xo

when my college roommate and i were both college juniors,
we were taking a nap, him in his bed, and, a few
feet away, me in my bed. he woke me up
saying "damn damn damn" as he jumped up out
of his bed and
rushed over to his closet.
"what?" i said.  "what!?"
he didn't tell me what was going on for a moment,
but, as he was taking off his pants and underpants,
he said, "a wet dream in a NAP," he said. "who
has a wet dream while taking a NAP?!"
"um," i said, trying to be friendly,
non-judgemental, kind, "i guess
it can just happen."
"guess so," he said, as he pulled
on a fresh pair of underpants, and
a new pair of pants. "on top
of that, i'm late for class," he
said, rushing out the door
of our little one-room
efficiency apartment.
leaving me there, alone.
still lying in my bed.
i got out of bed.
i went to his closet.
his pants, and his underpants,
the ones he'd been wearing
during the nap, were
still warm, and still had fresh
cum on them. the smell
was magic. cum. heavy,
musky. his cum.
my hot sexy roommate's
cum. my own dick was
hard as a rock.
i held his pants
and underpants
under my nose,
and i jerked off
into my own underpants.
bam! happened fast. i came.
just. like. that.
then. i felt a little
sick, almost nauseated.
i was in love with my
roommate. he was
sexy, sweet, and
a straight boy.
i was secretly,
not even sure yet
that it was so, but
pretty sure.
i was gay.
and in love
with him. and
had just jerked off
with his warm cum
in front of my face.
alone in our apartment.
my own underpants sticky
with my own hot cum.
i looked in the big
mirror on the back
of the bathroom door.
i was sexy, too. i was
good-looking, too.
would that ever
matter to him? what
would i do if it
did?
no, him a straight
boy, and me,
secretly gay. the
odor of hot
cum in that
little room,
the taste of
hunger, the swirling
whirlwind
of ache.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem first appeared in Zygote in my Coffee, online issue #138, June 2012. It also appears in my book Saline, published by Interior Noise Press in 2014.)