As my Christmas gift to you all this year, I would like to share another of Dangerous Doug’s adventures. This one comes with a XXX rating. Not suitable for children. Oh yes, Dangerous Doug does get dirty!
Before I tell the tale, however, I have been asked to emphasise that the moniker “Dangerous Doug” is in fact a “pseudonym” and that any resemblance to someone I work with (also called “Doug”) should not be inferred. The stories are 100% true, but they could be about “anybody”. Anybody at all.
OK, with that out of the way, let us begin. I wonder if it would come as a surprise to anyone to know that Doug hasn’t exactly been lucky in love. He has, of course, been in a few serious relationships. And he was even engaged. Twice! But so far, he hasn’t found the woman he would like to share his life with, or the one that would like to share it with him. Being a modern man, open to new experiences, Doug was an early adopter of online dating and a few years ago he met a lovely Canadian woman on an internet dating site. They emailed back and forth for a while, and after a couple of months, their communication graduated to regular phone calls. Sometimes, as you can imagine, these phone calls could become a little…. shall we say, risqué. That’s quite normal, I think. Every relationship needs to progress to the next level over time. And the next level for our Romeo, and his Juliet, was to meet in person. They agreed that Doug would fly to Canada to meet his lady and get to know her better. Doug was very excited and promptly booked his ticket. Dubai to Vancouver, via a four hour stopover in London.
The day of Doug’s trip, he did a little bit of last minute shopping before going home to finish packing. About an hour before he was due to leave for the airport he pulled out the bottle of Veet he’d bought that morning and decided it would be a good time to apply it to his testicles.
[sound of record player needle being dragged across vinyl]
Oh, oops! Sorry, I may have forgotten to mention something earlier. Yep, I definitely skipped over an important bit of information. OK, so during one of their sexy chats on the phone, Doug’s girl had told him that she was completely bare “down there” and that she liked her men the same way. Doug had filed that little tidbit under “Useful Information” and when he’d gone shopping that morning he picked up a box of depilatory cream with the intention of fulfilling Miss Canada’s sexual wishes.
So, as I was saying, an hour before he was supposed to head to the airport, he figured out there probably wasn’t going to be another opportunity to divest himself of his pesky pubic hair. Sure, he had the four hour layover in London but he preferred to do such grooming in the comfort of his own home.
Off came the pants as he cursorily read the instructions on the packet. “Leave on for no more than five minutes,” it warned. “Hmm,” thought Doug as he generously applied the hair-removing cream to his crown jewels. “That doesn’t seem like enough time. I’ll leave it on for fifteen”. After all, he wanted to do the job good and proper. No half measures for our Doug.
As time ticked away and he reached the ten minute mark his “balls started to throb with heat” (his words, not mine). He reminded himself that there was no gain without pain, and just gritted his teeth through the discomfort, hoping to last another five minutes. Alas, the heat became unbearable at 13 minutes and he quickly jumped into the shower to wash himself off. On the one hand, he was very pleased to see that the Veet had done its job and, after towelling off, he proudly admired his hairless goolies. On the other hand he wasn’t so pleased that the skin on his hairless goolies looked really red and angry. Also, it still hurt like hell, even after washing off the cream. But there was no time to dwell on this problem. He had to jump in a cab and catch a flight!
On the way to the airport, Doug actually started getting a little bit worried. The pain, instead of abating, was intensifying. He had a bad feeling that something was very wrong down there. He gingerly slid out of the cab, barely able to walk from the pain. As he put it to me, anyone looking at him walking through the terminal would have thought that he had spent all day riding on the back of a horse. Or, that he had a big carrot shoved up his backside. One or the other.
He made his way directly to the airport kiosk to look for something (ANYTHING) that would relieve his crazy pain. All he could find was Vaseline. He figured a half kilo tub of the stuff might do the trick. He immediately went into the bathroom and peeled his underwear away from his seeping and blistering scrotum. He gently, but liberally, applied Vaseline to the entire groin area, put his jocks back on and hopped on his flight. Thank goodness the Vaseline worked. It helped keep the burning sensation at bay, though it did wear off after a while and he had to keep reapplying it during the flight. And again in London. And more on the flight to Canada. By the time he touched down in Vancouver he had just about finished the entire tub. Without it, the pain was excruciating.
Doug’s lady met him at the airport, and they enjoyed a romantic introduction before she drove them home. When they got to her place, she wasted no time whatsoever, whipping off her clothes and jumping into bed in anticipation (he knows how to pick ‘em, you’ve got to give him that much). Doug wasn’t so keen. After all, he had about 400 grams of petroleum jelly down his pants. He asked if it was alright to take a shower first. She agreed it was probably a good idea after such a long flight and he spent the next 30 minutes under the shower, soaping away all the accumulated Vaseline until, finally, he was clean. BUT, the pain had returned and looking down at his sorry gonads he could see red, raw skin. He applied as little Vaseline as he thought he could get away with and crept into bed. He begged off any hanky-panky, claiming he was tired. Luckily, she was very understanding and he got a reprieve that night. The next day Doug’s privates had developed some nice, hard scabs (which, fortunately (somehow), went unnoticed) and the pain had become more bearable. It was at this point of the story that I told Doug I really didn’t need to hear any more. The twinkle in his eye said it all.
The moral of the story? Read the instructions first? Or perhaps it’s that love is worth travelling the globe for. Worth doing anything for (even ridiculous things). On this special day I hope that you all get to spend it with people that you love. After all, it’s what makes the world go around (with a little help from Vaseline).
Merry Xmas to you all from me, David and Dangerous Doug.
This does seem appropriate for the holiday — as I’m picturing a sort of scrotal mistletoe. Thanks for the story!
Thanks! My pleasure (and although I’m not entirely sure that was the effect I was going for, I’ll take it!).
I suppose they were red baubles of a type.
Just LMAO reading this! Poor DD. I once attempted to do my own Brazilian bikini wax. Instead of doing one patch at a time, I generously spread the wax allll under. After I tore the first strip off (along with a good bit of my good bits) I decided I needed to leave the waxing to professionals. I spent the next three hours with a hair dryer and a spoon trying to melt and scrape the wax off. For the record, it takes a long time for “that” skin to grow back.
GI, you poor thing!!!! Yes, Doug has had a similarly painful experience – obviously there are a lot of you experimental types out there!! Love it. Thanks for sharing. 🙂