OxonWoods Man

Author: Richard Foster

  • Ode to the Female Form

    Larger Glow

    Her fullness commands with a regal embrace,
    Soft contours of beauty in generous space.
    She wears every curve like a robe of delight,
    A canvas of warmth glowing bold in the light.
    Her laughter resounds, her confidence sings,
    A queen of abundance with joy in her wings.
    The world feels her pull, her richness, her bloom,
    A voluptuous charm that fills every room.

    Apple-Shaped Radiance

    Her center is full, a circle of life,
    A body that hums with both calm and with strife.
    Her chest lifts with pride, her core holds her strong,
    A heartbeat of beauty that pulses lifelong.
    She glows from within, her warmth like the sun,
    A roundness of spirit where joy is begun.
    Her laugh fills the air, her love knows no cease,
    A nurturing charm wrapped in sweet, tender peace.

    Hourglass Curve

    Her waist cinches tight, a sculptor’s fine art,
    Hips bloom like petals, a passionate heart.
    Her silhouette sways with a timeless appeal,
    A balance of softness, a sensual deal.
    She moves like a river, both fierce and serene,
    Each curve tells a story, each line reigns supreme.
    The eye lingers long on her harmonious shape,
    A vintage allure in a modern escape.

    Petite Frame

    A delicate whisper of strength in small form,
    She dances through life like a breeze in a storm.
    Her steps light as feathers, her presence a tease,
    A compact allure that bends with such ease.
    Her eyes hold a fire, her spirit unbound,
    In tiny proportions, vast beauty is found.
    The world tilts to meet her, so sprightly, so free,
    A miniature marvel, pure grace to decree.

    Athletic Build

    Muscles ripple gently beneath sun-kissed skin,
    A testament to power, where triumphs begin.
    Her stride cuts the air with a warrior’s grace,
    Each sinew a story of grit and of pace.
    She’s carved from the earth, yet she soars like the wind,
    A body of action, unyielding, unpinned.
    Her strength is her charm, her vigor her crown,
    A force of allure that will never back down.

    Tall and Lean

    She towers like willows, a stretch to the sky,
    Legs endless as rivers where dreams wander by.
    Her poise is a quiet, unyielding command,
    A slender silhouette shaped by fate’s hand.
    Her gaze cuts through distance, her reach knows no end,
    A statuesque beauty, both fierce and a friend.
    She bends like a reed, yet she stands like a spire,
    A lofty allure that sparks pure desire.

    Pear-Shaped Charm

    Hips flare like the tide, a bountiful sweep,
    Her lower half blooms where sweet secrets sleep.
    A gentle taper rises to shoulders so fine,
    A body that flows like a poet’s design.
    She sways with a rhythm, a grounded delight,
    Her fullness below is her anchor, her might.
    The earth seems to hold her, to cradle her sway,
    A fertile allure in a natural display.

    Broad-Shouldered Strength

    Her shoulders stretch wide like a mountain’s embrace,
    A frame built to carry life’s trials with grace.
    Her arms hold the world, her back bears the load,
    A pillar of beauty on life’s winding road.
    She stands as a fortress, yet softens with care,
    A blend of the mighty, the tender, the rare.
    Her power is quiet, her presence a call,
    A steadfast allure that enthralls one and all.

    Compact and Curvy

    Short stature with curves that defy simple sight,
    A bundle of beauty, both fierce and polite.
    Her hips tell a tale, her bust sings a song,
    A small frame with power where passions belong.
    She’s fire in motion, a spark in the fray,
    A whirlwind of charm in a tight-knit display.
    Her presence is bold, her allure tightly spun,
    A petite dynamo, outshining the sun.

    Lithe and Wiry

    A frame like a dancer, all sinew and line,
    She bends with the grace of a whispering pine.
    Her limbs stretch and twist with a feline allure,
    A body of motion, both wild and demure.
    She’s quick as a shadow, yet steady as stone,
    A lean silhouette that’s a world of its own.
    Her elegance flows in each delicate stride,
    A wiry enchantment that won’t be denied.

    Soft and Rounded

    Her edges are gentle, her form softly flows,
    A body of comfort where tenderness grows.
    Her skin invites touch, her warmth draws you near,
    A haven of softness dispelling all fear.
    She moves like a cloud, serene and at ease,
    A cushion of beauty, a balm to appease.
    Her quiet allure is a soothing refrain,
    A tender embrace in a world full of strain.

    Angular Edge

    Sharp lines define her, a geometric dream,
    Her bones trace a pattern, a stark, vivid theme.
    Her jaw cuts the air, her elbows like spears,
    A body of angles that time reveres.
    She’s striking and bold, a contrast to see,
    A sculpted allure with a fierce rarity.
    Her edges provoke, her form stands apart,
    A chiseled enchantment that captures the heart.

    Balanced and Even

    Her form finds a harmony, steady and true,
    No single part reigns, just a unified view.
    Her shoulders align with her hips in a dance,
    A symmetry glowing with every glance.
    She’s calm in her poise, a classical sight,
    A body of measure, of day and of night.
    Her beauty is subtle, yet pulls like a tide,
    An even allure where all charms reside.

    Such Infinite Variety

    No matter the shape, the size, or the frame,
    Each body holds magic, no two quite the same.
    From sharp to the soft, from tall to the small,
    Allure weaves its thread through the souls of us all.
    It’s not in the mold, but the spirit inside,
    A spark that defies what the eye can decide.
    Each form is a vessel, a song to be sung,
    A timeless enchantment, forever young.

    A Universal Glow

    The contours may shift, yet the beauty remains,
    Through every design, through joys and through pains.
    No blueprint defines where allure comes to play,
    It blooms in the heart, in its own perfect way.
    From robust to fragile, from fierce to the meek,
    Each body’s a wonder, a voice that can speak.
    The charm isn’t bound by the flesh or the bone,
    It’s life’s endless dance, in each form fully grown.

  • Ode to Female Arses

    In the curve of the crescent moon’s glow,
    A gentle arc, soft and slight,
    She sways with a tender, subtle flow,
    A whisper of grace in the night.
    Its charm lies in delicate tease,
    A hint of fullness, shyly shown,
    Inviting a gaze with such ease,
    A quiet beauty, all its own.

    Next blooms the ripe, round peach,
    A plump delight, bold and sweet,
    Firm yet yielding to the reach,
    A juicy promise none can beat.
    Its lure is in the bounce, the sway,
    A playful jiggle with each stride,
    Drawing eyes in bright array,
    A feast of form, pure pride.

