Santascaping
Back before Van left me for my cousin, before her boobs were even half of what they are today, I called her mine.
While others teased that she was built like a guy, I saw an innocent beauty in her. The truth is, she wouldn’t give anyone else the time of day because they’d made fun of her or pissed her off at some point. I, on the other hand, was always around to lift her spirits. It wasn’t until middle school that I realized she would be my ultimate conquest. It took a long time for her to say yes to me, and even when she did, it wasn’t like she ripped off her clothes and gave me her V card.
Nope. That took a whole lot of wet dreams, cold showers, and even more begging. Oh, and the dry humping. As embarrassing as it was for me, Van never mentioned knowing half the time I’d come in my pants and had to sit in it until our night was over. My poor mother is the one who got the shit end of it. She had to wash those sticky, dried up cum drawers of mine. I watched this show one time about the world’s dirtiest jobs. Cleaning up after someone else’s sex juice has to top that.
Don’t get me started on what my twin boys did when they were in their teens. That’s a whole other story I’ll get to later. Just a hint, it involves a teddy bear and lots of odd socks.
To be honest, I’m glad Van made me wait for sex. I’m not known for being the best boyfriend to her, but her first time was epic. At least, that’s how I see it. We lit candles and shared our feelings. I knew if I screwed up she’d back out and after months of blue balls, I was willing to be anything she wanted me to be.
After that first time, Van was a little freak in the sheets. She wasn’t wild and crazy like other women I’ve experienced, but she liked sex in the beginning of our relationship, whether it was to please me, or her personal needs. We were banging on the daily those first few months after I took her V-card.
Fast forward a year. It’s Christmas time and we’re completely comfortable with one another. She’s still modest, while I’m basically naked whenever I can be just in case she wanted to do the nasty.
She’d gotten used to me walking around with a stiffy, so much that she used to have to put a pillow on my lap so her parents wouldn’t see my predicament and hate me even more than they did back then.
On one particular night, her parents were going out of town to visit some friends for a holiday party. She was supposed to go with them, but played sick so we could have the house to ourselves for a whole night. If I have to say one thing about Van it’s her need for companionship and cuddling. That chick needs to know she’s wanted. It’s all good, because back then it got me laid, and let’s face it, that’s all I really cared about.
You can stop with the shallow prick comments. I’m a changed man, and I’ve learned the hard way how not to treat a woman. Life’s little lessons.
While Van was making plans for some grub and a chick flick, I had my own ideas to make the evening eventful.
Before leaving my house, I raided my parents bathroom in hopes that my dad would have some kind of stimuli I could take that would keep me from blowing my load too soon. My friend Mike said he’d done it a couple of times and it worked with a few beers. I’m famous for getting distracted and that’s exactly what ended up happening. One second I’m checking for pill bottles and the next I’m sticking a bottle of hair remover in my coat pocket to take back to my bathroom.
In my defense, I read half of the directions. It said to apply liberally in the general location of where I wanted to remove the hair. Easy as pie.
Or so I thought.
While laying on my bed, with a hand mirror, I got a good look at my junk. There was a lot more jungle down there than I’d expected. Since the bottle was only half full, I decided maybe I should give myself a little trim to prepare. If the strands were shorter I’d be able to do a fancy design that I hoped would impress Van.
Taking my beard trimmers, I went to town, cutting the whole area down to less than a half inch. I took off everything on the sides connecting my thighs. It would look stupid if my legs were full of hair, but my nether regions lacked thereof.
To go along with the Christmas theme, I decided to do a tree shape. I applied the hair removal lotion liberally in the shape of the pine outline including a star at the top. For the inside bulbs, I dotted circles of the lotion on the inside of the tree to remove the hair there to resemble ornaments.
In hindsight, I probably should have read the directions.
I never expected it to smell so bad, or how it would sort of dry to my skin. While waiting for the magic to happen, I was spread eagle on my bed.
After a couple minutes I started to feel the burn, but just assumed it was how it worked. I figured some chemical inside was supposed to literally burn the hair from the root.
After ten minutes I was in the shower, cold water being the only relief as I desperately tried to remove the lotion. I scrubbed the area. The soap made it worse. I tried conditioner. I even sat down in the collected tub of water in hopes of results.
Nothing worked.
But I wasn’t about to give up. I couldn’t cancel my well planned night of hot sex with my girlfriend because of the burn. Boxers combined with jeans were a no-go. It was like putting a match to my balls. It seemed from washing, I’d not only burned the skin under the hair I was trying to remove, but also everything beyond, and from being on my back on my bed, it had spread into the crack of my ass.
Originally I’d planned on wearing Christmas underwear with a Santa hat. All I wanted was to see Van smile and compliment my hard work, but instead, I was now dealing with a huge dilemma.
After throwing on the loosest pair of boxers in my dresser, I was able to put on a pair of x-tra large coveralls that I literally swam in.
Getting out of my house in such get-up was another problem.
While still in a good amount of discomfort, I sauntered out into the living room to find both of my parents flashing inquisitive stares.
Not only did I need to come up with a reason to be dressed so inappropriately, but also one to give the excuse that I’d be staying out all night.
“Um, so Mike invited me to go skiing with his grandparents. We’re leaving tonight and won’t be back until tomorrow night. I figured it was cool with you since I’d be with an adult.”
