Bulge on pants

I walk down the street, with eyes wide open
Looking at the pants of strangers, hoping
To catch a small glimpse of what lies beneath
A bulge that could bring even blushing cheeks to speech

The fabric clings and drapes, revealing faint curves
And I can't help but think of what it preserves
A delicate part that can bring pleasure and delight
Massaging, stroking, and holding tight

For some, it's the size that makes the difference
Others find comfort in girth and endurance
I wonder, is it really about the equipment?
Or the way it's used, an artful arrangement

I try to guess, to estimate and divine
What kind of experience each one would provide
Will it be long and thin, or short and thick?
The possibilities make my mind play tricks

For a moment, I feel like a curious child
Innocently wondering what's concealed inside
Until the reality hits me with a smile
That these strangers won't let me come inside