    The heart-shaped marvel then appears,
    Wide below, a tapered start,
    A symmetry that calms all fears,
    A sculpted piece of living art.
    Its pull is in the balanced line,
    A hug of hips, a lover’s dream,
    Each angle crafted so divine,
    A silhouette supreme.

    Behold the apple, tight and high,
    Perched proud upon her frame,
    A cheeky lift that catches eye,
    No hint of tame, no shame.
    Its magic sparks in pert defiance,
    A youthful dare, a sprightly call,
    It beckons with its crisp reliance,
    A shape to enthrall.

    The hourglass dips and flares,
    A cinched waist, a generous spread,
    A rolling wave that boldly stares,
    A tale of curves so richly read.
    Its power lies in harmony,
    A dance of proportion’s sway,
    A timeless pull, a rarity,
    Enchanting every day.

    Then strides the long, lean blade,
    A subtle slope, an elegant line,
    Stretched with poise, no masquerade,
    A form both fierce and fine.
    Its draw is strength in quiet grace,
    A runner’s pride, a sculpted gleam,
    A lithe allure in every space,
    A understated theme.

    The bubble bursts in buoyant cheer,
    Two orbs aloft, a giddy rise,
    A jiggle bold, so crystal clear,
    A joyous shock to dazzled eyes.
    Its charm is unrestrained delight,
    A carefree pop, a vibrant beat,
    It owns the room, day or night,
    A rhythm so complete.

    The teardrop falls with tender weight,
    A gentle swell, a downward kiss,
    Soft fullness in a fragile state,
    A poignant shape of bliss.
    Its pull is in the mournful curve,
    A touch of sorrow, sweet and deep,
    A form that lingers to deserve,
    A beauty none can keep.

    The square stands broad and strong,
    A solid base, a grounded might,
    Unwavering, it hums along,
    A fortress glowing bright.
    Its strength is in its steady hold,
    A quiet power, firm and true,
    A shape both warm and bold,
    A rock to see us through.

    The oval stretches soft and wide,
    A smooth expanse, a gentle plain,
    No sharp edge to divide,
    A calm that soothes all strain.
    Its gift is in the peaceful sweep,
    A restful form, a tender span,
    A beauty simple, rich, and deep,
    A comfort to the clan.

    The diamond glints with angled flair,
    A pointed peak, a widening base,
    A rare design beyond compare,
    A sparkling, daring chase.
    Its thrill is in the unexpected,
    A prism’s edge, a flashing glow,
    A shape so wildly perfected,
    A treasure to bestow.

    The petite pearl shines so small,
    A dainty dot, a modest crown,
    Yet holds a charm to enthral,
    A quiet queen of renown.
    Its lure is in the subtle play,
    A hint of mischief, coyly sweet,
    A tiny star that lights the way,
    A lovely, soft retreat.

    The mountain rises, grand and vast,
    A mighty ridge, a towering sweep,
    A monument to time amassed,
    A wonder bold and deep.
    Its majesty commands the scene,
    A regal heft, a primal call,
    A shape both fierce and serene,
    The mightiest of all.

    Now pause, reflect on each design,
    From crescent arc to mountain’s reign,
    Each contour tells a tale divine,
    No two could e’er be same.
    Yet in their difference lies a truth,
    A shared and radiant gleam,
    For every shape, from age to youth,
    Is beauty’s boundless theme.

    So here’s the song, the final chord,
    To arses vast and small,
    No need to judge, no need to hoard,
    For glory graces all.
    Each sway, each curve, each daring line,
    A marvel to adore,
    Thirteen wonders, all divine,
    Gorgeous evermore.

  • Ode to the Pleasure of Self

    Beneath the skin, a quiet call,
    A private hymn for one and all,
    Where hands become the poets’ quill,
    And bodies bend to their own will.
    From man to woman, joys unfurl,
    A dance of self, a sacred whirl,
    No shame to cloak this ancient rite,
    Just flesh and soul in pure delight.

    Through His Eyes

    He finds a space, the world retreats,
    A man alone where silence meets,
    His palm, a cradle, rough yet kind,
    A journey only he can find.
    The steady pull, the tightened breath,
    A chase that flirts with life and death,
    He feels the surge, the heat, the rise,
    A king reflected in his eyes.
    No judge, no clock, just him to please,
    A sovereign act of sweet release.

    Through Her Eyes

    She locks the door, the night is hers,
    A woman free where no one stirs,
    Her fingers glide, a painter’s stroke,
    A fire lit with every poke.
    She parts the waves, she rides the swell,
    A secret sea she knows so well,
    Her gasps, her arch, her trembling thighs,
    A queen who claims her own sunrise.
    In solitude, she finds her song,
    A power fierce, a right so strong.

    The Gifts of Solo Joy

    This act, a tonic for the soul,
    Restores the parts that life makes whole,
    For him, a flush that cleanses deep,
    A guard for health in nightly sweep.
    For her, a balm for tension’s grip,
    A rhythm easing monthly dip,
    The mind unwinds, the spirit lifts,
    Endorphins sing their gentle gifts.
    And in that glow, a mirror shines,
    A worth beyond the world’s designs,
    To touch oneself is to declare,
    “I am enough, I’m always there.”

    The Craft of Touch

    For him, a grip, a twist, a tease,
    A fist that shifts with practiced ease,
    Just finger and thumb can please his toy,
    A varied path to boundless joy.
    He slows, he speeds, he finds the edge,
    A balance on a trembling ledge.
    For her, a tap, a grind, a hum,
    A vibe that buzzes till she’s numb,
    A shower’s stream, a folded cloth,
    A rocking hip, a rising froth.
    Each method sings a different tune,
    A private art beneath the moon.

    A Show for Two

    He sits her down, his voice a plea,
    “Look, love, this is what moves me,”
    His hand begins its steady climb,
    A lesson shared in pantomime.
    She watches close, her eyes alight,
    His pleasure fuels her own delight.
    Then she replies, “Now see my way,”
    Her fingers weave their bold ballet,
    He stares, entranced, as tides unfold,
    A map of bliss in strokes so bold.
    This gift, this trust, a bridge they build,
    A hunger honestly fulfilled.

    Face to Face, Reflected Grace

    They kneel as one, the mirror near,
    Each hand at play, no trace of fear,
    His eyes on her, her eyes on him,
    A mirrored dance of primal hymn.
    She sways, he groans, their sounds entwine,
    A chorus crossing every line,
    The glass reveals their tandem flight,
    Two souls aglow in shared delight.
    No touch, just sight, yet so complete,
    A union born where gazes meet,
    The mirror holds their sacred scene,
    A love both fierce and pure and clean.

