the roller coaster physics of radiator dreams

the bender of the night before
was over, and had left
michael lying here on
his back, naked
in the middle of the forest,
on top of his
sleeping bag, which rested atop a soft bed of moss.
michael was young, sexy, good-looking, his big
dick semi-turgid as he lay there,
licking the inside of his mouth,
tasting the sour booziness
of the whiskey
and, oddly enough, sour cream?
all those potato chips, all that
dip?
beside michael lay his best friend, sean, on the
same wide-open spread-flat sleep bag that they
had shared during the night.
sean was also naked,
also sexy, big-dicked, really good-looking,
another faun lying sensuous and vulnerable
in the deep dark forest.
"sean?" said michael. "sean? you awake?"
sean stretched, rubbed his own pointy little
nipples, and, eventually, smiled.
"good morning, michael," said
sean. "we sure had fun, didn't we?"
sean added.
michael groaned. "if you call drinking
all night fun," said michael.
"that wasn't all we did last night, now was it?" said
sean.  sean was gently massaging his
own balls now, carefully palpating them
through the thin, pink, delicate sac of skin
that contained them.
michael looked up between the pine branches
and the nest of pine needles and on up into the dawn sky.
it was sure pretty.
about 1000 memory cells suddenly went off
inside michael's boozy brain,
and michael, too, smiled.
"so we met our goal,
didn't we?" said michael. "we each came 8 times
last night, didn't we?" said michael. "you
and me--we, um,
helped each other out, and we met
our goal."
"oh we sure as hell did," said sean. "a record, too,"
he added, "our personal best."
it was indeed a record. each guy, michael
and sean, coming 8 times in one
night. yeppers, sean came 8 times. michael came
8 times. the methods
varied. the results, indisputable. 8 times each.
jerking each other off, jerking themselves
off, sucking each other off,
rubbing their dicks together, fucking
each other's butt holes, pulling out just in
time to be able to see the
cum spurt out. you had to actually
SEE the other guy's cum spurt out.
it was the rule of the night.
rigidly adhered to, even with
all the drinking.  and so, yeppers,
they had each spurted cum on 8 separate
occasions during the evening,
as they consumed whiskey,
and potato chips, and sour cream dip.
"we sure had fun, didn't we?" said sean,
smiling like a maniac.
michael, too, smiled. "oh we sure did," said
michael, as the
dawn oozed gently over both him and sean,
as they lay naked, side by side,
and stared up at the
delicate network of
twigs and branches,
just after sunrise,
there in the morning mists
of the deep dark forest.
when a little bird began chirping
from the top of one of the trees,
michael and sean just lay there,
legs spread wide, their
beautiful bodies bare,
their nipples tingling with
the chill, and as they lay
there michael and sean listened
to the song of the little
bird as it greeted the morning sun,
a big golden orb not yet visible,
but everyone knew that soon
it would be.

--Carl Miller Daniels (2014)