I post my form in stark relief, A line of muscle, shadowed chest, The screen ignites a bold belief, A sensual self, both raw, expressed. Not Safe For Work, this daring show, A flex, a curve, a quiet roar, It stirs my pulse, it bids me grow, And cracks the shell I wore before.
The crude rush in, their barbs fly fast, A grunt, a jeer, a shallow cut, But through their din, I hear at last, The voices rising from the rut. A man might say, “Your strength is art,” A woman, “Confidence in view,” These words pierce deep into my heart, And light a spark I never knew.
The lens I wield, it frames me whole, Not flaws to hide, but truth to claim, Each shot I share, it frees my soul, Unshackles doubt, rewrites my name. My body, broad, or lean, or mine, Becomes a tale I dare to tell, No more a cage, but redefined, A sensual hymn where I can dwell.
Replies cascade, a jagged stream, Some rough, some lewd, a fleeting bite, Yet others pause, their words redeem, A lift, a glow, a guiding light. “Your poise is power,” one declares, “Your form’s a fire, bold and true,” These threads weave through the digital airs, And wake the sensual me anew.
It’s not for sex, this open stand, Not casual thrills, nor cheap desire, But something vast, a firmer land, A mirror held to my own fire. The scars I bear, the weight I lift, The cock I show, the skin I’ve grown, Each frame becomes a sacred gift, A pride in self I’ve never known.
A man chimes in, “I feel that strength,” His echo builds a brother’s bond, A woman writes, “Your truth at length,” And suddenly, I’m far beyond. The crude may snarl, their noise may clash, But these replies, so warm, so wise, They cloak me in a tender sash, And lift my sensual spirit’s rise.
I scroll my posts, a living thread, A gallery of me, unbowed, Each image fuels the life I’ve led, Each like a cheer, both soft and loud. No longer do I duck or shrink, The flesh I own, I now embrace, This platform, raw yet laced with ink, Uplifts me to a higher place.
The screen’s my stage, a boundless span, Where I stand tall, where I am free, The chains of shame dissolve, unman, Replaced by eyes that truly see. “Your courage shines,” they say, and mean, “Your body’s bold, a work of grace,” This sensuality, once unseen, Now claims its rightful, steady space.
It’s not the chase, the fleeting fuck, Of skin on skin, a passing dare, But how I mend my own ill luck, And find a self worth laying bare. The crude may bark, their words may fade, But others rise with gentle care, And in their light, I’m newly made, A man sensual, strong, and rare.
Ten verses weave my tale to close, Of X’s wild, untamed domain, Where NSFW can shift repose, From doubt to sensual refrain. The few may scoff, the many muse, Their words a balm, a soft ignite, Through this, I’ve learned I can’t refuse, My body’s worth, my soul’s delight.
In pixels bold, I cast my frame, A curve of hip, a shadowed breast, The screen’s soft glow ignites a flame, A spark of me, both bare and dressed. Not Safe For Work, they call this art, A daring dance, a whispered tease, It stirs the blood, it wakes the heart, And bids my spirit find its ease.
The crude come quick, their words like darts, A jab, a leer, a hollow shout, But past their noise, I hear the hearts, The ones who see what I’m about. A man might write, “Your strength is grace,” A woman, “Beauty in your skin,” Their thoughts lift high above the base, And in their echo, I begin.
I feel the lens, its tender gaze, Not cold, but warm, a mirror’s truth, Each line I share, each sultry phrase, Unravels shame from tender youth. My body—round, or lean, or mine— Becomes a song, a verse to sing, No longer cloaked in doubt’s design, But crowned with sensual offering.
The replies roll in, a mixed refrain, Some brash, some crude, a fleeting sting, Yet others pause, their words sustain, A lift, a balm, a gentle thing. “Your confidence is pure delight,” “Your form’s a poem, bold and free,” These voices weave through digital night, And coax the sensual out of me.
It’s not for sex, this baring act, Not casual lust, nor fleeting chase, But something deeper, truer, fact— A claiming of my own embrace. The stretch of skin, the softened scar, The weight of breasts, the dip of waist, Each part I show, both near and far, Becomes a joy I dare to taste.
A woman writes, “I see me too,” Her words a bridge, a sister’s call, A man reflects, “Your soul shines through,” And suddenly, I’m ten feet tall. The crude may leer, their noise may flare, But these replies, so kind, so keen, They wrap me in a tender care, And make my sensuality serene.
I scroll the feed, my posts alive, A gallery of me, unbound, Each image helps my spirit thrive, Each like a note, a sacred sound. No longer do I shrink or hide, The flesh I wear, I now adore, This platform, crude yet sanctified, Uplifts me to my very core.
The screen becomes a canvas vast, Where I paint bold, where I am free, The ghosts of doubt dissolve at last, Replaced by eyes that truly see. “Your power’s in your honest glow,” They say, and I begin to trust, This sensuality I know, A bloom unfurled from ash and dust.
It’s not the act, the fleeting thrill, Of flesh for flesh, a passing game, But how I rise, how I instill, A love for self, a reclaimed name. The crude may bark, their words may fall, But others lift with gentle might, And in their chorus, I stand tall, A woman sensual, fierce, and bright.
Ten verses now, my tale complete, Of X’s wild, uncharted sea, Where NSFW can shift the beat, From shame to sensuality. The few may jeer, the many muse, Their words a gift, a soft caress, Through this, I’ve learned I can’t refuse, My body’s song, my soul’s excess.
The sun hung low in the Oxfordshire sky, casting golden rays through the dense canopy of ancient oaks and beeches. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, a faint breeze rustling the leaves as Emma stepped carefully along the woodland trail. She was 41, tall at five foot eleven, with a slim frame that carried an effortless grace. Her light summer dress, a pale blue fabric with tiny white daisies, clung softly to her narrow hips, the hem swaying just above her knees. Beneath it, she wore nothing, no bra, no knickers, no thighs, her skin bare against the cotton, a deliberate choice for the day. Her small, shapely breasts moved subtly as she walked, pressed against the fabric when she moved just right.
Emma’s husband, Derreck, was away for work, not due back for a few days. She loved him deeply, but their marriage had settled into a comfortable rhythm that left some of her sexual desires unfulfilled. Derreck knew she occasionally sought satisfaction elsewhere, a silent agreement between them that allowed her to explore her needs without guilt. Today, her target was Richard Foster, a man she’d met through a local conservation project. At 59, Richard was tall, six foot four, and still fit, his body trim though no longer visibly muscular. His tight jeans hugged his frame, revealing the impressive bulge of his cock, long and thick, which hung down his left leg. Like Emma, he’d foregone underwear, and the outline of his manhood was impossible to ignore.
They were in this woodland, owned by a friendly landowner who’d granted them access for the day, to survey for signs of badgers. Richard seemed to know a lot about the creatures, his knowledge both impressive and oddly arousing to Emma. She’d decided this morning, as she slipped into her dress and left her undergarments in the drawer, that she would seduce him today. The thought of his tall frame, his experienced hands, and that large cock had already set her body humming with anticipation.
The Trail
The trail wound deeper into the woods, the ground soft underfoot from recent rain. Richard walked a few steps ahead, his t-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders, his jeans accentuating the strong lines of his legs. Emma’s eyes lingered on the bulge in his pants, noting how it seemed to shift as he moved. She bit her lip, her pulse quickening.
“Here,” Richard said, stopping abruptly and squatting down. He pointed to a small pile of dark, earthy droppings, badger scat, or “scrat,” as he called it. He frequently got words slightly wrong and Emma was amused at his misuse of the name of a delightful characters name. He picked up a stick and gently prodded the pile, breaking it apart to examine its contents. “See how fresh this is? They’ve been here recently.” His voice was deep, steady, with a hint of excitement as he pointed to a faint trail of grass trimmings leading off into the underbrush. “They drag this in for bedding.”
Emma squatted in front of him, her legs to one side, careful to position herself so he’d have a clear view. She’d unbuttoned the top of her dress just enough to reveal the gentle curve of her breasts when she leaned forward, her nipples already hardening in the cool air. She mirrored his posture, pretending to study the scat, but her focus was on him. “That’s fascinating,” she said, her voice soft, almost a purr. She leaned in closer, letting the neckline of her dress dip further, her breasts fully visible to him now.
