My T-Rex Barber Is A Lesbian And She Eats Me Right - (Classic Tingler Revisited)

dang when i searched for a classic tingler to leap back in time and post here i was STRUCK by how very few there are left, which is really sayin something based on the size of my catalog. we are well past 350 tinglers at this point and i think trottin up on 400 but ALSO i have had this patreon for a LONG DANG TIME and what an honor it is to share these stories with you buckaroos. very nice alternative to amazon and good way of MOSTLY DIRECTLY supporting artists you enjoy in a timeline that seems so heckbent on big dang tech taking as much from creators as possible.

anyway, i have been considering an exciting new trot that i will probably be adding for patreon buckaroos, but more on that later. how about an update?

just got ADVANCE READER COPIES of LUCKY DAY and what a good lookin book. these moments get me all sentimental feeling and this one in particular got me thinkin IN PARTICULAR about you patreon buckaroos because you are such consistent supporters of my art. HERE IS WHY THAT MATTERS

i am in a very unique position as a writer because i am PARTNERED with a big company, not really at the whim of them but working as an equal buckaroo. WHY? because my fanbase is so supportive i can the big timers NO when i want to. i can say 'well i could self publish this book and make however much money so lets have a conversation about what YOU are going to do.' all that said my publisher is amazing and they respect me as an artist and kind of just let me trot my trot, but every once in a while we come to a head

with LUCKY DAY a lot of folks at publisher wanted cover background to be BLACK because darkness is a way of horror and i said 'no i want to to be white' so this was back and forth but they finally let it be white and REALLY it is just one of the most beautiful covers i have ever seen and everyone is agreeing. and i just think 'dang i have always have artistic confidence to get what i want but SUPPORT of my buckaroos also makes this possible.'

so good job on the cover buds.

now where were we? OH YEAH please enjoy this wonderful but completely unrelated tingler MY T-REX BARBER IS A LESBIAN AND SHE EATS ME RIGHT

Thanks to a job interview with biotech company Rubble Labs, tomorrow is one of the most important days of Jenn’s life. She’s more than prepared, and her resume speaks for itself, but after a botched haircut at a new salon, Jenn is scrambling to find someone who can salvage the mess.

It’s going to take one of the best stylists in the world, but that’s exactly who Jenn finds when she stumbles upon beautiful Ralla Brims, a mysterious T-Rex barber who cuts the hair that’s best for you, not necessarily best for everyone else. Now Jenn and Ralla are exploring one another’s bodies in a hardcore lesbian tryst, uncovering the best version of Jenn they can find.

But does the “best version” of Jenn really want to work at a company that’s going to care so much about her hair? Or is another answer waiting just around the corner?

This erotic tale is 4,100 words of sizzling human on lesbian T-Rex barber action and hardcore prehistoric love.

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MY T-REX BARBER IS A LESBIAN AND SHE EATS ME RIGHT

By Chuck Tingle

Few things are as stressful as an important job interview, especially when it’s a job that you really, really want.

I’ve yearned to work in the biotech industry ever since I was a kid, watching educational videos on my own time while my friends were out playing in the yard and enjoying the sunshine. It’s not to say I didn’t do plenty of that myself, and physically exploring the world around you is an integral part of anyone’s education, but I’ve also always had a drive to consume information as quickly and as thoroughly as possible.

Now I’m a strong, intelligent adult woman, and I’m ready to take the next big step in my professional life. After working in smaller laboratories for a good while and honing my chops, it’s finally time for me to move onto one of the main biotech giants, or possibly even the biggest of them all.

I’m talking, of course, about Rubble Labs, the group that made headlines years ago when they were able to successfully clone a sentient butt. Ever since then, they’ve been continuing to push onward and upward in the world of biotech, advancing the scientific landscape leaps and bounds at a time.

Even Portork, the first living butt ever created, is now an international superstar.

It’s a world that I desperately want to be a part of, and I’ve finally made it to the last interview in a series of many, the final hurtle before realizing my dream.

Suffice to say, tensions are high. I know I’ve got the mental chops for this elevated position, but the job I’m aiming for isn’t just about lab work. It’d also be the face of the company during several meetings and mergers. I need to be cool, calm and collected at all times, and lately I certainly don’t appear to be any of those things. I’ve been studying so hard that I’ve gradually let everything else slide, hardly getting enough sleep and letting my hair grow out way too long.

With only a day left to prepare, I suddenly realize there’s just no more information that can fit within my mind. I’m all studied out, and right now what I need is a new pantsuit and a fresh haircut.

