“Scotty,” he said, stretching his meaty arms over his head so his T-shirt scootched up and revealed his happy trail and the bottom third of his six-pack.
Inky flames shoot out from the top of his jeans, threatening to ignite his happy trail.
2006, Michel LaCroix, Alex in Wonderland, The Haworth Press, →ISBN, page 191:
He leaned over and kissed Duncan's chest and slowly, steadily worked his hand south onto the happy trail.
2006, T. J. Williams, 5 Minutes and 42 Seconds, HarperCollins, published 2010, →ISBN, unnumbered page:
Fashad answered the door with his shirt off, wearing some gray drawstring pants from Banana Republic that were low enough for me to see his happy trail.
She slid her gaze over his hard chest muscles covered in blond hair, down his six-pack abs and the darker blond happy trail that circled his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
[…] I stroked his stomach, tracing the spike of his hipbone, the dip where it casted inward, the well of his navel and the happy trail that drew me ever lower.
2009, Julie Holland, Weekends at Bellevue: Nine Years on the Night Shift at the Psych ER, Bantam Books, →ISBN, page 12:
“Those boxers, your scrubs, that happy trail. You're killing me!”
