The Auto Parts man

by Greaser Dannyboy
Photos by Gullifer

During the hottest time of the summer, I was on my way home from a 19 hour trip. I noticed while just getting in town the odometer flashed that engine was hot. I wasn't one to keep the oil and fluids up to par. I drove by the NAPPA auto parts just in time just as the head gasket blew. The heat was morbid! I was rather ticked at the circumstances with my truck, and was disparate for help. As I pulled up, I was even more gratified that the NAPPA parts store also had a mechanic shop. Man...all in one, I was going to get fixed up, and on the road again. I'd be out in no time, then could get some rest. But it didn't happen that way.

Man!, when he turned and said that, I became flushed face and could feel the urges churning inside my perverted mind. Not from his wink, but his unbelievable, super slicked down hair. I couldn't keep my eyes off the back of his head when he walked away under the light bulbs in the ceiling. It was slow motion! Every thing about this man was the exact image I would visualize during my sexual, and now explosive pleasure. I wanted so much to just walk up to him, and touch his dark brown hair. To touch the cold dressing, and get the smell on my finger. And at that moment I knew if I didn't attempt to get up, my knee caps would fold under later if I didn't do it now.

I got up and paced pretending to look at the auto parts hanging on the wall behind him. And sure didn't want him to think I was looking at his mirrored shining hair. He looked at me and ask if he could help me. Good googly moo! And in my mind there was a lot he could do to help me, course I didn't want him to think I was obsessed with his slick hair, when I knew I was horny as hell.

I said yep, I need windshield wiper replacements. After giving him the number of the wipers, he pulled the catalogue to the desk This man standing before me with this slicked parted hair was one that I will never forget as long as I live.

He was wearing a blue auto mechanic shirt, starched and creased to the max, with his name on a patch that read "RANDY" HEAD MECHANIC. His shirt pocket had a small memo pad with a ball point pen, and a short black comb resting on the pad. His jeans and black cowboy boots sticking from under the hem. Hearing the tap of the heal on his boots made me shake with desires. I stood there thinking I was invisible, and could look at him for as long as I desired. His head was tilled down, while searching in the book. The reflection form the light gave me a full, clear view of his hair on top. His hair was neatly parted on the left, every comb strand in place, and every hair coated with hair dressing. The front was flipped back half way across his head, with the tips pointed and bonded to his hair with the product he used. The hair dressing shined from his scalp in the part, which was cut perfectly. His hair looked like he stepped out of Pleasantville. He smelled of Groom & Clean, after shave, with the cigarette smoke fogging his hair while he smoked. The aroma was like stepping inside a barbershop in the past, with the looks of his hair, all combined to reality. His mustache clipped just above his lip line, with each hair lined up perfectly. His skin on his face...rugged, western Malboro man.

He startled my concentration when he said he did have the item number in stock. "Come on with me to the stock room, lets see if we can fix you up." I hurriedly walked close behind him to get another woof of his aroma, and knowing I would question him about his hair. He stood on a ladder, his boot heels locked against the step. While looking from his boots to his head, I caught a glimpse of his dressed hair resting on the back of his collar, leaving a dotted wet image as his hair pulled back in place. He put the wipers on the bench and said he would install them himself, but first he wanted to double check the item number to make sure it was the right one. It was, so he entered the men's, somewhat small bathroom, washed his hands, then wet a green rag and put a clean red mechanics rag in his jean back pocket. I took a seat in the same area I was before, but in the right position to watch him comb his hair in front of the mirror. Taking delicate care of the style he was wearing. He wiped his face with the wet rag, then opened his blue mechanics shirt to wipe his chest off. He then bent over under the facet and shampooed his slicked hair, as I wondered why in the world would he wash out the hair dressing! I was sitting there looking at him, hypnotized by the charm of his passion for his hair.

He looked toward me, stuck his head out the open door, his hair going in all direction, and said, "You really like my style don't you?" I grinned and said, well...yes I do matter of fact. He told me to come where he was, "I want to show you something." It felt like I would never get to the bathroom where he wanted me. I knew something was up, and by looking at his, he was too. Lost for something to say, I just said, "What's up?" with my cheeks as red and a spanked butt.

