OxonWoods Man

Tag: fiction

  • Selena – Van Encounter

    It was a crisp Tuesday evening, the school long since deserted, and Richard’s battered white van sat parked in the staff lot, its windows fogging up before they’d even started. He’d spent the day fixing a busted boiler, but his mind was on Selena’s promise: the back of his van, where no one could interrupt. She’d slipped out after her shift, trading her apron for a tight black sweater and a skirt so short it barely qualified as clothing. Her buxom chest strained the wool, and Richard’s cock twitched the moment she climbed in.

    “Nice ride,” Selena purred, shutting the van door with a thud. The back was a cluttered mess, tools, blankets, a rolled-up tarp, but she didn’t care. She shoved a toolbox aside and perched on a makeshift bench of plywood, legs spread just enough to flash red panties. Richard loomed in the cramped space, his height forcing him to duck slightly, his eyes dark with hunger. “It’s about to get nicer,” he growled, kicking off his boots and yanking his shirt over his head, revealing a chest dusted with dark hair.

    She didn’t wait for an invitation. Grabbing his belt, she tugged him closer, unzipping him with a practiced flick. His cock sprang free, thick and ready, and she licked her lips before taking him in her mouth. “Fuck, Selena,” he hissed, hands tangling in her hair as she sucked him deep, her tongue swirling around the tip. She hummed around him, the vibration making his knees buckle, and he braced one hand against the van’s wall. “You’re too bloody good at that.”

    Selena pulled back, a string of spit connecting her lips to his cock, and grinned. “Just warming you up, tall man.” She stood, peeling off her sweater to reveal no bra her heavy breasts bounced free, nipples peaked in the cool air. Richard groaned, spinning her around and bending her over the tarp-covered bench. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you scream,” he promised, hiking her skirt up and ripping her panties down to her ankles.

    He didn’t tease his cock slid into her dripping pussy in one hard thrust, stretching her wide. Selena moaned, loud and shameless, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the tarp. “Yes, right there!” she gasped as he slammed into her, his thick shaft grinding against her G-spot with every stroke. The van rocked slightly, creaking on its shocks, and Richard gripped her hips, pounding harder. “Tight little devil, aren’t you?” he grunted, one hand reaching around to squeeze her swaying tits.

    She pushed back against him, meeting his rhythm, her moans echoing in the metal box. “Harder, fuck me stupid!” she begged, and he delivered, his cock relentless, pressing that sweet spot until her legs shook. His fingers found her clit, rubbing fast, and she shattered, her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, her pussy clamping down as she screamed his name, “Richard, oh fuck, yes!” Juices dripped down her thighs, soaking the tarp, and he kept thrusting, dragging it out until she was a trembling mess.

    He wasn’t done. Flipping her onto her back across the bench, he spread her legs wide, hooking them over his shoulders. “My turn,” he rasped, plunging back in, her slick heat sucking him deep. Her tits jiggled with every thrust, and she clawed at his arms, still reeling from her climax. “You’re a fucking beast,” she panted, eyes glazed with lust. He smirked, leaning down to bite her nipple, then kissed her hard as he came, spilling inside her with a roar, his cock pulsing against her walls.

    They collapsed together, breathless, the van smelling of sex and sweat. Selena traced a finger down his chest, smirking. “Hope you’ve got good suspension, think we tested it.” Richard laughed, pulling her close. “Next time, your place. I want you on a proper bed, screaming louder.” She nipped his ear, already plotting. “Bring your tools, big man. I’ve got plenty to fix.”

  • To Be Adored

    The room was dimly lit, shadows swaying languidly across the walls, cast by the trembling flame of a single candle perched on a weathered wooden table. The air hung thick, almost oppressive, saturated with a tension that seemed to hum in her ears, as if the space itself knew what was about to unfold. She paused at the threshold, one hand resting lightly against the doorframe, her breath catching in her chest like a trapped bird. The weight of the moment draped over her shoulders, heavy and warm like a velvet shroud, pulling her into its embrace. Her pulse quickened, a staccato rhythm against her ribs, as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. And then she saw him.

    He stood across the room, his silhouette cutting a sharp line against the soft, amber glow, a figure carved from shadow and desire. But it was his eyes that seized her, pinning her where she stood. They roamed over her, slow and deliberate, a gaze so piercing it stripped away every layer of fabric before she’d even taken a step. It wasn’t subtle, it was raw, primal, an animalistic hunger so blatant it sent a shiver racing down her spine, prickling her skin with gooseflesh. His jaw tightened, a muscle flickering beneath the stubble, and his lips parted slightly, as if he could already taste the salt of her skin. In the lines of his face, she could read every wicked intention he harbored for that night, promises of touch, of heat, of a collision that would leave them both undone. Two souls, caught in a meeting so fierce and unyielding that the outside world dissolved into nothingness, no streets beyond the walls, no stars above, no sound but the thrum of their shared gravity. It was as if the universe itself whispered through the silence, “I don’t have to sell my soul, he’s already in me,” the words of The Stone Roses threading through her mind like a dark, velvet ribbon.