Unfortunately, today is Sunday, which means my usual hairstylist has shorter hours and they’ve already closed down for the evening. I could probably get something in extra early tomorrow morning, but honestly I’d rather be focused on the task at hand, which is knocking this meeting out of the park.

I’ll just find a salon that’s open and let them work their magic. How bad could it get, anyway?

I do a quick internet searches for salons nearby and discover there’s a place just a few blocks from my apartment, close enough to walk. I immediately grab my purse and phone and head out the door, strolling onto the busy city sidewalk with confidence.

The din of the cars and people passing me by seems faint and muffled, this cacophonous sound pushed far from my mind by an overload of information that continues to swirl. I have answers for every question Rubble labs could possibly ask me, heaps of charts and graphs all memorized and at my disposal.

Relax, I tell myself. Don’t stress.

It’s only a ten-minute walk until I reach my destination, and when I arrive I’m thankful to find they have an immediate opening. I barely notice when the stylist introduces herself and asks what I wanna do with my hair, a question that makes me shrug apathetically.

“Just clean it up,” I suggest, staring off into space as my mind continues to flood with information, going through my prepared interview answers over and over again in a seemingly endless loop.

The next thing I know the stylist is chopping away and my hair, swiveling me in her chair as she rotates my body from side to side, carefully crafting what I can only assume is a beautiful trim. I spend most of my time facing away from the massive mirror before my chair, but even if this weren’t the case, I’d hardly notice what was happening. My thoughts are elsewhere.

Finally, my stylist steps back, taking in her handiwork with a satisfied nod.

“Yep, all done,” the woman says proudly, snapping me back into reality.

My stylist swivels me around to face the mirror, which causes a startled gasp to escape my lips. At first I’m not quite sure what I’m seeing, as though this horrifying vision couldn’t possibly belong to my own reality. I couldn’t really be on the eve of the most important interview of my life with a haircut like this.

Whole patches of hair appear to be missing, an uneven set of layers crisscrossing my head without rhyme or reason. I’m usually pretty open to new and exciting fashion statements, but this goes well beyond anything like that.

“What the fuck,” is all that I can think to say, the words tumbling out of my mouth as it continues to hang open.

“You... don’t like it?” the woman questions.

Suddenly, I realize what this means for my interview, my heart slamming hard within my chest as I spring up from my chair.

“Oh my god,” I stammer. “I’m so fucked. What did you do?”

“You told me to clean it up,” offers the stylist. “I cut out everything that was dirty. I don’t think you’ve washed your hair for a while, though, so I had to take off a lot.”

“What the fuck?” I cry out in utter shock. “You did what?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” the stylist continues.

My breathing is so heavy now that I actually think I might pass out,

and I know if I stay in this salon any longer the chances of that happening will grow exponentially. I need to get out of here and figure out what I’m gonna do with myself.

I reach into my purse and pull out more than enough cash to cover the cut, opting to take the high road and pay this woman for her work, regardless of how terrible it might be. I toss the my money on the counter and then head for the door, erupting out onto the street.

I feel like the whole world is spinning around me, my plans completely upended by something that honestly shouldn’t have any weight in the first place. This is a fucking science job, why does it matter what my haircut looks like?

Still, I know the people interviewing me might not share this same philosophy, and likely don’t. Despite the fact they came to prominence by cloning sentient butts, Rubble Labs are known for being fairly conservative.

Close to tears and not knowing what else to do, I pull out my phone and immediately dial my best friend, Morgan. It rings twice before she answers, the sound of her voice immediately putting me just the slightest bit at ease.

“Hey Jenn, what’s up?” Morgan questions.

“I’m fucked,” I blurt.

“You’re fucked?” Morgan repeats back to me.

“It doesn’t sound like you care!” I cry out, growing frustrated again. Morgan can’t help but chuckle at this, clearly startled by the fact that

someone as typically coolheaded as me could’ve found themselves in such a whirlwind of emotions.

“I care, I care,” Morgan assures me. “What’s wrong?”

“I went in to get a haircut before the big Rubble Labs interview,” I explain. “It did not turn out well.”

“Oh no,” Morgan groans. “Send me a pic.”

I pull my phone away and snap a selfie, then shoot it over to my friend with a quick text message. I put the phone back against my head and wait for her response.

“Holy shit,” Morgan suddenly blurts when the message comes through.

“That bad?” I question, already knowing the answer.

“It’s... really something,” my friend stammers, then straightens up a bit, “but listen, everything’s gonna be okay. You should’ve come to me in the first place, but I can still get you out of this mess.”

