Missionary
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.
OxonWoods Man 