Richard’s eyes flicked up from the scat, and for a moment, they lingered on her chest. His gaze was unapologetic, a spark of interest flaring in his brown eyes before he returned to the trail of grass. But Emma had seen enough. As they both stood, she noticed the change in his jeans, the bulge had lengthened, his cock growing thicker, now pushing down his left leg rather than hanging. The outline was unmistakable, and her breath caught in her throat.
“Those jeans look good on you,” she said, her tone casual but laced with meaning. “They show you’re in good shape.” She didn’t mention his cock directly, but her eyes flicked down briefly, and the slight curve of her lips made her intent clear.
Richard’s mouth twitched into a half-smile, his gaze meeting hers. “Thanks,” he said simply, but there was a roughness to his voice now, a hint of desire that hadn’t been there before. He adjusted his stance, and the movement only made his arousal more apparent. Emma felt a rush of heat between her legs, her pussy already growing wet at the thought of what was to come.
The Sett
They continued along the trail, the tension between them building with every step. The woodland opened into a small clearing where the badger sett was nestled against a low embankment, a series of tunnels and mounds surrounded by trampled grass and scattered leaves. Richard squatted again, pointing out the details with the same enthusiasm he’d shown earlier. “See here,” he said, gesturing to a pile of torn grass near one of the entrances. “They’ve dragged this in for bedding. And over there,” he pointed to a patch of flattened earth,“ that is where the cubs have been playing.”
Emma squatted in front of him again, this time facing him directly. Her legs were slightly parted, the hem of her dress riding up to bunch on her thighs. The fabric had shifted just enough to expose her pussy, the trim outer lips glistening faintly with her arousal, her inner lips peeking through, a slight glimpse. She leaned forward, following his explanation, but her eyes were on his face, watching for his reaction.
Richard’s words faltered for a moment as his gaze dropped. His eyes lingered on her pussy, taking in the sight of her exposed sex, before traveling up to her breasts, still visible through the unbuttoned neckline of her dress. Finally, his eyes returned to her face, and the heat in his expression was undeniable. Emma felt a thrill run through her, her clit throbbing at the knowledge that he was looking at her, wanting her.
She shifted slightly, letting her legs part a fraction more, and Richard’s breath hitched. The bulge in his jeans had grown even more pronounced, his cock now fully hard, jutting to one side and stretching the fabric across the width of his hip. Emma’s mouth watered at the sight, her arousal spiking as she realized just how much he wanted her. The fact that he’d allowed his eyes to linger on her most intimate place told her everything she needed to know, they were going to fuck, and it was going to happen soon.
The Survey Changes
The air in the clearing seemed to thicken as Emma and Richard moved away from the badger sett, the faint rustle of leaves underfoot mingling with the distant calls of a blackbird. The tension between them had reached a fever pitch, a palpable energy that made Emma’s skin tingle with every step. Her body was a live wire, her pussy slick with arousal, the absence of underwear beneath her light summer dress making her hyper-aware of every brush of fabric against her sensitive skin. Her nipples, already hard, pressed against the cotton, and she could feel the dampness between her thighs with each movement. She glanced at Richard, her eyes drawn once again to the obscene bulge in his tight jeans. His cock was fully hard now, jutting to one side, the thick outline stretching across the width of his hip. The sight made her mouth water, her clit throbbing with need.
Emma stopped abruptly, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she leaned against a sturdy oak tree. The rough bark pressed into her back through the thin fabric of her dress, a sharp contrast to the softness of her skin. She tilted her head back slightly, her chestnut hair spilling over her shoulders, and looked at Richard with an invitation in her eyes. He didn’t hesitate. His tall frame closed the distance between them in two strides, his height towering over her as he stepped close, his body radiating heat. The scent of him, earthy, with a hint of sweat and the faint musk of his arousal, filled her senses, making her dizzy with want.
Richard leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a tentative kiss that quickly deepened into something hungry, almost desperate. His mouth was warm, his tongue teasing hers with a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent shivers down her spine. Emma moaned softly into the kiss, her hands reaching up to grip his shoulders, her fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath his t-shirt. His hand slid down her side, tracing the curve of her narrow hips before reaching for her leg. He lifted it with a gentle but firm grip, raising the skirt of her dress and exposing her pussy to the cool air of the woodland.
The sensation of being bared to him, her most intimate place on display, made Emma’s heart race. She could feel the dampness of her arousal, the way her trim outer lips glistened in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. Her inner lips, peeking through but not prominent, throbbed with need, and she knew Richard could see it all, the evidence of her desire for him. His eyes darkened as he broke the kiss, his gaze dropping to take in the sight of her. “God, Emma,” he murmured, his voice rough with lust. “You’re beautiful.”
Her hands moved with a frantic urgency, fumbling with his belt and then the button of his jeans. The metal clinked softly as she worked, her fingers trembling with anticipation. She broke the kiss, her breath coming in short gasps as she looked down to watch his cock spring free. It shot out of his jeans, thick and heavy, the foreskin partially retracted to reveal the glistening tip. The sight of him, eight inches of hard, uncut cock, so thick she couldn’t fully wrap her hand around it, made her pussy clench with need. Richard had lifted her skirt enough to fully bare her now, the fabric bunched around her waist, and without hesitation, her hand reached for him, guiding him to her entrance.
Her pussy was dripping at the opening, her arousal coating her inner thighs, but drier within, and Richard had to work his way in slowly. He thrust gently at first, each movement deeper than the last, his cock stretching her in a way that made her gasp. The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pleasure and the slightest edge of discomfort as her body adjusted to his size. Emma’s hand found her clit, rubbing in tight circles as he filled her, her fingers slick with her own juices. The combination of his thick cock and her own touch sent her spiraling toward the edge, her breath hitching as the pressure built.
Richard’s hands gripped her hips, steadying her against the tree as he thrust deeper, his movements slow but deliberate. “You’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice low and strained. “So wet for me.” His words sent a jolt of heat through her, and she moaned, her head tipping back against the bark. The rough texture scraped against her scalp, a sharp contrast to the softness of his hands on her skin, and the duality of sensations only heightened her arousal.
With each thrust, Richard’s cock slid deeper, her juices coating him, lubricating his passage. Emma’s fingers moved faster on her clit, her body trembling as the pleasure built to a crescendo. She could feel every inch of him, the way his thickness stretched her, the way the head of his cock nudged against her deepest places. Her orgasm hit her hard, a wave of pleasure that made her cry out, her voice echoing through the woods. Her pussy clenched around him, her walls pulsing as her body shuddered against the tree, the rough bark biting into her back as Richard’s firm body pressed her against it.
But Richard wasn’t done with her. He pulled out slowly, his cock slick with her juices, and knelt before her, his hands spreading her thighs wider. Emma’s legs trembled as she looked down at him, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. His lips found her sex, kissing her tenderly at first, his tongue flicking out to taste her. The sensation of his warm mouth on her sensitive clit made her whimper, her hands tangling in his hair as he began to explore her with his tongue. He lapped at her, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of her arousal.
His fingers joined his tongue, two of them sliding inside her with ease, her pussy still slick from her orgasm. He curled them, searching for the spot he knew would drive her wild, his movements careful but firm. Emma’s moans grew louder, her hips bucking against his face as he found her G-spot, the pressure sending sparks of pleasure through her. “Right there,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “Oh, God, Richard, right there.”
He didn’t let up, his fingers pressing against that sensitive spot while his tongue worked her clit, circling and flicking in a rhythm that made her see stars. Emma’s second orgasm built more slowly this time, a deep, rolling wave that started in her core and spread outward, her entire body tensing as it approached. When it hit, it was even more intense than the first, her pussy clenching around his fingers as she came, her cries echoing through the trees. Her legs gave out, and Richard’s free hand caught her, holding her up as she rode out the waves of pleasure, her body trembling against him.
