behind my back. If anything gets back to me that you've said, you'll be sorry. Understood?"
"Don't worry," I tried to reassure her.
"I'm a very private person." Janine seemed to soften, apologizing for being so hard on me. We set a date for Saturday evening for the concert.
There's something about the light an hour before sunset that can transform an ordinary landscape into a scene worthy of a Sierra Club calendar. In that early evening glow, Janine looked magnificent sitting on the blanket at the bowl before the concert started.
She doesn't have a Hollywood starlet's body, but her cotton blouse gave me a better peek at her small yet firm looking breasts. And her slightly tight khakis revealed a nicely rounded bottom usually hidden by the long jackets she favors at work.
And her hair? Still up, but in a more romantic style -- kind of a loose bun that moved when she turned her head. A few strands fell loose, catching the light behind her and creating almost a halo effect.
As darkness fell and the concert began, we cleared the dishes and sat closer together, holding hands. After intermission, when several of our neighbors had left, I lightly kissed her cheek, just in front of her left ear. She turned her head and our lips met.
We necked for awhile as I held Janine in my arms. I found my hands wandering towards the back of her neck and hairline.
I felt a shiver in her body, and a strengthening in her kisses. My eyes darted around to see if we were alone. Yes. As my hand advanced toward the bun, I felt like a teenager planning the best way to unsnap a cheerleader's bra.
"What are you doing?" she asked, a hint of crossness in her voice.
"Nothing," I replied sheepishly, moving my hands back down her bare neck.
"Really?" she asked. "Are you sure?"
"Well," I confessed, "I thought maybe you might let your hair down."
"Don't give me that. Tell me, now."
"I'd love to run my fingers through it."
"Would you," she replied, no hint of a question in her voice. Somewhat embarrassed, I didn't push it. She let it drop, and we didn't talk about it again for several months. I figured it eventually had to come down sometime, and it would be worth the wait.
Janine and I continued dating, but we never got past cuddling and necking. She always seemed guarded, trying to maintain control.
During my visits to her office I'd noticed a framed print of a bald eagle in flight, and asked if she'd ever seen one in the wild.
"No, but I'd love to."
"I've read that this time of year over by the Mississippi River they gather around open water below the dams. We should go sometime -- for a weekend."
"Sure. There's lots of bed and breakfasts along the river. Then we can--"
"Shh." Janine put her fingers to my lips. "We'll see."
"If you're a good boy."
I thought I'd show some initiative, and got a B&B directory so we could choose a place. "I'll take care of the arrangements," she said when I showed it to her.
When I picked Janine up at her apartment that Saturday morning, I hoped she might show some sign of loosening up, like letting her hair down. It was piled on top again. But we did have a nice ride to the B&B. Our room was terrific, with large bright windows overlooking the Mississippi River. Janine took off her coat and swung herself around one of the four-poster bed's uprights before falling across the bed with a laugh.
"This could be fun, if you're a good boy today." I didn't know exactly what she meant, but I felt like jumping right on her then. Puzzled and intrigued, I thought to myself, "I'm going to be a very good boy."
We spent the afternoon eagle watching and picture-taking at nearby lock and dam. It was very cold, and I spent a lot of time standing behind her with my arms wrapped around her while watching the eagles fish. In the car, we held hands and kissed to warm up while waiting for the heater to kick on.
After a terrific dinner and wine, we returned to our room and Janine locked the door. We sat on the bed and started kissing, gradually building the intensity.
"I want you, Janine," I whispered in her ear, breathing in the honey scent of her shampoo.
"I know you do, dear. But that will have to wait. And until then, I'm not sure I trust you to be good. You may have to sl**p on the couch." My heart sank.
"I have been good," I protested. "What can I do to prove it to you? I'll do anything."
"Anything?" she asked.
"Then get ready for bed," she said. "It's a good thing I came prepared." I quickly changed into my pajamas while Janine went into the bathroom.
"Are you ready?" she asked from behind the bathroom door. "Then lie down on the bed and close your eyes. And don't you dare open them until I tell you to. And don't move."
I heard the door open and her feet pad across the floor, and quickly felt something soft around my wrist. I started to pull away, until she said my name in a rising voice. I relaxed, and felt my arm pulled over my head to the bed post.
"You have been a good boy, but this is still the only way I can trust you." As I remembered her swinging on the four-poster bed earlier that day, Janine did the same to my right wrist and both my ankles.
"Open your eyes," she said, as I tested my bonds and found them surprisingly well-tied. "Well, what do you think?"
Janine stood a few steps from the bed, wearing blue silk tap pants and a matching top with spaghetti straps. I could see her nipples poking against the fabric. Her hair was up.
"You're gorgeous," I said, eying her. She must have sensed, though, my disappointment in seeing her hair still piled on top of her head.
"You haven't said anything about my hair," Janine said, almost pouting.
"After that time at the concert when you caught me trying to undo it, I thought I'd better not bring it up," I said. "What I can see of it, I love."
