The Barber 1 - Sex Stories

The Barber 1

I heard the anguish in Alexis' voice as she yelled from her bedroom. Not one for drama, I knew immediately something must be wrong. “What is it, Lex?” I yelled back. “Come here, please,” she cried. “This is horrible.” Worried now, I made my way down the hall toward her bedroom. Knocking on the door, I heard her say, “Come in.” I pushed the door open and stepped gingerly into the room. Alexis stood in the center of the room, wearing the new, light-blue bikini I'd let her talk me into buying her at the mall earlier in the day. At 13, she'd convinced me she was old enough to buy her first “grown up” bathing suit for the upcoming summer swimming season. “What's the matter, baby girl?” I asked. “Are you all right?” “No,” she cried, in tears. “This is horrible! We have to take this stupid bathing suit back, right now!” “Why? You loved it at the store,” I said. “What's the problem?” “LOOOOOOK!” she yelled, turning around and putting her hands on her hips. I looked her over. The top was small, but modesty was served. The top supported — and covered —her small, B-cup breasts, high and firm on her slim chest. The problem was, um, lower down. The panty of the bikini was small, significantly smaller than any previous bathing suit she'd worn. As such, her downy, fiery-red pubic bush stuck out on all sides, making it look as though she were smuggling a kitten in her panty. I worked very hard, and mostly successfully, to suppress the laugh which was trying to f***e its way out of my throat. ...

... I knew if I did give into the mirth, I would crush her young ego. I asked why she hadn't thought of this, er, problem before she bought the bikini. Alexis told me, per store policy, she'd tried the bikini panty on over her regular panties. The problem hadn't made itself evident until after we got home and she tried her new bathing suit on au natural. “I can't go outside looking like this!” she moaned. “It's gross!” “Um, no, Lex,” I said. “You sure can't. You'll just have to, um, groom yourself a little bit.” “What do you mean?” she asked. “You'll have to, um, trim your, er, bikini region,” I said. I wished, not for the first time, that Alexis' mother hadn't abandoned us 10 years ago. I definitely didn't miss the constant complaining, the infidelity, the outright bitchiness. But I did miss having a female influence in our daughter's life as she grew into her budding womanhood. I tried to explain what I was talking about, stumbling around as I did so. The further I got into the process, the more shocked my daughter looked. “I can't do that,” Alexis said. “I'd cut myself. You do it, daddy.” It was my turn to be shocked. I'd fought very hard all these years, ever since she entered puberty at age 11, to avoid any kind of inappropriate thoughts about my daughter. Up to this point, I'd been successful. But the thought of giving my daughter a bikini trim brought all sorts of thoughts, unbidden, to my mind. “I can't, baby,” I said. “It wouldn't be right. I'm your father.” I suggested ...