I Have Back Herpes!
One of my simplest joys in life is humiliating my wife in front of her friends and co-workers. When I say humiliate, I don’t really refer to me directly humiliating her rather I humiliate myself which in turn passes the humiliation on to her. Recently I got a great chance to do just that.
A few months ago I had my wife Nair the hair off my back. I posses an unfortunate genetic condition that some refer to as Chewbacca Ass which is only treatable with expensive laser treatments or the cheaper alternatives of having friends and family forever manually remove the hair from your body with razors, wax or other products.
Back in the day a few of my buddies and I would get together for a guy’s night out to have shave parties. As gay as it may sound, there is little more satisfying than rubbing your fingers over the clean shaven, silky smooth surface of one of your best pal’s backside! Since getting married I have opted to go for having the wife do it for me.
Usually my wife is extremely hesitant to shave me. This past hair removal session I had to force her into it. I pulled out the towels, grabbed a big bottle of Nair then stripped down naked and lay in the floor directly in front of her as she lay on the couch watching TV.
“Hey baby…” I said in my sweetest innocent sounding voice. “Nair my back, it’s hairy.”
She looked down at me dissatisfied and replied, “I hate doing this, can’t we do it tomorrow?”
“No, I want to do it now.” Then I opened the bottle and squirt it onto my back giving her little choice but to join in.
My wife moaned and uttered a small complaint under her breath then leaned down and began rubbing the Nair over my body, slathering it on in sheets like a mad baker covering a wedding cake in thick icing. The emulsion was easily a quarter of an inch thick when she finished.
I lay on my stomach relaxing, smiling and happy to soon be hairless. For the first few days after your back is ridden of hair the sensation of your skin rubbing up against the fabric of a T-shirt is splendid. I am not sure if the sensation is a result of the baldness as much as maybe this is the feeling of all the nerve endings on your backside being completely fried and disintegrated.
Because the hair on my back and bottom are so thick, the Nair has to be left on for quite a while. My wife set the oven timer for the appropriate amount of time and went off to doing something else while I relaxed.
18 minutes later…Buzzzzzz, buzzzzzz, buzzzzzzz…..
“Time’s up” My wife said to me, grabbing a damp cloth and beginning to rub off the hair.
“Ooh, it’s so nasty.” She said in disgust.
The hair came off in large clumps, melted and reeking of the stench of the solution used to dissolve it.
“Oh no Peavey, your back is all broken out.”
I got up and went to the mirror. My back was covered in small red bumps. Had we left the Nair on too long? Was it the wrong kind for back and ass hair? Was it expired? How did this happen!?
Over the next few days my back broke out into a minefield of small, festering, puss oozing pimples. My wife urged me to visit the doctor and after five days of resisting I submitted to the woman’s wishes and made the appointment.
I was in high spirits the day of the appointment. I had an awesome excuse to skip work and since my wife was a nurse at the office I was visiting I hoped to get some sort of special treatment. I had visions of all my wife’s sexy nurse friends giving me special attention giggling in the corner and whispering things to each other like, “Oh, he’s so cute? I wish he wasn’t married.” And other things like that. But no, my wife took care of me and even reminded me that I had gained a few pounds since last time I’d been there. Gee, thanks for the heads up on that!
I sat in my little room waiting for the doctor to enter. I kicked my legs back and forth, knocking my heels against the base of the exam table in a rhythmic fashion.
Clink, clunk, clink, clunk…
Then the doctor entered, a short Jewish man with rosy cheeks and a friendly smile. He reminded me of George Costanza.
“How’re you doing today sir?” He asked, extending his hand.
I told him I was doing fine then we began the diagnosis process.
“So, what seems to be the problems today? Says here you have a little acne?”
Then oh so suddenly, right before I was about to tell him what had happened, what I was sure my wife had already told him half a dozen times already this morning something inside clicked… and I lied.
“Well doc, about a week ago I went to one of those exotic massage parlors. You know, one of those with the hot little Asian chicks.”
He stared back at me, displaying a very concerned style of bedside manner.
“Well doc…” I continued to explain, “She got to the end of the massage and asked if I wanted the happy ending. And well… I said sure.”
By now the doctor looked back at me not smiling nor frowning, actually quite stone faced. Up until this moment I had looked directly at the floor, like a child ashamed of being caught doing something they shouldn’t have.
“So here’s the thing doc, before I could roll over to get the happy ending she climbed up on my naked body and messaged my back with her vagina. Doctor, I’m afraid I have back herpes.”
I looked up at the doctor who was now frowning. How I kept a strait face, I don’t know.
“Alright sir lets lift up that shirt and have a look.” The doctor replied in his most professional demeanor.
He glanced at my back for 3 seconds, lowered the shirt and delivered his diagnosis. “Nope, that’s not herpes, that’s folliculitis.”
The doctor quickly wrapped up the exam, I was given a prescription then he left.
Later that night my wife came home angry and humiliated. Apparently my story was a big hit around the office. So much for doctor/patient confidentiality!
Mission accomplished.
August 6th, 2008 at 8:54 pm
lol, that was good writing…