"Have you guys heard about this new sci-fi comedy?" Billy asks his two friends, his nasally drawl drawing the sentence out to an unnecessary length. His cock is already in his hand, stirring as he strokes it lazily.
"The one from Marvel Comics?" one of his friends asks. Of course, the question is superfluous. They all know which movie he’s talking about, and his friends have already plunged their hands into their trousers, fishing clumsily for their own burgeoning members. "They’re using a classic 70’s soundtrack," Billy’s friend offers as he successfully retrieves his genitals from his ill-fitting Wranglers and begins to slap gently at the base.
"That guy from those funny Adult Swim shows is going to be in it," chimes Billy’s other friend, spitting into his hand. All three are fully engorged.
"For your health" Billy murmurs; his friends moan softly in approval as they all begin to masturbate in earnest.
As they pick up pace, Billy’s friend’s other hand slyly wanders to the base of Billy’s rod. ”Did you hear how many pop culture references are in the script?” he asks, pumping Billy’s turgid dick as a perverted grin creeps across his face. ”I heard it’s over 9000.”
It’s too much for Billy. His eyes roll back into his head as he erupts. His cock stiffens and pulsates, launching thick ropes of viscous cum all over his chest and arms, staining his brand new Doctor Who t-shirt and dripping down onto his Battlestar Galactica watch. ”The main character uses a Walkman” Billy mumbles. His knees buckle from the strain of his recent orgasm, but he continues to tug mercilessly at his receding erection as he crumples onto the floor.
"R-r-r-retro-FUTURISM" his friends stammer in unison as their dongs explode, blowing two hot sticky loads all over Billy’s face. They collapse to a kneeling position, but none of the three cease their furious jerking.
"It’s a serious film, but not TOO serious, you know?"
There is no liquid left. Dust summoned from the bowels of their useless vas deferens ejects from the tips of their deflated members. It looks like baby powder, but smells like death.
"The humor is so complex!"
Little flecks of skin and blood fall from their tightly clenched, rapidly pumping hands.
Their dicks are completely unrecognizable now. To a passerby these are merely three men posed in a strange formation, eyes closed, each unexplainably shaking small handfuls of Mexican-style shredded chicken. ”I can’t wait for the sequel” Billy murmurs as his friends finally collapse on top of him.
A door opens. The sound of fedoras gently rustling against each other fills the room as innumerable spectators shuffle in. As if orchestrated by some unseen force, they all begin to unzip their pants…