But he edged that way through the crowd anyway and sure enough, there were not one, but three naked guys, the two facing him with hard dicks sticking out, in a black and blue leather club booth with a large sign that read, “HOTDOGS ON THE HOOF” in bold red letters.

Del was so intrigued that he walked right into the path of a little group of men talking among themselves and paying no attention to the booth they were passing.

“Hey, watch it!”

“Sorry.”

As he got up to the booth, Del saw that it had an ordinary low counter with squeeze bottles of mustard and catsup and covered plastic tubs of relish and chopped onions set in bowls of crushed ice. Nothing else was ordinary. The two guys behind the counter at the front were lean, muscular, gym types in their early 20's. They wore white chef’s hats, black boots and nothing else. Both had light overall tans. All their pubic hair had been removed down to smooth skin. Their nude cocks stuck out hard, clamped tight at the base behind the testicles by silvery white bands, apparently some sort of plastic. The skin of both sets of genitals was darker than the rest of the guys’ bodies. The guy in the back was facing away, belly-up to a black box that looked like a microwave oven. He had pale skin, buzz-cut dark hair and a hard-bunned white ass, tight-clinched as he pressed forward against the box.

Del felt his own cock go rock hard.

The guy nearest the counter noticed his attention, blue-eyes flicking to Del’s crotch. Del followed his gaze down and felt his face go warm. His cock had worked its way down his pants leg and the outline of his erection was plainly visible. The guy in the booth smiled.

“How about a ‘dog, sir?” He flicked the underside of his own long, thick penis with his fingertips, making it jounce up and down.

Del’s gaze riveted on the item in question, noting the flaring cockhead and large, loose-hanging balls, his peripheral vision taking in the guy’s narrow hips, almost hairless body and prominent rosy nipples on well-developed pecs. His face was snub-nosed and boyish, his hair light brown on the sides of his head below the chef’s hat. The genitals held Del’s fascination, though. The skin was an almost uniform golden brown, the head only slightly darker, and glistened slightly like that of a roast turkey. The thought hit him with a shock that they had somehow been cooked still attached. Was that possible? Was the guy actually offering to cut them off and serve them? Del gulped.

“Sir?”

“Uh . . .” was all Del managed to say.

The guy’s smile widened engagingly, showing even white teeth. “Premium meat. Only 30 bucks. And we throw in the balls. Nice and juicy.” He squeezed his heavy testicles briefly.

Thirty bucks! That was almost all he had on him. But Jesus! For an actual cock and balls on a bun?

“Your choice.” The other guy spoke for the first time, also smiling and flicking his penis with his fingertips. He was shorter and slightly chunkier than his colleague, with darker brown hair, a lick of which poked out under the chef’s hat in front. His cock was a bit shorter and thinner, slightly bowed up and back, with smallish nuts drawn up a little tighter than the other guy’s. The skin had the same cooked look, though the head was darker in contrast to the cockshaft.

The guy in the back looked over his shoulder. “These ought to be almost ready too, guys,” he called out.

The hell with the price! Del found his voice, which came out in a hoarse croak. “That one.” He pointed at the first guy’s meat.

“Good choice.”

The second man took a large hotdog bun from a warming tray, opened it, and handed it to Del’s guy, who placed it under his cock and balls.

People were still walking by behind Del, talking and laughing and occasionally jostling him. Disco music with a heavy, rhythmic beat pulsed from the dance tent across the festival lot. At the booth to the right, decorated in bright oranges and reds, a young Asian woman handed a burger and soft drink to a customer. Nobody seemed to be paying much attention to his own transaction or, incredibly, to the three naked guys in the leather club booth, as if it was all perfectly ordinary. He couldn’t believe it. He was acutely aware of his erection bulging under the cloth of his jeans.

“Mustard?” his . . .well, “server” asked.

Del had to clear his throat before he could speak again. He realized with astonishment that his mouth was watering.

“Yes, please,” he finally managed.

The guy laid a line of mustard from a squeeze bottle along the length of his cock, including the head.

“Hey, Dave, Michael, how’s it going?”

Del started at the loud voice right beside him.

The server grinned. “Hi, Sandy. Selling ‘em like hotdogs. Relish?” he asked Del.

“Uh, yes, sure.”

The newcomer made him feel even more self-conscious. Glancing away and down, Del saw that pre-cum was starting to blotch the faded blue denim of his jeans at the lower end of the bulge. He knew his face was not just red but flaming, and hated his own embarrassment.

Sandy, a rangy blond in white tee shirt with a leather bar logo and light-blue shorts, wasn’t paying Del much attention, though.

“Wow, Dave, you’re really doing it,” he said, staring at his friend ladling pickle relish on either side of his genitals in the bun. “Hi,” he added politely to Del.

“Hi.”

“Yeah, we’ve been selling ‘em like crazy,” the second guy in the booth, Michael, said.

“There may not be a bottom in the club with a weiner when the festival’s over,” Dave added, chuckling wryly.

He closed up the bun as he talked, cockhead poking out the end, and picked up an odd-looking gadget sort of like a flashlight, which produced an intense violet beam when he thumbed it.

