Sonnet on a Hand-Job in a Pub Garden

"Stroking his cock outdoors"

Inhibitions lost from too much beer,
I stroke my boyfriend’s cock beneath the table.
Pull down his zip and grip the swelling spear,
Tug it and squeeze, as hard as I am able.

In minutes it is stiff, eight inches long,
Hot in my hand and throbbing fit to bust.
Although I know that what I do is wrong
I can’t resist the thrill of carnal lust.

Now pumping hard to bring him to the boil
Then slowly stroking round the purple knob,
His shaft is wet with streams of pre-cum oil:
I feel it swell and quickly start to throb.

And suddenly he comes, great spurts of mess,
With most of it, alas, upon my dress.