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Man, this is what life is all about. Six buddies, out in the woods, enjoying nature, each other's company, and a whole lot of beer and various other substances. Colin, Mark, Johnny, Greg, Chris, and you had been out in Mark's dad's cabin for the last three days. It was the middle of July, and it was hot as hell. We'd been eating campfire burgers and potatoes, some canned stuff, and hot dogs for the last three nights, drinking like crazy, and tripping or rolling most all the whole time. By the third night, we were all feeling great, but there was no doubt we were a little bit crazy. You can't deny you were horny as hell. Hell, we all were. We'd all become friends working at a construction company, and were on a crew assigned outside of town in a tiny fucking little mountain town of maybe three hillbillies. We hadn't seen much of a soul outside of us and the toothless old guy that ran the local store for all summer, and had been either jacking off or covertly fucking each other, but never really cut loose and just fucked. We were all frustrated and horny, and tripped up on ecstasy... "Man," Johnny started, rubbing his nipples through the wife-beater he wore. It showed off his tattoos better..."How about we play some cards?" "Yeah, sure," came the general consensus. "Dudes. Strip Poker," Colin called, his blue eyes twinkling in the firelight. We all pretty much giggled. "Okay..." We were all twitchy and touchy feely already from the drugs and bourgening psychosis...combined with our general horniness, we were all about ready to strip down. "Why bother, man?" Greg started up. "If we wanna get naked, let's just get naked!" He immediately backed it up by peeling off his sweaty T-shirt. "Yeah!" Chris yelled, whipping his dick out. Nice, thick, shaven, cut. You pull your shirt and shoes off, and by the time you've struggled out of your crusty old jeans, most everybody is rolling around butt naked. Chris and Johnny are wrestling and laughing, Colin and Mark are watching the two of them, rubbing their chests and bellies, their cocks slowly hardening. Greg is kneeling in front of you, watching you, clearly waiting for you to notice him, and smiling. His cock is hard as a rock, sticking up like a lighting rod. The ten piercings in his frenum ladder glisten in the firelight. His torso is sweaty, and the flickering light shows flashes of his perfect six-pack, his bulging chest, his defined arms...god, he is so beautiful. You reared up onto your knees and push yourself into him, rubbing your bodies together. Your dick brushes against his, your bellies pushed together, your chests rubbing, your arms wrapped around the other's back... The wrestlers roll into us, and start just kind of generally making out with whatever skin is nearby. The observers join in, and all six of us are rolling around in the dirt and leaves, rubbing up, jerking, sucking, fucking whatever's within reach... An hour later we all lay exhausted, panting, watching the stars. An hour after that we're at it again. Day five. Since the sexual revolution, not one of us has put a shred of clothing back on. Six hot fucking built studs, bodies hard from three months of hard labor working construction, naked, horny, and almost crazy. None of us has slept in at least thirty hours. We've started burning through our speed supply, barely eating anything, barely sleeping, just fucking or jacking off or whatever pretty much the whole time we were awake. You've slept a little bit a day or so ago, when your cock got so raw you couldn't touch it...it was getting that way again, and man, your'm sleepy, but you just take another hit and you're up again. You sit here, your back up against a tree, watching the branches wave in the breeze, feeling the coolness on your scultpured chest, your smooth stomach, your swollen balls...Greg is waving at you. "Hey, everybody over here!" he cries, standing by the picnic table. You get up, curious, and walk over to see what's up. Greg's standing up against the picnic table, his cock lying on the edge of the table and his body pressed up against it so his balls are pressed between his legs. There is a burning firepot on the table with an ember in it. "Okay, guys," Greg starts. His dick's hard...average length, uncut, nice PA, stripes tattooed down the sides... "This is it for me. I just can't keep up with the sex, man." "Huh?" we all mutter. Greg's answer is to hold up the bowie knife Colin had brought, and bring it down sharply on his cock, cutting it off about an inch from the base. He cries out at he severs his own cock, but even in that pain, reaches over to the firepot, takes the ember out, and cauterizes the stump himself. Finally, the pain catches up to him, and he drops the ember and falls to the floor. "Greg! Greg!" you cry, holding him by the sides of his head. His eyes flutter. "Hey..." he answers sleepily. "I'm okay." You let him go, and he pushes himself up on his elbows, staring at his crotch. "Shit. I did it." He smiles. "Dude. You're crazy," Mark says, staring in shock at his now dickless friend. "No, I'm not," Greg answers, still smiling, getting to his feet. "Look at it, man. That's so fucking hot!" he stares at his own groin, and so do we. Your cock got hard looking at it. The stub wasn't looking too good on the end, all blistered and nasty, but his balls hanging there beneath that inch-long stub... "Ahhh!" Johnny cries out. You turn to see that he has just cut his cock off as well! Chris is cauterizing the wound. Johnny stumbles a bit but doesn't pass out. Chris takes the knife and brings it down on his own manhood, and Greg burns away the exposed flesh...three cocks on the picnic table. Colin asks Mark to do his for him. Mark looks Colin in the eyes as he does it...and then Colin cuts Mark's. Five cocks on the picnic table. All eyes are on you. "Come on, man. Don't be a pussy!" Shit...you're the only one left with a dick. You liked my dick...heavy, big, flared head, ampallang...but man, they look so hot...you're tingly all over. Things are kinda blurry...the five of them cheering you on, smiling, dickless, balls bouncing...somebody pushes the knife into your hand, and a hand in the small of your back pushes you up to the picnic table. Somebody else positions the knife for your. "Just push," Greg whispers into your ear. You push. You can't begin to describe what you felt right then. No sleep for days, no food for days, on massive drugs for days, oversexed, encouraged...the pain is intense, but you're so detached from reality that it doesn't really faze you. It's like the pain is in someone else...not really you. They held you as someone cauterizes your stump...and you faint. The next day we all just lay around and nurse our wounded crotches...we pour some Bacardi 151 over them every few hours to keep them sterile, and wrap them up in bandages made from our T-shirts. "Man, I can't wait until we heal up," Chris says. "Yeah," most of us answer. "I can't wait until we get back," you say. "Yeah, just wait until we hit the backroom at Los Huevos," Colin laughs We all share a giggle, then ge serious again when Mark says, "You know, we should share this other people, if they think it will help them." "Yeah," Greg says. "If we meet some guy that we think it would help out, it's like our responsibility to help him, you know?" And you have helped other guys... |