"The Hokey-Pokey"

 

The sun hovered over the ocean on another beautiful late summer's sunset.

The cool hockey boys, plus Chris and Al, who (of course), crashed the party, sat in a circle around a crackling fire, listening to Derian sing and play the acoustic guitar.

"It's the hammer of juuuuu-stice," Derian sang in his clear, sharp Michigan voice. "It's the bell of freeeee-dom! It's a song of love between my brothers and my sisters all over this land!"

Everyone applauded Derian for his fine rendition. Derian put down his guitar.

"Now I know a song we all can sing -- and dance to. Remember the hokey-pokey?"

Cries of "Fuck, yeah!" rang in the air.

"First, all the big, strong masculine players need to grab hold of the smaller, sweeter, more feminine players -- " Derian's meaty arm shot out and grabbed Jamie around the waist, staking his claim. Jamie giggled and fell into Derian's lap.

Everyone started to pair up. Even though he was physically shorter, Brett chose Mo as his girlish partner. Chris and Al, though, could not make up their minds.

"You gotta be the girl, 'cause you're shorter than me," insisted Chris.

"But you're blonder and stupider," retorted Al.

"Then, everybody's gotta take off their clothes," said Derian.

The hockey boys rejoiced at that idea. Even though it was usually cold on the beach at night, the fire would keep everyone's skin nice and toasty. Soon, the sand was covered with jackets, T-shirts, jeans, and BVDs.

"All you feminine guys make a circle 'round the fire...and stick those cute little butts out."

The feminine players made a circle of cute, upturned butts.

"That means you, Chrissy boy. Get in that circle."

"No way, fartmuncher."

"And now, the masculine players make a circle around the feminine players...and grease up your you-know-whats."

The masculine players passed around bottles of personal lubricant. Chris rubbed his hand on a cooling hot dog, then rubbed it against his privates .

"Who said you were a masculine player, man?" asked Al.

"Inch up reeeeeeal close..." Derian snuggled up close to Jamie. "And let the song begin. You push your big dick in..." Derian did exactly that. "You pull your big dick out! You push your big dick in, and you shake it all about..."

The hockey boys continued the song: "You do the hokey-pokey and you turn yourself around...That's what it's all about!"

"You push your big dick in...you pull your big dick out..." continued Derian. "You push your big dick in...you pull your big dick out...you push it in! You pull it out! Push it in! Pull it out! In! Out! In! Out! IN!!! OUT!!!"

The song quickly degenerated into atonal, out-of-sync groans, grunts, and gasps as the hockey boys collapsed onto the sand, masculine buried deep inside feminine, forgetting all together about the hokey-pokey.

Except for Chris and Al, who still couldn't decide who was masculine and who was feminine.

"Look, Chris, you make a great frigging girl. Remember 'The Good Ship Lollipop'?"

"Noooo..." whined Chris. "I'm big. Boys are big. So take off your clothes, Al, so I can hokey-pokey your cute little butt!" Chris smacked that not-so-cute, not-so-little butt hard. Al responded by kicking Chris in his not-so-big nuts.

So the cool hockey boys felt real good in their butts and dicks. And the sorry-ass hockey boys -- Chris and Al -- felt real sore in theirs. The moral here?

You can't be hokey if you want a little pokey!



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