How Do You Deal With Ass Hair? Is It Important?

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Feriol

Well-Known Member
Another Gardeners World Question....

Any advice for dealing with an overgrown bum? How do women feel about a man with a hairy ass?
 
 
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How do women feel about a man with a hairy ass?

That depends on the woman, They aren't of one single opinion, but I know that people using Americanisms makes me feel slightly nauseous. Now stop being an arse
 
That depends on the woman, They aren't of one single opinion, but I know that people using Americanisms makes me feel slightly nauseous. Now stop being an arse

Maybe Feriol was considering whether or not to shave his donkey :102:
 
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That depends on the woman, They aren't of one single opinion, but I know that people using Americanisms makes me feel slightly nauseous. Now stop being an arse

I prefer the word ass.
 
Is it important? The case for put very well by someone on Craig's List.

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.

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 shit- molecules lingering around my brown starfish. When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky shit/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 shit/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 shit 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.

Friends, DON'T SHAVE YOUR ASS-HAIR!
 
Have we been here before?

Yes we have but some of these are just too funny to not revisit .....

After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly succesful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits. Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit of a treat.
I ordered it well in advance and working in the North sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was. I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and 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. Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the destruction of the meat and two veg. Struggling to not bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel of in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair. Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief. I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, tore the lid of and positioned it under me. The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing soon 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 sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so.I took a handful of them and tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse. This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found it's way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running it's 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 to in order to ease the pain. The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before.
Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering..." Ooooh that feels good ". Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn't heard her come in it caused an involutary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction. I can understand that having a sprout farted against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn't the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids 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, dignity and self respect...:)
 
Find the review by Tagnut Mandeville... that is brilliant :icon_lol:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/aw/cr/rRJ7V9QIN0U8CI/ref=aw_cr_i_5

Increased Sports Performance Bonus
Customer rating 5.0/5.0
24 April 2012 By Tagnutt Mandeville
2081 out of 2116 found this helpful

As a highly competitive amateur athlete, I have long been aware of the benefits of a highly polished scrotum pole and hair-free saddle-bags, especially when going for the `longer look' as displayed by Linford in his famous lunchbox.

Previously I had used the old-school method of a cutthroat razor, but as you can imagine, this was a tricky and delicate operation, and to make matters worse, it was difficult to get into a comfortable position in the chair at my local Barbers. Anyway, I am quite hairy down there and my snippet valve looks like Brian May's plughole so eventually the Barber said he could no longer perform the task for me. He also said that looking up my whizzer every Saturday at 11:30 put him off his lunch, as he usually has toad-in-the-hole followed by chocolate-coated donuts as a Saturday treat.

He did not want to leave me in the lurch and said that he had read some excellent reviews on Amazon about Veet for men and suggested I give it try.

Like many other reviewers, I made the mistake of not reading the bumph properly; I used the whole tube and completely coated my cock eggs, barse and nipsy with the stuff. Anyway, I lost track of time, and it was the foul stench of dissolving clinkers and melting hair that brought me to my senses. As I looked at my watch through the putrid fog that had formed around me, I could see that it had been applied for exactly 5 minutes 59 seconds. This presented me with a problem, as when the searing pain began, I was outside my flat, sat in the communal gardens, in a deck chair precisely 100 meters and 3 flights of stairs away from my bathroom. It was as if I had lowered my under-carriage through a volcano and into Hades, whereupon Beelzebub, annoyed by the uninvited intrusion, jabbed me in the rectum with his fork.

I took off from the deckchair like Usain Bolt out of the TV adverts. Within 12 seconds, the bathroom was filled with steamy fetid barse broth, and I had the clock weights, biffin's-bridge and Sherriff's badge under ice-cold running water at the tap end of the bath. This did not please the missus, as she was relaxing in there at the time surrounded by floating petals and candles, although she did say that the sight of my ringpiece flashing like a brake light was impressive, and she was pleased to see that my arse barnacles had all but disappeared.

When I looked at my watch again, I realised how quickly I had made it up the stairs and the idea dawned on me that I had discovered a 100% legal sports performance enhancer. Now when I compete in a competition I dab a small amount around my Samantha Janus and taint exactly 6 minutes before the race is due to start. If I am doing the hurdles, I change the ratio and put more on my barse to make me jump higher. This proved to be particularly effective a couple of weeks ago, as after crossing the hurdles finish line, I accidentally won the high jump and steeple chase too, looking for the water jump to wash the stuff off.

Now I can hear you all thinking that none of this is particularly extraordinary, especially given the reviews that you have already read. However, when I tell you that I am 45 years old, 5' 4" tall and weigh 15 stone, and I used to do the shot-put that should put things into context. As this is an Olympic year I think Tagnutt and Mandeville or whatever their names are, should be redesigned with hairless nether-regions and the British squad should use my technique and be sponsored by Veet, although I don't recommend it for the beach volley ball team.

5 Stars from me.
 
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