by JMHLHL (C) 2004
I love my wife more than anything or anyone in the world. Sharon’s beautiful, vibrant, intelligent, and loving. I treasure every day I spend living with her. In fact, she is almost perfect, and therein lies my only real frustration in life. Sometimes I feel so guilty for even thinking about this, but If I had my choice, Sharon would have long hair- real long hair.

I love long hair on a woman. It is beautiful, and a turn-on. The way it swings about when she walks, how it falls about her when she bends over or sits down, and the true mystery that comes from wearing it up.

But Sharon never cared for long hair. Hers reached her shoulders a few times, but was quickly cut shorter, into whatever style seemed popular at the time. I tried to talk with her about her hair a couple of times, hoping to convince her to grow it for me, but after a while I realized it wasn’t worth the trouble. The thing is, she has great hair for growing long, and I think it would look incredible. Stick straight, a little on the coarse side, and quite thick. It was this incredible shiny black- not asian black, but kind of similar. Even now, I love running my hands through her hair, but she doesn’t care for any attention I pay it. I guess to her hair is just a fashion accessory she doesn’t want to spend a lot of time on. But the thought of my Sharon with knee length hair stayed with me, no matter how hard I tried to dismiss it.

So I secretly satisfied my desire for long beautiful hair on the internet. The many long hair sites were great to look at, and I enjoyed lurking on the various message boards and e-mail lists, but I never participated. I guess that I was worried that by even e-mailing one of these lovely rapunzels, I’d somehow be cheating on my wife.

One of my favorite sites was the Digital Hair Extensions site. The author, or artist, I should say, took pictures off the web and modified them to give the subject longer hair. I thought it was a great idea, and wondered why I didn’t think of it first. I took to trying some digital extensions myself, and came to enjoy the time I would spend at my computer, trying to create the perfect head of long hair.

I started with anonymous models with shoulder length or longer hair, turning them into waist length beauties. It took quite a few tries to get the hang of it, but after about a year or so, I was becoming pretty good. Every once in a while I would get a very high resolution picture and mess with it. They took longer, but the results were fabulous. Every once in a while, I would venture into longer hair- knee length or longer, but it would take a special picture to do that.

One of the models I worked with was a beautiful redhead named Alisa Smith. I had a great hi-res picture of her, and her thick, flaming shoulder-length locks were just enough to work with. I did some of my best work in giving her a classic-length mane of straight hair with a little flip-curl at the end. I posted the picture to a yahoo group, and forgot about Miss Smith, until...

One day, I guess about six months after I posted the picture, I saw her in a magazine ad, and her hair was long! It was in a braid that was almost classic length- definitely not the barely shoulder-length tresses in the picture I manipulated previously. It looked remarkably like the hair I had given her. I let it go at that, but cut the magazine picture to go into my file of pictures.

One night, Sharon and I had a fight over something completely insignificant. Well, that’s what she thought, anyway. The real reason I was upset with her, and what I wouldn’t tell her, was that she had gotten another haircut. her hair had been all one length, just above her shoulders a week ago, and I was optimistic that maybe she wanted to hang on to at least a little bit of hair. But it wasn’t to be. She came home two days ago with what amounted to a pixie- her hair as short as it had been since I met her. I was so disappointed that she cut it, but I couldn’t tell her so. We had been through that before, and it wasn’t worth the hassle.

After we both stomped off in opposite directions, I camped in front of the computer and opened a few pictures. I found one of Sharon that I had taken at a picnic a few months back. It was a pure back shot of her talking with a few friends. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, and it just touched the collar of the t-shirt she was wearing. It had the full length of her body, and I spent a few seconds admiring her great legs and nice ass under her favorite pair of shorts.

I cropped out all of the other people so I just had a nice high-resolution image of her alone. Then I went to work. I started lengthening her hair just to her bra strap. It was tough work, because I didn’t have a whole lot of hair to begin with. I finally was able to sit back and admire my work, and took a break to get a beer. The bedroom door was closed, and the TV was on. Sharon had turned in for the night. I sat back at the computer and set about making her hair even longer.

I gave her waist length hair with a nice, blunt cut. I made sure it completely covered her shoulders and obscured her body. It was much easier to make everything blend in when I didn’t have to worry about clothing or the curves of her body. And I liked it that way. I liked it so much I let it grow to cover her rear end. It looked great, and I was able to make it look realistic digitally. Not real, but decent at any rate.

Being on a hot streak, I decided why not go all the way? Her hair grew down to the middle of her calves. Closing my eyes and imagining Sharon like this was enough to give me a hard-on. It was a black cloak that completely hid all of her but the bottom of her legs. It was about two feet wide at the bottom. After doing some touch-ups of everything, I was able to push the chair away from the computer and gaze at my best digital extension job yet.