“Watch this, Sandy, it’s neat.”

Spreading his feet and thrusting his pelvis forward, he grasped the bun and its contents and passed the beam carefully between the bun and his body, then held the bun out to Del with a flourish.

“Enjoy!”

Where cock and balls had been, there was only the silvery white band squeezed tight around a quarter-inch nub of penis, the end slick and red, as if cauterized.

Without warning, Del came in his pants. He let out an involuntary gasping grunt but managed to take the hotdog, trying to hold his hips still and not draw attention to the almost overwhelming orgasm, though the dark stain spreading down his pants leg was all too obvious. A second ejaculation followed the first and he almost dropped the ‘dog.

Thankfully, the other guys weren’t paying much attention to him.

“Cool,” Sandy was saying. “Laser cutter, huh?”

“Real high tech,” said Dave. He gestured at this crotch. “And we got a sawbones who finishes the job so it heals up nice and smooth and you can’t hardly tell anything was there.”

“Yeah, a boy I know got pruned by his daddy at that Hawks dungeon party couple of months ago. He likes to go naked on the beach now and freak people out. He says they can’t get him for indecent exposure any more because he’s got nothing to expose.”

Dave laughed, though his expression was skeptical. “Maybe I’ll try that.”

“How do you get away with it here?”

“Not sure. That’s what the club pays our legal shyster for. We even got a health department permit, believe it or not.” He jerked his head toward a certificate taped to the canvas sidewall. “We do need more weiners, though. There’s only Colin . . .” he jerked his head over his shoulder at the guy in back, “and another boy set to come in some time in the next hour.”

“Hey, I like having a cock,” said Sandy.

“So did I,” said Dave. “But what the fuck, it’s just another sausage.” He shrugged and spread his hands. Then he noticed Del still standing there, holding his “hotdog” and staring at the cockhead sticking partly out of the bun.

“Oh, hey, I forgot to mention, we nuke ‘em before we cut ‘em off,” he told Del. “You’re probably thinking that’s raw meat.”

“Not really,” said Del, “I sort of guessed. I was just figuring which end to bite into first.” He’d actually been preoccupied with the afterglow of his orgasm.

“The head’s supposed to be the best part.”

“How about it, Sandy?” Michael slipped the palm of his hand down his taut, flat stomach, scissored his jutting penis with two fingers and wagged it back and forth. “All nice and tender, just for you.”

Sandy grinned. “You forget, I know where that one’s been.”

Michael shrugged, still smiling.

Del bit off the end of the hotdog with the cockhead, and was pleasantly surprised. It tasted a little like roast pork except for a slight musky flavor.

“Good, huh?” asked Dave, looking and sounding a bit anxious.

Del smiled around a mouthful of bread and meat. “Great!”

Dave’s face lit up. “Glad to hear it. It’s had a fair amount of exercise.” His teeth flashed. “I was afraid it’d be tough.”

The cockshaft itself was when Del bit into it, but he didn’t care.

“Wait’ll you get to the balls,” said Michael. “The way Dave was complaining yesterday, they oughta be busting with cum.”

Dave gave him a sour glance. Del looked a question.

“Everybody who agreed to man the booth was supposed to stop having sex a week ago.” Dave explained. “We decided we needed to nuke ‘em erect, so we have to pump ‘em up and stop just short of cumming before we stick ‘em into the oven.”

“Supposed to give the meat more flavor,” said Michael, his expression suggesting it was all a plot to deny him one last orgasm.

“Too bad,” said Sandy. “They tell me what’s really cool is to take off a dick while it’s shooting.”

“I’ll never know, now,” Dave said, his tone rueful.

“Come on, Sandy,” Michael urged. “Either buy one or contribute one.”

Sandy laughed. “You’ve seen mine. Would anybody pay 30 bucks for it?”

The guy in back looked over his shoulder. “Carter said a couple of dikes bought his this morning.”

“Bummer.”

“Shut up, Colin,” said Michael.

Dave laughed. He took off the chef’s hat, sprayed a film of some pink stuff from a can labeled “Quik Bandage” over the slight nub of his penis and reached for one of several pairs of jeans draped over a box.

“You guys work it out, I’m going to the clinic to see the doc.” He plunked himself down on a white plastic chair and started tugging off his boots so he could get the jeans on. “Jack should be around soon to collect the cash again. You gonna stay after yours sells, Michael?”

“Yeah, for awhile.”

Meanwhile, Colin did something with the front of the microwave, then stepped back and looked down. “Oh, wow,” he said to himself. As he backed away, the oven was revealed as some sort of custom job with a small round opening instead of a door.

Michael was still trying to persuade the big blond to contribute. “Seriously, Sandy, I’ll have this one sold probably in the next 15 minutes, and then there’s only Colin until and if the next donor shows up.”

“Why would I want to sacrifice my prick so your club can make a few bucks?”

“Aw, c’mon, it’s the ultimate bottom trip. And you get to stand out here naked and watch the guys’ faces when they realize what we’re selling.”

He winked at Del, who had been munching away and wishing he had a beer or something.

