would you care to make a donation to the thinking tree?

as the skunks sprayed their anally-propelled mist
into the shy sleek stillness of the sultry spring night-time air,
air conditioners evened out the room temperatures
of the houses of suburbia,
and
just a bit of the skunk aroma managed to creep on in to
the bedrooms in which the suburbanites slept, but
few of the suburbanites noticed anything amiss,
as they slept soundly,
and soon,
the skunk aroma drifted away,
into near nothingness,
and the
snoring didn't miss a huff or a puff or a snarl,
as
alarm clocks whirred quite peacefully, though
there was the implicit threat of dawn.
**
one who did wake up, however,
was a sexy big-dicked teenage boy.
as the skunk aroma insinuated itself into
his tidy little room,
he woke, yawned, stretched.
his nostrils flared, he
sensed the skunk-scented
air. actually, it
made him feel kind
of horny -- most
everything did --
besides, his
big dick was
already hard
as if often
was this
time of
day.
the sexy big-dicked teenage boy
kicked off all the covers and then
he stripped off
his underpants, which was
the only thing he had been wearing.
he lay there on this back
his big thick dick turgid and
hot in his nice little room.
now the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy  
listened to the gentle whir of the
air conditioner,
and wrapped all of the fingers of
both of his hands around
his big hot throbbing beer-can-thick dick,
and, as if
trying to wrestle it into submission,
he nudged and tugged and
twisted and squeezed until some kind
of rhythm was achieved
and for just a few seconds
he maintained that primal petulant rhythm
until the gushing torrent of orgasm began
and he spurted what felt like
at least a gallon of hot gooey cum, in about
10 separate jets of the stuff, all
across his chest and belly, in reality
only about half a tea-cup in actual volume,
but plenty enough to
soak his chest,
glaze his
nipples,
the last of it dribbling
peacefully into the soft wiry tangle of
his smelly adolescent pubic hair.
**
then, after the last little dribble, the last
spasmodic pulse of his big hot pecker,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
watched 14 seconds tick off
on his alarm clock,
and then
he
smiled
and wiped himself off
with an old towel he kept nearby, and ready,
for exactly this purpose.
his nostrils flared wide.
he still smelled a bit of skunk,
but, that aroma was fading away,
on its own,
and partially
masked, too, as it were, by
the aroma of his own hot
cum, freshly spurted,
its fragile life
suspended there, on the floor,
in the
gently worn threads of a soft
thirsty towel.


--Carl Miller Daniels (October 6, 2014)