I whipped off my pants to take a look at what I was working with. As I suspected, my pubic area looked like a clump of hair that I’d be more comfortable seeing in shower drain than between my legs. I’d have to shave, or trim, or both. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the clippers and there’s no fucking way I’m going at my crotch with a pair of scissors.
I’d just shave the sides and the mouth-to-pussy contact areas and hope for the best.
I didn’t have time to run the bath, and in the shower, I can’t bend at the correct angle to get at the important parts without leaning over so far that I risk drowning. I managed to do a fairly good job with the dangerous stuff, but I couldn’t get the bikini lines even. I kept taking too much off of one side, trying to even it up, and taking too much off the other side… and then I took some off the top…
When I was done, I got out of the shower and surveyed the damage. It was worse than I thought.
When I saw the boy, I told him about my unfortunate situation.
“I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, but I figured I should warn you before you see it. I didn’t have much time to get ready and I tried to shave really quick, and I couldn’t get it even… and…. um, my pussy has a Hitler mustache.”
“My pubic hair. I accidentally shaved it into a Hitler mustache. Maybe it’s more like a Charlie Chaplin mustache? Anyway, I suppose it could have been worse… like a Dali mustache or a Fu Manchu. But… um, yeah. Hitler mustache.”
Totally straight-faced, he responded:
“Well then… Heil Hitler.”