Richard stood, his cock still hard and glistening with her juices, and flipped her around so she faced the tree. Emma braced her hands against the bark, her dress still bunched around her waist, her pussy exposed and aching for him. He entered her from behind, his cock sliding in with ease now, her body fully adjusted to his size. His strokes were perfect, each thrust filling her completely while also stroking her G-spot with every movement. The angle was exquisite, the head of his cock hitting that sensitive spot with every thrust, and Emma felt another orgasm building almost immediately.
A small climax rocked her, her pussy fluttering around him, but Richard didn’t stop. His hands gripped her hips, his thrusts growing faster, deeper, building her pleasure higher and higher. Emma’s moans turned to cries, her body trembling as the pressure became almost unbearable. “Richard,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “I’m going to, oh, God, I’m going to come again.”
“Let go,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “Come for me, Emma.” His words pushed her over the edge, and she came hard, her pussy clenching around his cock as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Her legs shook, her hands gripping the tree for support as her orgasm seemed to go on forever, her body shuddering with the intensity of it.
Emma pulled away from him, her pussy feeling empty without his presence, the sudden absence of his cock leaving her aching for more. She squatted and turned, her eyes locking with his as she took him into her mouth. Her hand cupped his balls, feeling their weight as she worked the small portion of his shaft she could fit, her lips stretching around his thickness. Richard groaned, his hands tangling in her hair as he watched her, his brown eyes dark with desire. She could taste herself on him, the musky sweetness of her arousal mingling with the saltiness of his skin, and the combination drove her wild.
She worked him with her mouth and hand, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive underside. Richard’s breathing grew ragged, his hips bucking slightly as he neared the edge. “Emma,” he groaned, his voice a warning. “I’m going to.” Before he could finish, hot spurts of cum sprayed into the back of her mouth, the taste of him filling her senses. She swallowed eagerly, her eyes never leaving his as she took every drop, her hand still stroking him gently as he came down from his high.
A Deeper Connection
They parted, and Emma stood, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she pulled Richard into a deep kiss. Their tongues danced together, the taste of his cum still lingering in her mouth, a shared intimacy that made her pulse race. The kiss was slow, languid, a contrast to the frantic need of moments before, and Emma felt a warmth spread through her chest, a connection that went beyond the physical. Her hand had kept hold of his cock as it softened, her fingers wrapped around the now-flaccid length, but as they kissed, she felt him swelling again, growing hard under her touch.
They broke the kiss, their breaths mingling in the cool air, and Emma looked into his eyes, seeing the same hunger she felt reflected there. Without a word, they each began to strip, their movements frantic with renewed desire. Emma pulled her dress over her head, the fabric catching briefly on her hair before she tossed it aside, leaving her completely naked in the dappled sunlight. Her slim frame, small breasts, and narrow hips were on full display, her neat pussy glistening with the evidence of her arousal. Richard yanked his t-shirt off, revealing a chest dusted with graying hair, his body still trim and fit despite his age. He kicked off his jeans, his cock springing free once more, already hard and ready for her.
Richard grabbed a blanket from his rucksack, his movements quick but deliberate, his cock waving obscenely from his groin as he worked. He spread the blanket on the ground, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the rough earth beneath, and turned to Emma, his eyes raking over her naked body. “Now let’s fuck,” he said, his voice rough with desire, and the rawness of his words sent a shiver down her spine.
Emma stepped onto the blanket, her bare feet sinking into the soft fabric, and reached for him, her hands sliding up his chest as she pulled him down with her. They knelt together, their bodies pressed close, and Emma marveled at the feel of him, his skin warm against hers, the faint roughness of his chest hair against her breasts, the hard length of his cock pressing into her stomach. She kissed him again, her hands roaming his body, tracing the lines of his arms, the curve of his hips, the strength still evident in his 59-year-old frame.
Richard’s hands were on her too, exploring her with a reverence that made her heart ache. He cupped her small breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, making her gasp into his mouth. His hands slid down her sides, tracing the dip of her waist, the flare of her narrow hips, before settling on her ass, pulling her closer. “You’re incredible,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t get enough of you.”
Emma smiled, her hands sliding down to grip his cock, stroking him slowly as she looked into his eyes. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice a sultry promise. She pushed him back gently, guiding him to lie down on the blanket, and straddled him, her thighs bracketing his hips. His cock stood proud between them, thick and hard, and Emma positioned herself above him, her pussy hovering just over the tip. She teased him for a moment, rubbing her slick folds against him, coating him with her arousal, before sinking down slowly, taking him inch by inch.
The stretch was exquisite, his thickness filling her completely, and Emma moaned as she settled onto him, her hands braced on his chest. She began to move, her hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm, her breasts bouncing slightly with each thrust. Richard’s hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements, his eyes locked on hers as she rode him. The pleasure built quickly, her clit grinding against his pelvis with every downward thrust, and Emma felt another orgasm approaching, her body trembling with the intensity of it.
She came with a cry, her pussy clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed through her, her nails digging into his chest. Richard groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he felt her walls pulse around him, her juices coating his cock. But he didn’t let her stop. He sat up, pulling her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her as he began to thrust up into her, his movements deep and powerful. Emma clung to him, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed to his as they moved together, their bodies in perfect sync.
They fucked like that for what felt like hours, their movements slowing at times, becoming languid and sensual, savoring the feel of each other. Richard’s hands roamed her body, tracing the curve of her spine, the softness of her thighs, the small of her back. Emma’s fingers explored his shoulders, his arms, the hard lines of his hips, marveling at the way his body felt against hers. They kissed deeply, their tongues tangling, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other.
Eventually, Richard flipped her onto her back, her legs wrapping around his waist as he entered her again, his thrusts slow and deep. The blanket beneath her was soft, a contrast to the hard ground, and Emma arched her back, her hands gripping his shoulders as he drove into her. Their eyes locked, a shared intensity passing between them, and Emma felt a connection she hadn’t expected, a deep, primal bond that went beyond the physical.
They switched positions again, Richard taking her from behind, his hands gripping her hips as he pounded into her, her moans echoing through the woods. Emma’s hands braced against the blanket, her body rocking with each thrust, the pleasure building once more. She came again, her pussy clenching around him, her cries mingling with the sounds of the woodland, the rustle of leaves, the distant cry of a Jay.
By the time they finally collapsed on the blanket, spent and sated, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the woodland in a soft twilight glow. Emma lay in Richard’s arms, her head resting on his chest, their bodies still tangled together. She could hear the steady thump of his heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, and she felt a deep satisfaction, her needs fulfilled in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Richard’s hand stroked her hair, a tender gesture that made her smile, and she knew this wouldn’t be the last time they met like this.
They dressed slowly, their movements languid, and packed up their things. As they walked back along the trail, the air between them was different now, still charged, but with a new understanding. Emma’s body hummed with the memory of their encounter, her pussy still tingling with the aftershocks of her orgasms, and she couldn’t help but glance at Richard, a smile playing on her lips. The thought of what they’d shared and what they might share again made her pulse race with anticipation.
It was a crisp Tuesday evening, the school long since deserted, and Richard’s battered white van sat parked in the staff lot, its windows fogging up before they’d even started. He’d spent the day fixing a busted boiler, but his mind was on Selena’s promise: the back of his van, where no one could interrupt. She’d slipped out after her shift, trading her apron for a tight black sweater and a skirt so short it barely qualified as clothing. Her buxom chest strained the wool, and Richard’s cock twitched the moment she climbed in.
“Nice ride,” Selena purred, shutting the van door with a thud. The back was a cluttered mess, tools, blankets, a rolled-up tarp, but she didn’t care. She shoved a toolbox aside and perched on a makeshift bench of plywood, legs spread just enough to flash red panties. Richard loomed in the cramped space, his height forcing him to duck slightly, his eyes dark with hunger. “It’s about to get nicer,” he growled, kicking off his boots and yanking his shirt over his head, revealing a chest dusted with dark hair.
She didn’t wait for an invitation. Grabbing his belt, she tugged him closer, unzipping him with a practiced flick. His cock sprang free, thick and ready, and she licked her lips before taking him in her mouth. “Fuck, Selena,” he hissed, hands tangling in her hair as she sucked him deep, her tongue swirling around the tip. She hummed around him, the vibration making his knees buckle, and he braced one hand against the van’s wall. “You’re too bloody good at that.”