    Her body reacted before her thoughts could catch up, a traitor to her composure. A warm ache bloomed deep between her thighs, a slick heat that pulsed in time with her racing heart, spreading outward like wildfire. Her breasts felt heavy, straining against the confines of her dress, the fabric brushing against her skin until her nipples tightened into aching points, as if they knew what was coming, as if they were already reaching for him. It was that sensation the charged stillness just before lightning tears the sky apart, when the air crackles and the hair on her neck rises in anticipation. She felt it building, that prickly, atmospheric energy coiling tighter with every second, wrapping around her like a lover’s breath. Her fingers trembled slightly as she smoothed them over the curve of her hip, grounding herself in the texture of the fabric, the last barrier between her and what lay ahead.

    She took a step forward, her movements slow, deliberate, each one a quiet declaration of intent. The wooden floor creaked beneath her bare feet, a sound swallowed by the thick silence. Her fingers found the hem of her dress, the soft cotton cool against her heated skin, and she began to lift it, inch by tantalizing inch. The rustle of fabric was deafening in the stillness, a whisper that seemed to echo off the walls, and his eyes tracked every motion, drinking her in with a greed that made her pulse stutter. She let the dress slide over her hips, past the dip of her waist, revealing the lace beneath, a delicate black web that clung to her like a second skin. Each discarded piece, first the dress pooling at her feet, then the lace slipping down her thighs, stoked the fire in him. His chest rose and fell faster, his hands flexing at his sides, knuckles whitening as if it took every shred of his will to stay rooted where he stood. She could smell it now, that animal scent rising between them, musk and heat and desire so thick it coated the back of her throat, a primal perfume that promised everything. It was the smell of sex, of what was about to happen, and it sent her head spinning, her senses drowning in its potency.

    She stood bare now, nothing left to shed, her skin kissed by the faint warmth of the candlelight. The cool air brushed against her, raising the fine hairs on her arms, but it was his gaze that made her shiver. He moved then, sudden, decisive, a predator closing in. He crossed the room in three strides but stopped just short, mere inches from her, his breath ragged and uneven as he took her in. His eyes swept over her, lingering on the curve of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the shadow between her thighs, as if she were a masterpiece unveiled for the first time. She saw it in his expression, a reverence, a hunger, an adoration so fierce it stole the air from her lungs and set her heart pounding against her ribs. He reached out, his fingers hovering an inch from her skin, trembling slightly as if he needed a moment to memorize her, to let the sight of her sink deep into his bones. She’d never been so seen, so worshipped, like a rare and priceless treasure laid bare before him, something he couldn’t believe he’d been granted the privilege to behold. “I wanna be adored,” she thought, the lyrics of The Stone Roses swelling in her chest like a hymn, and there it was etched into every line of his face, that exact devotion she’d yearned for, a mirror to the song’s aching plea.

    “Do you know what you do to me?” he murmured, his voice rough, almost fractured, as if the words had clawed their way out of him. His hand finally brushed her skin, a featherlight touch along her arm that sent a jolt through her, igniting every nerve. And there it was, the look she’d craved, the one that declared she was everything, that she was adored. It washed over her in waves, intoxicating, a high so pure and heady she could have lived in it forever. Confidence surged within her, a quiet courage she hadn’t known she possessed, rising like a tide to meet the moment. She stepped closer, closing that final gap, her bare skin pressing against the rough fabric of his shirt, the heat of him seeping into her. Their bodies collided, a spark catching flame, and she tilted her head, her breath grazing his neck as his hands found her waist, pulling her tighter against him.

    The world beyond the room ceased to exist, no time, no space, just the two of them locked in this orbit. His fingers traced the curve of her spine, mapping her like a cartographer charting sacred ground, while her lips brushed the hollow beneath his ear, drawing a low, guttural sound from him that vibrated through her. Their scents mingled in the air his sharp and earthy, hers soft and sweet blending into something new, something that belonged only to this moment. She could feel the tension in him, the barely restrained need, and it mirrored her own, a wildfire roaring beneath her skin. And in that instant, she understood: if you could bottle this feeling, this perfect, primal union where “I wanna be adored” wasn’t just a song but a truth carved into her very being, you’d never want for anything else. It was a sensation so profound, so complete, that it should be a birthright, a gift every soul deserved to claim at least once in their lifetime.

    The candle flickered, casting their entwined shadows against the wall, and she let herself sink deeper into him, into the certainty of what they’d become. This was more than desire, it was a reckoning, a moment that would linger in her blood, bold and unshaken, for the rest of her days. She’d found it, that intoxicating adoration she’d dreamed of, and as his lips finally found hers, she knew she’d carry it with her always, a fire that would never fade.

  • 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.

  • Ode to Positions

    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.

