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::: those of sensitive constitution should probably skip this one. (Red) Ah yes, where were we... oh yeah, "The Flaming Nipples." The lights dimmed as I took my place in a low, wide chair. I watched as a group of about 12 women left the party for a secluded back room and some apparent instruction in the fiery art we were about to bare witness to. An uncertain hush fell over the assembled as our charming hosts returned and lined up with their backs to us. Tops were hastily removed and we could hear the hiss and smell the sulfur as matches were struck... the illumination casting beautiful silhouettes on the wall to my right. With great fanfare, they all spun around to parade a rock solid line-up of magnificent bare chests before us... with, indeed, Flaming Nipples... 24 in all... I counted 'em... These brave women had affixed cheap barroom matches to their enticingly hard nipples and lit them on fire for our collective enjoyment. After dancing an all too short, but certainly hot little jig, the flames were safely extinguished and the ladies exited to our fervent applause. Bravo! Positively Daring! Bravo! I was impressed. I was inspired. I was trying hard to avoid what I knew all too well... that this Pagan Pow-Wow was developing into a sort of a last hurrah for a troubled Chumming.Com Staph. Nobody had mentioned anything to me in particular, but... I could see that each member of the crew was teetering precariously on an edge, caught living dangerously close to both the real and the surreal. Yeah, we were whooping it up right now, partying like rock stars and very much in the moment, but the strained condition of the members could be seen all too clearly in their dilated pupils and that was an issue that could not be denied. I had a sinking feeling that things weren't going to last too much longer in their present state. It was time to do something big. It was time to bring this long strange trip full circle and finish this chapter off properly. The only option left open to us was frighteningly obvious and it too could not be denied. We had to show our appreciation to and up the ante with our munificent hosts... all at the same time. Instead of "Flaming Nipples" we would give them "Burning Cocks." And hopefully nobody would get hurt. We were deluded to the point that we imagined lighting our dicks on fire and parading in front of a throng of smoldering women would bring us the untold glory and fabulous treasure we rightly deserved after almost 8000 miles of pain and suffering. An uncertain Chumming.Com Staph collected itself in the secluded back room. Silence descended as each of us called upon our own personal messiah to help block out the pain and allow us to follow through with the current insanity. We had made a statement and it was too late to back out now. Autopilot had long ago been switched from Survival to Glory. No, it was much too late now... Our restless contemplation broke when "the Fluffer" arrived. She was one of the local hotties, offering up her impressive talents to each of us... so that we could rise to the occasion so to speak. A few partook, the others were too distracted by the cerebral yoga taking place to remove themselves both physically and emotionally from the scenario at hand. Somehow we were persuaded to wear costume hats and the Staph abruptly took on the pathetic appearance of a Village People Naked Knock-Off Troupe. Max was the motorcycle cop, Falstaff a dangerous bandito, J.S. the $1.98 beauty queen, and I was a wicked witch. Things were beginning to spin bizarrely out of control. Well, we could dawdle only so long. We sucked it up and marched out into the ballroom, turning our backs to the crowd. Trousers fell to the floor and matches were inserted. A Zippo appeared and Tiny was given the honor of lighting each of our fires. Once the Chumming.Com Staph were Burning Men, we spun to face the music and salute the birthday girl... Life went slow motion... flash bulbs flared repeatedly from the bleachers... lumbering punches to my medulla oblongata from a heavyweight champ... I was dazed... confused... I may have stumbled... I didn't fall. Life returned to real time just as the flames began to dwindle and Tiny was putting out each of our fires with a gentle blow from her sumptuous lips. We pulled up our trousers and filed out of the room to incredulous applause, figuring that it was time to search out what was left of our dignity. The blur of a 5am cab ride through vacant city streets pretty much caps off the evening. +=+ Red +=+ Oh yeah, we were encouraged to return for next year's follow-up party...
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