Dingleberries bedamned!
#1
Dingleberries bedamned!
Not me.
Don't Shave That Hair!!! I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to you, that you may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me having trouble shitting.
No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of technique. It seems my ***-hair had grown to such a length that tiny grogans were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks. It led to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair dwelling. Eventually I would have to do two things: either reach down with some paper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover fecal matter before the toilet paper reached its Can't-Be-Flushed threshold.
I was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be a bright idea. "Hey! This is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from a keg!" I said to myself. It is a statement that will go down in history with a lot of other regretted statements. "How many Indians could there be?" said by General Custer. "Looks like a good day for a drive!" by JFK. "There! America On-Line now has complete Usenet access!" by some idiot system tech. Such was my ---- shaving idea.
I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my *** of hair. Occassionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, which I did by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the between-ravine began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn baby. Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair. My *** was smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over.
Little did I know.
I now have a great respect for -----hair. Like everything in this world God created, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks sliding past each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping 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, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky **** / sweat combination. As I made my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. God-DAMN, did it itch! Felt like a swarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep from jamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm.
Unfortunately again, this exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finally reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry my *** off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled the room. 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 into my face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my *** cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell of my own **** blowing right into my face, I had only one thought: "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, I discovered another wonderful use for ***-hair - ventilation. I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks. Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result was a 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 has ever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble. Imagine your *** having the texture of a brillo pad. Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn't just jump out and get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constant agony.
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, that you may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me having trouble shitting.
No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of technique. It seems my ***-hair had grown to such a length that tiny grogans were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks. It led to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair dwelling. Eventually I would have to do two things: either reach down with some paper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover fecal matter before the toilet paper reached its Can't-Be-Flushed threshold.
I was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be a bright idea. "Hey! This is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from a keg!" I said to myself. It is a statement that will go down in history with a lot of other regretted statements. "How many Indians could there be?" said by General Custer. "Looks like a good day for a drive!" by JFK. "There! America On-Line now has complete Usenet access!" by some idiot system tech. Such was my ---- shaving idea.
I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my *** of hair. Occassionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, which I did by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the between-ravine began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn baby. Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair. My *** was smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over.
Little did I know.
I now have a great respect for -----hair. Like everything in this world God created, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks sliding past each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping 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, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky **** / sweat combination. As I made my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. God-DAMN, did it itch! Felt like a swarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep from jamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm.
Unfortunately again, this exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finally reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry my *** off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled the room. 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 into my face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my *** cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell of my own **** blowing right into my face, I had only one thought: "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, I discovered another wonderful use for ***-hair - ventilation. I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks. Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result was a 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 has ever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble. Imagine your *** having the texture of a brillo pad. Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn't just jump out and get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constant agony.
Friends, DON'T SHAVE YOUR ***-HAIR!
#6
literally laughed out loud reading that.
i have also shaved my *** and experienced everything you have mentioned. i too have the dingleberry problem.
i've been tempted and i've thought about using a beard trimmer or some other electric trimmer with an attachment to get rid of some of the *** hair, but not all of it. give it a trim if you will, but i haven't mustered the courage to do so.
i have also shaved my *** and experienced everything you have mentioned. i too have the dingleberry problem.
i've been tempted and i've thought about using a beard trimmer or some other electric trimmer with an attachment to get rid of some of the *** hair, but not all of it. give it a trim if you will, but i haven't mustered the courage to do so.
#17
Slowest Progress Ever
iTrader: (26)
Join Date: Oct 2007
Location: The coal ridden hills of Pennsylvania
Posts: 6,022
Total Cats: 304
I don't have a dingleberry problem, or an asswiping problem...however, I did shave my ******* one time in like 10th grade. Was the longest week of my life. That **** itched sofaking bad it was ridiculous.
#19
Boost Pope
iTrader: (8)
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: Chicago. (The less-murder part.)
Posts: 33,026
Total Cats: 6,592
If you have never used one, it's probably kind of hard to conceptualize. Conventional toilet paper is used first while still at the toilet, to remove the bulk of stray feces. (note that if you have to wipe more than twice, you are probably not getting enough dietary fiber. A coherent stool is a friendly stool.)
After this is done, one moves over to the bidet. Ideally, the position of the body and the control over the water flow should be such that only the area directly surrounding the anus is significantly wetted. Begin with the water pressure just high enough to create a fountain which just reaches the level of the rim of the bidet, and increase pressure as necessary once you are in position and the cheeks are properly spread out. It is somewhat easier to control the bidet properly if you sit facing the wall, rather than away from it as with a toilet. For males who are particularly well-endowed, the ***** and ******* should be raised up out of the way with one hand.
Once you are sufficiently cleansed, shut off the water before standing up. The buttocks can be dried either with a small, dedicated cloth towel (as you would after showering), or with a paper towel. Start at the cheeks, and work your way inward. When drying the anus itself, use a patting motion rather than a swiping motion.
I have never tried one of these little clip-on bidet attachments. The thought of frigid water striking my perianal region is not an appealing one. Installed bidets are typically plumbed to both warm and cold water, so that the temperature can be adjusted as with a sink or shower.
#20
Junior Member
iTrader: (5)
Join Date: Nov 2010
Location: Originally from Germany. Now live in SoCal
Posts: 194
Total Cats: -5
I have one of those clip on things in my bathroom. I never dared to use it for the reason u stated. However, a friend of mine uses one at his home all the time and he loves it...although I have called his sexual orientation into question several times.