Sandy laughed. “Yeah, that would be kind of cool. I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I will buy your meat.”

“Or you can get this one while it’s hot, sir.” Colin turned around with a wide grin on his face and twisted his slender body to wag a startling eight inches or so of hard penis which, unlike Dave’s and Michael’s, stuck up well above the horizontal. Big, round testicles swung heavily in a thin, tender-looking sac. The whole works had that roasted turkey look, contrasting strongly with the boy’s otherwise pale skin.

Seen from the front, he looked several years younger than Dave or Michael, maybe 18 or 19. He was not muscular but he had the natural definition of a teenager. A fine line of dark hair ran up from where it had been shaved off just below his navel to fan out across his chest, complementing erect pink nipples. His dark eyes held a slightly spaced-out look.

“Well, uh . . .” Sandy appraised the new merchandise.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Passed over again.”

“Well . . .” Sandy looked embarrassed.

He had turned a little more Del’s way and Del saw that Sandy’s cock was pushing up against the left leg of his shorts, wet pink tip just visible under the hem. He didn’t seem to be aware of it. Del’s own dick was hard again. He found himself wishing he could get it out, and glanced around at the festival-goers wandering by, wondering if anybody would really notice. Amazed at himself for even thinking it, he took another bite of hotdog and realized he’d bitten into a testicle. It was sweeter than the penis but didn’t taste much like cum after all. He was mildly disappointed

A couple of bare-chested guys passing by, one of them holding a dripping ice cream cone, stopped. The one with the cone asked Michael, “Hey, you guys really selling your meat? How much?”

“Thirty bucks,” said Michael.

The new guy whistled in disbelief. “Just for a prick?” He glanced at his companion, who asked, “How much of it do you get?”

Michael scissored the base of his jutting penis with his fingers and grinned.

“All you can see.”

“Balls?”

“Included.”

“Too much,” said the first guy. “I’ll give you ten?”

“No bargaining,” said Michael.

“Well . . .” he glanced at his companion, who shook his head. “Cute idea, though.”

They strolled away. In their wake, two young women–one in a bright yellow dress, the other in green shorts and halter top, glanced at the sign and surveyed the booth and the two naked young men remaining in it. One of them said something to the other in a joking tone and they both walked on, laughing.

Meanwhile, Colin had stuffed Sandy’s money through a slot in a bolted-down cash box and laid his penis and balls into another bun from the warmer. . .or tried to. He had to hold the cock down level with his thumb on the base. And an inch or so of penis, including the entire head, stuck out at the end. He went through the mustard and relish routine, apologizing for the thumb. Sandy was amused.

“That’s okay. I’m sure you had a lot more than one thumb on that thing a few minutes ago.”

“No, sir,” the boy said earnestly. “I didn’t need to pump it at all to get it up.” He closed the bun on his meat. Then his bravado seemed to wilt a bit. He picked up the laser cutter, but for a moment, he just stared down at himself. He mumbled something Del didn’t catch and fumbled awkwardly with the cutter.

“Just push the red button,” said Michael. “And be careful you don’t cut yourself. I mean, uh . . .”

This made the kid smile. He took a deep breath, sliced off his meat without mishap and handed the hotdog to Sandy. “I hope you like it, sir.”

Sandy bit off the cockhead without hesitation. “It’s delicious, boy,” he said around the mouthful. Colin grinned. If he’d been a puppy, he would have been wagging his tail.

Del had finished his own hotdog but hadn’t moved to go. Michael looked at him expectantly.

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

“Uh . . .” Del swallowed hard and heard himself say, “Were you serious about wanting volunteers?”

Michael didn’t seem overly surprised. “Sure was.”

“I, uh, I just came. You said that, uh, donors, uh, weren’t supposed to.”

“Well, can’t be helped. We really need some fresh meat and from what I can see of that one,” he looked at the bulge sticking down Del’s pants leg, it should sell just fine, and our doc will be glad to fix you up afterwards.”

Del tried to think. His heart was thudding against his ribs. This was crazy. “Do I get a shot or anything before I nuke ‘em?”

“Sure. We’re not that masochistic.”

Del gulped. He knew he was going to do it, but something deep inside him was trying to protest. It made a valiant effort and came up with another stalling ploy.

“I’m not shaved.”

“We’ve got depilatory.”

His doubts grasped for something else.“Uh, I’m not circumcised. Is that okay?”

Michael grinned. “Foreskins are supposed to be real tasty.”

Somehow that information sabotaged the last of Del’s resistance. His cock was straining with painful urgency against the rough cloth of his pants leg. His blood was singing in his ears. As if from a great distance, he heard himself say,“What do I do?”

Forty-five minutes later he was standing in the booth naked except for one of the chef’s hats, which made him feel even more exposed, offering his freshly nuked cock and balls for sale as another newly arrived club volunteer stripped in the back. Sandy was long gone. Michael had sold his meat and was joking with the newcomer. Colin had tugged his pants on and left. Del didn’t tell anybody that he’d shot off convulsively at least twice inside the microwave when he started to smell himself cooking. His cock was getting what it wanted.