Selena pulled back, a string of spit connecting her lips to his cock, and grinned. “Just warming you up, tall man.” She stood, peeling off her sweater to reveal no bra her heavy breasts bounced free, nipples peaked in the cool air. Richard groaned, spinning her around and bending her over the tarp-covered bench. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you scream,” he promised, hiking her skirt up and ripping her panties down to her ankles.
He didn’t tease his cock slid into her dripping pussy in one hard thrust, stretching her wide. Selena moaned, loud and shameless, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the tarp. “Yes, right there!” she gasped as he slammed into her, his thick shaft grinding against her G-spot with every stroke. The van rocked slightly, creaking on its shocks, and Richard gripped her hips, pounding harder. “Tight little devil, aren’t you?” he grunted, one hand reaching around to squeeze her swaying tits.
She pushed back against him, meeting his rhythm, her moans echoing in the metal box. “Harder, fuck me stupid!” she begged, and he delivered, his cock relentless, pressing that sweet spot until her legs shook. His fingers found her clit, rubbing fast, and she shattered, her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, her pussy clamping down as she screamed his name, “Richard, oh fuck, yes!” Juices dripped down her thighs, soaking the tarp, and he kept thrusting, dragging it out until she was a trembling mess.
He wasn’t done. Flipping her onto her back across the bench, he spread her legs wide, hooking them over his shoulders. “My turn,” he rasped, plunging back in, her slick heat sucking him deep. Her tits jiggled with every thrust, and she clawed at his arms, still reeling from her climax. “You’re a fucking beast,” she panted, eyes glazed with lust. He smirked, leaning down to bite her nipple, then kissed her hard as he came, spilling inside her with a roar, his cock pulsing against her walls.
They collapsed together, breathless, the van smelling of sex and sweat. Selena traced a finger down his chest, smirking. “Hope you’ve got good suspension, think we tested it.” Richard laughed, pulling her close. “Next time, your place. I want you on a proper bed, screaming louder.” She nipped his ear, already plotting. “Bring your tools, big man. I’ve got plenty to fix.”
The room was dimly lit, shadows swaying languidly across the walls, cast by the trembling flame of a single candle perched on a weathered wooden table. The air hung thick, almost oppressive, saturated with a tension that seemed to hum in her ears, as if the space itself knew what was about to unfold. She paused at the threshold, one hand resting lightly against the doorframe, her breath catching in her chest like a trapped bird. The weight of the moment draped over her shoulders, heavy and warm like a velvet shroud, pulling her into its embrace. Her pulse quickened, a staccato rhythm against her ribs, as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. And then she saw him.
He stood across the room, his silhouette cutting a sharp line against the soft, amber glow, a figure carved from shadow and desire. But it was his eyes that seized her, pinning her where she stood. They roamed over her, slow and deliberate, a gaze so piercing it stripped away every layer of fabric before she’d even taken a step. It wasn’t subtle, it was raw, primal, an animalistic hunger so blatant it sent a shiver racing down her spine, prickling her skin with gooseflesh. His jaw tightened, a muscle flickering beneath the stubble, and his lips parted slightly, as if he could already taste the salt of her skin. In the lines of his face, she could read every wicked intention he harbored for that night, promises of touch, of heat, of a collision that would leave them both undone. Two souls, caught in a meeting so fierce and unyielding that the outside world dissolved into nothingness, no streets beyond the walls, no stars above, no sound but the thrum of their shared gravity. It was as if the universe itself whispered through the silence, “I don’t have to sell my soul, he’s already in me,” the words of The Stone Roses threading through her mind like a dark, velvet ribbon.
Her body reacted before her thoughts could catch up, a traitor to her composure. A warm ache bloomed deep between her thighs, a slick heat that pulsed in time with her racing heart, spreading outward like wildfire. Her breasts felt heavy, straining against the confines of her dress, the fabric brushing against her skin until her nipples tightened into aching points, as if they knew what was coming, as if they were already reaching for him. It was that sensation the charged stillness just before lightning tears the sky apart, when the air crackles and the hair on her neck rises in anticipation. She felt it building, that prickly, atmospheric energy coiling tighter with every second, wrapping around her like a lover’s breath. Her fingers trembled slightly as she smoothed them over the curve of her hip, grounding herself in the texture of the fabric, the last barrier between her and what lay ahead.
She took a step forward, her movements slow, deliberate, each one a quiet declaration of intent. The wooden floor creaked beneath her bare feet, a sound swallowed by the thick silence. Her fingers found the hem of her dress, the soft cotton cool against her heated skin, and she began to lift it, inch by tantalizing inch. The rustle of fabric was deafening in the stillness, a whisper that seemed to echo off the walls, and his eyes tracked every motion, drinking her in with a greed that made her pulse stutter. She let the dress slide over her hips, past the dip of her waist, revealing the lace beneath, a delicate black web that clung to her like a second skin. Each discarded piece, first the dress pooling at her feet, then the lace slipping down her thighs, stoked the fire in him. His chest rose and fell faster, his hands flexing at his sides, knuckles whitening as if it took every shred of his will to stay rooted where he stood. She could smell it now, that animal scent rising between them, musk and heat and desire so thick it coated the back of her throat, a primal perfume that promised everything. It was the smell of sex, of what was about to happen, and it sent her head spinning, her senses drowning in its potency.
She stood bare now, nothing left to shed, her skin kissed by the faint warmth of the candlelight. The cool air brushed against her, raising the fine hairs on her arms, but it was his gaze that made her shiver. He moved then, sudden, decisive, a predator closing in. He crossed the room in three strides but stopped just short, mere inches from her, his breath ragged and uneven as he took her in. His eyes swept over her, lingering on the curve of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the shadow between her thighs, as if she were a masterpiece unveiled for the first time. She saw it in his expression, a reverence, a hunger, an adoration so fierce it stole the air from her lungs and set her heart pounding against her ribs. He reached out, his fingers hovering an inch from her skin, trembling slightly as if he needed a moment to memorize her, to let the sight of her sink deep into his bones. She’d never been so seen, so worshipped, like a rare and priceless treasure laid bare before him, something he couldn’t believe he’d been granted the privilege to behold. “I wanna be adored,” she thought, the lyrics of The Stone Roses swelling in her chest like a hymn, and there it was etched into every line of his face, that exact devotion she’d yearned for, a mirror to the song’s aching plea.
“Do you know what you do to me?” he murmured, his voice rough, almost fractured, as if the words had clawed their way out of him. His hand finally brushed her skin, a featherlight touch along her arm that sent a jolt through her, igniting every nerve. And there it was, the look she’d craved, the one that declared she was everything, that she was adored. It washed over her in waves, intoxicating, a high so pure and heady she could have lived in it forever. Confidence surged within her, a quiet courage she hadn’t known she possessed, rising like a tide to meet the moment. She stepped closer, closing that final gap, her bare skin pressing against the rough fabric of his shirt, the heat of him seeping into her. Their bodies collided, a spark catching flame, and she tilted her head, her breath grazing his neck as his hands found her waist, pulling her tighter against him.
The world beyond the room ceased to exist, no time, no space, just the two of them locked in this orbit. His fingers traced the curve of her spine, mapping her like a cartographer charting sacred ground, while her lips brushed the hollow beneath his ear, drawing a low, guttural sound from him that vibrated through her. Their scents mingled in the air his sharp and earthy, hers soft and sweet blending into something new, something that belonged only to this moment. She could feel the tension in him, the barely restrained need, and it mirrored her own, a wildfire roaring beneath her skin. And in that instant, she understood: if you could bottle this feeling, this perfect, primal union where “I wanna be adored” wasn’t just a song but a truth carved into her very being, you’d never want for anything else. It was a sensation so profound, so complete, that it should be a birthright, a gift every soul deserved to claim at least once in their lifetime.
The candle flickered, casting their entwined shadows against the wall, and she let herself sink deeper into him, into the certainty of what they’d become. This was more than desire, it was a reckoning, a moment that would linger in her blood, bold and unshaken, for the rest of her days. She’d found it, that intoxicating adoration she’d dreamed of, and as his lips finally found hers, she knew she’d carry it with her always, a fire that would never fade.
