A Tainted Tale

When you move in with a significant other, you know there will be some unavoidable annoyances your going to have to deal with. It's just the facts of life. Different people do things different ways and we have to learn to accept and embrace the differences. Maybe she doesn't do the laundry the way you like. Maybe she's the kind of person who needs everything in its place and you feel like leaving the house in shambles. Maybe it's as small as as how she likes her tuna. Everyone does a hundred different things a hundred different ways.

Up until now, I thought I had handled things pretty well. We've been in the same house for three and a half years and settled into a comfortable grove. Sure, we still do a host of things that piss each other off, but for the most part we're fairly well adjusted. I try to be understanding about most of the things she does. And at least I can recognize the stuff that's going to piss her off as I'm doing them. And yes, since I have knowledge of my transgressions I could just not do things in ways that will get her riled but what fun is that? Messing with each other is one of the best things about a relationship. You always have someone to bug. I can't say that she'd agree with me but everyone's entitled to their own opinion I guess. Though my opinion is, of course, the correct one.

Then, every once in a while, something comes up, out of the blue, that you never expected. An annoyance so out of the realm of possibilities that it would have never crossed your mind. If your significant other had served you up this degradation on purpose, well then bravo to them. But I've found these diabolical irks happen only out of coincidence or purely by accident. These truly brilliant moments could have never been thought of consciously without the help of an evil master. Who has one of those lying about anyway? I'm not talking about her making you brownies with walnuts in them (some of you may like walnuts, I on the other hand loathe them with all of my being), which I must admit is a travesty in its own right. No, I'm talking about pure humiliation. The kind you hope no one ever sees and that makes your soul shiver like a wet dog stuck outside in subzero weather. It make me wonder why I'm writing about it then, but let's press on before I lose my nerve.

What I'm talking about is when I was drying off in the shower and I'd just worked the towel south of my ass, heading toward the calf and I felt a tickle in the vicinity of my butt crack. Not the normal itch mind you but more like a feather in your ear. I switched the towel from a two handed grip to a one-hander to free up a hand for exploration. With my free hand I tentatively reached to the top of my ass crack and landed a single hair on my fingertips. It was light and long, straight and conditioned. Certainly not the type of hair I'm comfortable with being back there. Gripping the hair between my thumb and index finger I began to pull. It was then that I felt an unfamiliar sensation as the hair uncoiled its clasp around my balls and slowly began to slide over the taint and through the valley. It left me with a icy kiss as it pulled wistfully out of my ass. I held the hair up to the blinding light of the vanity and gagged.

I'm not weird about hair. In fact, I rather like hair but I prefer when it stays on the girl's head rather than in my ass. There's hair all over our house. On the floor, in our bed, on counters and couches and now apparently on my towel as well. It's not her fault. She doesn't rip out chucks of her locks and leave them on my pillow before she goes to bed to fuck with me. She has long hair and it's going to fall. That's just inescapable curse of gravity. Still, even without malicious intent, I can find no solace in the fact that's it's inevitable. Now, I check and recheck my towel every time I take a shower like a squirrel looking for his last nut in hopes of finding any offending hairs before they make it to my body cavities. It sucks getting out of the shower and feeling dirtier than when you got in.