When he's not looking

I study the upper curvature of his brow
When he’s not looking,
Gaze towards a face
Defining the beauty of masculinity:
Sharp, angular movements of flesh
On top of bone, on top of mind…

When he’s not looking
My eyes drift towards the distraction
Of his tight jeans, and the bulge between his thighs-
I wonder what he’d feel like...
His cock inside of me
How he’d make love
If he’d want to take control
Or would rather sit back and enjoy the ride
I wouldn’t mind either way…
I’d be there just to make him happy-

When he’s not looking
My mouth is wrapped around his manhood,
Fingertips running through his hair-

When he’s not looking
His moan is an instrumental piece of music,
His breath a soft percussion underlay.
Our flesh together a commentary on the symphony-
Writing pages upon pages of erotic journalism

A simple kiss could be
A divine experience
His lips, soft, warm and tender
Fall into mine
We melt, welded together by desire
Our bodies wanting…

When he’s not looking,
I scream his name
Dig my nails into his back-
Clench my arms around his neck
Fuck him with everything I am
fuck him with everything I've got-

When he’s not looking,
He hasn't a clue what he’s missing.