We are a brotherhood of men who share the common bond of self-swallowing. The time has come to cast aside shame and secrecy and celebrate this act of self-love. Here are our stories:
I drink myself, I savor the essence of myself,
This sap of my man-root, this nectar of my loins.
Oh how my heart leaps when I see it spill forth.
I am a fount of mighty force, a gusher, a geyser,
My precious seed exploding always upward and outward.
Spurt and spurt and spurt.
Always the surging and spurting.
Glistening on my belly, entwined in my hairs,
Coating my fingers, I lick and suck it from my beard.
If a drop fall on the ground, let it also nourish the grass.
I cannot be selfish, I hold enough to fill rivers and seas.
It pools in my palm, like liquid pearl,
Fragrant with Neptune's briny perfume.
Its saltiness only inflames my unslakeable thirst.
I lie and loaf in the field, and the milk-fatted calf
Looks on jealously as I suckle my own member.
Churned in my bollocks, my own load is sweeter than any cream,
Smelling of sun-warmed earth and new-mown hay.
I gather my strength and vitality from this soup of my soul,
Better than any broth of beef or chicken.
Its flavor delights me more than that of fish or fowl, male or female.
I swoon with the savory taste of myself on my tongue.
Come drink with me, friend. Imbibe your own essence,
And what I swallow, you shall swallow too.
For all men are brothers, and brothers are all who drink of themselves.