deciding

feeling confused, sad, and pissed-off in general,
the tall sexy young man
stripped off all his clothes
and sat down on a big flat rock
beside a secluded stream.
sunlight dappled his
muscular back and broad
sexy shoulders. he leaned back
on the heels of both hands,
felt the warmth of the smooth
gray rock against his
tight muscular butt, and
stretched out his long
lanky legs.
he was getting a hardon.
it was sprouting big and
smooth and thick, and it
flopped against his nice
flat belly.
he looked good with a
hardon, he knew it. he looked
good in general, and he knew
that, too. but today he was depressed,
and sometimes this helped--this:
the forest, the stream,
the masturbation.
he started stroking his cock.
he stared up at the tree limbs
and at the sky, and down at his
big cock, and at
the curly reddish-brown pubic hair
that spread out wild & wiry all around
its thick base.  he sighed, relaxed, drooped his
shoulders, sighed again. he was tired of
everything. his life as a
college student all seemed so stupid and
flat-out meaningless. here he was
only 23, and to be sad
and angry nearly all the time,
and to always be wondering about the
decisions he made, the decisions he'd made and
the decisions he had yet to make,
well, sometimes it all just made him
feel rotten; rotten and
overwhelmed by it all.
at this moment, though, the
sunshine felt good on his naked
shoulders, his nipples were
tingling, and
his cock was really, really hard.
he was using both
hands to masturbate now -- with
one of them he was vigorously
stroking his big cock, and with the
fingertips of the other, he was
rubbing his
nice tight furry balls.
there was a light breeze
working its way between
his widespread toes. a
nice touch. he liked that.
in another minute or so,
he spurted his cum. it spurted out
onto his chest and onto his belly
and dribbled its way into
his pubic hair. then, after
the very last spurt was
done, he lay
there on his back, feeling the hot cum
cooling down,
staring up at the branches and leaves and
sky. and now, actually, he hated to
admit it, but
he didn't feel much
better than he had before.
masturbation usually improved his attitude
pretty much instantly, no matter
how rotten he was feeling, especially
masturbation out here in the middle
of the woods by this stream. but,
not this time. this time it just
seemed like a momentary pause, just a
very short-lived escape from
the goddamned everythingness of everything. then,
quite unexpectedly, because really he
never did this sort of thing,
he started to cry. and not just
a little bit, either. actually, he sobbed.
big fat tears rolled off the slick
surfaces of
his big blue eyes, and down his
face, and dripped onto the big gray rock
behind his head. he lay there
big and handsome and naked,
drizzled with cum, and
crying as if he would never stop.
then, just as suddenly,
he stopped.
he wiped his eyes with the
backs of his hands. he swallowed
several times. his throat felt
tight and mucusy. he
swallowed again. then he
stood up and walked to the
edge of the stream. he waded
in, cupped
water in his hands, and washed
off the cum. then he stood
there in the stream, naked, surprised
by his tears, feeling kind of appalled
and astonished that he would just suddenly
burst into tears like that.
he hadn't cried in a long,
long time. in fact, he
couldn't remember the last
time he'd cried. and now, funny
thing: he did feel
better.  he really did.
he waded out of the stream and
sat down on the
big rock again, and allowed the warm
autumn air to dry him off.
then, he got dressed.
he walked to his car, and drove home
to his apartment.
he unlocked the door,
and went inside.
there was nobody home. both
of his roommates were off
somewhere, doing who knows
what. it was a three-bedroom
apartment. they each had
their own room.
he went to his room and
sat down at his desk
and started his homework.
he was a college senior, and
one thing had remained the same all
through college:
he hated doing his homework.
he hated every second of
it, every goddamn instant.
but it was more than just
the homework, of course. it was
the whole picture, the whole situation,
the total uselessness of most of
the crap he had to learn. he wondered
why he'd ever wanted this in the first
place, and he didn't know how much
longer he could take it --
homework, classes, exams, all the goddamn crap.
actually, he was more than sorta thinking
about just dropping out,
here in the first semester
of his senior year. why not?
lots of people
did, actually. lots of them.  why not him,
too? still, though, he wasn't hating
everything quite as much as he'd been hating it
back before, well, you know, back before he'd
masturbated on that big rock,
and then had that outburst with
the crying and all. the tears had
been pretty much of
a big surprise, all right -- and, actually, he thought
they'd probably done him more good than
the masturbating had.  but the two
of them together -- spurting cum, and then
crying -- maybe that was just precisely the
right ticket -- the release of
semen, and the release of tears. hey, maybe
he was onto something here.  maybe: the
more bodily fluids that get released, the
better you end up feeling. it couldn't
be that simple, could it?
he wondered, not really seriously, though.
but still,
he did wonder.
and now he really had to take a leak.
in fact, he was almost in pain,
he had to piss so bad.
he stood up,
walked into the bathroom, unzipped
his pants, whipped out his big dick, and
squirted about 2 pints -- maybe three, hell,
maybe even a quart -- of
softly yellow, vaguely peppery-smelling
pee into the toilet.
he sure felt better after that.
he slid his slightly wet-tipped
dick back into place, and
zipped up his pants.
then
he spit a big glob of runny
mucusy saliva into the
pee-tinged water, and
flushed the toilet.
now, feeling better and better, about
almost everything in fact,
he returned to his desk. he only
sat there a moment, though. he was
still feeling kind of unsettled, a
tad bit uneasy, actually, and,
acting on
the oddest of whims, he
pushed back his chair and
went into the kitchen and
got a sharp knife and intentionally sliced open the
back of one of his hands.
it bled a lot.
he let it bleed into the
kitchen sink until it stopped.
then he washed out the sink with cold water.
he was feeling
really good now -- extremely good, as
a matter of fact -- eerily good.
he was feeling more and more decisive,
better & better, more resolved, resigned
to it all. every minute that passed,
his life seemed more and more on track;
it all looked better and better.
was this all the result of
his recent emissions of bodily fluids?
first his semen, then his tears,
then his urine, then that big glob of saliva,
and now this: the blood? so was THAT it?
the way things worked?
the more fluids one expelled, the more decisive one
became?  the better one began to feel?
he'd never cut himself
before, not like this, not on purpose anyway,
but, hey,
that turned out to be pretty
much of a rush, actually.
in fact, he realized that as the
last few drops of blood
were plopping into the sink,
that was exactly
and precisely the moment when he decided,
REALLY decided, that
he was going to stay in school.
yes, he was going to stay
in school, all right,
and he was gonna graduate, too, goddammit.
there was no longer any
doubt about it.
decisions had certainly been made. he put a
big bandaid across the back of his hand.
yessiree, it was time to get back to
that homework right now. but then, he
had just another little moment of doubt, an
instant of hesitation, just the tiniest
flicker of uncertainty; but, he pulled
a couple of kleenexes out of their shiny box,
and blew his nose profusely -- lots
of clear slimy glistening snot was
propelled vigorously from his
nostrils onto the whiteness of
the kleenexes.
then, he went back to his desk,
and finished his homework.
yeah, this was easy.
this was a real piece of cake.
he could do this for another year.
he knew he could.
before turning out the lights and going
to sleep, he had a nice
slow masturbation session lying naked,
sprawled out, and uncovered on his
back on his big smooth bed.  he shot
several big smelly wads of hot gooey
cum, wiped them off of himself with an
old t-shirt, and tossed it into
the laundry basket.  by the time
his two roommates came home and
started clattering around in the kitchen,
he was feeling so happy, he was
practically delirious.

--Carl Miller Daniels (February 6, 2005)