  • Ode to Fellatio

    Slow Glide Drift

    He savors when it starts so slow,
    A gentle glide from base to crown,
    Lips soft as whispers in the flow,
    A tease that pulls his tension down.
    It’s smooth, unhurried, building heat,
    A drift that wakes his every nerve,
    Each inch a promise, soft and sweet,
    A curve he feels with every swerve.

    Steady Pulse Pump

    A rhythm firm, a constant beat,
    He loves the pulse that holds him tight,
    A tongue that moves in waves replete,
    A cadence soaring through the night.
    It’s strong, it’s sure, a metronome,
    His breath aligns with every stroke,
    A pump that calls him far from home,
    A fire stoked with every poke.

    Quick Flick Flash

    Fast and sharp, a sudden flick,
    He thrills to sparks that light his core,
    A tongue that dances, wild and quick,
    A burst he can’t help but adore.
    It’s rapid, fierce, a teasing snap,
    His groans a signal, raw and free,
    Each flash a jolt across the gap,
    A rush that sets his spirit free.

    Deep Throat Drop

    He craves the plunge, the full embrace,
    A descent that takes him all the way,
    A warmth that grips in tightest space,
    A depth where words just fade away.
    It’s bold, it’s deep, a fearless dive,
    His pulse a thunder, loud and strong,
    A drop where primal drives revive,
    A thrill he’s wanted all along.

    Tip Tease Tickle

    A hover light around the peak,
    He loves the focus on the head,
    A tongue that plays, a gentle tweak,
    A tickle where his thoughts are led.
    It’s soft, it’s precise, a circling chase,
    His hips twitch sharp with every pass,
    A tease that paints across his face,
    A spark that builds on tender grass.

    Swirling Twist Turn

    Circles spin, a twisting grip,
    He relishes the spiral’s pull,
    A tongue that winds around the tip,
    A swirl that leaves his senses full.
    Each turn a coil, a rising hum,
    His voice a growl, a quiet roar,
    A twist that makes his body drum,
    A turn he’s always craving more.

    Gentle Graze Nudge

    A graze of teeth, a daring brush,
    He likes the edge, the subtle bite,
    A nudge that sparks a sudden rush,
    A thrill that lifts him to new height.
    It’s light, it’s risky, perfectly timed,
    His skin alight with every scrape,
    A graze that’s bold yet so refined,
    A nudge that shifts his inner shape.

    Humming Vibration Jam

    A hum begins, a buzzing wave,
    He feels the thrill from deep within,
    A sound that makes his body cave,
    A jam that sets his soul to spin.
    It’s low, it’s steady, pulsing through,
    His nerves alive, his mind a blur,
    A vibration strong and true,
    A beat where pleasures all concur.

    Wet and Warm Surge

    Warmth and wet, a slick embrace,
    He loves the flood that soaks him whole,
    A tongue that glides in liquid grace,
    A surge that storms his very soul.
    It’s lush, it’s hot, a primal bath,
    His groans a tide, his grip grows tight,
    A wave that carves a wilder path,
    A warmth that blazes through the night.

    Hands and Mouth Duet

    A hand joins in, a tandem play,
    He craves the grip with every lick,
    A stroke that pulls in bold array,
    A duet fast and thick and quick.
    It’s syncopated, firm, and sure,
    His senses split in sweet divide,
    A mouth and hand in pure allure,
    A ride where passions coincide.

    Pressure Point Push

    Pressure lands, a focused squeeze,
    He loves the press on just one spot,
    A tongue that locks with expert ease,
    A push that ties him in a knot.
    It’s deep, it’s fixed, a steady hold,
    His cries a map to guide the way,
    A point where pleasures all unfold,
    A push that makes him bend and sway.

    Full Length Sweep

    No single zone, but all at once,
    He relishes the sweeping run,
    A tongue that travels, bold and blunt,
    A journey basking in the sun.
    Each pass a stroke, a broad caress,
    His body hums from root to tip,
    A sweep that’s more than he can guess,
    A thrill that makes his spirit rip.

    Stop and Start Jolt

    A pause, a break, then sudden start,
    He thrives on shifts that break the flow,
    A halt that teases, pulls apart,
    A jolt that makes his fire grow.
    The stop builds ache, the rush ignites,
    His breath a bridge from void to flame,
    A technique wild in its delights,
    A game where he forgets his name.

    Soft Suck Draw

    A gentle suck, a tender pull,
    He melts beneath the subtle take,
    A draw that fills him to the full,
    A tide that makes his body quake.
    It’s slow, it’s smooth, a lover’s art,
    His sighs a rhythm, deep and low,
    A suck that claims his beating heart,
    A draw where endless rivers flow.

    Frenzied Finish Rush

    All at once, the pace explodes,
    He craves the chaos, fast and free,
    A clash of moves in wildest modes,
    A rush that bends reality.
    It’s fierce, it’s raw, a breaking wall,
    His voice a storm, his body bows,
    A finish where he gives his all,
    A rush where ecstasy outflows.