Two weeks had passed since the dunes, and the memory of that afternoon still burned in my mind, Richard’s thick cock filling me, Louise’s hungry eyes, the salty air mingling with our gasps. We’d kept in touch on X, a private thread of flirty banter and Richard’s cheeky limericks, like, Three souls by the sea found their spark, in sand where desires disembark, with a wink and a grin, they’d soon meet again, for a night that would blaze in the dark. So here I was, mid-thirties, my rounded body hugged by a black dress that clung to my large breasts, stepping into a seaside restaurant. The date night was Richard’s idea a classy meal, then back to his hotel. Louise had agreed instantly, and I couldn’t say no.
The place was upscale, all soft lighting and polished wood, the murmur of conversation blending with the clink of cutlery. Richard stood as I approached, tall and slim, his late fifties softened by a tailored blazer, his silver hair catching the glow. “Lynn, you’re a vision,” he said, his voice smooth and warm, that naughty edge lurking beneath. He pulled out my chair, ever the gentleman, though I knew what hid behind his polish.
Louise arrived moments later, her tall, lean frame striking in a deep green dress, her small, shapely breasts subtly outlined. “Well, don’t we clean up nicely?” she teased, sliding into her seat beside Richard. He sat between us, a grin spreading as he poured wine.
“Only the best for my muses,” he said, raising his glass. “To nights worth writing about, A trio once wild by the shore, now dine with a hunger for more…” He trailed off, winking, and we laughed, clinking glasses. The meal unfolded with ease, succulent seafood, rich sauces, the kind of food that felt indulgent. But the real feast was the tension simmering between us. Richard’s knee brushed mine under the table, deliberate and slow, while Louise’s fingers grazed his arm as she leaned in to whisper something that made him chuckle darkly.
“You’re incorrigible,” I said, sipping my wine, feeling the heat rise in my chest.
“Guilty,” he replied, leaning closer. “But you love it. Both of you do.”
Louise smirked. “He’s not wrong. I’ve been thinking about that cove all week, your poetry wasn’t the only thing that stuck with me.”
The flirtation escalated with dessert, a shared chocolate torte that left us licking spoons and trading loaded glances. By the time Richard suggested we head to his hotel, “A hot tub awaits, ladies”, my pulse was racing, my dress feeling tighter than ever.
The Hotel Room
The hotel was a short walk, the night air cool against my flushed skin. Richard’s room was a suite, spacious and modern, with a private balcony where a steaming hot tub bubbled under string lights. “Make yourselves at home,” he said, shedding his blazer with that casual grace I remembered. Louise and I exchanged a look, a silent agreement, and kicked off our heels.
“Hot tub first?” Louise asked, already tugging at her dress. She stripped down to a black bra and panties, her slim body glowing in the soft light. I followed, peeling off my dress, my large breasts spilling free as I unhooked my bra, my neat pussy barely concealed by lace. Richard watched, his eyes dark with hunger, then pulled off his shirt and trousers, leaving his boxers. That thick, shaved cock pressed against the fabric, a promise we all recognized.
“No need for modesty,” he said, sliding the boxers down. It sprang free, heavy and bold, just as I remembered. He stepped into the hot tub, the water swirling around his lean frame, and beckoned us in. “Join me, muses.”
I hesitated, then shed the rest, my skin prickling as I sank into the heat. Louise did the same, her small breasts bobbing as she settled beside him. The water lapped at us, jets pulsing against my thighs, and Richard grinned. “Three bodies in steam reunite, a dance of the flesh in the night…” he murmured, his voice low.
“Keep going,” I teased, splashing him lightly. “You’re good at this.”
He laughed, pulling us closer, one arm around each of us. “Only because you inspire me.” His hands roamed, mine to my breast, squeezing gently, Louise’s to her hip, possessive. The water amplified every touch, slick and warm, and I felt my breath hitch.
Louise leaned in, kissing his neck, then me, her lips soft and daring. “We should make this a night to remember,” she whispered, and I nodded, my hand finding Richard’s cock beneath the water. It was already stiffening, thick and heavy in my grip.
“God, it feels even bigger like this,” I said, passing it to Louise. She took it eagerly, stroking slow.
“Like a damn rod,” she agreed, her fingers curling around it. “Look how it throbs.”
We played with him, hands sliding in unison, the water sloshing as he grew fully hard. “A scepter arises in haste, two hands give its glory a taste…” he groaned, half-laughing, and we silenced him with our mouths. I went first, ducking under the water to suck the tip, the heat and bubbles swirling around me as it swelled in my mouth. I surfaced, gasping, and Louise took her turn, her lips wrapping around him, then lower to his balls, sucking gently. We traded off, our mouths meeting along his length, tongues clashing in a wet, messy dance until he was rigid, pulsing, a marvel slick with water and spit.
The Ecstasy
Louise pulled back, water dripping from her chin. “Lynn, ride him. He’s begging for it.”
I straddled him, the hot tub’s edge supporting my knees as I guided that massive cock to my entrance. The water made it slick, but my tight pussy still stretched deliciously as I sank down, inch by thick inch, until he was buried deep. “Fuck,” I gasped, the fullness overwhelming, a sweet ache that pulsed with every jet against my skin. His hands gripped my breasts, kneading hard, fingers pinching my nipples as I rocked, the water splashing around us. My own fingers found my clit, rubbing fast, the pleasure sharp and electric. Then I caught Louise’s eye watching, one hand between her thighs, and the thrill spiked, knowing she saw me unravel. I came hard, my walls clenching tight, a scream tearing free as the orgasm ripped through me, amplified by the heat and her gaze.
Louise pushed me aside gently, claiming him next. She mounted him, her slim body rising and falling, water cascading off her small breasts as she rode. I watched, mesmerized, her moans sharp against the hum of the tub, her face contorted in bliss. Richard’s hands gripped her hips, guiding her, and he beckoned me with a grunt. “Lynn, here.”
I straddled his face, lowering until his tongue plunged into me, hot and relentless. The water lapped at my thighs as he licked, sucking my clit with a hunger that made my legs shake. Louise’s rhythm faltered, her cry piercing the air as she came, her body shuddering before she slid off, panting against the tub’s edge.
Richard didn’t pause. He lifted me off his face, maneuvering me onto all fours, my hands gripping the rim as water sloshed over us. He entered me from behind, that thick cock driving deep, the angle brutal and perfect. He fucked me hard, long thrusts that slapped against my arse, each one rattling my core. “A tempest of flesh in the steam…” he growled, mid-thrust, and I lost it, my pussy clamped down, milking him as I exploded, a raw, guttural scream escaping as the orgasm tore me apart. He grunted, pulling out, his cock pulsing as he sprayed my back with cum, hot and thick, mixing with the water dripping down my spine.
We collapsed, breathless, the tub’s jets still bubbling around us. Louise laughed softly, trailing a finger through the water. “Better than the dunes.”
Richard, spent, grinned. “A night in the foam, wild and free, a poem writ by you and me…” His voice was hoarse, but the spark in his eyes promised more verses, and more nights to come.
The air in the pub buzzed with laughter and the clink of glasses, a warm hum of thirty voices mingling under the low wooden beams. It was a small seaside town, the kind where the salt lingered in the breeze, and tonight, it hosted an eclectic gathering of people who’d connected through #NSFW posts on X. About twenty-five women and fifteen men sprawled across tables littered with pint glasses and crisp packets. I sat near the center, my rounded frame tucked into a cushioned bench, acutely aware of my large breasts straining against my top. To my left was Richard, tall and slim, his late fifties showing in the silver at his temples but not in the spark of his eyes. He spoke with polished charm, every word measured yet laced with a naughty edge that made my pulse quicken. To his left sat Louise, late forties, tall and lean, her small, shapely breasts hinted at beneath a fitted blouse, her posture exuding quiet confidence.
The group discussion swirled around us, raunchy tales of X posts, debates about boundaries, the thrill of the taboo, but Richard, Louise, and I had carved out our own little world. “You’ve got a wicked mind, Lynn,” Richard said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned closer, his knee brushing mine under the table. “Those posts of yours leave little to the imagination.”
