A Secret Place (poem; ped)
By Neverlander
© 2014

I know a place where I can go to frolic and to play
Where girls and boys do naughty things, and we have fun all day.
I’m not the only one who’s there in search of things arousing:
I see more men, erect like me, among the moppets browsing.

Sometimes I see a grandpa there, his prick so hard it hurts,
As little girls climb high in trees and he looks up their skirts.
We chat together and we wonder why it is our cocks
Are thrilled so by their panties and their frilly little socks!

One day a lady lay near by, beside a little boy;
She made him grin and giggle as she stroked his little toy.
She spanks his bottom when he’s bad, she turns his buttocks red,
But gives him pleasure when he’s good, and pets him in his bed.

A pretty little girl was there, she smiled as she undressed
To tease the men who watched and drooled, excited and obsessed.
She knew just how she made them feel as she pulled up her skirt
To show them what they couldn’t have, then watched them stroke and spurt.

Outside a window once I saw a panting peeping tom:
A daddy watching his fair daughter dressing for her prom.
When she got home and went to bed into her room he crept;
He pulled the blanket gently down and touched her as she slept.

Sometimes I frown to see the things that happen in that place:
A bully held a captured girl, another fouled her face.
A helpless girl was tied and gagged, her wrists so tightly bound,
She writhed and whimpered as a man groped both her breasts and mound.

But O! the lovely boys and girls who fondle as they kiss,
Exploring their young bodies, seeking sweet erotic bliss.
The men who watch them moan aloud, tormented by desire,
Frustrated in their fantasies, their cocks are set on fire!

I’m told this is an evil place, where I should never be,
And if I’m caught they’ll lock me up and throw away the key!
But, truly, when I’m there I walk along those paths alone,
I never do a thing untoward for which I must atone.

And yet the mob attacks with torches, lurching through the mud,
With cries of “Pervert!” they pursue me, baying for my blood.
But they’ll not find me, silly people, driven by their fears;
For after all my secret place is just between my ears.

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