Two poems

 

 

safety brand

"jello that smells like cherries is a special treat"
thinks the beautiful big-dicked teenage boy,
as he sits there in his tight jeans and tight
t-shirt making slurping sounds as he attacks
the cherry-scented jello with his tongue, lips, and
a spoon.  he looks up at the television screen,
which has images of sexy young men in swim suits.
the sexy young men in swim suits are
lounging beside a clear blue swimming pool.
the beautiful big-dicked teenage boy continues
slurping down the cherry-scented jello, and
the bulge that is his cock and balls underneath
the zippered fly of his jeans gets bulgier.
the beautiful big-dicked teenage boy slurps
and watches, slurps and watches, slurps
and watches some more, finishes his bowl
of jello, sits transfixed staring at
the sexy young men in their swimsuits.
then, he makes a funny guttural sound
in the back of his throat, runs into
the bathroom, locks the door, pulls
down his jeans and his underpants,
and he jerks off quickly and
proficiently into a wad of
toilet tissue, which he
quickly flushes down the toilet.
then, he pulls up his underpants,
pulls up his jeans, zips them,
and leaves the bathroom. there
is another half-bowl of
cherry-scented jello in the fridge,
and he goes right for it:
it never really stood a chance.


--Carl Miller Daniels (July 1, 2009)

=================================

rare, ok better make that medium-rare

the sexy rebellious adolescent boy liked blowing smoke
onto the big mirror in his bedroom.
with a cigarette in one hand, and a glass of
whiskey in the other hand,
the sexy rebellious adolescent boy liked standing
there naked in front of his big bedroom mirror,
and inhaling smoke from the cigarette, and
blowing it onto the surface of the mirror,
and then watching the smoky image of
himself as he sipped a gulp of whiskey
from the glass in his other hand.
the sexy rebellious adolescent boy always
got a hardon while performing this
activity, and, half-way through
the blowing of the smoke onto the mirror and the sipping
of the whiskey, he would lower the cigarette into
an ashtray, and he would set the glass
of whiskey down onto his desk, and he
would stare at the excruciatingly sexy
image of his big-dicked self in that
big bedroom mirror. then he would
slowly and steadily jerk himself
off and spurt gobs of cum onto
that mirror. then,
the sexy rebellious adolescent boy would
pick up the cigarette, pick up
the glass of whiskey, and stand
there looking at his sexy image
as he smoked and drank, and blew
smoke onto the fresh-cum-spattered surface
of that mirror.  the sexy rebellious adolescent boy
twisted his sexy lips into a serious sneer of
total contempt for nearly everything in the universe
that he could possibly imagine.  then,
the sexy rebellious adolescent boy
wiped his cum off the mirror and took
a swipe or two at the yellow hazy residue
the cigarette smoke had left behind and
then the sexy rebellious adolescent boy
put on a pair of tight ripped jeans
and an old t-shirt and a pair
of ratty tennis shoes and then the
sexy rebellious adolescent boy
went out into the world
in search of, well, surprisingly
enough, he went out into the
world in search of love.


--Carl Miller Daniels (August 4, 2009)