a natural history for pre-washed jeans

one day, a sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
was alone, masturbating in the woods.
he was standing in front of a big oak
tree, looking at its bark.
he tugged on his dick and tugged
on his dick until he
spurted a big
load of hot cum onto the bark of the tree.
his cum clung there gelatinous
and gooey.
"spurting cum sure is fun," he said
in his nice deep voice.
**
his own voice made him think
of a low rumbling freight train,
the locomotive deep and powerful.
he had a great manly voice,
he had to admit it.
a nice deep masculine voice.
people noticed.
"my you've got a really nice deep
voice, especially for someone
so young." he
smiled whenever he heard that.
he was very good-looking, too.
sexy. wide-shoulders. great face.
nice, big dick.
yep,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
had been given quite a bunch of nice
gifties, and he was pretty happy
with how all that had turned out.
**
overhead, the oak leaves shimmered
in the breeze, and the
sky was the color of
peach flesh, ripped from
the pit.  in fact, it looked like
sunset was about to happen,
and, along with that,
the pattern of lightning bugs,
speaking their own silent language
of light, and scent, and the secrets
of the night.
**
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
began to put on his clothes. he cleared
his throat, that low rumble again, then
a twist of his shoulder, as the
shirt found its fit.

--Carl Miller Daniels (2015)