“You cut hair?” I question.

“No, but I know the best barber in town and she’s gonna make sure you’re looking your absolute best for this interview,” Morgan explains. “She’s pretty hard to get and appointment with, though.”

“I need this cut tonight,” I counter. “Do you think she has any openings?”

“Oh no, it’s not about openings,” Morgan explains. “She’s just selective about her clients. She takes her art very seriously.”

“Well, if she can help me out then I don’t care,” I counter. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

I arrive a half-hour later at the address Morgan gave me, and at first I’m not exactly sure what I’m looking at. It appears to be nothing more than a simple roll up door to an industrial car garage, nobody else around for miles on either side of these dimly lit streets.

I double check that address that Morgan sent me, making sure this is the place, then knock twice on the metal roll up door.

No response.

I stand here for a long while as I start to consider just turning around and calling it a loss, but before I go, I knock one final time.

Suddenly, the roll up door rises with a loud clatter, causing me to jump back in alarm. Standing before me is a beautiful T-Rex with a pair of sheers in her hands, who says absolutely nothing as she eyes me up and down.

“I’m here to see Ralla Brims,” I offer. “I was hoping she might have an opening for me.”

“You’re hair is a disaster,” the dinosaur observes, getting right to the point.

“Yeah,” I reply with a nod. “It is.”

“Do you believe love is real?” Ralla asks me flatly.

I consider her question. “Uh... yes,” I finally reply.

“We’re closed,” the beautiful T-Rex informs me, “but I think we can make an exception in a case this... dramatic.”

“Thank you so much,” I gush as the dinosaur barber leads me inside. “I’m Jenn.”

It’s only now that I get a chance to see just how exquisitely crafted this barbershop really is, a state of the art salon with a clean, modern design that makes me feel as though I’m in some kind of luxury spa. I can see why it’s so exclusive, especially when I realize there’s only one barber’s chair in the whole place.

Ralla leads me over and sits me down in the chair, facing me towards a large mirror as she begins to play with what’s left of my hair. The beautiful dinosaur runs her short claws through my locks for a moment, getting as sense of me, and without warning this simple touch sends a powerful, erotic chill through my body. Of course, I try my best to keep my thoughts strictly professional, but it’s difficult when I’m in such close proximity to such a sensual dinosaur.

“Think you can make me presentable?” I question.

“That depends on what you mean,” the dinosaur retorts. “I don’t do hair to make you look good in the eyes of someone else. I do hair to make you to look good in the eyes of yourself.”

“Isn’t that usually the same thing?” I ask.

“Hardly,” Ralla replies. The beautiful scaly creature stops running her claws through my hair, narrowing her eyes in a moment of deep seriousness. “If I cut your hair, it’s going to be an expression of who you are, not who someone else wants you to be.”

“As long as it looks good in an interview, I’m fine,” I continue.

The T-Rex shakes her head. “As long as you feel good in your interview,” she retorts.

I consider this for a moment and then finally agree. “Alright, lets do this.”

“Good!” Ralla replies, patting me on the shoulder.

The dinosaur stands up straight and then walks around to the front, standing directly before my chair as she looks me in the eye.

“Is everything alright?” I question.

The beautiful T-Rex nods. “If I’m going to understand your hair, then I need to understand your body,” she informs me. “It’s a very... intimate process.”

The second Ralla says this I feel the erotic yearnings within me double in size, spilling out across my veins and filling me with a bubbling,

blossoming desire. I can’t remember the last time I was this attracted to someone else, and it sounds like intimacy is the key, regardless. If I want to have a haircut that accurately represents the core of my very being, then going emotionally deep is exactly what Ralla and me need to do.

Fortunately, we both appear to be on the same page of this equation.

Slowly, seductively, the beautiful dinosaur begins to strip off her clothes, pulling them away from her scaly body and tossing them to the side. Her prehistoric form is perfectly sculpted, with breathtaking curves the likes of which I’ve never seen.

A soft whimper escapes my throat when Ralla’s green breasts are finally exposed, full and beautiful. The dinosaur moves closer and closer, pushing them up against my body but then lowering herself down. When the prehistoric creature reaches my pants, she carefully takes my fly button in her enormous, sharpened teeth, tearing it away and then sliding the fabric down my body. My panties come next, suddenly leaving me utterly exposed to this ravishing T-Rex.

“First, I need to see what you taste like,” the beautiful dinosaur offers.

