Sorry I Don’t Masturbate on Webcam for Boyfriend

Wistful, I was awake when the alarm went, and, I, watched
The two dots, blink, switched off after the first beep, then took
The time to appreciate the glow of dawn, first light, snatched
A towel and washed, primed myself a bit for that dreamy look
That morning ritual with the webcam at my bedside; smile, he
Says hello and the glowing image of his breasts on the screen
Turns me on, turns the throbbing light on, the voltage of his
Watchful eyes behind the electron veil, the deep of night seen
Beneath the shadow of his side of the world, and his hands
Hidden somewhere beyond the frame of slowly shifting sands.

The sand dunes on the sea coast whirl in the wind, their grains
Slip and he rocks the shy boy in his hands, a slow rhythm like
A ship on the water, and soon the boy’s body turns rigid, strains
And bobs in and out of view from God’s eye, so I just might
Witness and begin to feel the tip of his phallus in my throat
Lodged between breathing and ecstasy, to feel his wrinkled
Scrotum against the soft of my fingers, dirty, unwashed, uncouth
Unreachable and deliciously so, his tobacconated tongue licked
As he begged me, spread for me, please, he begged me but he
Moaned and gushed as I held my dunes to his twisted face.

Fatima Lasay, San Roque
Tuesday, May 19, 2015

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