    Hands That Cross the Divide

    Now hands reach out, a tender trade,
    His fingers seek where hers have played,
    She wraps him firm, a knowing hold,
    Their stories merge in touch so bold.
    He learns her pulse, her secret spot,
    She feels his heat, his every knot,
    The mirror watches, wide and still,
    Reflecting every sigh and thrill.
    No rush to end, just here to feel,
    A bond that hands alone can seal,
    Till peaks collide, and voices cry,
    A shared ascent that touches sky.

    The Final Chord

    So raise a toast to solo hands,
    To mirrored joys in private lands,
    To partners watching, learning well,
    To tales that only touch can tell.
    For man, for woman, both are free,
    In this, we find our dignity,
    A rite of health, of worth, of care,
    A song of self we boldly share.

  • Amanda’s Thirtieth Birthday

    Back History – The First Time

    Sue and Amanda had been inseparable since their teenage years, a friendship forged through shared secrets, late-night giggles, and the chaos of growing up. By the time they reached their school leaving party, held on Amanda’s eighteenth birthday, they were already thick as thieves. That night, the air buzzed with freedom, exams were over, adulthood loomed, and the cheap wine flowed freely. At the local community hall, they danced, laughed, and drank until the room spun. Stumbling back to Amanda’s house, they collapsed onto her bed, giggling and slurring confessions. Then, in a haze of tipsy courage, Sue leaned in and kissed Amanda. It wasn’t planned, but it wasn’t unwelcome either.

    Clothes came off in a clumsy tangle, and what followed was a night of surprisingly good sex, fingers exploring, lips tasting, bodies pressed close. They woke the next morning with pounding heads and a flicker of awkwardness, but the memory of pleasure lingered. Neither spoke of it for weeks, until Amanda’s next birthday rolled around. Frustrated after a long shift at the nursing home where they’d started working, Sue suggested a drink. One thing led to another, and they ended up in bed again, laughing off the awkwardness. It became a tradition, birthdays, and the odd night of pent-up need. The sex was always good, a secret release valve for two women too busy caring for others to care much for dating.

    Back History – Sharing Dave

    A couple of years into their nursing home jobs, Amanda started seeing Dave, a cocky delivery guy with a decent smile and a knack for flirting. The sex was fine, nothing earth-shattering, but after a few months, Amanda grew bored. One night, over beers at Sue’s flat, she vented about his predictable moves. Sue, half-joking, suggested they spice things up by sharing him. Amanda laughed, but the idea stuck. The next weekend, Dave came over, expecting a quiet night with Amanda. Instead, he found Sue lounging on the couch in a skimpy top, grinning wickedly.

    What followed was a sweaty, chaotic threesome, Dave, thrilled but overwhelmed, tried to keep up as Sue and Amanda took turns teasing him and each other. It was fun, messy, and a little absurd. Dave didn’t last long, and afterward, Amanda decided she was done with him entirely. Sue and Amanda, though, found the experience bonded them further, no jealousy, just a shared adventure. They didn’t repeat it with anyone else, but it cemented their dynamic: friends, occasional lovers, and partners in mischief.

    Modern Day – The Cove

    It was March 13, 2025, Amanda’s thirtieth birthday, and Sue had promised something special. They’d worked the early shift at the nursing home, then headed straight to their secret cove, a secluded spot tucked beneath cliffs, perfect for naked swimming. Sue had brought Richard, her new fling, along, hinting at a treat. The sun was high as they reached the sandy shore, stripping off their uniforms with practiced ease. Amanda admired Sue’s lean frame, while Sue eyed Amanda’s curves. Richard, tall and broad, shed his clothes last, revealing a thick, impressive cock that made Amanda’s eyebrows shoot up.

    Fingers Count

    They started with fingers. Sue pulled Amanda close, kissing her deeply as her hand slid between Amanda’s thighs. Her fingers found Amanda’s clit, circling with slow, firm pressure. Amanda gasped, already wet from anticipation, her hips bucking as Sue slipped two fingers inside, curling them just right. Richard watched, stroking himself lazily, his eyes dark with lust. Amanda came fast, a sharp, shuddering orgasm that left her breathless, clinging to Sue’s shoulder as the waves crashed nearby.

    Oral Exams

    Next came the oral. Sue lay back on the sand, legs spread, and Amanda dove in eagerly. She licked along Sue’s folds, savoring the salt of her skin, then sucked gently on her clit. Sue moaned, loud and unrestrained, her hands gripping Amanda’s hair. Meanwhile, Amanda positioned herself so Sue could return the favor. Sue’s tongue was relentless, flicking and probing as Amanda rocked against her mouth. The dual sensation, giving and receiving, sent them both spiraling. Sue came first, her thighs trembling around Amanda’s head, and Amanda followed seconds later, a muffled cry escaping as she pressed into Sue’s lips. Richard groaned from the sidelines, clearly enjoying the show.

    Legs Mingling

    Then they scissored. Sue sat up, pulling Amanda into position so their legs intertwined, wet cores pressing together. They rocked in sync, grinding with desperate rhythm, the friction building heat between them. Amanda’s breath hitched as Sue gripped her hips, pulling her closer, their clits rubbing with delicious pressure. The sensation was intense, raw, primal, and they locked eyes, sharing the moment. It didn’t take long; Amanda came with a low moan, her body shaking, and Sue followed, her head tipping back as pleasure rippled through her.

    Exhausted, they collapsed, laughing softly as they pulled their knickers back on and sprawled out to sunbathe.

    Richard Joins Them

    Amanda sighed, “That was special, Sue. The best yet. Thank you.” Sue grinned, “It’s not over.” She beckoned for Richard to join them. Trotting toward them, naked, his large cock bouncing with each step. Amanda’s jaw dropped. “You’re lucky,” she whispered to Sue, who smirked, “He’s your gift too.”

    Richard knelt beside Amanda, easing her knickers off. She was still slick from earlier, and he slid two fingers inside her, pumping slowly as his tongue teased her. His touch was firm, precise, and Amanda’s arousal flared instantly. She came hard within minutes, her walls clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure crashed through her, leaving her gasping and dazed.

    Sue, knickers off again, straddled Richard’s face, grinding against his eager mouth. “Get on board,” she told Amanda, nodding at his erect cock. Nervous but thrilled, Amanda straddled him, lowering herself onto his thick length. He stretched her deliciously, filling her completely, and each claimed motion stroked her deep inside. She rode him to a first orgasm, slow, building, her body trembling as she adjusted to his size. The second came faster, a sharp jolt as he hit just the right spot, leaving her panting and sweaty.

