no magic going on in that bedroom, no not a bit

perhaps the cute naked young man shouldn't
play with his cock as much as he does.
perhaps he shouldn't lie there naked on his back
in his upstairs bedroom, the window open, the breeze
warm
across the wispy pubic hair on his big pink balls.
perhaps he shouldn't rub his fingertips over his belly
and nipples and touch that incredibly sensitive spot
at the base of his balls, right between where the
balls attach and the anus looms, perhaps he shouldn't
wrap the fingers of both hands around his big thick
smooth cock and rub it all over, stroke it up and down
the length of its thick perfectly-shaped no-vein
shaft, perhaps he shouldn't lick his fingertips and
rub them over his big purple-pink cockhead, perhaps he
shouldn't spend so much time on his bed naked,
touching his
beautiful sexy self in blatantly sexual ways,
perhaps he shouldn't spurt all that cum onto his
belly and wipe it off with towels and wash rags and
tee-shirts, whatever is handy, tissues, paper towels,
underpants, pillow cases, whatever's around. the
cute naked young man lies there on his back, though,
wets his lips with his tongue, pants like an animal,
a young goat perhaps, perhaps if he plays with himself
as often as he does now, he'll magically turn into a
satyr, little horns on his brow, feet change into
cloven hoofs, a tuft of a tail growing from the
butt-tip of his
spinal cord,
this time the sound he makes when he starts spurting
cum sounds like a strange beast, he spurts and spurts
and finally finishes spurting and without even wiping
it off, drippy of chest and belly,
he jumps up off the bed and looks at himself in the
mirror to make sure it's still him,
standing there big dicked, smooth flush-belly
semen-smeared, looking at his full pouty lips,
all is a-ok though, he looks just like he always does,
cute big dicked young man, sexy, eyes icy blue yet
white-hot, big dark eyebrows with a hint of sweat
binding the eyebrow hairs together, a boy, yep, just a
boy,
then what was that beast-sound he made? he wonders,
he shrugs,
whimpers a human sad-little very human whimper,
goes back to bed,
sleeps naked, dreams of eating big wet sloppy
blackberries, vines
and all, is the sound he hears flies buzzing
at his big floppy
ears?  nah no way.
not a chance.

--Carl Miller Daniels (2004)