I grinned, heat creeping up my neck. “Takes one to know one, doesn’t it? Your captions are downright sinful, and those limericks you sneak in? Pure filth.”
He chuckled, a deep, rich sound, and leaned back. “A poet’s soul, guilty as charged. How about this one: There once was a lass with a flair, whose posts left us all in a stare, with curves so divine, she’d make hearts align, and leave naughty thoughts in the air.” His eyes twinkled as he recited it, aimed squarely at me.
Louise laughed, clapping lightly. “Oh, that’s brilliant, Richard. You’ve got her pegged. And that last photo you shared well, it’s a good thing this pub’s dimly lit, or we’d all see you blushing.”
Richard shifted, his thigh pressing more firmly against mine. “I’ll take that as a compliment from both you lovely ladies. Poetry’s my other vice, keeps the mind sharp and the tongue… nimble.” His gaze flicked between us, bold and unapologetic, and I felt a shiver of anticipation. The flirtation was electric, a dance of words and glances that made the crowded room fade away.
Needing a breather from the heat, I steered the conversation elsewhere. “Richard, you’re mad about wildlife, aren’t you? I’ve seen your posts almost as passionate as your verses.”
His face lit up, the naughty glint softening into enthusiasm. “Oh, absolutely. There’s something primal about it, don’t you think? The raw beauty of nature, it is poetry in motion.”
Louise leaned in, her eyes brightening. “I’m the same. Seals, especially, I could watch them for hours. They’re so graceful, yet wild.”
“Seals?” I said, catching her drift. “Perfect timing, we’re right by the coast. Do they come near here?”
Richard nodded, a conspiratorial grin spreading. “I know exactly where they are. Just a short walk, a little cove most miss. They bask there this time of year. I’ve even written about them, The seals by the shore weave a tale, of slick silver skin and a wail, in the surf they play free, a wild symphony, nature’s lust in each flip of their tail.”
Louise stood abruptly, her voice cutting through the din. “Right, everyone! Richard, Lynn, and I are off to find some seals. Anyone joining us?” Her tone was light, but her eyes locked on ours, daring us. The group murmured, some laughing, others shaking their heads, none took the bait. It was just us three.
As we wove toward the door, I caught Louise’s arm. “Was that invitation genuine, or…?” I let the question hang, my voice low.
She smirked, her expression vague. “Depends on what you’re hoping for, Lynn.” Her wink left me wondering, my stomach fluttering as we stepped into the cool night air.
The Dunes
The walk to the cove was brisk, the sea’s whisper growing louder as we descended a narrow path between dunes. We settled on a small patch of sand, shielded by grassy mounds, and there they were seals, their sleek bodies glistening in the sun. We sat entranced, the world shrinking to the rhythmic slap of waves and their lazy barks. Richard murmured, almost to himself, “In sunlight they gleam like wet stone, a chorus of life all their own…” His voice trailed off, lost in the sight.
After a few minutes, the seals slipped into the water, vanishing beneath the surface. Richard broke the spell. “They’ll be off feeding now. Won’t be back for a while.”
Louise stretched, her long limbs catching the light. “This is a perfect spot to sunbathe, don’t you think?” She glanced at us, a silent challenge in her nod. I nodded back, my heart pounding, and Richard grinned, already tugging at his shirt.
He stripped with casual ease, peeling off his clothes until he reached his boxers. Then, without hesitation, he slid them down, his large, thick cock springing free, freshly shaved, as I’d expected from his meticulous nature. It hung there, bold and unashamed, and he froze, suddenly sheepish as he glanced at us, still in our bras and knickers. “Sorry, ladies, I might’ve gone too far”
“No, no,” I cut in, my voice eager. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for. It’s… impressive.”
Louise nodded, her gaze lingering. “Very welcome, Richard. You’ve got a gorgeous body, don’t hide it.”
“Really, it’s fine,” I added, catching Louise’s eye, our words weaving together. “Accepted, absolutely.”
In sync, we shed our clothes. I felt the air kiss my skin, my large breasts swaying free, my neat pussy bare. Louise’s slim frame glowed beside me, her small breasts pert. Richard’s eyes widened, drinking us in, and he quipped, “Two sirens arise from the sand, with beauty no mortal withstands…” Before he could finish, we pushed him gently onto the blankets.
He lay back, naked and sprawling, and we sat on either side of his hips, treating him like a sculpture. “Look at this,” I said, hushed as I studied his cock, thick and resting against his thigh. “It’s so… substantial.”
Louise tilted her head, appraising. “Smooth, too. Perfectly shaped, almost too good to be real.”
I reached out, wrapping my fingers around it. “God, it’s heavy,” I said, lifting it toward her. She took it eagerly, her slim hand testing its heft.
“Solid,” she agreed, stroking it. “Feels like it’s waking up.”
We toyed with him, passing it back and forth, marveling as it stiffened. It grew, thick and pulsing, and Richard murmured, “A rod rises proud in their grasp, two muses who tease and clasp…” We laughed, ignoring his verse as we continued. “Look how it curves,” I said, tracing its length. “Beautiful.”
Louise teased the tip. “And responsive. He’s loving this.”
I leaned down first, my lips brushing the head, tasting salt. It swelled in my mouth, stretching my lips. Louise dipped lower, sucking his balls, her tongue careful. His groans spurred us, and soon we were both at his cock, lips meeting along its length, tongues tangling until he was rock-hard, glistening.
Louise pulled back, breathless. “Lynn, ride him. He’s ready.”
I straddled his hips, guiding that massive cock to my entrance, my tight pussy aching as I sank down. The stretch was exquisite, filling me completely. His hands found my breasts, kneading them, thumbs flicking my nipples as I rocked. My fingers slipped to my clit, circling fast, pleasure building. Then I remembered Louise watching, eyes dark with lust and the thrill doubled. I came hard, clenching around him, a cry tearing free as waves crashed through me.
The Finale
Louise claimed him next, swinging a leg over his hips as I slid off, trembling. I watched, mesmerized, as she took him in, her slim body arching. Her small breasts bounced, her face twisting in ecstasy, and I couldn’t look away her pleasure was raw, magnetic. Richard, beneath her, muttered, “A dance of desire in the sun…” but his words dissolved into a groan.
He beckoned me, husky. “Lynn, come here.” I straddled his face, lowering until his tongue found me. It was heaven, hot and insistent, lapping my clit as I gripped the blanket. Louise’s rhythm faltered as she came, a sharp cry escaping, and she flopped off, spent.
Richard shifted me onto all fours, his hands firm on my hips. He entered me from behind, driving deep, relentless. He fucked me hard, long thrusts rattling my bones, each one pushing me closer. “A rhythm of flesh, wild and free…” he gasped, mid-thrust, and I exploded, my pussy clamping down, milking him. He grunted, pulling out, his cum spraying across my back, warm and thick, marking me as he collapsed.
We lay tangled in the aftermath, the seals forgotten, the dunes our witnesses. Richard panted, “Three souls in the sand, undone…” and we laughed, too breathless to care. The sun dipped lower, and I knew this was a story beyond X but one I’d never forget.
On X’s wild stage, he found her light, A spark of her, both bold and shy, Her words, her frames, they stole his sight, A sensual soul beneath the sky. She doubts her form, her face, her grace, Yet through her posts, he sees her truth, Each line she shares, each tender trace, Reveals a beauty born of truth.
That image haunts, black bra, black lace, She leans to view, a gift unfurled, The cups pulled low, her breasts embrace, Fantastic curves that shift his world. She calls them flawed, unsure, unwell, But he deems them perfection’s art, A vision where his heart would dwell, A marvel carved by life’s own heart.
Her thighs, they call, a silken plea, Inviting fingers to explore, Their fullness stirs a need in he, A touch he’s dreamed of, and much more. Her knickers hug her mound so tight, A tease of secrets held within, He ponders joys in that delight, What pleasures bloom beneath her skin.
Her face, she claims, feels out of place, Awkwardness she’s learned to scorn, Yet X has shown, in every space, A chorus lifts where doubt was born. “They say her eyes are stars,” he hears, “Her smile’s a dawn,” they softly sing, He nods, her features banish fears, An art, a queen, a sacred thing.