    Richard flipped Amanda onto her side, spooning her from behind, his cock sliding back in with ease. Sue leaned in, her tongue flicking Amanda’s clit as Richard thrust steadily. The dual assault was overwhelming, Amanda’s orgasm hit like a tidal wave, her body arching, a scream tearing from her throat as every nerve lit up. Richard pulled out just in time, groaning as he came, hot spurts landing in Sue’s waiting mouth. She swallowed with a grin, and the three collapsed in a satisfied heap, the cove quiet except for their heavy breathing.

    Amanda lay there, spent and glowing, marveling at Sue’s gift, and the wild, perfect day it had become.

  • Ode to the Breasts of Womanhood

    Oh, gentle swells, so slight and sweet,
    A subtle rise beneath the skin,
    A whisper of curves where softness meets,
    A tender bloom where joys begin.
    All fantastic, a quiet grace to trace,
    With fingertips light, a teasing chase.

    The modest mounds, so pert and small,
    Defy the pull of earth’s command,
    A youthful shape that stands up tall,
    Inviting awe from heart and hand.
    All fantastic, with kisses soft they sing,
    A warm breath’s dance, a delicate thing.

    Then fuller orbs, a rounded sight,
    A gentle heft that sways with ease,
    Their contours catch the morning light,
    A bounty born to charm and please.
    All fantastic, with palms to cup and hold,
    A rhythmic knead, both firm and bold.

    Oh, thrusting peaks, so proud, so grand,
    They jut with might, a brazen dare,
    A silhouette that makes its stand,
    A sculptor’s dream beyond compare.
    All fantastic, with lips to graze the crest,
    A suckling pull to stir their zest.

    The generous globes, so lush, so wide,
    A spilling wealth of tender flesh,
    They call to hands where dreams reside,
    Their weight a gift, their touch afresh.
    All fantastic, with massage deep and slow,
    A rolling press where passions grow.

    And those that hang, a pendulous art,
    A droop that tells of time’s embrace,
    Their sway a song within the heart,
    A testament to life’s own grace.
    All fantastic, with lifts from underneath,
    A gentle tug, a sigh’s relief.

    The teardrop form, a sloping line,
    A curve that falls with elegant flow,
    A shape that nature did design,
    To mesmerize and overthrow.
    All fantastic, with strokes from base to tip,
    A lingering glide, a sensual trip.

    Oh, flattened spreads, so broad, so true,
    A canvas soft against the chest,
    Their quiet beauty comes in view,
    A stillness where the soul can rest.
    All fantastic, with palms to sweep and roam,
    A warming rub, a soothing home.

    The buoyant pair, with lift and play,
    A bounce that teases every stride,
    They dance with joy throughout the day,
    A lively charm they cannot hide.
    All fantastic, with playful pats to tease,
    A jiggling spark to fully please.

    And heavy breasts, a grounding force,
    Their mass a marvel to behold,
    They pull with nature’s own discourse,
    A richness deep, a tale retold.
    All fantastic, with hands to bear their load,
    A cradling grip down pleasure’s road.

    The asymmetric twins, unique,
    One fuller, one a softer shade,
    Their difference dares the eye to seek,
    A harmony in contrast made.
    All fantastic, with love to each bestowed,
    A tailored touch, a balanced ode.

    Oh, softened folds, with age’s mark,
    A velvet sag of wisdom’s years,
    Their beauty glows through light and dark,
    A map of laughter, love, and tears.
    All fantastic, with caresses kind and still,
    A reverence felt, a heart to fill.

    The conical tips, a pointed rise,
    A silhouette of daring flair,
    They pierce the air and catch the eyes,
    A form both bold and debonair.
    All fantastic, with pinches light and keen,
    A tweak to wake the nerves serene.

    The wide-set pair, with space to roam,
    A valley broad between their reign,
    Their distance crafts a striking home,
    A beauty wild, a sweet domain.
    All fantastic, with trails of kisses sown,
    A wandering mouth, their breadth to own.

    So here’s to breasts, in every guise,
    From swells to thrusts, to hanging low,
    Each form a treasure in our eyes,
    A universe of bliss to know.
    All fantastic, with pleasures to explore,
    A symphony of love forevermore.

  • Selena – The Staff Room

    A week had passed since their kitchen escapade, and the tension between Richard and Selena had only grown thicker. Every glance across the schoolyard, every brush of shoulders in the hallway, was a silent promise of more. It was Friday afternoon, and the school was quiet, most staff had bolted for the weekend. Richard had been called in to fix a leaky radiator in the staff room, and Selena, ever resourceful, volunteered to “help” with the cleanup.

    The staff room was a cozy, cluttered space, old armchairs, a coffee-stained table, and a radiator that hissed like an angry cat. Richard knelt by it, wrench in hand, his broad shoulders flexing under a tight navy shirt. Selena sauntered in, locking the door behind her with a click that made his head snap up. She wore a low-cut red dress under her apron, the fabric clinging to her buxom figure like it was painted on. “Thought you might need a hand,” she said, her voice dripping with intent.

    “Only if it’s yours,” Richard shot back, wiping sweat off his brow as he stood, towering over her. His eyes raked down her body, lingering on the deep V of her cleavage. “That dress oughta be illegal in a school.” She smirked, stepping closer, her heels clicking on the linoleum. “Good thing the kids are gone, then. No one to tell on us.”

    She didn’t waste time. Grabbing his shirt, she pulled him down for a kiss, hot, messy, and full of pent-up need. Richard groaned into her mouth, hands sliding to her ass, squeezing through the dress as he backed her against the table. “Been thinking about you all week,” he muttered, nipping her lip. “That kitchen fuck’s been replaying in my head.” Selena’s laugh was wicked. “Let’s give you something new to obsess over.”

    She shoved him into an armchair, the springs creaking under his weight, and straddled him, her dress riding up to reveal black lace knickers. Richard’s hands were on her thighs in an instant, pushing the fabric higher. “No bra again?” he asked, voice rough, as he tugged the neckline down. Her heavy breasts spilled out, nipples already hard, and he latched onto one, sucking greedily while his hand kneaded the other. Selena moaned, grinding against the bulge in his jeans. “Wanted you ready for me,” she gasped.

    He fumbled with his fly, freeing his cock, still as impressive as she remembered, thick and pulsing. She didn’t bother with her knickers, just yanked them aside and sank onto him, taking him to the hilt in one slick slide. “Fuck, Selena,” he growled, gripping her hips as she started to ride him, her tits bouncing in his face. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his shoulders, and set a brutal pace, chasing that sweet friction against her again.

