Touch and Go

The lean lithe athletic teenage boy is
running naked in the woods. He's on
an ancient unused logging trail,
and his dick is hard and long
and thick and giving off little flecks
of pre-orgasmic cum as he runs
naked and pagan in the woods.
The real orgasm, he knows, the
big massive explosive orgasm, will
happen soon. But now, as he runs
naked and free in the woods,
his big dick thick and hard
and jutting out in front of him,
wagging a bit from side to side
as it flings little globs of
cum from the tip of its smooth purple
shiny engorged head, he
enjoys these little
mini-cum-flinging orgasms,
the freedom of
his total nudity, the
blue sky, the click and
clack of invisible insects
hiding amongst the leaves
and needles of the trees
that surround him on
this hot summer day, and
as he enjoys these wonderful
little pre-orgasms, he
continues flinging
little droplets of cum
as he runs naked as his
big dick jounces with
the rhythm of his footsteps.
Then, all at once, he
knows it is time.
The lean lithe athletic teenage boy
stops, stares into the sky,
and wraps the fingers of
both hands tightly around
his massive pulsing hardon. He stands
there in the sunlight
fondling his thick hard massive
shiny dick, hugging it,
tugging on it until, until,
until, "Ahhhhhhhhh" he
says there in the middle
of the woods, as his big
massive dick spurts out
a geyser of cum, a plume
of slick slimy goo that
jets out of his peehole
and plops and plops
and plops onto the
moist leafy ground.
Then, he takes his hands
off his dick, lets them
hang by his sides, as
his tingly and electro-orgasm-jolted
dick droops, softens, shiny
there in the sunlight.
"Ahhhhhhh" he says again,
his lips wet with his
saliva, his thoughts
on the beauty
of every goddamn
motherfucking
thing. All of it,
the world, his dick -- all of
it beautiful, everything about the
everythingness of
everything --
all of it --
his whispy pubic hair
that kinda wiggles
in the breeze, the
tongue-tip of that breeze
on his tight pink little asshole
as he spreads his legs,
flairs his nostrils,
and sucks in the smell
of this big-bang orgasm
day. "Fuck you fuck you
fuck you" he
thinks "I'd love to fuck the
entire world with my great
big dick" he thinks
"because I love you love you
love you" he thinks "I love
this great big fuckin' world almost
as much as I love my great big
spasmo orgasms,
almost..." the lean lithe athletic
teenage boy
thinks, the soft
summer breeze tongue-tip licking
at the blood-filled membranes
of his sweet tight moist little
asshole, as a tiny shiny blue lizard
skittles under a fallen
jagged fungal-scented
leaf -- oak perhaps, or
merely maple.

--Carl Miller Daniels (January 23, 2024)