Meet a handsome Barber

My hair grew close to my scalp, naturally with wavy lines, and the direction of growth was very messy and difficult to handle, so I never found a suitable hairdresser. Two years ago, I accidentally went to a barber's shop. A handsome man with a strong figure helped me to get my hair cut easily. Since then, I have relied on him and cultivated good massage
I remember the first time I walked into that barber's, he got up to meet me. He was very gentle and talked like a mosquito buzzing. The snow-white and delicate face under his thick cheeks and stubble contrasts greatly with his strong arms and sexy pectoral muscles. But I thought he was very pleasant, so I asked him to cut my hair.
I sat down and looked at him in the mirror and wondered, "Would he be Gay, too?" Would it be a strong man with a masculine appearance and a weak heart?
My feelings were quickly tested.
When he cut my hair, he intentionally put strong legs close to me. Sometimes he even pressed the bulging part in front of the jeans on my arm, which made me feel crisp and numb. He keeps shouting "handsome guys". Isn't that quite certain? It must be... Similar people.male massage
I'm thinking about how to treat him. He's done my haircut. Looking at myself in the mirror, my eyes are bright and perfect! He's very skilled, which adds a lot to my handsomeness.
He carefully unbuttoned the blocking cloth around my neck, took the hair dryer to blow off the broken hair, and whispered, "Okay." Then I leaned down and gently blew the broken hair off my ears.
In this way, we know each other, and we will look for him every time we cut our hair. He also knows the style I want, and every time I get my hair cut perfectly.
He asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I asked him the same question, and we all said no. Later he was bolder and asked me where I lived and who I lived with. But we did not pierce this layer of paper, did not directly ask each other whether Gay, very spa
Every time he comes here to have a haircut, he is very happy. Welcome me with a beautiful smile: "Why did it take so long to come this time?" As if I had been looking forward to it for a long time, I would take special care of it.
One time when I was going, he was holding a small bowl of medicines, plastering a middle-aged woman's hair with plaster-like medicines, making tin paper perm. Just half done, the woman's half hair is sticky paste-like hemp rope strands. When he saw me, he immediately put down the medicine bowl and tinfoil in his hand, while washing his hands, he asked another barber to help the woman do her hair. It happened that other clients came and other barbers were going to work. He called an apprentice to give medicine to middle-aged women, and he came to cut my hair. At that time, the middle-aged woman's face suddenly sank down, clamouring for a refund, and he had to be reprimanded by the manager, which made me feel guilty.
After that, I would look at the door every time I went. If he is busy, I will leave quietly and come back later.
He used to shave my soft hair off my neck with a small razor after he had cut it. I don't want to bring danger to others, but I won't tell him the truth directly. I have to say I'm afraid of being dirty. Who knows when he goes to see him for a haircut next time, he takes out a new blade and puts it on the razor after the haircut. He says, "You're afraid of being dirty, right? I'll give you a new blade, so you don't have to worry about it."
I was so moved. But where did he know that I was not fighting against others, but against myself infecting others? I can't guarantee that the blade he shaved me won't be used again. Suddenly I was at a loss, so I swallowed up and said, "I'm afraid of pain, I'm afraid of this sharp thing." When I said this, my face was burning with shame. Fear of pain? Afraid of sharp knives? This lets my brother's heroic wind sweep the floor completely, sweeping his face in front of his favorite handsome sky  massage
He was shocked: "I'll take it lighter and it won't hurt." After that, he bent down with a smile and wanted to shave me. His fingers had touched my neck, and his voice was so soft that it was like the fragrance of lotus.
I was even more at a loss, and suddenly shouted, "Ouch! I just don't want to. Don't be so annoying!"
His smile was staring, and he stood stiff in midair with a razor in his hand.
What I said was a double-sided razor, and it fell right into his heart.
Then my heart was scarred.
He hurts, but I hurt even more.
Our wounds will probably never heal.
Since then, I have no courage to find him.