    The chair rocked dangerously, but neither cared. Richard thrust up to meet her, his cock slamming deep, hitting that spot that made her eyes roll back. “You’re a bloody menace,” he panted, one hand slipping between them to rub her clit. Selena’s moans turned to cries, her nails digging into him. “Harder, you bastard, make me come again!” He obliged, pounding into her, the wet slap of their bodies filling the room.

    Her orgasm crashed over her fast, a shuddering, screaming mess as she clenched around him, soaking his lap. “Richard, oh, fuck, yes!” she wailed, trembling as he kept thrusting, drawing it out until she was a boneless heap against him. He wasn’t far behind, two more deep strokes, and he came with a guttural groan, spilling inside her, his hands locked on her hips like he’d never let go.

    They stayed there, panting, her forehead pressed to his, the radiator still hissing in the background. “Think we broke the chair,” Richard chuckled, kissing her sweat-damp neck. Selena grinned, shifting to feel him still inside her. “Worth it. Next time, your van, I wanna see how you handle me in the back.” He smirked, already hard again at the thought. “Deal, love. Maintenance just got a lot more fun.”

  • Anna – The Massage

    Coffee and Cake

    The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of carrot cake as Anna stirred her latte, her eyes flicking up to meet Debs’ across the small café table. It was their usual pre-yoga ritual, coffee, cake, and a good gossip. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over Debs’ freckled cheeks, which were already beginning to flush as the conversation took a predictable turn.

    “So,” Anna said, smirking over the rim of her cup, “Richard. The man every woman in class is secretly, or not so secretly, dying to take home. You left with him last week, didn’t you?”

    Debs’ spoon clinked against her mug a little too loudly. She avoided Anna’s gaze, focusing instead on slicing her cake into precise, tiny bites. “Yeah, well… we walked out together. No big deal.”

    Anna raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “No big deal? Debs, you’re practically glowing. What happened? Spill.”

    Debs’ flush deepened, creeping down her neck. “He… uh, he offered to give me a massage. My hip’s been acting up, you know that.”

    “A massage?” Anna’s tone was teasing, her eyes glinting with mischief. “And how did that go?”

    “It was… good. Really good.” Debs shifted in her seat, her voice dropping. “He’s got strong hands. Fixed my hip right up.”

    Anna grinned, sensing there was more. “Strong hands, huh? Did they wander anywhere… interesting?”

    Debs’ face was now a vivid shade of pink. She took a sip of coffee, stalling. “Well… let’s just say it wasn’t just my hip he took care of.”

    Anna’s grin widened. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “So, what you’re saying is… he gave you a little extra relief? A proper hand job?”

    Debs choked on her coffee, coughing into her napkin. “Anna! God, keep it down!” But her eyes sparkled as she murmured, “It was… fantastic. Okay? Leave it at that.”

    Anna chuckled, satisfied for now. She wasn’t about to push further and risk Debs clamming up, or revealing something even juicier, like how Richard’s cock had definitely played a starring role. Instead, she shifted the topic. “Speaking of aches, my leg’s still killing me. That damn hamstring.”

    Debs, relieved to move on, seized the chance. “You should try Richard. Seriously. He’s magic.”

    Anna’s lips twitched. “Magic, huh? Maybe I will.”

    Yoga Class

    The yoga studio buzzed with quiet chatter as Anna and Debs arrived, spotting Richard just outside the changing room. He gave them a nod, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead, and the three of them walked in together. Normally, Debs and Anna flanked Richard in the second row, but today Anna veered off, claiming a mat in the front row, directly in front of him. Debs shot her a questioning look, one eyebrow arched. Anna just winked.

    In the women’s changing room, Debs watched as Anna peeled off her jeans and slipped into a pair of loose grey shorts, short enough to turn heads, baggy enough to leave plenty to the imagination. What caught Debs off guard, though, was the lack of underwear beneath them. No knickers, no thong, nothing. Anna’s top was equally casual, a loose tank that hung off her frame, and, another surprise, no bra. Debs blinked. “Going for the minimalist look today?”

    Anna shrugged, adjusting her shorts with a sly smile. “Comfort, Debs. It’s all about comfort.”

    During the class, Debs couldn’t help but sneak glances at Anna. Every downward dog, every warrior pose, seemed calculated. Anna’s shorts gaped just so, her top shifted to reveal the curve of her breast, all perfectly angled to give Richard an eyeful from his spot behind her. Debs bit back a smirk. Her friend was shameless.

    After class, as they rolled up their mats, Debs caught Richard by the arm. “Hey, Anna’s been complaining about her leg. That hamstring’s still bothering her. Maybe you could give her one of your… special massages?”

    Richard’s brows shot up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he masked it with a grin. “Yeah, sure. I’d be happy to help.”

    Anna, overhearing, flashed a smile. “That’d be great. Shall we?” She didn’t wait for an answer, grabbing her bag and heading out with Richard in tow. Debs watched them go, shaking her head. She had a feeling Anna’s leg wasn’t the only thing about to get some attention.

    Massage

    The room was dim, lit only by a soft lamp in the corner, as Anna lay face-up on Richard’s massage table. A small hand towel rested across her hips, barely covering her pussy, leaving the rest of her bare. Richard’s hands had already worked wonders on her thigh, kneading the tight muscle until the ache melted away. She sighed, sinking deeper into the table.

    “Anywhere else need attention?” Richard asked, his voice low and professional, though there was a hint of something else beneath it.

    Anna met his gaze, her lips curling into a slow smile. “Yes, actually.” With a flick of her wrist, she cast the towel aside, letting it fall to the floor. Her legs parted slightly, just enough to make her invitation clear.

    Richard’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t hesitate. He stepped closer, his hands hovering for a moment before settling into place.

    Fingers

    His fingers moved with precision, tracing the contours of her inner thighs before sliding upward. Anna’s breath hitched as he brushed against her clit, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt through her. “There,” she murmured, her voice husky. “A little firmer. Circles.”

    Richard obeyed, his thumb pressing into her clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles. She arched slightly, guiding him. “Yes, like that. Now… inside. Curl your fingers up, there’s a spot…”

    He slid two fingers into her, curling them as instructed, and found it, the ridged patch of her G-spot. She gasped, her hips bucking as he stroked it, his thumb still working her clit in tandem. The sensation built fast, a tight coil of heat in her core. “Faster,” she breathed, and he complied, his rhythm relentless.

    The first orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing through her body, her thighs trembling as she clenched around his fingers. She barely had time to catch her breath before he adjusted his angle, pressing harder against her G-spot. “Again,” she demanded, and he didn’t disappoint. The second climax ripped through her, sharper and deeper, leaving her panting, her skin slick with sweat.

