His Interest

I rest my hands and feel him sitting back;
He's closed an eye and looks abstractedly
At soft light through his glass: the palest wine
May be refreshing; though, to feel me wrap
My hand around his sex, should mean he'll be
Far more relaxed and refreshed; I'll define
Brief moments, though they lengthen, with the lap
Of gentle tongue that laves so eagerly;
Until he's almost ready and it's time
For an explosive climax; and his sap
Will flood my mouth and, then, quite wantonly,
I'll swallow and will sit back and incline
Eyes downwards to the floor: his interest
Has moved to other matters - so I'll rest.