pretty dern sure

there is certainty in the grip
of a hot-looking big-dicked teenage boy
as he lies on his back on his bed masturbating. there
is knowledge in the grip
of that hot-looking big-dicked teenage boy
as he lies on his back on his bed
masturbating and staring at his cock.
there is assurance in his grip. there is knowledge
in his grip, certainty
of what will soon transpire.
oh yes, there is absolute
knowledge of the way things will and
shall and do work
in the grip
of that sexy naked teenage boy who is lying on his
back on his bed masturbating--and then when
he winces and gasps and starts spurting cum
and spurting cum and spurting cum and it
splats onto his chest and belly and oh yes
a little drop hits his chin, and his lower lip, too,
and the sensation of pleasure that emanates
from his dick and his balls and his tight pink
asshole is just beyond wonderous, it is
pure absolute total ecstacy.  and then
he lies there on his back splattered wet and gooey
with his own mucosal cum, and everything has
happened just as he knew it would happen, and there
is satisfaction in his heart and satisfaction
in his belly and satisfaction
in his hot pink brain and right on down his spinal cord
that everything happened dependably
and reliably and that this is a known, a definite,
a certainty, in his world, in THE world, and
as he lies there on his back naked
wiping off his chest and belly and chin
and lower lip with a soft old t-shirt,
and wiping off the tip of his cock, and
wiping up the driblets of cum that seeped into
his tangled nest of soft wiry curly pubic hair,
a smile is on his lips, and a song is
in his heart, and whatever the rest of
the day brings, at least he knows
there's this there's this
there's this: thank god there's always
always this.

--Carl Miller Daniels (October 2, 2007)