There are few moments in life that really bring you to a standstill, but as I stand here staring at the wreckage this is definitely one of them. Thanks to the pressures of time and the inadequacies of a dull razor, my pussy looks like it has mange. There aren’t so much loose hairs as tufts are there’s a distinct shade of razor burn that can’t be ignored. The clock is ticking. First dates are rife with rules, spoken and unspoken… not using your dates razor to shave your genitals is, I’m sure, one that rarely even needs to be alluded to but here we are.
What are my choices? I can’t present it to him like this… of course, he might never know, but it looks expensive. The razor I mean, not my vagina. That looks like a cat just after major surgery. I could simply not fuck him, but we already have a sort of unspoken agreement; I am ‘freshening up’, so if I don’t he’ll think I saw something so unspeakably horrible in his bathroom that I changed my mind… which I technically have.
Would it be weird? Ok, yes it would but I’m a guest. I would lend him my razor!
Of course, I’d want him to ask first which lends itself to the image of a grown man sheepishly edging from my bathroom to ask if he could shave his mons and balls with my expensive Aphrodite Pro Glide, which I would probably agree to our of politeness as my desire leaked away like water from a holey bucket…
I could have him turn off all the lights and simply not let him touch it? Or maybe if I-
“Er… are you ok in there?” He sounds concerned. He’s a nice man, and I am drunk. Fuck it, blow job it is.
“Coming!”
About the Creator
S. A. Crawford
Writer, reader, life-long student - being brave and finally taking the plunge by publishing some articles and fiction pieces.
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Spectating. Runner-Up in Just a Minute Challenge.
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford2 years ago in Fiction
Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
By John Oliver Smitha day ago in Humor
Comments (4)
Hello
I am unsure as to which line I laughed the hardest: 1- it looks expensive. The razor I mean, not my vagina. OR 2-I am drunk. Fuck it, blow job it is. The thought process on this one is hilarious
Well, that was unexpected and hilarious! I'm honestly glad I went right from high school into marriage and parenthood. The adult dating scene probably would have been my demise.
I almost spit out my coffee reading this!!! God I love your humor. I am still cracking up picturing this whole scene playing out. Missed your writing :)