Ralla gets to work on my pussy, starting slowly as she begins to circle my aching clit with her soft dinosaur tongue. This particular oral muscle of hers is incredible powerful, but she uses it with a great deal of restraint, holding back and taking her time to warm me up. Gradually, the two of us fall into a pleasant groove together, my hips pumping gently against her face as the pleasure within me builds.

Ralla is incredibly good at working me in this way, but despite her flawless technique, I still find myself wanting to pull her closer. I reach my hands down and move her head towards me, causing the pressure against my clit to grow more and more. I spread my legs even wider in the chair, wading into the erotic sensitivity as it becomes almost too much to bear like some mischievous tickle.

“Oh my god, oh my god” I stammer, repeating the words over and over again in a spastic mantra that starts off quiet and grows louder with every passing repetition.

To my amazement, I suddenly realize I could cum at any second, a powerful climax looming above me like a tidal wave that’s waiting to crest.

I hang on for as long as I can before giving into this sensation, allowing the climax to erupt across my frame, spilling through my body and sweeping me away in a feast of the senses. I lose myself in this moment, throwing my head back and letting out a startled cry as my muscles expand and contract in unison.

When I finally finish, I find myself even more sexually energized than before. I want to give back in the way I’ve been so lucky to receive, to allow Ralla the sensations she’s so diligently blessed me with.

Stripping away my clothing, I slink out of the chair, crawling across the floor towards the beautiful dinosaur as I gaze up at her with lustful, fuck- me eyes. Once I’m positioned directly below her I immediately dive in, getting to work on her slick pussy with my tongue. I begin to implement the same techniques that the sexy prehistoric hairstylist used on me, starting off slow as I move in careful circles across Ralla’s clit.

Over time, I allow myself a little more speed and pressure, swirling at a steady rate while the dinosaur leans back against her barber’s table. The dinosaur is moaning softly, bucking her hips along to the movement of my mouth.

Eventually, I slip two fingers deep within her, adding a second sensation to the mix. Now these two sources begin working together in a potent cocktail of ecstasy, building up more and more until it appears Ralla is about to explode. The dinosaur closes her eyes tight, whimpering slightly as I move my fingers and tongue faster and faster until, finally, she erupts with a powerful roar. The prehistoric creature is overwhelmed with orgasmic sensation, shaking hard as she braces herself on the deck behind her.

When Ralla finishes there’s a fire in her eyes, the barber more belligerent with lust than ever.

“Now I wanna see what you fuck like,” the dinosaur groans, then pulls open her barber’s desk, extracting an enormous green strap-on. “Now.”

“Please,” I beg. “Pound me with that giant strap-on cock.”

The sexy dinosaur slips into her toy’s harness and turns it on, causing a small vibrating egg to hum loudly within the inner base.

I turn around the crawl back up onto the barber’s chair, wiggling my rump from side to side as I go. I reach back and playfully slap my ass, then take one finger and beckon my T-Rex lover towards me.

“What are you waiting for?” I coo. “Fuck me.”

Ralla steps up behind me and aligns her rod with the slickness of my pussy, taking her time to get the perfect angle and then sliding forward in a deep, powerful swoop.

I let out a startled yelp as my dinosaur lover enters me, not entirely prepared for the enormity of her strap-on rod. Fortunately, Ralla takes her time, holding fast as she allows my body to adjust.

Soon enough, the tension within me begins to slip away, replaced instead by a potent, aching warmth. I look back over my shoulder at the beautiful dinosaur, nodding when I’m finally ready and then watching as she

begins to push in and out of my body with slow, steady assurance. We quickly fall into sync with one another, our frames pulsing together in a way that’s both graphically carnal and breathtakingly intimate.

“More,” I demand, a fire in my eyes.

Ralla begins to speed up, hammering away at me harder and harder as I give myself back to her completely. I’m loving every second of this, enjoying the way it feels to submit myself to this powerful woman. With one hand, I reach down between my legs and begin to frantically rub my clit, picking a pace that seems to work with Ralla’s thrusts from behind.

Soon, that familiar sensation of impending orgasm begins to escalate within me once more, bubbling up to the surface and consuming my nerve endings. Everything within my body feels tense and ready to explode, but in the most glorious of ways.

“I’m so close, I’m so close,” I begin to whimper, a phrase that keeps Ralla at exactly the same pace, pounding away at my pussy with feminine confidence.

Suddenly, I realize the building tension within me has stopped, something not quite adding up as I struggle to reach my peak for a second time.

“Wait,” I suddenly blurt. “Don’t move.”

Ralla does as she’s told, holding deep inside me as I continue to frantically rub my clit. A smile begins to creep its way across my lips as I realize this is exactly what I needed.

