Bill, my roan gelding, was nimble and sure-footed, but there was no way I could get down that slope without them hearing me, much less seeing me, and I heard one of them say loudly, "Hey, a ranger!"

To my surprise, they didn't scatter and the naked guy, who was standing with his feet apart and his hands behind his back, didn't move. The other one just stood up and waited for me.

I swung off my horse. Bill sniffed incuriously at a couple of the guys, who edged away from him, then dropped his head to nibble at a tuft of grass.

"What's going on here, a fuckin' orgy?" I barked. I really was a little pissed off. There'd been too much of that kind of stuff going on in the family areas of the park.

There was no immediate response from any of them. Up close I could see that the naked guy’s hands were tied behind his butt, so maybe it was just some sort of initiation or S&M thing. If that was the case, I could just sort of look the other way, depending. The victim, if that’s what he was, was certainly into it though, because his sausage was hard-erect, standing practically straight up. It was also big, a good nine inches, maybe more, though it probably looked bigger because the whole works was shaved clean. Not a hair anywhere in his crotch. He looked more embarrassed than scared. For what it’s worth, he was a good-looking kid, when you got past all the genitals—blondish and slender but well-defined.

The others all still had their pants on—clean-cut, short-haired types who looked to be in their late teens or early twenties. They were wearing jeans or chinos, normal hiking clothes, not baggy gang attire. There were a lot of bulging crotches, but that didn’t mean much.

The one who'd been down on one knee in front of the kid smiled politely at me, though I could see he was nervous. He was bare-chested but wearing a pair of tight jeans, and was holding something that I took at first glance to be an over-sized black-plastic flashlight, except that instead of being flared at one end, it tapered to a rounded point.

"We were just about to have a, uh, weiner roast,” he said hesitantly, and his eyes flicked to the naked kid’s crotch. I should have caught on then, but I didn’t, quite.

“A what?!”

“Weiner roast,” one of the others said.

Still not getting it, I looked at the kid with his hands tied. He looked really embarrassed now, and his erection was flagging.

"Just a little clean fun," one of the others said, and he grinned nervously.

"We have a day hike permit," another guy said.

"And a campfire permit," the first guy added.

My eyes were still on the naked kid’s male package, and noticing his round, heavy balls, hanging unusually low in the pale, hairless sac, the outline of the sperm cords visible through the thin skin–the kind you immediately think about taking a sharp knife to. And that reminded me of a frat initiation I’d been invited to where I’d seen just that done. But . . .

"Weiner roast?!"

"Yessir," said the guy with the gadget.

There was, I knew from the initiation I’d witnessed, not much more to cutting off a pair of testicles, especially low hangers, than trimming a hangnail. You just clamped them off and whacked. Slicing off a limp peter would be a bit more complicated, but not necessarily a big deal. But a nine-inch dong even at half tilt, if that’s what this bunch really intended? I was skeptical but intrigued, and that apparently came through to the guys. Some of them grinned and I heard a few scattered chuckles. The naked kid looked even more uncomfortable. After a moment, I realized he was blushing under his tan. The outsized piece of meat sticking out between his legs seemed to have stopped sagging though.

I looked back at the one with the gadget. "You, what's your name?"

"Doug."

"Okay, Doug. You’re talking about cutting cock, right?”

“Uh, yessir.”

“Erect?” I jerked my head toward the naked one.

“Well, uh, sure. It works best that way.”

“Are you guys crazy? He'd bleed to death."

"Sir, no he won't, because we’re using this." He held up the gadget. “It makes a practically bloodless cut.”

That seemed very unlikely to me. For want of any better response, I held out my hand. “Let’s see.”

Doug hesitated, then handed it over. “Careful you don’t press the red stud.”

It was heavy, almost featureless except for the red power button. There was a small hole in the tip of the pointed end. I couldn’t tell anything about it from looking. I handed it back.

“Okay, suppose you start explaining.”

To my surprise, it was Jerry who answered. His voice was an adenoidal tenor, the kind you used to hear from teenagers on 50's sitcoms.

“We started doing this about a year ago,” he said. “Since then, we’ve done it a couple more times. This would be the third.”

“Except the first couple of times it was just balls,” said Doug. “Then a guy who isn’t along this time came up with the laser. It’s an experimental thing from the electronics company he works for.”

“We pruned him on the last hike,” another guy said. “Worked just like he said it would.”

“And now it’s your turn?” I asked Jerry.

“Yessir.”

“Why you?”

“I drew the short straw on the last hike.”

I stared at him.

“Which was when?”

“Uh, February. That warm spell we had.”

“So you’ve known all this time that if you came along on this little excursion, you were gonna be, uh, pruned?”

“Right.”

“And you came anyway?”

His expression said it was a stupid question.

“Sure.”

I shook my head. “So why are your hands tied?”

“It’s part of the deal.”

“We sort of made a ritual out of it,” said Doug.

It was weird, but it made a kind of sense, if you know what I mean. And unfortunately, I was getting turned on. I didn’t dare look down, but I was uncomfortably sure that my own prick had stiffened enough for the outline to be visible to these bozos through my uniform pants, since I didn't like to wear underwear when I rode. It didn’t improve my mood.