"Do you?" she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Would you like to see some more?"
"I've been dying to ever since the company picnic."
"What did you see at the company picnic?"
"I saw your hair come down -- when you fell during the race."
"You did? You saw my hair down?" I nodded, a little sheepishly.
"That wouldn't have anything to do with why you volunteered for that committee, why you asked me out, would it?" She stood up and started pacing at the foot of the bed.
Realizing I might be in trouble, I began scrambling. I figured she was proud of her hair, but didn't want to be just some fetish object.
"Well, I suppose it got my attention," I said. "But do you think I'd have gone out with you all this time just because of your hair? Do you think I think that little of you?"
"You never know," Janine said. "You'd be surprised at what I have to put up with. Men brushing up against you in public, actually grabbing it. Two guys I dated wanted to cut it for me, and one man in an elevator asked if he could shave my head!"
"Janine, believe me. I don't want to cut your hair. I wouldn't dream of shaving you head. Is that why I'm tied up? Are you afraid I have a pair of shears hidden in my suitcase? I love you, as you are. I want to be with you, inside you."
"We'll see about that. I think you know by now that I like to be in control. I have plans for you, so be good, and don't mess them up. I've suspected for some time that you have more than a passing interest in my hair. I can tell by the way you look at other women."
"I never look at other women."
She shot me a cold look. "Don't you lie to me. You think I don't notice, but I do. You stare at women with long hair, not short hair."
"I stare at you," I said, trying to change the subject.
"And you know I have long hair. I'm trying to decide whether you deserve to see it again."
I decided begging couldn't hurt.
"Janine, may I please see your long hair?" I pleaded.
She sat down at the antique dressing table across the room, her back to me, and removed a few hairpins. A long ponytail, starting at the top of her head, fell down past the chair seat.
"It's so long," I stammered.
"Just wait," she said.
"Do you keep it hidden because of the men?" I asked.
"Partly," she said. "It always gets caught in things. The people in legal are very conservative. People stare and make comments."
She paused and turned around to look at me with a wicked look in her eyes, "And, for moments like this." She reached into her bag and pulled out a big hairbrush. "I know this sounds like a cliche, but I brush it 100 strokes every night," she said, starting to run the brush through her hair.
"I'd be happy to do that for you," I offered, "if you'll untie me."
"Ah, ah, ah," she said. "You're starting to prove why I needed to restrain you. Besides, I'm doing this for your benefit. Don't ruin it."
Keep your mouth shut, I thought to myself, watching eagerly as the brush added loft to the long ponytail. Janine walked over to the bed, sat down beside me, reached up to where the ponytail started, and ran her fingers down to within a few inches of the ends.
Using it like a brush, she reached over to her left shoulder and lightly whisked it down along the spaghetti strap and across her upper chest. I felt her give a little shudder.
"Would you like to feel my hair?"
"What do you think?"
"Don't get smart with me. Tell me. Do you want to feel my hair?"
"Yes. Please. I want to feel your soft hair against my skin. I'll die if I don't have it."
"That's better," Janine said as she reached over and began brushing it back and forth across my face.
"Soft," Janine said, no question in her voice.
"As silk," I replied, feeling the strands tickle my nose and lips.
"Just wait," she instructed, unbuttoning my pajama top and exposing my bare chest.
Janine again gathered her ponytail, this time to about three inches from the ends, and began brushing my nipples until they stiffened. She kept brushing lightly down toward my navel, and popped the snap on my pajama bottoms, exposing my hardening penis.
"I suppose he wants some, too," Janine said. I nodded my head vigorously.
"We'll see," she said, pulling the pajama bottoms toward my bound ankles, briefly untying one to remove one leg. She played with my feet, gently tickling the soles with long brush-strokes, then letting my toes slide through her ponytail before sweeping up my legs and thighs.
I thought I knew what was coming next, but Janine climbed off the bed and removed her silk tap pants, revealing a brown triangle.
"My pussy is feeling neglected," she announced, climbing back on the bed to straddle my face. Facing the foot of the bed, Janine lowered her soft mound near my lips, then reached down and spread the outer lips with two fingers, exposing a reddish-pink interior.
I lifted my head to reach her, first touching her clitoris with the end of my tongue, then straining to raise my head enough to cover her sex with my mouth, gently sucking it and rolling it between my lip-covered teeth.
Janine started to moan slightly, but stopped. "You'll have to do better," she said.
"I'm trying, but you're hard to reach."
"We can fix that," Janine said, settling her lovely pussy on my face. At times I could hardly breathe as she squirmed, grinding her clit into my chin while I licked her vagina. Several times I took a deep breath before burying my nose in her hole while sucking and licking the inner lips and clitoris. I lost track of time as her wetness flowed down my face and even trickled into my left ear.
Janine alternated between sitting directly on my face and leaning over on all fours to let me catch my breath. When she did, I could feel her long ponytail d****d over my thighs and up my crotch. I moved my hips to feel the sensation.