“Just be close to me,” I continue.

The beautiful dinosaur leans down behind me, her scaly breasts and stomach pressed hard against my back as we simply exist in each other’s presence.

I feel as though a padlock as been opened within my lions, all of these powerful erotic sensations surging through the opening and almost immediately filling my body to the brim. Seconds later, I’m pushing myself over the edge, cumming hard across Ralla’s strap-on dick.

“Oh fuck!” I scream, the sound eventually transforming into a long hiss that cascades out through my clenched teeth.

I can sense Ralla clenching up behind me, the inner vibrator of her strap-on simultaneously pushing her over the edge. She pulls me even closer, our bodies wrapped tightly against one another as we experience this powerful sensation in unison.

Finally, we collapse against the chair, breathing heavy as we struggle to collect ourselves. Ralla pulls out of me slowly, then slips off her strap-on.

She shuts it down and places the sex toy back in her drawer, pulling out a pair of clippers instead.

“I feel like I know you very, very well now,” the dinosaur offers with a smile. “That was a good time.”

“Good enough for the perfect cut?” I question.

Ralla nods.

Soon enough, the process begins, Ralla making her way back and

forth and working her magic across my head. She takes plenty of time with me, laboring on the cut with a precision and devotion unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Every once in a while she’ll step back to get a full view of what’s happening, then quickly dive back in for a few more trims.

The whole while, I find my eyes locked onto the image in the mirror before me. I’m understandably nervous at first, but as my haircut continues along I find myself growing more and more at ease, eventually allowing myself to relax completely.

When the final haircut is revealed I can’t help but smile, blown away at just how much Ralla has seemed to capture the inner essence of my personality.

“It looks... amazing,” I gush.

The dinosaur barber nods and gives me a playful wink. “I know,” she offers in return.

I turn my head from side to side, still admiring her handwork. “It’s definitely not conservative, though,” I observe. “This is pretty wild for a job interview.”

“You’re pretty wild,” Ralla explains. “Sure, it’s nice to get cleaned up a bit before something like this, but you still want to show them the best side of you.”

“You’re right,” I reply.

I stand up from the chair as my dinosaur stylist brushes away some hair from my apron, then pulls the whole thing off of me.

“Thank you so much, what do I owe you?” I question.

“Nothing,” the gorgeous T-Rex replies. “That was a good time for both of us. Just promise you’ll come back next time you need a trim.”

Ralla reaches into her drawer once more and pulls out a business card, handing it over. Her number is emblazed boldly across the top.

“You can also just call me to hang out sometime,” the beautiful dinosaur continues.

“I think I’ll do that,” I tell her.

This conference room is utterly silent as the women across the table from me go over my reports, looking intently through page after page of documents that I’ve prepared. Normally, I’d be consumed by tension right about now, but my fresh new haircut has given me a righteous surge of confidence that simply can’t be contained.

The head of this division, a fierce woman named Monica, finally sits back up and removes her reading glasses.

“This is good, really good,” Monica informs me. “I can see why you’ve made it this far in the interview process. You’re exactly what we’re looking for here at Rubble Labs.”

Her praise fills me with a powerful sense of pride and accomplishment. “Thank you,” I reply.

“You’re hired,” the woman continues.

This is a moment I’ve been working towards my whole life, and now that I’m finally here it feels amazing to be recognized for my tenacity and intelligence.

“There’s just one thing,” Monica continues, narrowing her eyes a bit. “Your hair cut is a little... wild for this company. We’d like things to be more uniform.”

“But, you want to hire me, right?” I question.

Monica nods. “You. Without the hair.”

I take a deep breath and let it out, suddenly realizing that I’m about to

say something I never thought possible. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined I’d find myself in this position, and then do what I’m about to do.

Still, it feels absolutely right. There’s a very clear path laid out ahead of me, and I’m ready to take it.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say, “but I’ll have to respectfully decline your offer.”

Monica just stares across the table at me blankly, while the women who flank her on either side begin to whisper amongst themselves.

“You’re right about one thing, I’m the best candidate for this job. I know biotech inside and out, and I’m already pioneering technologies that are gonna pave the way of the future. As much as I want to work for you, I also wanna work for a company that accepts all of me,” I explain. “That includes the wild hair cut.”

“So you’re just... quitting biotech?” Monica clarifies.

“Oh no,” I retort, standing up and gathering my things. “I’m gonna

work even harder than ever. I’m just going to start my own company.”

I turn around and head for the door with utter confidence, excited to see what comes next.