They looked to each other for approval. Dad speaks up. “You need money?”
I shrug. What kind of idiot would I be if I didn’t go along with it? “Yeah, Maybe just a little something for food. They’ve got the other stuff covered.”
Dad pulls out his wallet and hands me twenty bucks. “It’s all I have on me.”
“That’s cool. I’m taking some of my own money anyway. Thanks guys.”
I had to get out of there immediately. I could feel sweat coming from my pores at the effort it was taking me to act normal when in reality there was a fire in full force in my nether regions. “So, see ya later then.”
Even the twist I made to turn and leave the room resulted in the most intense scrape of fabric against my skin. I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath of air that I kept holding until I was outside.
My first truck was a piece of shit. It’d been a farm truck prior to me commandeering it. The inside smelled like a horse stall, and the exterior was covered in three layers of filth and rust. Van was adamant about making sure I kept blankets behind the seat in case we parked and used the bed.
Climbing inside and extending my thighs was a struggle. My lips quivered when the pain became too much. In my head I’m still thinking this is only temporary. The burn will subside and I’ll have the most festive pubes in all of North Carolina. Maybe the whole US.
The drive to Van’s house hurt like a bitch. I think I spent most of it with one knee up on the seat to keep my balls from touching it. My adrenaline had to be in full force due to the excitement of an all-night sex fest. That’s all I can come up with.
By the time I arrived at her house and parked way down the road to avoid being discovered, I was near tears. My stomach became knotted, and I felt sick. I walked like an ape toward her house, passing by neighbors who thought I was doing it to be funny. Nonetheless, it took all of my willpower to make it the couple hundred feet to arrive at her front door.
While standing there, the burn became unbearable. My eyes were watering and my body started shaking beyond my control. I checked the knob but the door was locked and she wasn’t answering. It would take too much energy to run to the back, so I kept standing there banging on the door and crying out for her to answer it. No, it was more like a desperate plea.
When that failed I pulled out my cell phone and tried to call. It went to voicemail. The last time we’d spoke, she’d said she was going to shower. Figuring that’s where she was, I knew I’d have to wait a few more minutes, but my dick, balls, and the rest of the surrounding areas were burning like a wild fire.
I was sitting on the stoop, reaching back knocking, while using my free hand to hold the fabric of the heavy coveralls away from my skin.
More time passed. The burning was beginning to itch as well. Something was very wrong and I’d began to freak out.
The quickest way for relief was to rid myself of the clothing that was making me sweat. Right on the front porch I rid myself of the coveralls.
One neighbor was blowing leaves into the street. I offered a kind wave while standing in my boxers in the bitter cold.
When Van finally opened the door I was in too much discomfort to greet her. I flew by and rushed into the bathroom, shoving down my underwear while turning the shower to cold. I didn’t close the curtain, or worry about her following me. “Ty, what the hell is going on?”
“Can’t talk. Dick on fire. Emergency in the crotch.”
She was laughing, until she looked down and saw the predicament. “Holy shit. Oh my God. What happened to you?” More giggles come out. “Why does it look like that?”
I took that removable shower head and aimed it between my legs while standing in the tub, feeling instant relief. My head went back and I closed my eyes, silently praying it would finally subside.
Nope. It didn’t.
I knew she was staring, but I didn’t care. I needed to extinguish the fire before I could converse with my girlfriend. Part of my brain was burning away.
After having to explain myself, Van couldn’t contain her amusement. Not only did my manscaping turn into an epic fail, but I had physically burned layers of skin off my body.
I ended up spending the first hour sitting in a tub of cold water, while Van fed me pain medication and a Benadryl in case of an allergic reaction.
“We should go to the hospital. It’s looks so bad, Ty.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I’m in pain here. Pamper me. Make it stop.”
“I can’t,” she snorted as she said it. “You did this for me?”
“Well, I thought a Christmas tree design would make tonight festive and memorable.”
“Oh it’s memorable. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unsee this. It’s like you have a vagina. Your skin is so swollen you can’t see your cock. Then there’s the bald spots of missing hair. They’re even more swollen. They look like lumps.”
She jumped up and ran out of the bathroom, only to come back with a camera. I covered up the best I could before she was able to ruin my life. “Don’t you dare.”
“Please. Don’t you want to remember this forever?”
“No! Woman, you’re never to speak of this again.”
“What’re you going to give me to keep me quiet, and don’t you dare offer sex, because that vagina looking thing isn’t getting near me anytime soon.”
The only option I had was to surrender and play the victim. “Please. Please don’t. I know I probably deserve this, but this is my dick we’re talking about. It’s my balls and the taint. Don’t take away my manhood. Protect my dignity. It’s in your hands.”
“That’s the only thing that’ll be in my hands tonight, Ty. I can promise you that.”
When it was all said and done, the pain lingered, and my artistic take on a Christmas tree was nothing more than welts and patches of missing hair. It took me three days to be able to get an erection again, and I didn’t start feeling better until my hair began to grow back. I’ll take that itch over the burn any day.
Lesson learned.
At least she kept her promise, and now I’m sharing it with the world. Nair is the devil. When it says to rinse well, soak that shit in water and soap. Better yet, skip the manscaping all together. It’s better to have hair, than grow a swollen vagina.