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| ***BIO*** Carl Miller Daniels is an OCD agoraphobe who flosses quite regularly. Quite frankly, he's a neurotic mess. It's amazing he can even brush his teeth, let alone floss and massage his gums! |
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| by Carl Miller Daniels |
| the lunch special was a big juicy lightly grilled
portobello mushroom sandwich. he ordered it, with a big glass of sprite, and wolfed everything right down. he liked being young and sexy and vegetarian. he liked it a lot. he liked his way of being in the world. there was no cheese on that sandwich, either. cheese! ugh! he didn't like that stuff on his food, and avoided it whenever possible. he just didn't like eating animals or their parts or their products. so, after devouring the big juicy portobello mushroom sandwich, he headed out into the sunlight, felt it bathing his face and neck and the top of his tousle-haired head. he took off his shirt, a long-sleeved one, and, carrying it beside him, he walked across the park wearing just his jeans and his tennis shoes. he looked at the butterflies that seemed to be everywhere. he listened to the birds singing. he reveled in the sensation of the warm breeze on his sexy naked back and chest. he had sprouted quite the relentless hardon, and it was pushing firmly and insistently against the front of his trousers. people were noticing. he felt embarrassed, and threatened. these were not the people he would want to see him with a hardon. there were scary faces. he tied his shirt around his waist, and hid his big bulging cock as best he could. then, moving deeper into the park, and when he was sure he was alone, he hung his shirt over the branch of a tree, unzipped his pants, and jerked off. when he was cumming, he ran his tongue over and over the surface of his lips, tasting the portobello mushroom and the tangy sauce, lemony, with capers. then, an odd and eerie sensation of being totally alone swept over him. he zipped up his pants, put on his shirt, and hurried home, to rooms full of living orchids, and blooming and potted daffodils. that was all, just the flowers, and the pots, and the watering cans; everything else could just goddamn wait. |
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| Oct. 2009 |
| 126 |