beans

reeking of fresh semen,
he walks into the room
and waits to be noticed.
the semen is his own, splattered onto his own naked
chest during a hot
masturbation session only 10 minutes
earlier and then left
there under his t-shirt, which is
now damp and blotchy with the oozy gooeyness
of his own sticky cum.
he who wears the scent of his own
semen is young -- a college
sophomore as a matter of fact -- and he is tall, sexy, blonde,
lanky, hot-looking; he has great lips. he wears tight
faded blue jeans. and that semen-dampened t-shirt. the
t-shirt is white, with a black-and-red image of Mickey
Mouse on the front, cum oozing gently around Mickey's ears.
the room into which he walks
is a large room, with
about 3 dozen young men in it.  any one of these
young men he can tell at a glance
he would be willing
to do intimate sexual things with. there is not
an ugly young man in this room.
he has never worn his own semen as cologne before.
today he's done it as a lark. and because he
feels, well, sort of evil. sort of angry.
sort of "in-your-face". sort of pissed off
at the world. (sort of, to use an old-fashioned
expression, "full of beans".)
the room into which he, reeking of cum, has just
walked, is in a private home,
the home of a professor of english literature.
it is a big, old, Georgian-style house, and,
the only UGLY man in this particular room is, in fact, the
professor of english literature. the long-time
partner of the english literature professor is
a sometimes perky/sometimes-pouty little man, also
ugly, but he is out of the
room at the moment, fetching ice.
the 3 dozen ATTRACTIVE young men are all students
belonging to the gay and lesbian campus group.
today's occasion is an afternoon party for this group,
to discuss books, politics, ideas, & ideals.
this time, only gay young men have
come to the party. no women have attended.
there is rumor of a schism. there is a rumor
that the women are forming their own
separate group. which is just fine with
he who wears the semen-scented t-shirt. (frankly,
he'd much rather look at boys.)
the ugly english literature professor
is talking to 3 or 4 attractive young men now.
they look bored, but polite.
he who carries the heavy musk of semen-scentedness on
his chest walks up to an
attractive young man at the opposite end of the
room. this attractive young man is wearing long pants,
white, and the shape of his big smooth cockhead is
clearly visible against the fabric of those white
pants.  
"hi," says semen-shirt boy.
"hey," says cute white-pants boy, wrinkling up his nose
in a surprised and thoroughly interested manner.
"wanna fuck me outside in the garden right now?" says
semen-shirt boy. he says it loudly.
"er, um, er, um," says cute white-pants boy.
ugly english literature professor has wandered over.
"and you are???" ugly english literature professor
says to semen-shirt boy.
"i am trying to get fucked by this cute boy," says
semen-shirt boy. "we want to use your garden. we'll
find a secluded place. one with lots of bushes. we
promise."
"um, er, uh, um," says cute white-pants boy.
"i'm afraid this is not that kind of gathering," says
ugly english literature professor, trying
to smile through the look of horror and disapproval
that has captured his rictic face. and he seems to
have detected the odor of fresh semen, and is
eying the moist Mickey Mouse face of semen-shirt boy's
white front-dampened t-shirt.
by this time, semen-shirt boy has taken the hand of
cute white-pants boy and has started to
lead cute white-pants boy out of the big old elegant room.
"nevermind your goddamn garden" says semen-shirt boy. "we will
go fuck our brains out in the big dark forest that is
miles & miles away. i have my car."
semen-shirt boy says these words loudly, as he pulls cute
white-pants boy toward the door. cute white-pants boy does
not have to be pulled toward the door with very much
effort. cute white-pants boy
seems both aroused and amused by the direct language
and non-subtle approach of semen-shirt boy.
ugly little partner of ugly english literature
professor enters the room carrying a little glass bowl
of melting ice cubes.
ugly little partner gives semen-shirt boy and cute
white-pants boy the eye.
"not leaving so soon i hope?" say ugly little partner
of the ugly english literature professor.
"afraid we must," says semen-shirt boy.
"um er uh, ummm," says cute white-pants boy.
and with that, semen-shirt boy and cute white-pants boy are
out the door, in semen-shirt boy's car, the windows
down, the car going at a fast speed toward the forest,
toward sex, toward wild and hedonistic abandon, an
afternoon of unbridled sexual passion and
multi-orgasmic pleasure.  it's a little later now,
after they have parked the car and wandered into
the forest.
"i like it much better out here than at that
stuffy old party," says semen-shirt boy to
cute white-pants boy.  only now,
neither boy is wearing any of those items of apparel.
in fact, now, neither boy is wearing any apparel at all.
birds sing. breezes rush through the leaves and pine
needles of the trees that loom overhead.  "and god i hate
english literature," says semen-shirtless boy, as he
lies on his back, on a bed of moss, his legs lifted and spread
wide, with his toes almost touching his
broad sexy shoulders.
cute white-pantsless boy pushes his big smooth
cock deeper into the tight pink asshole of semen-shirtless
boy. "ummmmmm, nice," says
semen-shirtless boy.  "and,
as a matter of fact," adds semen-shirtless boy,
"i HATE literature. period. i HATE the word. i HATE the
term. it all just sounds so goddamn PRISSY, doesn't
it?"
"um," says cute white-pantsless boy, "um um um".
"exactly," says semen-shirtless boy, "now fuck me faster, ok?"
cute white-pantsless boy obliges, thrusting more quickly
than before, and even more deeply.
"ummmmmm" says semen-shirtless boy. "you're good. you're
hot. you're goddamn huge, too."
cute white-pantsless boy slobbers now; the slobber drips onto
semen-shirtless boy's smooth sexy chest. it mixes
there with the dried semen, and, as he's getting
fucked,
semen-shirtless boy rubs the slobber into his skin
with his finger-tips, and smiles really quite
maniacally. "ahhhhhhh" say the two boys. "ahhhhhhh."

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Gorilla Architecture, published by Interior Noise Press in 2011.)