jester journals

Weird Ramblings from a Warped Mind


Mr Smooth … 9-7-2020

Recalling a late-night internet surfing expedition from several years back, I remember coming across this product on Amazon. Having been told my danglies looked like an elderly Rastafarian, I decided to take the plunge and buy some after reading all the GLOWING reviews. I felt this had to be easier than my previous shaving attempts, as they had only been mildly successful and I had nearly put my back out trying to reach the more “difficult” spots. And being the hopeless romantic I am, I thought I would do the deed on OWN’s (‘Ol Weird Nancy’s) birthday as a bit of a treat.

I ordered it well in advance and, being retired military, I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the accompanying reviews and wrote them off as soft office types.

Oh my faithful readers … how wrong I was.

I waited until OWN (‘Ol Weird Nancy) was tucked up in bed and, after giving some vague hints about a special surprise, I went to the spare bathroom across the house. Initially, all went well. I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn’t have long to wait.

At first there was a gentle warmth which, in a matter of seconds, was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head.

While the Baptist faith has always featured highly in my life, I suddenly became willing to convert to ANY religion to stop the violent burning around my turd tunnel and what seemed like the the destruction of my frank and two beanies.

Struggling not to bite through my bottom lip, I tried to wash the gel off in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the drain hole with a mat of hair. Through the haze of tears, I struggled out of the bathroom, across the house, and into the kitchen. By this time, walking was not really an option, and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hopes of finding some form of cold relief.

I yanked the freezer drawer out, found a tub of ice cream, pulled the lid off with my toe (as my hands were busy attempting to keep my cheeks apart in hopes a cool breeze would find it’s way in), and positioned it under me. The relief was fantastic, but only temporary as it melted quickly and the fiery stabbing returned.

Due to the shape of the ice cream tub, I hadn’t managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the drawer for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon.

I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen brussel sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and and tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my scalding ass. This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found its way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running its engines behind me.

This was probably, and hopefully, the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink in order to ease the pain.

The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with at the time was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no vegetable had gone before. Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen, OWN (‘Ol Weird Nancy) chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, ass in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end, pushing a sprout up my ass while muttering arhhh, ooooohhh, yes that feels good, ahhh.

Understandably, this was a shock to her and she let out a scream. As I hadn’t heard her come in, it caused an involuntary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected, at quite some speed mind you, in her direction.

Now I can understand that having a sprout fired against your leg at 11:00 at night in the kitchen probably wasn’t the special surprise she was expecting. And having to explain to the kid the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn’t improve my status.

So, to sum it up, VEET removes hair. Along with dignity and self-respect.

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