He’d start with her, so slow, so sure, Undressing her with reverent care, Her lovely neck, a path so pure, He’d kiss and linger, warm and bare. Downward then, his lips would roam, Past breasts that rise, past mound’s sweet swell, To legs he’d trace, his hands a home, Exploring all her form would tell.
Outside her thighs, his fingers glide, A tender map of flesh and grace, His mouth would follow, side by side, Each inch a shrine, a cherished place. Upward then, her legs would part, An invitation, soft and free, He’d answer with his beating heart, To show the want she stirs in he.
First fingers, gentle, seek her core, A dance of touch, a slow caress, Then mouth descends, to taste, adore, Her warmth, her wet, a sweet excess. His tongue would weave, his lips would play, Each sigh she gives, his guiding star, He’d worship her in every way, To prove how perfect that they are.
Their bodies then would slowly meld, His cock would glide, a tender fit, In her, his love, his soul compelled, A fire where their passions lit. They’d move as one, a rhythm sweet, Her thighs around him, tight, alive, Each thrust a vow, each breath complete, A union where their spirits thrive.
She doubts her shell, her mirrored gaze, But he sees all, her soul, her skin, Perfection lies in all her ways, A beauty fierce, a glow within. On X she blooms, and he’s her muse, Entranced by every post she shares, His heart, it knows it can’t refuse, A woman wondrous, bold, and rare.
These verses sing his heartfelt plea, Of her, his dawn, his muse, his night, Her body, face, her sensuality, Are treasures bathed in purest light. No flaw he sees, no fault to mend, Just her, unveiled, a perfect sight, Their passion’s start, its blissful end, A love ignited, burning bright.
For him, it’s the weight of her gaze, locked tight, A rhythm he sets with hips pressed close, Her warmth beneath, a cradle of light, Each thrust a pulse through veins verbose. Her legs part wide, a welcoming frame, He feels her breath, her whispered plea, Control is his, a steady claim, Yet tender in her arms he’d be. For her, it’s his strength above, a shield, His chest a wall, his eyes a fire, She pulls him in, her body yields, A dance of trust, a shared desire. Her hands explore his back, his strain, Each move a wave that rocks her core, She’s grounded here, yet free to reign, A union deep, an ancient lore. His pace can shift, from soft to bold, Her sighs a guide, a rising tide, Together they meld, a tale retold, In closeness where their worlds collide.
Doggy
He grips her hips, a primal hold, Her curves align, a sight to chase, The angle deep, the thrust so bold, A rush that floods his every space. For him, it’s power, raw and free, Her arch a gift, her sway a call, He drives with force, yet feels her glee, A rhythm wild that conquers all. For her, it’s surrender, yet control, Her knees dig in, her back a bow, Each push ignites her deepest soul, A spark that only he can sow. She feels him fill her, stretch her wide, A heat that builds from root to crown, Her hands grip sheets, her voice a tide, A storm where she can’t help but drown. He loves the view, her form displayed, She revels in the feral play, Together they’re a beast remade, In shadows where their passions sway.
Cowgirl
For her, it’s reign atop his throne, She rides his length, a queen in stride, Her hips dictate the tempo’s tone, A power surge she can’t subside. She grinds or bounces, sets the pace, His hands on her, a guiding touch, Her pleasure blooms across her face, A freedom he can’t love too much. For him, it’s her, a vision bold, Her breasts sway free, her eyes alight, He’s hers to use, to have, to hold, A thrill beneath her ruling might. He feels her clench, her warmth descend, Each roll a wave that pulls him in, She takes him deep, a rising trend, A dance where both can only win. Her breath grows sharp, her rhythm wild, His groans a hymn to her command, She leads them both, a fiery child, In union forged by her own hand.
Reverse Cowgirl
She turns away, a daring twist, For her, it’s freedom in reverse, Her hips still rule, her wrists assist, A grind that makes his senses burst. She feels him hit a hidden spot, A curve that sparks her inner flame, Her back to him, she calls each shot, A thrill where she’s the one to tame. For him, it’s her silhouette in view, Her spine a line, her ass a prize, He thrusts below, a force anew, A heat that climbs between his thighs. He loves the mystery, her sway, She moves with grace, a backward dance, His hands can grip or fall away, A ride that builds in sweet expanse. Her cries ring out, her pace her own, His pulse aligns, a mirrored beat, Together they’re a wild unknown, In flipped delight where passions meet.
Spooning
For him, it’s closeness, skin to skin, Her back to chest, a tender fit, He slides inside, a gentle win, A slow burn where their bodies knit. His arm around, he holds her near, Each thrust a nudge, a soft caress, He feels her sigh, her warmth so clear, A peace in love’s own quiet press. For her, it’s safety, wrapped in him, His breath on neck, a whispered song, She melts into his every whim, A place where she can just belong. The angle’s soft, yet deep enough, Her hips tilt back, a subtle plea, She feels his care, his steady bluff, A bond that flows so naturally. His pace is calm, her heart at ease, They rock as one, a gentle tide, In spooning’s glow, they find release, A warmth where souls and flesh reside.
Standing
He lifts her up or bends her low, For him, it’s strength, a bold display, Her body pressed, a vertical show, A rush that sweeps his breath away. The wall a brace, her legs a grip, He thrusts with force, a standing claim, Each move a jolt, a heated trip, A fire stoked in passion’s frame. For her, it’s thrill, the upright dare, His hands support, his power near, She feels the air, the wild affair, A surge that drowns out every fear. Her back may arch, her thighs may wrap, A dance defying gravity’s pull, She rides his strength, a sudden snap, A storm where both their senses mull. He loves the challenge, she the height, Together they defy the norm, In standing’s rush, they find their might, A clash of flesh in fervent form.
Lotus
For him, it’s her upon his lap, Legs crossed, a seat of tender grace, He pulls her close, a loving trap, Her eyes a mirror to his face. Each thrust is short, yet deep and true, Her chest to his, a heartbeat’s blend, He feels her pulse, her warmth anew, A union where their spirits mend. For her, it’s intimacy’s embrace, His thighs a throne, his arms a nest, She rocks with him, a sacred space, A closeness pressed against his chest. Her legs entwine, her hips align, A slow grind builds their shared delight, She feels his breath, his soul’s design, A bond that glows in softest light. His hands caress, her sighs respond, They sway as one, a lotus bloom, In stillness fierce, they forge beyond, A love that fills the quiet room.
Sixty-Nine
He lies beneath, her taste so near, For him, it’s dual, a mirrored treat, Her mouth on him, a thrill so clear, A cycle where their pleasures meet. He laps her core, her scent a guide, Each lick a spark, a give-and-take, He feels her hum, his rising tide, A dance where both their senses wake. For her, it’s his, a pulsing prize, She takes him deep, her tongue a play, His lips below, a sweet surprise, A rhythm shared in bold display. She feels his groan, his breath on her, A loop of bliss, a mutual hum, Her hips may buck, her thoughts a blur, A storm where both their rivers run. He loves the chaos, she the sync, Together they’re a tangled flame, In sixty-nine, they teeter brink, A game where neither stakes a claim.
Scissor
For him, it’s angles sharp and strange, Her legs a V, his hips askew, He slides inside, a tight exchange, A twist that feels both wild and new. The friction’s odd, yet hits just right, He grips her thigh, a guiding star, Each thrust a test of strength and sight, A puzzle locked from near to far. For her, it’s stretch, a daring pose, His shaft a line that cuts through deep, She feels the clash, the way it grows, A spark that makes her body leap. Her hips adjust, her core aligns, A slant that shifts her inner glow, She rides the edge, the strange confines, A heat that only he can sow. He loves the fit, she loves the strain, Together they’re a jagged dance, In scissor’s grip, they break the plane, A union born of bold expanse.
Wheelbarrow
He stands behind, her legs in hand, For him, it’s play, a lifting rush, Her weight a challenge he can stand, A thrust that makes his senses flush. The angle’s steep, the plunge profound, He feels her clench, her pulse so tight, Each move a game on shaky ground, A thrill that soars to primal height. For her, it’s trust, a wild ascent, Her hands press down, her body free, She feels him deep, a fierce intent, A ride where gravity’s the key. Her core ignites, her breath a cry, A stretch that pulls her every nerve, She’s held aloft, yet she can fly, A curve where pleasures twist and swerve. He loves the sport, she loves the dare, Together they defy the fall, In wheelbarrow, they strip it bare, A romp that answers passion’s call.
