both of us 20 years old, him & me

there is nothing more to be said.
**
there is always something more to be said.
**
i need to talk with him.
**
but mainly i want to lick the tip of
his dick and feel his warm cum
spurting into my mouth, feel his warm cum
slosh around on my slobbery tongue.
**
i am 20 years old. so is
he.
**
he is straight. i am trying
to be straight, too, but almost
certainly i am gay.
he is a swimmer on the college
swim team. he is gorgeous,
sweet, gentle, friendly.
i am almost certainly in love
with him.
i am pretty good-looking, too.
long, lean, lithe, athletic.
we play a lot of tennis
together, him and me.
we look good together, too.
**
i need to talk with him. even though
we talk hours and hours
and hours, but it is not enough.
it is never enough.
we talk while we shower together
in the university gym.
we talk while we backpack together
on hikes on the weekends.
we talk while we're getting dressed.
we talk while we're walking to class.
**
no matter how much we talk,
it is not enough.
**
we are twenty years old.
he is gorgeous, his face handsome,
his cheeks ruddy, his dick big
and sturdy.
i am pretty good-looking myself.
**
there is nothing more to be said.
**
there is always something more to be said.
**
i need to talk to him. i want
to lick the tip of his dick.
i want to watch him spurt cum.
i want him to watch me spurt cum.
**
i don't like his girlfriends, even
though they are nice enough.
i am jealous of them. i am
jealous of the time they
take from me.
**
i am 20 years old.
so is he. we are roommates.
we are in college. we are
young and our energy never
ends. we run laps and play
tennis and since it is
not swimteam season
he doesn't have to swim
so he is able to spend
that time with me.
**
i watch him sleep.
i jerk off while he sleeps.
i want him to wake up and
catch me doing that, but
he is a sound sleeper.
at least he pretends to
be. if he's ever caught
me jerking off, he's
not let on.
**
we need to talk. i need
to talk. we talk a lot.
but it is never ever enough.
**
once i blurted out to him that
i loved him. he seemed
kinda taken aback, then,
he was a good sport
about it, and said
he loved me, too. kind of in
his "aw shucks" voice.
**
things go on like that.
**
i am 20. so is he.
we look good together.
we need to talk.
i need to talk.
**
i need.
**
there's nothing more to
be said.
**
there's always something
more to be said.
**
i need to touch his dick.
i need to feel him spurt his
cum into my mouth.
i need for us to sit on
the couch naked and
watch each other jerk off.
i need for us to jerk each
other off. i'm sure his
touch on my
dick would be warm, but gentle.
i'm sure my touch on his
dick would be crazy fast and
entirely too eager.
**
we are 20 years old.
it is early in the morning.
we are playing tennis.
the sound of the
court: thwack. thwack.
**
we need to talk.
**
i love him.
i am in pain.
he is beautiful.
i look pretty good myself.
we look good together.
**
i need to talk.
**
why do i seem to feel
every emotion through my
dick? why does the sound
of
his nice deep voice
resonate in my dick?
**
i feel everything in my
dick.
**
joy, sorrow, love,
hate--i feel them
all in my dick.
**
i spurt cum and think
of him.
**
i hate his girlfriends.
**
can't we talk, just him
and me?
**
i need to talk.
**
there's nothing more to
be said.
**
there's always something
more to be said.
**
how often does he spurt cum? i
wish he would
tell me tell me tell me tell me.
**
i need to talk.
i know we talk a lot, but
please, let's just
talk some more.
**
no matter how
much we say
to each other,
it is never enough
talking all night
only whets my
insatiable appetite
for him and
him and
the more he's there
the more i'll want
this will never end
this will always hurt
this will always
be a big slurry
of lust, and joy,
and pain.
we'll be 20 years old
forever, him and me, the
sunrises and
sunsets flashes
of light and dark,
twists of tenderness and
urgency,
the light shining behind his
ears makes
them glow pink,
then nearly red,
i look into his crystal
blue eyes
as the sunlight
immolates first one, then
the other,
of his sacred, sexy,
delicately pink ears.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem first appeared in The Commonline Journal, November 16, 2015. It also appears in my book String Bean, published by BareBackPress in 2018 and currently available at Amazon.)