“Um, what did you do?” I asked Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, as tentatively as possible.
“What?”
Great. I’m curious, but being careful to not offend, and the result is like talking to kid. I resorted to a look I learned from my dad. Heavily arched eyebrow, a slight look of skepticism. And I looked down, my eyes pinpointing the area of concern.
Noom shrugged. It was a Don’t Ask, I Haven’t A Clue, Who The Hell Knows What I Was Thinking shrug. It was all there. Noom’s normal nicely trimmed but bushy patch of pubes, however, was not. A shadow of its former self, he’d obviously shaved to bare skin a week or so before my arrival. He tried to deflect what might be criticism. “I tink you like young boy.”
Not a smart wisecrack when you’re standing with your balls hanging in the wind. But I laughed. He knows better. “Got a bit crazy with the razor?”
“Com-pet-tis- on,” he carefully enunciated as an excuse. And then looked up to see if I was buying that.
“Who you competing with, young boys?”
Also not a smart wisecrack even with my balls safely tucked away. That had just a bit too much reality to it. “You look naked,” I said. Which since he was did nothing to clarify my opinion of his extreme manscaping for him.
“You want?”
“What?” I laughed, not sure just what he was offering.
“You like?”
Uh oh. Truth has its consequences. But so does a lie. The vision of my hot muscle stud permanently shaved was not a pleasant one. I love the contrast of his dusky smooth, hairless skin and – usually neatly trimmed but full – bush of jet black hair. Trying to deflect the lose-lose possibility that an answer would face I tried, “Um, I love you.”
His abrupt snort let me know he wasn’t buying it.
Good time to steer the conversation elsewhere. “What about that?” I asked him.
“What?”
This again? But it got me off the hot seat so I pointed at a mole on his chest that tends to sprout a singular hair, the only flaw on his entire body.
Noom’s quizzical look seemed an honest one. But he does shave that puppy, so he is aware of it. Or so I assumed. Or maybe it just grows to a certain length and falls off?
“That’s the only pubic hair you have left,” I said nodding at the only hair on his body that wasn’t on his head.
Noom squinted out a suspicious look, not sure if I was being serious or just razzing him as usual. But what the hell, since he’d shaved off the hairs I liked, no reason not to get rid of the one that really doesn’t need to be there. “Want me to shave that for you?
Still debating where this was headed, Noom paused. Then gave me a quick affirmative nod. Noom is quite vain. And rightly so. He spends far too much time every morning grooming himself. Looking good is important to him. Anything else takes a back seat. If we are running late, like the breakfast buffet closes in ten minutes, there’s a damn good chance we’ll miss it if Noom still needs to run through his grooming routine. Skipping a step or two, or even rushing through the process is not an option. But then the result is always worth it. Besides, he’s Thai. If the breakfast buffet is closed by the time we get there, they’ll always let us in and rustle up some food for us. Maybe that’s the payoff of him looking so hot.
I led him into the bathroom and ran some hot water making a much bigger production that necessary to shave off a lone hair from his chest. A smarter man would never let me get near his body with a razor or pair of scissors. But this wasn’t the first time he’d braved that danger. The previous year over a series of three trips Noom had grown a mustache and goatee. It was cute. At least on the first two trips. By the third, his facial hair was in dire need of trimming.
As particular as he is about his looks I have to assume he let his mustache get scraggly because he did not realize trimming was necessary. It’s not like the majority of Thai guys can even grown facial hair, or at least not enough to need trimming. That time I didn’t ask. I just told him to hold still, grabbed a small pair of nose hair scissors and cleaned up his mustache. Finished, he looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. Got it. I’m sure that added another 15 minutes to his morning routine.
Small job, quick work, single chest hair gone. But the intimacy of the situation had taken hold. “More?” I asked him.
Noom smiled, laughed, and leaned back against the vanity allowing me free reign.
Grasping his cock to keep it safe, I wetted him down with a piping hot wash towel, lathered up his groin, and started shaving the week’s worth of growth away. No, I really don’t like the bald look on a guy’s crotch. But lending a hand to get there had an appeal. To both of us. He started to get hard.
Who knew? It usually takes a bit of stroking before he rises to the occasion. Turns out all it really takes to get him aroused is a bit of attention. I’d never considered that vanity could be an aphrodisiac..
I pulled his cock up to get to his balls, but fun or not that evidently was bordering on being an insult. “No,” he firmly directed me. “Not hair.”
Well he had a point. Thai guys tend to not have hair on their balls. I knew that. And knew he doesn’t. But if you are playing barber, what the heck. It was worth a try. Finished with the grooming I cleaned him up and stepped back to appraise my work. And what he’d worked up too. “Now you really naked.”
“I tink you do like young boy.” Bastard. But a smart bastard; he’d held that in reserve until after I put the razor away. “You?” he asked.
“Uh no. Thanks.” Sure there was an appeal to letting him take a turn. But the result would not have been a pretty one.
“I tink shave head,” he offered instead.
“Uh, NO!” I’ve been follically challenged since I was in my twenties. What little hair I have on my head I value and protect at all cost.
Noom wasn’t ready to give it a rest. He wanted to repay my grooming efforts. “Yes,” he crooned. “You sexy. Look like Jason Statham.”
Right. Really? Well, maybe. But, no. It wasn’t gonna happen. “Okay,” I lied. “But then I shave yours too.”
“No way!” The idea of losing his hair struck a Samson-like nerve.
“You sexy,” I tried. “Look like Vin Diesel.”
Good try. Or not. He snorted again. And then content with his looks said, “I already sexy.”
I had to agree. Even shaved smooth. But especially since he was still hard. “Yeah,” I said. “You look like young boy.”
Noom laughed. We headed to bed. And as much as I am not a fan of the shaved look, I considered that at least I wouldn’t be picking hair out of my teeth.
This conversation would have been a riot….You gotta luv the guy and 10 for effort. BUT….did he get the message???? Not important anyway, that boyish vanity will get him away with murder methinks.
Yeah Al, thank the gods, that was the only time he’s ever gone smooth.
Funny, just days ago I watched “Transporter 3” and thought of you when I saw the scenes where Jason Statham is shirtless and a women asks him if he is gay (at least in the French dubbing). Not that I am interested in Jason Statham (I’m not into Caucasians; in fact, I can’t remember any of the pictures your posted being my type), but he might fall into your “prey scheme” (that’s what we call it in German, how do you say in English?).
Shhhhh. Don’t tell anybody but I work as Jason Statham’s stunt double.
“I’d never considered that vanity could be an aphrodisiac..”
Priceless!
I don’t think you realised how much was going unsaid when Noom let you shave that single hair. In many Asian cultures, a single hair growing from a mole sometimes represents a life. It could represent his (usually) or that of someone close to him symbolically, so letting you shave or cut it off was a bit like gambling that he or someone close to him wasn’t going to have his life line cut short.
Usually when someone comments about something I wrote in an old post, I have to go back and reread that article. This one I remember well! Thanks for that bit of knowledge XD, but I think y’all get a bit carried away on those cultural meanings sometimes. If it’s really a sign it should take more than a razor to get rid of.