The start of a hair adventure feeding my lifelong interest in slightly femi hair

First Curls
by Vitalandfresh

As a twenty-something technical guy living with his wife Christine I didn’t bother too much about fashion or my look. Christine cut my hair when needed, it was okay. But my hair was getting a bit long and being lank and straight and floppy it looked a bit anoraky. So Christine suggested she could put a few rollers in the top to give it a bit of lift. I thought no one else will know, so she did that a few times drying it with her hairdryer. It gave my hair a bit more shape and doing it last thing before bed whenever it looked very flat, it was working fine.

Then we had a weekend coming where we were going to see a good friend, Lisa, who taught hairdressing at a local college, maybe she could suggest something to improve the look. I thought maybe a better cut or hair product, and called her but Lisa replied ‘Try a body perm, I can do it when you visit’. That got me thinking, why not? and if I don’t like it I can always blow dry it straightish, it probably won’t look too obvious. I said yes.

By the time the day came I was excited and a bit aroused at the prospect of being permed with rollers in my hair. We drove to the farm where Lisa lodged with her farmer friends. We had a nice lunch and chit chat but then “Shall we start your hair?”

So in go the rollers. Lisa wound them tight but they weren’t painful, just snug, I remember them as blue and not the really tiny ones. ‘Such a neat pattern’ says Christine, ‘we should have brought the camera’, I regret now not having photos. The perming lotion goes on, I get a frisson of excitement, it’s a good job I wore tight briefs (good old Y-fronts in the UK). I went for a pee while it was processing, and I couldn’t resist touching the rollers, counting them, ooh, it looks and feels incredible. We do the rinse out at the sink upstairs, there’s a big session pressing a towel on the rollers to dry, then put on the cold neutraliser. Then the big moment, the rods come out, and, aargh, my head is covered in wet curly hair, proper curls, what am I going to tell everyone? Lisa cut it to give it more shape then blow dried it with a round brush, which still left it curly more than wavy. It was only maybe 3 inches long, short for any sort of perm, as I now know, not as curly as Bradley Cooper in American Hustle but on its way. But just the idea of it turned me on. Lisa says it’s not too curly. Everyone there liked it. I liked it too but I was embarrassed.

On the way home in the car, I couldn’t stop feeling it, caressing those springy curls holding out from my head.

Monday morning I went to the office, which was open plan accommodating 50 people, lowish partitions between pens. I was so nervous but trying hard to look relaxed. A few stares, then they looked away. A few smirks. A few complements. I’m riding it out. Then Rachel, an administrator from the room adjacent comes to see me and she loses it giggling, ducks down then looks again and she’s off again, it’s excruciating. I blush but take it and survive.

And I get used to it, within a week I’m loving it and put in conditioner to keep it glossy, I use an afro comb to keep the curls separate and defined, my hair dries while I’m walking to work. As it grows it hangs better and I love its full and definite fem look and enjoy feeling my palms brushing its softness. I manage to pretend that it’s no big deal but really I’m slightly obsessed. On business trips in hotels with time to waste I would gaze into the shaving mirror to see the back magnified in the bathroom mirror, with its lusciousness I was unable to resist touching myself.

The next big question was whether to do it again, I think we know the answer to that.