adoNix
Can't get enough of FH
- Joined
- Sep 14, 2004
- Messages
- 1,582
Stumbeled across this on the web.. it's some funny shit 
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 *!%!ting.
No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a
matter of technique. It seems my ass-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 anal 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 ass 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 ass was
smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were 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 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 ass 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 ass
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 ass at every
opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for ass-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 ass 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.
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 *!%!ting.
No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a
matter of technique. It seems my ass-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 anal 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 ass 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 ass was
smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were 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 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 ass 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 ass
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 ass at every
opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for ass-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 ass 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.
