synchronous motor habits

white cows dotted his landscape like
automobile cow-counting games, the
games where you count the cows
and get lots of points until a horse
shows up, and then you lose a bunch
of points, at least 50 points, unless
it's a white horse, and then you
lose 100 points.
the sexy athletic teenage boy and his
sister were both somehow above
this kind of car game,
and yet,
there they were, in the back seat
of the car, counting cows. their dad
was driving; their mom was snoozing.
"250 points!" said the
sexy athletic teenage boy. "i win!"
"you've ignored THREE white
horses so far!" said his sister. "THREE
WHITE HORSES! so that's NOT your
score, and you're cheating, and so
you can just GO TO HELL!"
"now now, none of that," said
their dad, from the driver's seat.
the car zoomed along the
highway.
the sexy athletic teenage boy dreamed
of sexual conquests, none of
which he'd had so far, but
all of them involved
young and sexy male movie stars.
zac efron was his favorite of
the moment. oh the things
he could do with zac efron's hot
sexy big-dicked body.
"white horses subtract 100 points
EACH, and you IGNORED all three
white horses that we very
definitely BOTH saw!" said
the sister, a pouty girl, with
braces.
the car drifted on.
suddenly, they all saw,
everyone, dad, daughter, and
the sexy athletic teenage boy,
in a nearby field,
a huge male stallion fucking a big
chestnut mare. the stallion's
dick looked to be about 3 feet long.
"welllll," said
the sexy athletic teenage boy.
"i think everybody should get
at least 500 points for THAT!"
everyone laughs nervously,
even the mother, who wakes
up, gets a peek at the
stallion and what the stallion
is doing,
and whimpers,
as if the world is just
exactly that sort of place.
**
later that night, all alone in
his bedroom,
the sexy athletic teenage boy is
naked and masturbating. while
he tugs away on
his big hard dick,
he stares at photos of
zac efron. soon
the sexy athletic teenage boy
spurts cum, drenching his chest
and belly with the stuff. then he
wipes up, pulls on
his underpants, and
whimpers as he runs his fingers
across the front of zac efron's
trousers. zac efron blinks,
swallows, smiles at him,
then closes his eyes
just as the sexy athletic teenage
boy is closing his own,
and soon,
that stallion is again
thrusting,
500 points at least,
that hot summer field,
at the side of that long hot
vacation road.
**
in the morning, at the breakfast
table,
everyone says it's sooo good to
be back home.
the sexy athletic teenage boy says
it, too,
and he sounds so sincere,
everybody believes he really
means it.


--Carl Miller Daniels (October 5, 2014)