Monday, 3 December 2012

Vicks On The Bum

I woke up one night with an itch on my bum. It started small at first but then soon spread. In no time my two rear cheeks were itching like a rash and I had to control myself from scratching it to shreds.

Why would my bum suddenly itch so bad in the middle of the nite? It is convenient to suspect mites, but I keep a clean bed, so it was very unlikely. Besides, mites don't just bite a specific area; and the itch shouldn't spread like wild fire.

My other thought was that I had eaten something wrong during dinner. I am not given to allergies, so that idea was soon dismissed.

I then wondered about the supplements I had been taking for "strong bone and teeth" (in a manner of speaking). But it wasn't the first time; side effects would have surfaced long ago.

Could it be something I was dreaming about? I mean I had woken up with an erection in the middle of the night before and it was not because of mites, dinner nor supplements. It had to do with dreams - usually of old girlfriends - and the peaks and troughs of a man's testosterone levels. The latter is responsible for both men and boys getting a boner in the morning. (For the ladies this could be a godsend as they can vouch that morning boners are the best!) Guys don't like it much as 'doing it' with a full morning bladder can be uncomfortable. Yes, guys can't really pee with a boner on during sex, but with effort, they can will it in the toilet. Just make sure to be seated facing the wall as the blocked urethra will sprinkle pee in all directions. It's like jetting water at a boulder!

So, there I was lying in bed in the middle of the night wondering why my bum should itch so much.

I told a friend the next morning and he said I should be thankful it was not my balls that provoked scratching. I told him I had that experience once, what the POWs in Singapore during WWII called Changi Balls. It had nothing to do with the Cinderella-glass-slipper kind of ball but one caused by eating rice and little else; it's a vitamin deficiency illness. I was on a crash diet once and developed Changi Balls. It was gone after I started eating more rice again.

But that night, with a bum that itched so bad, I had to affirm that my butt wasn't bitten by any insect or parasite. So I turned to my girlfriend who was sleeping beside me and roused her up.

"Jane, I need you to take a look at my butt. Something's not quite right."

Jane was in her deep REM sleep phase and took a while to wake and register what I had said. "What? Look at your what?" she mumbled.

"My butt. It's itching like mad!"

Jane sat up and rubbed her eyes. I had already moved my pants down the waist half-mooning her.

"You got to be kidding, right?" Jane was a little, er, disbelieving.

I turned on the bedside tablelight to highlight my derriere better. It was clearly visible in the dresser mirror opposite. I edged my pants down a little more to persuade Jane to take a closer look.

"Wait, where are my specs?" Jane asked as she fumbled for them. They were on the bedside cupboard. Jane had a high degree of shortsightedness and making love to her was kind of unusual. She said most of the time, I was the guy at the bottom of a drink bottle: blurry and sort of distorted. "It was like making love to a stranger each time," she once commented. I didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed. But she was a wonderful partner so I shouldn't complain. And short-sighted people, I realised, grab on to things like a drowning person to a life jacket. Sometimes disconcerting, most times quite stimulating after the fact!

Jane finally surveys the damage and reports that my bum was like a car in a slight accident. Lightly scratched but otherwise OK. Is it red? I asked.

"No, not even in this yellow light." If red, my bum would look a shade of dark brown, something we all learned watching Abyss - that James Cameron movie about aliens in the deepest part of the Mariana Trench.

Can you smack it? I suggested to her.

"Okaaay," she replied, somewhat amused. She did a couple of quick slaps that would have made a drummer proud.

"There! Better?"

"Yes, much better," I said, pulling my pants up before turning round. I took her hand and kissed the back of it. "Thanks."

"Why don't you put some Vicks on it?" Jane then suggested, worried that the itch would cost me sleep. "Here, let me put some on for you."

And so, that's what Jane did that one late night: put Vicks on my derriere. I must say I felt much better afterwards as my bum was like super cool. Quite a weird feeling if you'd asked me. But Jane was liking it (the Vicks, not my bum) as the ointment also relieved her of a sinus-stuffed nose.

Afterwards, we couldn't sleep. We made love. Kind of strange, to be honest, to make love with a Vick's cooled bum. I was like a waffle served up with ice-cream: one side hot, the other cool. Jane was as usual, lapping up the warmer side of me.

After the quick but ardent love-making, both of us fell asleep. By then, the itch was long gone to be replaced by a dream of tobogganing on the snowy slopes of winter Stockholm: bum wet, icy cold and snugged tight with someone in front. No prizes for guessing why.

Next story: Burnable Bling

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