OxonWoods Man

Tag: books

  • The Tapestry of NSFW X

    Beneath the scroll of endless feeds,
    A corner glows with daring deeds,
    Where NSFW X unfurls its wings,
    A realm of raw and wondrous things.
    Not merely shadows cast in lust,
    But sparks of life, of grit, of trust,
    For those who post, for those who see,
    A mirror gleams with liberty.

    The poster stands, a soul laid bare,
    A canvas bold, beyond compare.
    No mask to wear, no shame to flee,
    They craft their truth for all to see.
    A photo shared, a tale unbound,
    A whispered roar, a sacred sound,
    In lines of flesh or words that sing,
    They claim the crown of self-made king.

    And those who read, who pause, who stay,
    Find light within the shades of gray.
    A stranger’s courage, fierce and free,
    Reflects their own humanity.
    It’s not the act, the skin, the thrill,
    But stories carved with iron will,
    A scar embraced, a flaw turned art,
    A bridge from screen to beating heart.

    For some, it’s not the carnal flame,
    Though sex, when there, deserves its fame,
    Stupendous, wild, a primal cheer,
    A dance of joy that banishes fear.
    Yet often, no, it’s something more,
    A quiet knock on shame’s closed door.
    A body loved, though once reviled,
    A spirit free, a self reconciled.

    The poster types, “This is my frame,
    My stretch, my curve, my chosen name.”
    And readers sigh, “I see me too,
    The me I hid, the me I grew.”
    A tattooed thigh, a laugh out loud,
    A quirky kink, a head unbowed,
    These gifts of X, both loud and sweet,
    Make broken souls feel more complete.

    It’s laughter shared in quirky threads,
    It’s knowing eyes on late-night beds,
    It’s finding kin in strangest ways,
    Through NSFW’s unfiltered gaze.
    The one who posts, they bloom, they mend,
    The one who reads finds strength to bend,
    A cycle spun of give and take,
    A space where masks begin to break.

    And when the heat does rise, oh my,
    The sex explodes beneath the sky,
    A symphony of want and play,
    A glorious romp in X’s sway.
    But even then, it’s more than skin,
    It’s trust, it’s power deep within,
    To own desire, to set it free,
    To shout, “This too is part of me.”

    So here’s to NSFW X,
    A wild, weird world that often wrecks
    The walls we build, the lies we tell,
    The silent wars within our shell.
    For those who post, a chance to shine,
    For those who read, a lifeline fine,
    Not just a thrill, though thrills abound,
    But roots to grow on shaky ground.

    In pixels bright or words that tease,
    A chorus forms of “I am these.”
    Acceptance weaves through every post,
    A haunting, healing, holy ghost.
    So let it glow, this strange delight,
    This NSFW X that burns so bright,
    A beacon for the lost, the shy,
    A place where souls refuse to die.

  • Screens Soft Glow

    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.

  • Lynn & Louise – 02 – The Reunion

    Reunited

    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.

  • Lynn & Louise – 01 – Seal Watching

    The Pub

    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.

  • Her Light on X

    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.