Juliette

You pass by, two feet away,
bare back and shiny with sweat,
lips pouting, eyes cast down,
avoiding the glares of the crowd of wolves,
your arse tight in leather,
high heels raising you above me.

Then, to the stage,
and you speak, and greet,
and shake and strain,
hips swaying in time with my hand in my jeans.

As you breathe, so do I,
and my cock hardens in my hands,
the crowd held in your gaze,
oblivious to the erection in my palm,
as my pace quickens with your perspiration,
I am in awe and in hand,
controlling the quickening sensation
of impending orgasm.

For a moment, our eyes meet,
your gaze drops,
holds on my cock as strong as my fingers
and your eyes demand that I take the stage.

Nervous, I wait, begging you to fetch me,
to take me in your hands and drag me
to where the crowd will part as your lips
part, and close around mine.

We hold close on the stage,
my hands grasping your hot body,
close, my throbbing cock pulsing
against your body, precum rising into
your navel, sweat and semen joining
and you bend to your knees.

The crowd urges you to part your lips and
join with my hard flesh,
but you resist the temptation
and begin, slowly, teasingly,
to wank me, the crowd chants your name,
in time you stroke,
jerk,
wank and harden me further,
precum on the head of my cock, and your hands,
a blur,
building me to explode,
until my legs buckle
and I spurt,
white spray across your firm breasts
missing your neck by inches,
cum lies on the stage
where you explored my passion
and unleashed my desire.

My cock remains,
hard
and impervious to the loss of blood
and the inevitable
as you lay back
unbuckle your belt
leather whispers across your hips
as your panties are drawn to the stage
for the floorshow to continue