A Secret Place

I know a place where I can go to frolic and to play
Where girls and lads do naughty things that thrill me through the day.
I’m not the only one who’s there in search of things arousing:
I see rapt men, erect like me, among the playmates browsing.

Sometimes I see a grandpa there, his prick so hard it hurts,
As giggling girls climb high in trees and we look up their skirts.
We chat together and we wonder why it is our cocks
Are thrilled so by their panties and their frilly, lacy socks!

One day a lady lay near by, beside a bound-up boy;
She made him moan and struggle as she teased his manly toy.
She spanks his bottom when he’s bad, she turns his buttocks red,
But grants sweet pleasure when he’s good, and pets him, tied in bed.

A pouting, pretty girl was there, she smiled as she undressed
To tease the men who watched and drooled, excited and obsessed.
She knew just how she made them feel as she flipped up her skirt
To show them what they couldn’t have, then watched them stroke and spurt.

Outside a window there I watched a panting peeping tom,
Who stroked while watching lovely Lucy dressing for her prom.
When she got home his cock again was ready for a show -
Her dress came off, and he came too, a bucking, bursting blow!

Sometimes I frown to see the things that happen in that place:
A bully held a captured girl, another fouled her face.
A helpless girl was tied and gagged, her wrists so tightly bound,
She writhed and whimpered as a man groped both her tits and mound.

But O! the lovely lads and girls who fondle as they kiss,
Exploring their young bodies, seeking sweet erotic bliss.
We men who watch, we moan aloud, tormented by desire,
Frustrated in our fantasies, our cocks are set on fire!

I’m told this is an evil place, where I should never be,
And if I’m caught they’ll lock me up and throw away the key!
But, truly, when I’m there I walk along those paths alone,
I never do a thing untoward for which I must atone.

And yet the mob attacks with torches, lurching through the mud,
With cries of “Pervert!” they pursue me, baying for my blood.
But they’ll not find me, silly people, driven by their fears;
For after all my secret place is just between my ears.