Back in high school, I used to study Japanese, while most of the popular students chose graphics design or home economics - this meant that most of my female classmates were rather plain looking, but throughout the years there was this one girl I became casual friends with, who I'll call M to protect her privacy.

I would be lying if I said M was pretty, but while she was neither petite nor overweight, M did have curves in more or less the right places. Of course, what really caught my attention was her butt-length hair - natural ash brown with soft gentle waves and curls, uniform length, no highlights or anything silly like that.

Usually, I was lucky enough to be seated behind her, and so instead of learning about the different between the different writing systems in Japan, I would pretend to study my textbook while secretly fantasizing about her hair - sometimes she would take her out of her ponytail, braid or bun, and I would be mesmerized as she ran her fingers through her tresses before eventually putting it back up again.

We got on fairly well as classmates, but I was rather shy in my early years of high school and didn't make any passes at her or anything at that.

By the time the last year of high school rolled around, I was dealing with being rejected by another girl I had a crush on (how typical). I still attended Japanese classes and actually got something out of those essay writing and reading comprehension mock exams, as did M.

Anyway, around that year, our school was undergoing some changes, and sometimes entire classes would get cancelled while teacher undertook professional development. By that time, M and I were well-acquainted with each other, but I was nursing my silly little broken heart, and M looked like she had some other male friends anyway.

One particular afternoon two classes in a row were cancelled, and most people either headed home to study or hang around at the McDonalds across the road from school. It just so happened that M and I were alone in one of the common areas reserved for final-year students - the room had no windows, the doors were solid wood, and there were plenty of nice comfortable couches around (although some were a bit shabby).

So M and I started talking about a cartoon and two films our teacher showed us in our class (she was using them to describe the difference between Japanese and Western comedy), and we got fairly comfortable around each other.

Then, once I mustered up my courage, I very gently complimented on her hair.

Usually, most girls would think I was gay, a weirdo or something, but M seemed rather pleased. We talked about a whole bunch of hair things after that - she had been growing it out for over six years, she used Pantene shampoo, and planned to grow it out more (but was quick to add that nobody was going to climb her hair like Rapunzel). Most importantly, she told me that she really liked that I admired her hair, rather than immediately suggest cutting it off like other people (why anyone could ever get off on cutting or shaving a woman's long hair boggles my mind; I don't like acts of domination or control, but rather, gentle pampering and mutual respect)

I then remembered that she once made an off-handed comment to her friends about liking it when people played with her hair, and so I took this opportunity to ask if I could take it down for her from the large grapefruit-sized bun it was in.

"Sure!"

I think I almost fainted when I heard her say that - just like that, she'd let me play with her lovely brown hair? Why the hell did I wait five years to do this? But no matter.

So I examined her bun, gently touching it as if petting a hamster and tracing my fingers down to her crown. It was fairly stiff, so I knew it hadn't been padded out with a hair donut or something, but at the same time it had the soft feel of cotton candy. I was also surprised at how cool it was to the touch (silly mandrake, you should've known by now there are no blood vessels inside strands of hair). The bun was held in place by a fan-shaped barrette.

Since I was unfamiliar with hair accessories at the time, I asked M how I would undo the clip. She told me that there was a small catch on the bottom, which should pop out when a firm but gentle force was applied. "And if you mess up my hair, I'll kill you," she reminded, although I quickly realized she was only joking.

Once I figured the catch out and remove the barrette, I slowly unravelled her tresses. They felt much thicker in person than merely viewed from sitting behind her in class, and there were the odd few tangles, but it was a wonderful feeling, getting to touch her hair at last. I could tell she was enjoying it too, because she had her eyes closed, and her head tilted back to me.

With her hair hanging near her waist, I carefully unwounded it back to its full butt-length. It was sort of like smoothing out a wrung tea towel, but (needless to say) much more pleasant.

The first thing I did after that was to carefully untangle any knots in her hair. I was absolutely terrified of breaking even a single strand, but I pressed on nonetheless. Every now and then I'd lift some of her locks up to smell it, and she'd laugh, wondering if I liked the smell of Pantene. Overall, M was really pleased that I took the time to untangle the knots in her hair.

She also noticed how quiet I was when I played with her hair (as I was a bit of a chatterbox and teacher's pet in class). I made a silly reference to a name of a book, we laughed, and she let me carry on.

I think it was this time that I felt a bulge in my jeans (which always happens whenever a long-haired pretty lady is involved). M was sitting on a one-person couch at the time, while I stood behind her, partially leaning my backside against the headrest of another couch. Her wavy tresses were so soft and inviting, but I knew better than to unload on her hair, so I settled for taking hold of her locks like a ponytail and brushing the curls against my inner thigh. I felt a sudden sense of relief after doing this for a while, so I think I had creamed in my pants.

Surprisingly, she either didn't notice, or pay attention to what I was doing - she was checking her phone for SMS messages and sending replies. Now, it's generally rude to shoulder-surf, but I think we were both lost in that moment at the time, and a quick glance reassured me that she wasn't going to tell the whole world about my interest in her hair.

After running my fingers up to her hair from her nape, I decided to try my hand at plaiting it. I used to practice plaiting long blades of grass at home, so I had a rough idea what to do. However, I quickly realized that bundles of human hair tend to be harder to tame than a few thin grass leaves. Still, in the end M said I had done a fairly good job compared to other dudes.

Securing the end of the plait with barrette, I spent the next few minutes flicking it back and forth like a tassel, all the while she giggled. She said that I reminded her of a friend from another school, who was usually rather shy like I was. We joked about this girl!mandrake for a bit, how she should probably not hang her bangs in front of her face all the time like Samara from The Ring.

With half an hour to go before hometime, I took down the barrette and loosened out her plait - I finally understood why ponytails and braids made a girl's hair shorter than they usually were when down. M found a hairband in her bag, and let me tie her locks up for her.

As it turned out, my hair-tying skills were rather abysmal compared to my braiding, because I didn't gather her hair tightly enough, resulting in a sagging mass near her nape - sort of like how some of the Korean girls wore their hair in class in a sloppy ponytail. Thankfully, M was rather understanding and didn't chastise me for this.

Perhaps the most enjoyable part of my experience was slowly pulling the hairband out of her hair, watching how a bundle of silken locks two fingers thick would gradually bounce back out to its voluminous mass once unbound. I would then lift up her hair above her hair, pretend I was going to drop it right on her breasts, but instead gently laying it down either to her left or right, before repeating the process.

When it was time to go, M quickly put her hair back up into a ponytail, and thanked me for being so gentle with her and getting all the knots out her hair. She also kept her promise never to tell anyone of this*, and we arranged another hair play session just before exams and graduation.

(*See, I can get away with posting my story here because names, schools and other details have been scrubbed.)

We met up a few times after that once we both entered college, and would find a quiet spot where no passers-by would see what we were up to. I was (once again) infatuated with another girl, and she probably had another casual guy friend, but we carried on nonetheless. Eventually, our classes meant we couldn't really see each other as often.

M and I do still trade emails to this day, now that we're working in separate cities. AFAIK she's still single, with a decent guy friend who also gets on okay with me. Unfortunately, M has since cut her lovely hair into a chin-length bob (something about a failed attempted at cutting layers, or maybe her job as a English teacher made it difficult for her to find time to take care of her locks), but it looks like she's growing it out again, at least long enough to tie it back in a reasonably-sized ponytail hanging now to her nape.