I was eavesdropping again last night. Two girlies were discussing the parting of one’s legs. How could I not listen? They began to discuss the princess. I’ve been around the bar enough times to know that’s a code word for vag. I know most of those code words, and which ones I’m allowed to use in front of each gender.
Anyhoohay, the woman who was anticipating penetration was asked by her friend if her princess was ready for action. My mind went into translation (and fantasy) mode, and I considered the likelihood of each meaning.
I came up with:
- “Is it wet?” – Under 10% accuracy.
- “Have you douched recently?” – Fucking nil.
- “Are you having your period?” – 25% accuracy.
- “Did you trim back your pubes?” – 75% accuracy. *Ding Ding Ding*!
Ladies, an overgrown lawn will not … ever … keep me off of it. It may take me a bit longer to create the part and clear the way for my tongue, but there will be no whining about it.
Still, a well-kempt beave is certainly appreciated. That is until my mind wanders into the land of, “Did she do this for me or for the last guy, which may have been last night?” Meh. It’s still a playground I’ll enjoy no matter how many other men have played there.
My next thought was that if there was such concern about the princess, do or should men have the same concern about the prince and his royal dangling kerbangers?
I generally keep that area clipped. I’m Italian. If I didn’t, there would be a virtual cornfield of sloppiness down there. Once I hit my fifties, I became more attentive to the area. Grays are popping up, and while fine on my chin, they’re unwelcome on my man-beaver. Also, the trunk of my tree has begun sprouting stray hairs. This annoys me. It’s not like I’m beating off with Rogaine. WTF? (Why The Fuzz?) So, I soap up and razor it off. Don’t need to hear my woman coughing up fur balls or going, “Pftuh, pftee, tpuh,” during a blow job.
Ball hair gets trimmed. Shaving them is unrealistic and potentially a source for extreme embarrassment when toilet paper nicks are discovered. I just set the clippers on “close,” straddle the garbage can, and whistle while I weed-whack.
(Side note: You don’t ever want to see a man do this. Don’t even try to imagine it, or you will be scarred for life.)
Now, the question is, “If I were pretty sure I was going to get laid tonight, how would I get my prince ready?”
Guess I’d wash him, and possibly toss out some shower batch kids to avoid premature ejaculation. Other than that, my prince is always ready.