I looked at the clock on the wall, and realized that I had been at it for six hours. Suddenly the hour caught up with me, and I yawned. I saved the picture with the name “DreamSharon”, and shut down.

The bedroom was dark. I walked around the bed and into the bathroom closing the door before I turned the light on.Something looked different, but I couldn’t tell what in my suddenly sleepy state. The vanity just looked more cluttered. I finally slipped under the covers and fell asleep immediately.

I woke up to the sound of Sharon in the bathroom. I dressed for work, thinking about our fight the night before. I finally went to the door and apologized. I knew I had taken some frustrations out on her when I shouldn’t have. Speaking through the door, I said “I’m sorry about last night, babe. I made a lot out of nothing. I shouldn’t have yelled like that.”

She accepted my apology and apologized herself. She then asked me to toast her a bagel, something she never asked me to do before. While I often cooked dinner, her breakfast was her business in the morning. “You know how long it takes me to put up all of this hair in the morning,” she said, stopping me in my tracks. I turned around, wondering if I had heard right, then shook it off and went downstairs.

She didn’t come down while I ate my cereal, and finally I had to get out the door and on the way to the office. I Looked up the steps and asked her if she was all right. “You’re running late babe,” I said. “You OK up there?”

“I’ll be OK, Brent. I just got a little tangled up, that’s all.”
“Your bagel’s on the table, I gotta run.”
“We’re washing tonight, right?” Sharon asked as I turned away.
“What?” I asked, turning back to the stairs.
“We’re washing my hair tonight, dear,” she said. “You didn’t forget, did you?”
I paused for a second, then said “No, I didn’t forget,” more out of self defense than anything else.

I shook my head once again, and walked out the door. Things seemed a little off this morning, but I chalked it up to only getting a couple of hours of sleep last night.

Work was hectic, as usual, and I didn’t even notice the framed desktop picture of Sharon and I from our trip to Vegas until near the end of the day. Her beautiful smile was there, but her hair looked different. It looked longer, over and behind her shoulders. I stared at it for about a minute, noting how good she looked in the picture. Then, before I knew it, it was time to go home.

I arrived to the smells of dinner cooking. Sharon had gotten home early and started what seemed like stroganoff. “I hope you don’t mind eating early, but my hair will take a while, I think,” she said.

About the time this statement sunk in, I entered the kitchen. I stopped in my tracks and stared. I was looking at the Sharon from my digital enhancement last night. DreamSharon in the flesh! Her hair was down and smooth and straight and shiny, and all the way to the middle of her calves, blunt trimmed, just the way I had it in the picture. Now all the odd stuff during the day made sense, but why? How?

I dropped my backpack, which got her attention. She turned around to face me, her beautiful face framed by hair that barely stayed behind her shoulders.

“I must be dreaming,” I whispered as she walked up to me.
“What’s that hon?” she asked just before she kissed me.
I placed my hands on her waist and felt her hair. “I must be dreaming,” I whispered, as I moved my mouth into her hair near her ear.

She pulled back and gave me a half-smile, half perplexed look.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, pulling her back close, so she could feel the growing bulge in my pants. If this was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up.

I stared silently during dinner, answering questions about work, but otherwise didn’t say much else. I watched as Sharon fiddled with her tresses, constantly adjusting and pushing here and there. Her hair was so long, and so incredibly beautiful. I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. I thought back to my digitally enhanced picture of Alisa Smith, and the magazine photo. Did I somehow have the power? The power to digitally enhance reality? No...

After we cleared the table, she took my hand and led me upstairs. We passed by our photo memory wall, with pictures from our wedding and vacations. In each picture her hair was long, from waist length at our wedding, to knee length last Christmas. All of these pictures had showed her in a parade of short hairstyles, but now she had long hair in every one.

We went into the bathroom, and she pulled me towards her. Her hands went to my pants, and they quickly fell to my ankles.
“Tell me again,” she said, staring into my eyes. “I love it when you tell me I’m beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful, babe,” I said. “Just incredible. And your hair, I just can’t believe it.” I grabbed two handfuls of thick silky hair and pulled them up to my face, feeling the incredible softness on my cheeks. “There’s so much of it. I don’t know how you do it.”

She pressed against me and kissed me with more passion than I could remember. Then she whispered, “I can’t wait until it touches the floor, can you?”

“You’re a dream come true, babe,” I said, finally realizing that for whatever reason, this was my reality. “A dream come true.”


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