Thursday, 22 October 2015

Hairplay, Foreplay, and Lovemaking!




Image courtesy etsystatic
He was tall, dark and handsome.

She was tall, fair and had shiny brown hair.

He loved her more than life. And he loved her hair more than her.

She loved him more than he loved her.

Newly married, they lived in a tiny little world of theirs. Their little house was on a hill top surrounded by flowery plants. 


Image courtesy dreamstime

Their world consisted of just three of them, her, him and a little female weaver bird who lived in their garden. The birdie had made their garden her home.

She regularly put water in the birdbath for the bird.  Sometimes she gave some berries which the bird gratefully bit into. She sometimes talked to the bird perched on a flower while he, sitting in the porch, smiled and watched.

She knew that he loved her, and she knew that he loved her hair. She knew that her hair were a turn-on for him.

So she played with him. She played with him by playing with her hair.

Sometimes she tied them in a braid, and sometimes she left it straight and sensuous.

Sometimes she flaunted a plait, and sometimes she lured him with an inviting pony-tail.


Image courtesy Dove Hair-Care

Her hair-play was their foreplay. Whenever she wore a new hairstyle, that night they made love. It was his way of expressing that she was irresistible and ruled his senses. It was her way of expressing that she was his.

*  *  *  *  * *  *  *  *  *  *  *

The winter arrived sooner than usual. The winter was cruel. The blizzard roared. The hill was covered with a thick white sheet of snow. The temperature went subzero. The flowers vanished. There was no trace of grass or any vegetation left. The hill had no living species left except the three, her, him and the bird.
Image courtesy source

The hill had no living species left except the three, her, him and the birdie.

Then he went down to town for a few days for work. She was alone at home. The winter went more severe and the world around her froze.

He was eager to come back home, back to her, to hug her and to play with her hair.

He braved chills, snow, blizzards and climbed the hill to get to home. And then he reached home.

There she was, to see him come home.

But something happened.

Looking at her, a shiver went down his spine. He froze. 

She was bald, completely bald. Not a trace of hair on her head.


Image courtesy harboarts
She knew what he was thinking. She took a few steps towards him, and then fell on her knees with tears rolling down her cheeks.

He watched, still frozen in his place, then slowly moved towards her. Reaching to her, he turned her beautiful face, now moist with tears, towards him.

Looking into his questioning eyes, she spoke trying to control her tears, her voice wet with emotions.

“Love, I just gave my hair to her”.

He stood motionless, speechless, trying hard to understand what she was talking.

“Just the day before yesterday, I found the birdie perched on the pile of wood, and I found three little hatchlings cozied up to her. She and her brood were braving the blizzard in open”.

“She could not make her nest in time since the winter arrived unexpectedly sooner. She looked frantically everywhere for straw or grass but didn’t find any since everything had vanished. When her young ones hatched from eggs, there was no place for them to take shelter.  Without a nest, they won’t have survived for even a couple of days”.

“Sheltering them inside home wasn’t an option. Birds can’t survive in the artificial heat we use inside our home. They have to survive the winter in their natural habitat only secured in their nests”.

“I had no choice. I cut all my hair and put near her. Within a few hours, she weaved a nest with my hair, a thick cozy nest to accommodate her and her brood,” she said pointing through the window, towards a brown coloured nest”.

"You know, this birdie is a mother. I too will be a mother one day. I just couldn't see her little ones die in front of her. I just had to do this," she was crying.

He looked through the window. Then came out to see it closely, bringing her along holding her hand. 


Image courtesy antiquaprintgallery

There it was. A shiny brown nest, made of her hair weaved deftly. It was a home for the bird and her chicks. The nest was their savior. 

The chirpy chicks surrounded the mother that was sitting calmly, assured that the chicks were safe.

Looking at the nest she started to smile, then laughed a tittle, and then suddenly started crying leaning her head on his shoulder.

“See, all of them survived,” she said smiling and crying at the same time.

He couldn’t speak a word. All he did was hug her tightly, wiping her tears with his fingers.

Slowly, it dawned to him that though he loved her hair, he loved her too, and it was not her hair but actually her that made him love her hair.

Holding her face between her hands, he said, “You are looking beautiful”. “This is the best you have ever played with your hair”.

And then they made love.


Image courtesy clipartpal




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Images are symbolic, used for illustration purpose only. Source for images is as mentioned near the images.

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