Thursday, 6 June 2013

I Know What You Did in the Shower

In films and in fantasy, it goes something like this:

Lifting her face towards the warm stream of water, she moans quietly as the warm water runs down her perfectly made-up face, not smudging her mascara at all. The water makes her nipples hard, and she gives them a playful tweak as she slowly and seductively runs her hands over her soapy body.   Accidentally dropping her shampoo bottle, she sucks her index finger as she bends to retrieve it, before noting its extremely erotic phallic shape. This is something that she has never noticed before, and considers its merits, before inserting it in her…

In reality, it goes something like this. According to a friend, of course:

Stepping into the shower, she realises that she has forgotten to put on her shower cap, and the water squirts violently at her yesterday-washed hair. Cursing the time this will add to her schedule, she gives up and sticks her head and face under the shower, allowing the water to smudge last night’s mascara down her blotchy face. Someone in another room thinks it is ok to turn on a tap, or flush the toilet, as long as they do it slowly, or deny it after. The water slows to a trickle, before turning boiling hot. She quickly steps out of the shower stream, but it is not good enough. The water pressure suddenly returns, shooting her full pelt in the tits with a force that nearly knocks her off her feet. Positioning herself back under the shower, she notes with dismay that the sudden hosing-down has dislodged a hair above her nipple that had previously gone unnoticed. She knows that she has to remove this hair immediately, for once it is out of sight, it will be out of mind, and she will then run the risk of her partner finding it. She looks around for an implement with which she can safely remove the bastard hair. A razor is no good; it will grow back pointy. Eventually she decides that she has no choice but to attempt to remove it using her fingernails. After two minutes of failed attempts at grabbing it, succeeding only in painfully pinching her nipple instead, she manages to secure it between her nails. She pulls with all her might, then looks in horror as the hair stays attached, yet now behaves a little like a piece of curling ribbon.

Giving up on that particular venture, she decides to de-hair everywhere else that she requires to be smooth. To do this, she needs amazing athletic prowess. The positions she needs to adopt are listed below:

Standing on one leg
Standing, ankles together, knees apart, head between legs.
Standing, one leg on side of bath, one hand pulling one buttock cheek over and up, razor in other hand.
Standing, trying to flatten and straighten wobbly body part with one hand, whilst shaving it with a razor in the other.
Sitting, crying, as blood trickles from her mutilated kneecaps.

She achieves all of the above, and examines her new, hair-free body with pride. One stubborn hair remains on the inside of her thigh. Grabbing the razor, she makes an attempt to remove this, but it moves out of the razor’s reach at the very last second. The swipe, move, swipe, move, swipe, move, swipe, move routine lasts for approximately three minutes, until she eventually gives up.

As her hair is already wet, she decides to shampoo it. Reaching for the shampoo bottle, she knocks it with her hand and it falls off the side of the bath onto her foot. Screaming, ‘Fuckingshampoobloodypainwank,’she hops from foot to foot, before shampooing her hair with tea tree shower gel. Realising that she has left her hair conditioner over the other side of the bathroom, she makes the executive decision to remain in the shower and not use any. From experience, she knows this is a decision she will regret in ten minutes, when her hair has dried and is sticking up in the air and sideways at exactly the same time.

She turns off the taps, but is not quite coordinated enough to turn both off simultaneously. The hot shuts off immediately, whilst the cold continues to stream, stinging her bloodied knees and squirting in her eyes. Screaming and blinded, she attempts to escape. The slippery surface and lack of sight make this an impossibility and she slips, falling astride a phallic shaped shampoo bottle…

Monday, 20 May 2013

In a concerted effort to declutter my corner of the WWW, I have integrated this blog with my Tumblr musings. Everything can now be found at

I thank you.