Whip It Out
Fuck buddies, that’s what we were. Well, something along those lines. Though that’s not what we did—f**k, that is.
It all started innocently enough. We were at one of those work-related, team-building camps, somewhere out in the middle of the woods, amid the trees and all that fresh air that my city lungs couldn’t quite grow accustomed to.
There were ten of us and one outhouse. Not a good ratio, not by a long shot. That first afternoon, I had to pee, and the hut was occupied, so I hightailed out into the woods to find a wide pine tree to hide behind. Only, I didn’t go far enough. Joe, a coworker of mine, had the same idea. He approached from my left and stood a few trees over from me.
“This sucks, Spence,” he lamented. “I can think of a million things I’d rather be doing on