In the hall out from the bathroom, he walked to a pile of oily, dirty, and grungy black wall tires. Pulling them in the bath room in front of the mirror. He said, "Pup, you have great hair, but I want to teach a lesson in hair grooming". Then he walked around me in the small bathroom, and took a seat on the old used tires, smack dab in full view of the mirror. I stood there all bugged eyed, and propped against the wall like a fried fart.

"Come here pup," he said. I walked over to his side, " Oh no, don't be shy, stand behind me. I wanted to teach how to precisely slick your hair like mine, but the best learning is done, doing it yourself. He told me to squeeze whatever amount I thought was appropriate. After three different attempts, by his teaching, was just right. "Now, I wanted to teach you how to cut a perfect part." My hands covered with Groom & Clean. I tried holding the comb to cut what he said was the perfect part. "First, take the comb and comb forward to my forehead, paying more attention to the left side of my head, goood!, now, you see the comb marks, take the corner of the comb and actually cut a line in my hair, but make sure you get it straight." First try, I did it. "All right pup! Damn, I have trouble the first try, your good!"

He told me to comb to each side, like mine was. " But, uhhh, you can omit the part like you have", and grinned. "Pup, I've greased my hair for a good while now, and over the years, I have admired other men's slicked hair. The masculinity of a man comes from his hair. It's the mans passion. You can take a bushy faced hobo, and transform him into a sexy, desirable man, just by the right hair grooming. I've seen people stare at my slicked hair, and by the looks in their expression, they love it slicked. That's why I knew you liked the way my hair was slicked down. But your the first one, that just didn't come out and ask about my hair grooming. I became obsessed with slick hair when I was hired here as a trainee mechanic. I had to take the oil pan from this old chevy and being new and not realizing I grabbed the hot pan. I spilled the oil down my legs, and shot all over the concrete floor under me. The boots I wore were covered in oil, tops and soles. The boss chewed my ass out, and therefore had to do the job right or I would be fired. Soooo, I crawled back under and began to bolt the new oil pan. The oil was black as tar, puddled underneath my head. With nowhere to rest my head, well, I laid it in the oil. After I finished and stood up, the oil was draining down my shirt. I grabbed paper towels and began to wipe the crap out of my hair, but instead just smeared it all over my head. My hair actually looked good, slicked, and shiny, so I said well heck, I'll comb it back and shampoo it tonight. I caught a glimpse of all the attention the guys in the shop. Most of them commending my new look. So, I went by the local drug store and bought a bottle of Vaseline Hair Tonic, and from then, I became obsessed with a good slicked, perfectly groomed head of hair."

I had just finished slicking his hair. He had relaxed himself on the tires with his spit shined black cowboy boot cocked up on the wall, with his arm resting cock eyed on his leg. "Any question pup?" he ask.

By that time, my sexual fantasy became real, I had just plastered this mans hair with dressing, and combed it just like he directed me. The feeling of not just touching his gooey hair, but I actually fulfilled my one and only fantasy, and fetish. I didn't give a damn what I said or done to him by that time.

I said, yep there's one question I would like to ask you, if you don't mind? "What's that," he said? Can I kiss you? He smiled from ear to ear as his eyes squinched, and said, "Pup, thought you would never ask." I pulled his head back as he sat on the tires, firmly grabbing his slicked hair in my fist and sealing our lips together sucking like a brand new oil pump! I was right in his face, not only feeling the squishing between my fisted fingers, but was touching his "what's up", and tasting his hot throat with my tongue. As we both left the bathroom he said, "Hey pup, do you wear a large?" Yep sure do. " Here! take this shirt with ya. It has our logo on it, but your name will have to be Kyle, his shirt came in the day after he resigned. He prefers to work at a hobby shop in town. Come back to see me, I'll fix you up next time."

I had just been taught by the real man, instead of just a fantasy how it was too look like the mechanic behind the counter. To have the perfection of a clean cut, rugged masculine image doused with after shave and cigarette smoke. Knowing I could go back to see him for more lessons. Never forgetting the kindness and understanding of the sharp cut man behind the counter.

More Gullifer as "The Auto Parts Man"

Wearing the same hairstyle, Gullifer featured his "Auto Parts Man" look on his Yahoo Group, "Gull's Bench." Here are a few of the low resolution shots from the message board on Yahoo.

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