I'm looking for an old post, years ago..
- Thread starter EarlDawg
- Start date
That story is hilariousl. This story always gets me too.
Don't Shave That Hair!!!
I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to you, thatyou may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me havingtrouble shitting.
No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter oftechnique. It seems my ***-hair had grown to such a length that tiny groganswere constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks. Itled to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, butunable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair dwelling. EventuallyI would have to do two things: either reach down with some paper and try topinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoidsmearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeingwhat I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I couldremove all the leftover fecal matter before the toilet paper reached itsCan't-Be-Flushed threshold.
I was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be abright idea. "Hey! This is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don't Ijust eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from akeg!" I said to myself. It is a statement that will go down in historywith a lot of other regretted statements. "How many Indians could therebe?" said by General Custer. "Looks like a good day for adrive!" by JFK. "There! <st1
lace w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">America</st1:country-region></st1lace> On-Line now has completeUsenet access!" by some idiot system tech. Such was my anal shaving idea.
I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towelto sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks,I began the arduous process of ridding my *** of hair. Occasionally, I wouldhave to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, which Idid by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the between-ravinebegan to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn baby. Finally, I wiped therazor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile ofhair. My *** was smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubleswere over.
Little did I know?
I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world God created,it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it thatI started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, itprovides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sunheading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat,I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in mycrack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks slidingpast each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom andwiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry.
Unfortunately, it did dry, but only after mingling with the microscopic ****-molecules lingering around my brown starfish. When I stood up after class, mycheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky ****/sweat combination. As Imade my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. DAMN, did it itch! Felt like aswarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep fromjamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm.
Unfortunately again, this exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finallyreached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other likea pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry myass off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulledthe two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled theroom. Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl. I had it worst of all,as the ripe aroma of festering ****/sweat went into the fan and blew back intomy face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, myass cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixedwith the tangy smell of my own **** blowing right into my face, I had only onethought: "It will be like this until the hair grows back. Weeks."
Later on, trying to deal as best I could, wiping my *** at every opportunity, Idiscovered another wonderful use for ***-hair - ventilation. I attempted tolaunch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks. Apparently, withno hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result wasa frustrating fart that slid up and down between my cheeks like a lost gerbil.
As if that wasn't enough, I am now enduring further torture. As anyone who hasever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in asstubble. Imagine your *** having the texture of a brillo pad. Well, that iswhat I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many timeswhen I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn't just jump outand get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constantagony.
Friends, DON'T SHAVE YOUR ***-HAIR!
Don't Shave That Hair!!!
I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to you, thatyou may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me havingtrouble shitting.
No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter oftechnique. It seems my ***-hair had grown to such a length that tiny groganswere constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks. Itled to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, butunable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair dwelling. EventuallyI would have to do two things: either reach down with some paper and try topinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoidsmearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeingwhat I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I couldremove all the leftover fecal matter before the toilet paper reached itsCan't-Be-Flushed threshold.
I was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be abright idea. "Hey! This is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don't Ijust eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from akeg!" I said to myself. It is a statement that will go down in historywith a lot of other regretted statements. "How many Indians could therebe?" said by General Custer. "Looks like a good day for adrive!" by JFK. "There! <st1
lace w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">America</st1:country-region></st1lace> On-Line now has completeUsenet access!" by some idiot system tech. Such was my anal shaving idea. I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towelto sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks,I began the arduous process of ridding my *** of hair. Occasionally, I wouldhave to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, which Idid by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the between-ravinebegan to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn baby. Finally, I wiped therazor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile ofhair. My *** was smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubleswere over.
Little did I know?
I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world God created,it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it thatI started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, itprovides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sunheading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat,I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in mycrack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks slidingpast each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom andwiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry.
Unfortunately, it did dry, but only after mingling with the microscopic ****-molecules lingering around my brown starfish. When I stood up after class, mycheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky ****/sweat combination. As Imade my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. DAMN, did it itch! Felt like aswarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep fromjamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm.
Unfortunately again, this exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finallyreached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other likea pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry myass off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulledthe two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled theroom. Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl. I had it worst of all,as the ripe aroma of festering ****/sweat went into the fan and blew back intomy face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, myass cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixedwith the tangy smell of my own **** blowing right into my face, I had only onethought: "It will be like this until the hair grows back. Weeks."
Later on, trying to deal as best I could, wiping my *** at every opportunity, Idiscovered another wonderful use for ***-hair - ventilation. I attempted tolaunch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks. Apparently, withno hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result wasa frustrating fart that slid up and down between my cheeks like a lost gerbil.
As if that wasn't enough, I am now enduring further torture. As anyone who hasever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in asstubble. Imagine your *** having the texture of a brillo pad. Well, that iswhat I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many timeswhen I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn't just jump outand get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constantagony.
Friends, DON'T SHAVE YOUR ***-HAIR!