    Mouth

    Before she could fully recover, Richard shifted. His hands parted her thighs wider, and then his mouth was on her, hot, wet, and impossibly skilled. His tongue flicked over her clit, teasing at first, then settling into a steady rhythm that made her moan. Two fingers slipped back inside her, her pussy now drenched, and he curled them again, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust.

    Anna’s world narrowed to the sensations: the slick heat of his tongue, the stretch of his fingers, the way her body seemed to melt and ignite all at once. He sucked gently on her clit, and she cried out, her hands fisting the sheet beneath her. The first orgasm came hard, a full-body shudder that left her gasping. He didn’t stop, his tongue swirling faster, his fingers pumping deeper, and a second climax followed, even more intense, her vision blurring as she rode it out.

    Rest

    Richard pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and shifted to a gentler touch. His hands returned to her body, starting with her calves, which had tightened into hard knots from her earlier convulsions. He kneaded them with slow, firm pressure, his thumbs digging into the muscle until she felt the tension unravel. The room was quiet save for the soft rustle of his movements and her own steadying breaths, the air cool against her sweat-slicked skin.

    He moved to her feet next, pressing his thumbs into the arches with a rolling motion that drew a low sigh from her lips. The sensation was grounding, almost meditative, as he worked each toe, stretching them gently to release the last vestiges of strain. “Still with me?” he asked, his voice a warm murmur that seemed to vibrate through the table.

    “Barely,” she replied, her words thick with languor. “Keep going.”

    He chuckled, a soft sound that made her smile despite herself, and shifted his attention to her thighs. His palms swept over them in long, soothing strokes, smoothing out the tremors that lingered from her earlier exertion. The oil he’d rubbed into his hands earlier left a faint scent of lavender, mingling with the musk of her own arousal, and she inhaled deeply, letting it anchor her. He lingered on her hamstrings, coaxing the muscles into submission with a patience that felt almost reverent, his fingers tracing the lines of her body like an artist perfecting a sketch.

    “Roll over,” he said after a while, his tone calm but carrying a quiet authority. She complied, flipping onto her stomach with a lazy stretch, her limbs heavy and pliant. He started on her back, his hands gliding over her spine, the heels of his palms pressing into the tight spots along her shoulder blades. She groaned softly as he worked a particularly stubborn knot, the ache dissolving under his touch. His fingers fanned out, kneading her shoulders with a rhythm that lulled her deeper into relaxation, then trailed down her arms, stretching them out to the sides and massaging the muscles until they felt like liquid.

    He moved lower, his hands settling on the curve of her lower back, just above her hips. His thumbs pressed into the dimples there, circling slowly, and she felt a shiver of relief ripple through her. He lingered, working the area with care, his touch firm yet tender, until every ounce of tension had melted away. By the time he finished, she was a puddle on the table, her breathing slow and even, her body utterly surrendered to the calm he’d crafted.

    Cock

    He stood at her head, finishing her shoulders, when Anna reached up, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his trousers. She tugged them down, revealing a thick, rigid cock that sprang free, its tip glistening as she pulled back the foreskin, veins pulsing along its length. She leaned forward to take him in her mouth, her lips brushing the velvety head, but he stepped back, a faint, teasing smile on his lips.

    He moved to her feet. Still face-down, she felt his hands, warm and firm, part her thighs, his thumbs grazing the sensitive skin where her legs met her hips. He climbed onto the table, his weight dipping the surface slightly as he settled between her legs, pushing them wider until she was fully exposed. His fingers lingered for a moment, tracing her slick entrance, before she felt the blunt, hot tip of his cock nudge against her.

    He guided himself with one hand, the other gripping her hip, and pressed forward. The first inch stretched her deliciously, the thick head breaching her with a slow, deliberate push that made her moan into the table. He paused, letting her adjust to his size, then slid deeper, his shaft filling her inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. She felt every ridge, every pulse of him inside her, the pressure exquisite against her still-sensitive walls.

    He began to move, drawing back until just the tip remained, then thrusting forward with a long, measured stroke. The angle was perfect, his cock dragged against her G-spot with every pass, reigniting the fire he’d stoked earlier with his fingers. She clenched around him, her breath hitching as he set a rhythm, slow at first, letting her feel the full length of him sliding in and out. The tip of his cock seemed to kiss that sweet spot each time, a deep, throbbing sensation that built with every thrust.

    “Harder,” she gasped, and he obliged, his hips snapping forward with more force, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. Her body rocked against the table, her fingers curling into the sheet as the pleasure intensified. The heat coiled tight in her core, and then it snapped, an explosive orgasm that tore through her, her pussy spasming around him, milking his cock as she cried out. The sensation was overwhelming: the way his thick shaft stretched her, the relentless pressure on her G-spot, the slick friction as he kept moving through her climax.

    He didn’t stop. His hands gripped her hips tighter, lifting her slightly to deepen the angle, and she felt him shift inside her, the tip of his cock now hitting even more precisely. Another orgasm built almost instantly, spurred by the memory of his fingers and the reality of his cock, its girth, its heat, the way it pulsed inside her. She came again, harder this time, her vision sparking white as her body trembled beneath him, her moans turning to breathless whimpers.

    Richard slowed for a moment, letting her catch her breath, but then resumed with long, steady strokes, each one drawing out the aftershocks until she was teetering on the edge again. The sensation of his cock moving inside her, the smooth glide of the tip, the stretch of her walls, the deep, rhythmic pressure, pushed her into a state of near-constant climax. One orgasm bled into the next, her body shaking, her voice raw as she surrendered to the relentless pleasure, lost in the feel of him driving her higher with every thrust.

  • Selena – After Hours

    The Waiting Game

    The school day dragged on, the clock ticking slower than a snail on sedatives. Richard lingered in the kitchen, pretending to double-check the fittings, stealing glances at Selena as she served up the last of the lunches. Her apron hugged her buxom figure like a second skin, and every time she bent to scoop gravy, he felt his overalls tighten. She caught his eye once, smirking as she licked a drop of sauce off her finger, and he knew they were both counting the minutes until the bell rang.

    Selena wiped down the counters with exaggerated care, her hips swaying like she was putting on a private show. “Patience, tall man,” she murmured, brushing past him so her chest grazed his arm. “Good things come to those who wait.” Richard grunted, adjusting himself discreetly, his mind already racing ahead to what they’d do once the kids and staff cleared out.