“But why do it at all?”

Nobody answered. I looked around at the others.

“Why not?” One of them finally said.

“Because they’re there,” said another, and shrugged. “Dicks and balls, I mean.”

I should have busted it up. Some people get all upset when you start talking about castration, but they also get upset about other stuff guys do with what they’ve got between their legs, and if you whack off a few pairs of nuts and a cock or two now and then, it figures to sort of cancel out, if you know what I mean. And here was a guy giving his all (don’t snigger, now) for his buddies. Real male bonding, and wasn’t that supposed to be good?

But I couldn’t just back away.

“What do you do with the, uh, meat, when it comes off?”

“Roast it,” said Doug. He was looking uncomfortable again, not liking all the questions. Too bad.

“Then what?”

“We share it around.”

The obvious answer.

"And jerk off?”

No reply. Some sheepish looks.

Well, they were guys, and pruning another guy made for a good excuse, if anything did.

“Okay," I said. “Do it. But he better be okay afterward.”

Doug looked at me. He obviously wanted me gone, but I wasn’t leaving just yet. I did want to be sure the boy would be okay, but hey, I was curious.

Without a word, Doug dropped to one knee in front of Jerry again. Jerry tensed.

“It’s gone a little soft,” he said, with what might have been a plaintive note in his voice.

His dong, which had been standing almost vertical against his lean belly when I rode up, was now poking out a little below horizontal. I couldn’t see that this mattered and figured Jerry was just stalling, maybe hoping for one last kick out of it before he lost it. And Doug obliged.

“Right,” he said. He grasped Jerry’s cock, hesitated, probably to see if I’d interfere, and started pumping rhythmically. I realized from the way the skin moved on the cockshaft that it was probably the un-circumcised variety.

Jerry thrust his hips forward and his breathing speeded up. After a couple of minutes, his whole body stiffened. “Enough,” he gasped. “It’ll cum.”

Doug released the cock as if it had suddenly gone red hot and it popped straight up. Jerry stood very still, and slowly took a deep breath. Pre-cum oozed from the tip of the big purple cockhead, running down the taut skin of the rigid shaft. Doug wiped his hand on the leg of his jeans.

“Okay,” Jerry said after a moment, his light voice gone husky. “Do it.”

“Spread your feet some more,” Doug said.

Jerry obliged. I found myself staring again at the heavy balls hanging down between his legs. Jerry himself stared resolutely ahead.

Doug hooked his left thumb over the straining cockshaft just behind the head, minimizing contact, and pulled it down level. Jerry rocked slightly back on his heels, thrusting his package forward, and Doug brought up the cutter in his right hand. The lance of violet light appeared as he activated it. He positioned the beam exactly in the angle where Jerry’s cock joined his slender body. His buddies all pressed in to watch. Jerry’s body went rigid and he let out a grunting gasp as the beam touched his skin. He gritted his teeth and threw his head back, his eyes tightly closed. Slowly and deliberately, Doug angled the violet beam back into Jerry’s crotch, not just whacking the cock off but taking the root out as well. The kid’s face had gone red and I could see tears running down his smooth cheeks but he made no further sound. Doug gripped the cockshaft more firmly and pulled it down. A red gap appeared between cockshaft and crotch, widening as Doug kept cutting. Just when it looked like the cock was almost free, a single gout of thick white semen spurted from the tip past Doug’s face, then it was loose in Doug’s hand. A murmur of appreciation went around the group and one of the guys laughed. Another’s face was flushed and I noticed that a dark stain had appeared below the outline of his prick down one leg of his chinos.

Sure enough, there was just a seared place between Jerry’s legs where his male package had been. The laser had taken off the whole works clean. Doug rose to his feet, holding the cock up for me and everybody else to see, the big testicles still dangling heavily from it. The whole penis, including the root, was a good foot long. Jerry stared at it, his young face flushed, his eyes very wide. His gaze flicked down to his empty crotch and then back to his liberated genitals. His expression seemed to say, was all that attached to me?

Doug held the meat out toward me. “Okay?”

I brushed the still warm balls with my fingertips and nodded, feeling a bit dazed. My own cock felt like an iron bar down the leg of my uniform pants and I knew all the guys could see it.

“Carry on,” I finally managed to say.

Doug speared the meat on a roasting fork and set it over the fire as another guy untied Jerry’s hands. Then they were all clapping him on the back and hugging him, and he was grinning and laughing. “Man!” I heard him say, “That was something!”

It was obvious that the guys would all have their pants off as soon as I was out of sight, but I no longer felt like making an issue of it. From the giddy mood among them, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Jerry’s cock and balls weren’t the only ones roasting over the campfire before they were done.

I got back on Bill, turned him, and rode off. When I was sure I was far enough away and out of sight, I dismounted, pulled open my uniform pants and tugged out my rigid prick to jerk off. But it went off like a cannon before I could get the head free of my pants. The ejaculation seemed to tear out my guts and left me doubled over and gasping for breath. Now I get hard every time I think about that encounter. I stare at the plum-like head of my erect prick, lift my nuts on my palm and wonder what it would all taste like, maybe coated with my own semen and slow-roasted over a camp fire. One of these days I may decide to find out.