the symbiotic summer of skippers and slimers

he had slimy fingers in the morning.
he had slimy fingers at night.
he had slimy fingers at noon, sometimes,
and on weekends, he had
slimy fingers most of the day.
**
he was a beautiful big-dicked teenage boy,
and the source of the slime on his fingers
was, of course, his own big thick
cum-spurting dick.
**
"gotta go slime myself," he was sometimes
heard to say.
"gotta go spurt a little slime," he
was fond of saying, a wink in his
eye, a sparkle on the tips of his
clean white teeth.
**
the beautiful big-dicked teenage boy
was a cum-spurting wonder,
his skin smooth and tawny,
his dick big and thick and
near-perpetually hard.
**
"well, gotta go slime myself," he
said one day to his best
friend, zeke. "wanna join
me this time? slime yourself, too?"
**
a little later,
he and zeke (zeke himself is a beautiful
big-dicked teenage boy, sigh), are
on their backs beside a stream,
their bellies covered with their
own slime. he and zeke are staring
up at the big white fluffy clouds.
they are performing an experiment.
waiting for butterflies to appear and
lick the slime off of their
bellies with their long ticklish
butterfly-probosci. he and zeke don't have
to wait long. he and zeke lie
there with butterflies sucking
the cum off their bellies.
the big white clouds up above.
**
"i'm so turned on i'm gonna slime
myself again," he says to zeke.
"me, too," says zeke.
**
thus began their days of
slime-feeding the butterflies,
the best summer of
their tender young lives.
**
years later,
slime offered to anyone
else, never the same kick.
never those summer days were
to reappear, life itself
never the same, ever again.
**
"what kind of butterflies
are these anyway?" zeke
asked one day.
"skippers," he answered.
"i looked em up in
a butterfly book."
"cute little cum-suckers,
ain't they?"
said zeke.
**
long ago, on a summer
day,
the big clouds white
and fluffy, slowly
drifting, up
above.

--Carl Miller Daniels (September 23, 2010)