    Lock-Up

    The final bell echoed through the halls, and the school emptied out in a chaos of footsteps and chatter. Selena locked the kitchen door behind the last straggling colleague, her eyes glinting with mischief as she turned to Richard. “All ours now,” she said, untying her apron and tossing it aside. Her soft pink blouse clung to her curves, and he could see the outline of her nipples pressing through, no bra today, he noted with a hungry grin.

    Richard leaned against the counter, towering over her, and patted his toolbox. “Got something impressive to show you,” he said, voice thick with promise. He flipped it open, pointing to a hefty wrench, long, thick, and gleaming. “This isn’t the only tool I’m good with.” Selena’s laugh was low and dirty, her fingers moving down his chest, unzipping his overalls. “Prove it, then,” she challenged, stepping closer until her breasts pressed against him.

    The Tease

    He closed the tool box and grabbed her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the counter. Selena gasped, then giggled, her legs parting as he stepped between them. “Let’s see what you’ve got, big man,” she purred, pushing the overalls off his shoulder. She didn’t waste time, his boxers hit the floor, revealing his cock, already hard, delightfully thick, straining toward her. Her eyes widened, then narrowed with delight. “Fuck me, that’s a tool,” she breathed, reaching out to stroke it.

    Richard groaned at her touch, his hands sliding under her blouse to cup her heavy breasts. “Been wanting these all day,” he muttered, thumbs circling her nipples until they stiffened. She arched into him, her breath hitching, and yanked her top off, letting her tits bounce free. “Then take ‘em,” she said, guiding his head down. His mouth latched onto one, sucking hard, while his fingers teased the other, her moans filling the kitchen.

    The Demand

    Selena slid off the counter, turning to brace her hands against it, her ass pushing back toward him. “From behind,” she demanded, voice husky with need. Richard didn’t need telling twice. He yanked her skirt up and her panties down, exposing her slick, ready pussy. “Fucking hell, you’re soaked,” he growled, gripping her hips. She wiggled against him, taunting, “What’re you waiting for? Show me what that cock can do.”

    He lined up, his thick head stroking her clit, then nudging her entrance, then thrust in deep, filling her in one smooth stroke. Selena cried out, her walls clenching around him as he pressed hard against her G-spot. “Oh, shit, right there!” she gasped, rocking back to meet him. Richard’s hands roamed her sides, then up to her swinging tits, squeezing as he started a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust making her moan louder.

    Tension Builds

    The kitchen echoed with the slap of skin on skin, the air thick with heat and lust. Richard picked up the pace, his cock slamming into her, hitting that sweet spot over and over. Selena’s fingers gripped the counter, knuckles white, her breaths coming in ragged pants. “Harder, you bastard,” she begged, and he obliged, pounding into her with a force that rattled the pots on the rack above. Her breasts bounced wildly, nipples grazing the cool steel edge.

    He reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing in tight circles as he fucked her senseless. “Gonna make you scream,” he grunted, feeling her tighten around him. Selena’s head tipped back, her voice breaking into a string of curses, “Fuck, fuck, yes!”, as the pressure built. His cock pressed relentlessly in, and her legs started to tremble, the devil inside her roaring to life.

    The Arrival

    Selena’s orgasm hit like a freight train, her pussy clamping down on him as she screamed his name. “Richard, oh God, fuck!” Her body shook, waves of pleasure ripping through her, her juices coating his cock as he kept thrusting, her full length. He held her hips tight, growling as her spasms threatened to milk him, his own release teetering on the edge. “That’s it, love, come all over me,” he rasped, his voice raw.

    She slumped forward, panting, still impaled on him, her bare breasts pressed against the counter. Richard slowed, then pulled out, spinning her around to kiss her hard, tongues clashing in a messy, desperate tangle. “Best fucking maintenance job I’ve ever done,” he muttered against her lips, one hand sliding down her sweat-slick stomach to tease her soaked folds again. Selena grinned, breathless. “Stick around, tall man. Kitchen’s not the only thing needs fixing.”

    The Pace Changes

    Richard’s breath hitched as she stepped closer, her hands sliding up his chest. “Sit me back up there,” she said, nodding toward the counter, her voice low and commanding. He didn’t hesitate, gripping her waist and lifting her effortlessly again, setting her down with her legs dangling over the edge. She spread them wide, inviting him in, her pussy still glistening and swollen from their earlier round. “From the front this time,” she whispered, pulling him closer by the neck. “Slow. I want to feel every inch of you.”

    Richard stepped between her thighs, his hands sliding up her sides to cradle her face as he kissed her deeply, slower this time, savoring the taste of her. Selena moaned into his mouth, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him tight against her. His cock nudged her entrance, and she tilted her hips up to meet him, guiding him in with a soft, needy whimper. He entered her deliberately, inch by thick inch, letting her feel every ridge and pulse as he filled her completely.

    Another Release

    “Oh, fuck, yes,” she breathed, her head tipping back as he settled deep inside her. Their bodies pressed together, her bare breasts flattening against his chest, nipples hard and sensitive against his skin. Richard’s hands dropped to her hips, holding her steady as he began to move—slow, sensual thrusts that made her gasp with every roll of his hips. Her legs hooked around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him closer, deeper. “Just like that,” she murmured, her voice trembling with pleasure.

    Their eyes locked, the air between them thick with heat and unspoken promises, as he fucked her with a tenderness that burned as hot as their earlier frenzy. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered his name, their lovemaking a slow dance of passion that built toward another shattering peak.

  • Katie – the Kitchen

    The kitchen was warm, the faint hum of the fridge the only sound breaking the quiet as Nurse Katie watched Richard step through her doorway. He’d always been an old friend, a familiar face from years past, with a rugged charm she’d flirted with more times than she could count. There was a spark there, a quiet desire that flickered beneath their easy banter, and it was that pull that had her calling him when her oven stopped heating. Not a handyman, not a stranger, just Richard.

    He arrived with a toolbox in hand, his broad shoulders filling the frame of her small kitchen. “Let me take a quick look,” he said, his voice low and steady, before crouching down to inspect the oven. After a moment, he stood, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Gonna need to haul it out and check the wiring. I’ll change into something I can work in, don’t want to mess up your floor.”

    Katie nodded, her eyes lingering as he headed upstairs to her bathroom. When he returned, he wore a single-piece denim coverall, the kind that zipped up the front, hugging his frame in a way that made her breath catch. As he walked down the hall toward her, she noticed something, a subtle movement at the top of his left leg, near his groin. It wasn’t a tool in his pocket, she was certain of that. It was the shape of him, long and heavy, shifting with each step. Her pulse quickened, a flush creeping up her neck.

