prelude

the lean lithe athletic boy
watched himself as he stood naked in his
bedroom in front
of the mirror and jerked off, watched himself
as the white heat of orgasm raced through
his cock and balls and nipples and toes and
finger tips and the tingling spot behind
his eyeballs, watched himself squirt his
cum in spurt after spurt onto the
newspaper-covered bedroom floor.
after the last spurt, he stood there, his
big smooth dick still hard, still throbbing, the
smear of the last bit of cum dribbling from
his peehole.  then
he grinned a grin of such sadness that
it almost became a sob.
he was alone, he knew it, and it
had to end.
what he wanted was
someone to talk to.
someone who wouldn't
mind seeing him
like this: naked, big-dicked,
doey-eyed, hungry,
in front of this long shiny
mirror.
that didn't seem
like too much to ask, now did it?
blonde-haired bangs spilled down
close to his wide and staring eyes--close,
but not into.
it was saturday morning, june 8th
as a matter of fact.
the air was hot and sweaty.
he was alone in his bedroom,
but not for long.

--Carl Miller Daniels (2004)