My Guilty Pleasure

In the heart of men lies endless fantasies,
Recurrent so much they become memories,
But who are you to judge that which flows in the arteries??
The hunger of the flesh is as plain as a written text,
Hidden under the clothe like an underwear vest,
Unknown to the hypocrite; it is a treasure chest,
Because it beats in every man's chest and gives rhythmic movement to every woman's hips,
Hypocrites they are...
Denying the sweetness of sensual kiss,
Rebuking the the electrifying medicinal abilities of an affectionate touch, relying it to the backyard like an old couch,
The beauty of a woman's breast they would never vouch for,
The elegant "krochia-krochia" movement of the buttocks which entices the blood in every potent man's system,
The slender waist and untouchable hips that makes mighty men the victim,
"Oh God bless His Own creation!" *sneezes* "hee-tim!!"
I dare not speak of her beauty, "Ears are listening"
I dare not look into those perfect eyes, "Eyes are watching"
Then I most definitely can't smooch that soft body and smell her fragrance "Chai! Boko Haram!"
What more I'm I left with?
Tney say I speak the unspeakable and write the forbidden,
But why keep the sweet hidden??
It has never been complex, "So I beg, Make you no vex"
But who doesn't talk about sex!?