    Richard set to work, pulling the oven from its slot with practiced ease. In less than half an hour, he’d found the problem, a loose electrical connection, he fixed it, and started sliding the appliance back into place. But as he maneuvered it, a knife left carelessly on the counter snagged his coverall, slicing a shallow cut into his side. He winced, a sharp hiss escaping his lips.

    “Richard!” Katie was at his side in an instant, her nurse’s instincts kicking in. “Take that off, let me see.” She grabbed her first aid kit from under the sink, her tone firm but laced with concern. He hesitated, then unzipped the coverall, stepping out of it to reveal loose boxer shorts and a small patch of blood staining the fabric near his hip.

    “Sit,” she ordered, pointing to a stool. He obeyed, and she knelt before him, gently lifting the leg of his boxers to expose the cut. It was small, barely more than a scratch, but she cleaned it with care, her fingers brushing his warm skin as she applied a plaster. When she finished, her hand lingered on his thigh, the heat of him seeping into her palm. Slowly, almost unconsciously, her fingers drifted upward, grazing something firm and heavy against the back of her hand. She froze, her breath shallow, knowing exactly what it was.

    “Stay there,” she murmured, standing abruptly. “You should drink something.” Turning to the cupboard, she reached for a glass, her back to him. Her fingers found the zipper of her dress, and with a deliberate tug, she lowered it past her full breasts, the fabric parting to reveal the soft curves beneath. She filled the glass with mineral water from a bottle, then turned back to him, catching the way his eyes roamed downward. His gaze traced the edge of her cleavage, lingering where the dress dipped low enough to expose the bottom curve of her breasts. He shifted on the stool, and her eyes flicked to his lap, his cock twitched in his boxers, noticeably larger now.

    She stepped closer, leaning over his legs instead of standing beside him, and handed him the glass. Her hand rested on his lap, dangerously close to the growing bulge. His response was tentative at first, his fingers brushing her shoulder, then sliding down to stroke the sensitive skin of her neck. Their eyes met, and then their lips, a deep, hungry kiss igniting between them. His hand moved lower, cupping her breast through the open dress, his work-roughened palm grazing her nipple. She gasped into his mouth, the sensation sparking a wave of heat through her core, and their kiss deepened, tongues tangling with rising urgency.

    Katie pulled back, her breath ragged, a teasing smile playing on her lips. She tugged the zipper lower, letting the dress hang loose, then reached for his waist. With a swift motion, she slid his boxers down, freeing his cock. It sprang out, thick and long, heavy veins pulsing along its length, swollen but not yet fully hard. She reached into her dress pocket, palming a foil condom packet, then shrugged her shoulders, letting the dress fall to the floor. She stood naked before him, her skin flushed, her body unadorned. “Good thing my underwear matches,” he said with a low chuckle, his voice rough with desire.

    He stood, his cock rising higher as he stepped toward her. She pressed the condom into his hand and hoisted herself onto the edge of the countertop, spreading her legs apart. He knelt before her, his fingers finding her first, tracing her small, neat pussy with a tenderness that made her tremble. She was already wet, her arousal slick against his touch, and when his fingers glided inside her, she gasped, her hands gripping his head. His mouth followed, lips closing over her clit, teasing her with slow, sensual strokes of his tongue. Her body arched, pleasure building in waves, and soon she shattered into an orgasm, her moans filling the quiet kitchen.

    He didn’t stop. His fingers curled inside her, his mouth relentless, driving her toward a second peak. Just as she teetered on the edge, he pulled back, tearing open the foil and rolling the condom onto his now rock-hard cock. He stood, using the thick tip to stroke her clit, reigniting her pleasure. She came again, quick and sharp, her body trembling as the waves crashed over her. Between her gasps, he slid inside her, his length stretching her tight, wet heat with a slow, deliberate thrust.

    Their lips met again, the kiss deep and unhurried, mirroring the rhythm of his strokes. He moved with long, sensual thrusts, filling her completely, the heavy veins of his cock dragging against her inner walls. She was tight around him, her pussy gripping him with every motion, slick and hot with her arousal. Time seemed to stretch, the world narrowing to the feel of him inside her, the slow build of pleasure as he rocked deeper, then withdrew, only to plunge back in. Her hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she lost herself in the sensation.

    He kept the pace steady, sensual, each stroke a deliberate caress that stoked the fire between them. Her breaths came in soft moans, her body trembling as another orgasm built, slower this time, richer. When it hit, she cried out, her walls clenching around him, and he groaned, his restraint faltering. She felt him tense, his thrusts growing slightly erratic, and then, just as her pleasure completed, he pulled out. With a swift motion, he removed the condom, his hand stroking himself once, twice, before he came, jets of warmth spilling across her breasts.

    They stayed there, panting, the air thick with the scent of them. Katie slid off the counter, her legs shaky, and leaned into him, their foreheads touching. The oven hummed faintly behind them, fixed and forgotten, as they lingered in the afterglow of something long desired and finally claimed.

  • Showing Him How

    Her new flame, a spark she’d ridden thrice,
    Caught her off guard with a whispered plea,
    “Show me how you touch yourself,” his vice,
    Shy, she froze—shock stung, yet heat ran free.
    A blush crept up, her pulse betrayed,
    Turned on by his bold, hungry stare,
    This man she’d fucked now sought her aid,
    A thrill bloomed soft in the charged air.

    Tentative, she slid her hand below,
    Fingers grazed her mound, then dipped inside,
    Circling slow where her wetness grows,
    His eyes devoured—she shed her pride.
    Seeing his lust, her rhythm leapt,
    Wanking wild, legs splayed apart,
    Abandon seized her, no shame kept,
    She came hard, a quake from her core’s heart.

    Panting still, she took his hand in hers,
    Guided him to her slick, tender slit,
    “Like this,” she breathed, as he gently stirs,
    Fingers probed deep, then teased her clit.
    He curled inside, a steady press,
    Mimicked her pace, her moans his cue,
    She bucked and clenched in sweet distress,
    Came again, her juices soaking through.

    Solo now, he knelt at her command,
    “Harder there,” she urged, voice raw and low,
    His hands alone wove pleasure’s strand,
    Two fingers thrust, one rubbed her glow.
    She writhed, directing every stroke,
    His knuckles slick with her desire,
    A fiercer peak within her woke,
    She came harder, screaming fire.

    Then down he went, his mouth a gift,
    Tongue traced her folds, a wild new art,
    Lapping deep, he found her rift,
    Pleasured her beyond all past apart.
    Swirling, sucking, relentless drive,
    She thought, I’m glad I bared my soul,
    A massive quake tore her alive,
    Orgasm roared, she lost control.