Watching

I don't like parties. The people, the noise
The hot discomfort that rises up me
And makes me awkward.
I pull away from the room
And run up some corridor, away. I want to escape,
To disappear. An door ajar.
I peek inside, and almost wish I hadn't.

They're lying in bed. Her arm is on his chest.
I freeze. I don't know what to do.
But I feel a strange thrill inside me
As she awakes, kisses him, runs her hand
Up his muscly torso. When she straddles him,
His hand rest on her hips.

I can't explain, it's so exciting,
Seeing her move with him, hearing their moans.
Watching their bodies in the dim light
Of a bedside lamp. He's making her come.
I imagine his hands on her breasts, his fingers
Rolling her nipples into stiff little nodes
Alive with sensitivity.
I throb inside, feel myself grow wet,
Almost cry out in pleasure
When he lays her on her back and re-enters her.

She's gasping and panting
Calling his name, her legs wrapped around him,
The thrust of his buttocks, the sweaty sheets
Crumpling and shifting. He comes with funny gasps and cries
That don't last long. I'm almost breathless. I feel
As if I'm lying beside them, with them,
Sticky between the legs from his semen, her cum,
And my own excitement. His weight
Lies on the both of us. And when she spots me,
My body is charged with frenzied rapture
As I run from the door down the corridor
Eyes and imagination bursting.