Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Friday, April 27, 2007

Split Ends

Now, it's fair to say I've been blessed with a fair share of body hair.

Oh yes, I was pondering on this while I was doing my pelvic floor exercises this morning, wondering whether it was a blessing or a curse. On one hand I know an awful lot of men who find it very attractive (always a boon) and on the other, you're the one who always ends up looking like a pedestal mat in Kate Moss's toilet after the act of sex. I myself am thankful that Boy barely has a hair on him below the beard line else, my goodness, it'd be like velcro.

I was pondering this further this morning when the sudden 'revelation' came in that Mel B likes to drink from the furry cup. Oh it's not a surprise at all, but can you imagine?! That lapping down at your lady-garden like a dog at broth? All I shall say is that you've seen the hair on her head - imagine what the downstairs hair would be like. You'd need a Black and Decker Strimmer just to make headway.

Clearly men are more genetically set for hair; I recall one gentleman caller I ordered in and was surprised to find that the pictures he's supplied initially showed him after the Immac. He arrived and took off his top, and as far as I could see, the only bit without any follicles was the underside of his forearms. And I feared that was because he was a lorry driver by trade and just scraped them off through that manual work stuff they do. Although he looked like had been built by the Glasgow Ship Yard, so I thought 'In for a penny...' and got down to business.

I won't go into details (much) but if you don't know what rimming is, go and look it up before we carry on. Alternatively, if you are eating, do stop. Particularly if your after luncheon treat is a chocolate ring donut. But certain gentlemen find this utterly delectable, and you can normally tell them by their willingness to present themselves, legs splayed, during that initial tongue probing that occurs once you get down to business. And sure enough, while I was in the area, he rolled over onto his front and raised his eyes expectantly. Candidly, I was far too busy trying to work the stray hairs loose from between my teeth, and wondering idly whether the spare thatch I had on the bedsheets would be enough to stuff a pillow or two. Then I noticed what he was doing and stopped. I stared down into the generous amount of black pelt before me and just thought 'No'. He left soon after; I can't say I was sorry.

Well. Could you imagine going down on that? It'd be like trying to find a hoop earring in a deep shag pile.


tornwordo said...

You've still got it. God that made me laugh-slash-gag.

Frank said...

I'm getting steadily hairier as I get older, and have no problem with it, but the hairy ass is definitely the one thing I could do without. I worry about responses to rimming such as yours, and can be... less than cleanly at times. But I shaved it once and, while it was nice to have a smooth crack, it's a pain in the ass *ba-da-BUMP*. I'm just far too lazy.

Phil said...

Hahahaha. The joys of trade coming-a-knocking and the bigger joys of hair-in-teeth.

I prefer the hairy variety. The hairier the better. There's even a twinge for those Mexican wolfmen. Gawd, did I just say that?

Jams said...

Body hair on a man... swoon
Body hair on Flipsy... THUD

Mark said...

Flipsy? What is this flipsy? It sounds adorable, like a little puffy white dog. "Come here Flipsy. Mummy's waiting"

+ Marco Polo + said...

I think I almost died of laughter after reading that

The Pirate Queen said...

*sadly puts down the doughnut*

joe to hell said...

im gonna vomit thinking of mel b's bush