"You're supposed to be paying attention to me," Janine said, snapping her head back and sitting up straight again. "You'll get that when you earn it."
I focused in on her clit, making tight clockwise circles with my tongue and moving my head slightly from side to side. She sat harder, pressing my head deep into the pillow, tilting her hips backward and forward. When she tilted her head back I could feel her hair brush across my forehead.
"Oh, yes, yes. Give it to me hard. Keep it going," she said in a low voice that seemed to come from deep inside her. I managed to take one last deep breath before she planted her clit against my chin and pressed hard for what seemed like forever. Janine began to shake and fell forward, hugging my thighs.
I raised my head a little and flicked my tongue over her clit, sending little after shock waves through her body with each stroke.
"You've earned a little rest now," Janine said, dismounting from my face. "You've been very good." She leaned over and kissed me softly, then began sucking my lower lip into her mouth, followed by my upper lip. The next thing I knew, she was licking her own juices off my face.
When she finished, Janine sat back down at the dressing table and pulled the ponytail holder from the top of her head, spreading a brown curtain across her back. She leaned forward in the chair, flipping her hair in front of her, and began brushing it out again. My cock had lost some of its starch, but quickly stiffened again at the sight.
"Wow!" I exclaimed. "You have no idea how much the sight of you with your hair down turns me on. You're a goddess. You're Rapunzel!"
"I am,'' Janine said. "Imagine what it's like to be able to feel this hair against your skin any time you like. To wrap yourself in it."
As she talked, Janine gathered her hair in front of her, using it to massage her breasts and stomach. Then she whirled around, sending it flying behind her like a cape and settling softly all around her body.
Janine walked back over to the bed, bent over and kissed me hard on the mouth.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Do you think you deserve it now?"
"Yes. Please! May I please have your soft hair?"
She kissed me again as she gathered her hair and arranged it in a pile just above my head.
"Here it comes, baby," she whispered, warming my ear with her hot breath.
Janine began trailing kisses down my neck and chest, and her hair began covering my face like a blanket. The smell was intoxicating, the sensation out of this world, and I moaned my approval.
She continued sprinkling dry soft kisses down my body, including my cock and balls and beyond, dragging her brunette mane behind her over my trembling body.
Janine picked up my cock and nuzzled it with the side of head, massaging it gently before she continued the trail of kisses down toward my feet. Every inch of my skin tingled with pleasure beneath her hair.
"Please, Janine, do it again!" I begged.
"I have something better for you," she said. I couldn't imagine what that would be, but managed to stammer, "Do anything you want, darling. I'm yours."
"You are mine," she said kneeling on the bed next to me. She leaned over, slowly sweeping her hair up and down my body. Using my groin muscles, I lifted my cock to catch the waves of hair flowing over my skin, sometimes getting it caught in a delicate, delicious tangle.
"Oh, Janine," I cried, "I love this! Please don't stop."
She picked up the pace, moving faster and faster until the sensation of her hair against my skin changed from soft caresses to stinging, almost like being whipped. I began to feel a tingling in my hands and feet, moving inward.
"Ow, oh, yes! Ow, oh, more!"
Janine stopped suddenly, flipping her hair backwards so it hung down her back, then pushed the long front strands behind her ears and looked at me.
"Don't you know that's hard on my neck?" she asked somewhat angrily, rolling her head slowly from side to side, stretching her neck muscles.
"I'm sorry Janine. I've just never felt anything like that before. Please finish me, Janine. I'll die if you don't."
"And how would that be bad?" she said, a smile creeping across her face.
Janine leaned forward again and with her right arm reached behind her neck and swung her mane in front of her. She tilted her head down, grabbed my cock by its base and began wrapping her hair around and around it until it was completely covered and encased in a silken cocoon.
"I don't know how long I can stand this, Janine."
"Tell me when you can't, or you'll be sorry."
I don't know whether it was the tone of her voice or the feeling of her hair around my cock, but the tingling in my extremities quckly became waves of sensation throughout my body as she slid it up and down my shaft. I thrashed against my bonds until I came, landing sticky gobs of come all over her tresses. Janine looked at me with daggers in her eyes.
"I told you to tell me. Now look what you've done to my hair." She unwound her cum-soaked hair, and gathered it in her left hand. "Look at this mess you've made."
"I'm sorry, Janine. I couldn't help myself. You don't understand the power you have over me."
"But I do," she said, whipping me across the face several times with her hair, leaving traces of my own cum sticking to my face.
"What are you going to do about this mess you've made?"
"If you'll untie me, I'll wash it for you," I replied.
"And dry it," she added.
And so I did.
Janine and I were married a year later. She made me wait until then just to fuck her; our wedding night was definitely on her terms. But she now trusts me to play gently with her hair and control myself, and we keep finding new ways for her hair to bring us pleasure.
But sometimes, if I'm good, Janine gets out the scarves, and just for old times sake, fastens me to the bed and makes me beg her to let down her hair.