Butterfly
For him, it’s her upon the edge, A table’s lip, her hips aligned, He stands and thrusts, a perfect pledge, A depth where all his thoughts unwind. Her legs aloft, his hands a brace, He feels her open, wet and wide, Each stroke a claim, a steady pace, A rush that swells his every stride. For her, it’s lift, a floating state, Her back reclines, her thighs apart, She feels him plunge, a piercing fate, A spark that strikes her beating heart. Her hands may grip, her voice may rise, A position poised for pure release, She’s bared to him, a sweet surprise, A bloom where tensions find their peace. He loves the view, she loves the soar, Together they’re a fragile flight, In butterfly, they both explore, A dance of edges in the night.
Pretzel Dip
He kneels between, her leg up high, For him, it’s twist, a knot of flesh, A thrust that curves, a deep-cut sigh, A blend where bodies intermesh. Her warmth surrounds, her grip so tight, He feels the pull, the sideways slant, Each move a spark, a wild delight, A rhythm born of bold enchant. For her, it’s stretch, a daring bend, One leg aloft, the other down, She feels him deep, a piercing send, A thrill that makes her senses drown. Her hips adjust, her core responds, A pose that mixes soft and fierce, She rides the wave, the heated bonds, A dip where pleasure’s arrow pierce. He loves the tangle, she the play, Together they’re a twisted art, In pretzel’s grip, they find their way, A clash that binds them heart to heart.
Legs on Shoulders
He lifts her legs, a high ascent, For him, it’s depth, a plunging line, Her ankles rest, his shoulders bent, A thrust that feels both fierce and fine. He grips her thighs, her core exposed, Each stroke a dive, a forceful claim, He feels her quake, her heat unclosed, A rush that sets his soul aflame. For her, it’s stretch, a vulnerable arc, Her legs aloft, her body bare, She feels him hit her deepest mark, A spark that fills the heated air. Her hands may clutch, her back may bow, A position raw, a tender dare, She’s open wide, yet safe somehow, A tide where both their pleasures share. He loves the power, she the reach, Together they’re a soaring flight, In legs on high, they each beseech, A union burning through the night.
Side by Side
For him, it’s ease, a lateral glide, Her hip to his, a mirrored plane, He slips inside, a gentle ride, A warmth that soothes yet drives insane. His arm around, he pulls her near, Each thrust a nudge, a soft caress, He feels her pulse, her breath so clear, A calm in passion’s sweet excess. For her, it’s rest, a tender fit, His chest a wall, his hand a guide, She rocks with him, a quiet hit, A flow where both their tides abide. Her leg may lift, her sigh may bloom, A closeness wrapped in subtle play, She feels his care, his steady plume, A bond that holds the night at bay. He loves the sync, she loves the peace, Together they’re a rolling wave, In side by side, they find release, A love that neither needs to save.
Leapfrog
He kneels behind, her hips up high, For him, it’s thrust, a playful leap, Her form a bridge beneath the sky, A plunge that sinks both strong and deep. He grips her waist, her arch a call, Each stroke a bound, a wild advance, He feels her clench, her rise and fall, A romp that sparks a feral dance. For her, it’s lift, a frog-like pose, Her chest pressed down, her back a slope, She feels him deep, where pleasure grows, A rush that offers boundless scope. Her knees dig in, her breath a cry, A stretch that pulls her every string, She’s grounded yet she soars to fly, A leap where ecstasy takes wing. He loves the chase, she loves the height, Together they’re a bounding flame, In leapfrog’s grip, they ignite, A game where passion stakes its claim.
He savors when it starts so slow, A gentle glide from base to crown, Lips soft as whispers in the flow, A tease that pulls his tension down. It’s smooth, unhurried, building heat, A drift that wakes his every nerve, Each inch a promise, soft and sweet, A curve he feels with every swerve.
Steady Pulse Pump
A rhythm firm, a constant beat, He loves the pulse that holds him tight, A tongue that moves in waves replete, A cadence soaring through the night. It’s strong, it’s sure, a metronome, His breath aligns with every stroke, A pump that calls him far from home, A fire stoked with every poke.
Quick Flick Flash
Fast and sharp, a sudden flick, He thrills to sparks that light his core, A tongue that dances, wild and quick, A burst he can’t help but adore. It’s rapid, fierce, a teasing snap, His groans a signal, raw and free, Each flash a jolt across the gap, A rush that sets his spirit free.
Deep Throat Drop
He craves the plunge, the full embrace, A descent that takes him all the way, A warmth that grips in tightest space, A depth where words just fade away. It’s bold, it’s deep, a fearless dive, His pulse a thunder, loud and strong, A drop where primal drives revive, A thrill he’s wanted all along.
Tip Tease Tickle
A hover light around the peak, He loves the focus on the head, A tongue that plays, a gentle tweak, A tickle where his thoughts are led. It’s soft, it’s precise, a circling chase, His hips twitch sharp with every pass, A tease that paints across his face, A spark that builds on tender grass.
Swirling Twist Turn
Circles spin, a twisting grip, He relishes the spiral’s pull, A tongue that winds around the tip, A swirl that leaves his senses full. Each turn a coil, a rising hum, His voice a growl, a quiet roar, A twist that makes his body drum, A turn he’s always craving more.
Gentle Graze Nudge
A graze of teeth, a daring brush, He likes the edge, the subtle bite, A nudge that sparks a sudden rush, A thrill that lifts him to new height. It’s light, it’s risky, perfectly timed, His skin alight with every scrape, A graze that’s bold yet so refined, A nudge that shifts his inner shape.
Humming Vibration Jam
A hum begins, a buzzing wave, He feels the thrill from deep within, A sound that makes his body cave, A jam that sets his soul to spin. It’s low, it’s steady, pulsing through, His nerves alive, his mind a blur, A vibration strong and true, A beat where pleasures all concur.
Wet and Warm Surge
Warmth and wet, a slick embrace, He loves the flood that soaks him whole, A tongue that glides in liquid grace, A surge that storms his very soul. It’s lush, it’s hot, a primal bath, His groans a tide, his grip grows tight, A wave that carves a wilder path, A warmth that blazes through the night.
Hands and Mouth Duet
A hand joins in, a tandem play, He craves the grip with every lick, A stroke that pulls in bold array, A duet fast and thick and quick. It’s syncopated, firm, and sure, His senses split in sweet divide, A mouth and hand in pure allure, A ride where passions coincide.
Pressure Point Push
Pressure lands, a focused squeeze, He loves the press on just one spot, A tongue that locks with expert ease, A push that ties him in a knot. It’s deep, it’s fixed, a steady hold, His cries a map to guide the way, A point where pleasures all unfold, A push that makes him bend and sway.
Full Length Sweep
No single zone, but all at once, He relishes the sweeping run, A tongue that travels, bold and blunt, A journey basking in the sun. Each pass a stroke, a broad caress, His body hums from root to tip, A sweep that’s more than he can guess, A thrill that makes his spirit rip.
Stop and Start Jolt
A pause, a break, then sudden start, He thrives on shifts that break the flow, A halt that teases, pulls apart, A jolt that makes his fire grow. The stop builds ache, the rush ignites, His breath a bridge from void to flame, A technique wild in its delights, A game where he forgets his name.
Soft Suck Draw
A gentle suck, a tender pull, He melts beneath the subtle take, A draw that fills him to the full, A tide that makes his body quake. It’s slow, it’s smooth, a lover’s art, His sighs a rhythm, deep and low, A suck that claims his beating heart, A draw where endless rivers flow.
Frenzied Finish Rush
All at once, the pace explodes, He craves the chaos, fast and free, A clash of moves in wildest modes, A rush that bends reality. It’s fierce, it’s raw, a breaking wall, His voice a storm, his body bows, A finish where he gives his all, A rush where ecstasy outflows.
OxonWoods Man 