Cutting his eyes over his shoulder,
he checks whose gaze burns him from behind,
lusting after his youthful beauty, which smolders
as he raises eyebrow in an inviting sign.
Muscles ripple along his lean, smooth back,
neck arching gracefully as his head turns
and both imagine adventures in the sack,
the hot sex for which they hotly yearn.
But will lips touch and hands fondle flesh,
each the other invite to come inside
as their bodies and souls intermesh,
or will they miss the moment, let it slide?
The moment lost, their chances to regain it diminish,
but if they seize it, they could take it to the finish.
T. Allen Culpepper