OxonWoods Man

Tag: poetry

  • 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.

  • The Digital Frame

    I post my form in stark relief,
    A line of muscle, shadowed chest,
    The screen ignites a bold belief,
    A sensual self, both raw, expressed.
    Not Safe For Work, this daring show,
    A flex, a curve, a quiet roar,
    It stirs my pulse, it bids me grow,
    And cracks the shell I wore before.

    The crude rush in, their barbs fly fast,
    A grunt, a jeer, a shallow cut,
    But through their din, I hear at last,
    The voices rising from the rut.
    A man might say, “Your strength is art,”
    A woman, “Confidence in view,”
    These words pierce deep into my heart,
    And light a spark I never knew.

    The lens I wield, it frames me whole,
    Not flaws to hide, but truth to claim,
    Each shot I share, it frees my soul,
    Unshackles doubt, rewrites my name.
    My body, broad, or lean, or mine,
    Becomes a tale I dare to tell,
    No more a cage, but redefined,
    A sensual hymn where I can dwell.

    Replies cascade, a jagged stream,
    Some rough, some lewd, a fleeting bite,
    Yet others pause, their words redeem,
    A lift, a glow, a guiding light.
    “Your poise is power,” one declares,
    “Your form’s a fire, bold and true,”
    These threads weave through the digital airs,
    And wake the sensual me anew.

    It’s not for sex, this open stand,
    Not casual thrills, nor cheap desire,
    But something vast, a firmer land,
    A mirror held to my own fire.
    The scars I bear, the weight I lift,
    The cock I show, the skin I’ve grown,
    Each frame becomes a sacred gift,
    A pride in self I’ve never known.

    A man chimes in, “I feel that strength,”
    His echo builds a brother’s bond,
    A woman writes, “Your truth at length,”
    And suddenly, I’m far beyond.
    The crude may snarl, their noise may clash,
    But these replies, so warm, so wise,
    They cloak me in a tender sash,
    And lift my sensual spirit’s rise.

    I scroll my posts, a living thread,
    A gallery of me, unbowed,
    Each image fuels the life I’ve led,
    Each like a cheer, both soft and loud.
    No longer do I duck or shrink,
    The flesh I own, I now embrace,
    This platform, raw yet laced with ink,
    Uplifts me to a higher place.

    The screen’s my stage, a boundless span,
    Where I stand tall, where I am free,
    The chains of shame dissolve, unman,
    Replaced by eyes that truly see.
    “Your courage shines,” they say, and mean,
    “Your body’s bold, a work of grace,”
    This sensuality, once unseen,
    Now claims its rightful, steady space.

    It’s not the chase, the fleeting fuck,
    Of skin on skin, a passing dare,
    But how I mend my own ill luck,
    And find a self worth laying bare.
    The crude may bark, their words may fade,
    But others rise with gentle care,
    And in their light, I’m newly made,
    A man sensual, strong, and rare.

    Ten verses weave my tale to close,
    Of X’s wild, untamed domain,
    Where NSFW can shift repose,
    From doubt to sensual refrain.
    The few may scoff, the many muse,
    Their words a balm, a soft ignite,
    Through this, I’ve learned I can’t refuse,
    My body’s worth, my soul’s delight.

  • 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.

  • Ode to Cock

    Middle Ground

    She loves them cocks, all average fare,
    Fuckin’ solid, they’ve got their flair,
    Not too wild, but heat to spare,
    They hang so right, she stops to stare,
    Veins that throb, a steady glare,
    Heads that top a meaty square,
    She’d bang these champs, no need to swear,
    Them pricks she’d ride, they’re tough to compare.

    Towering Might

    She digs them stiff, tall fuckin’ rods,
    Straight as shit, they’re horny gods,
    Fat and wide, they beat the odds,
    No bend, no crap, just rigid prods,
    Smooth or rough, they’re built like sods,
    Meaty shafts, her lust applauds,
    Them hard bastards, she’d face the squads,
    Each one’s a king, she nods and plods.

    Crescent Charm

    She’s hot for them, all bent and kinked,
    A nasty curve, they’re fuckin’ linked,
    Not straight, but hell, they ain’t extinct,
    They lean in deep, she’s on the brink,
    Slack ‘til hard, they growl and wink,
    Twisted tools, her dirty shrink,
    Fuck the plain, they’ve got her synced,
    Them dicks she’d take, no need to think.

    Little Legends

    She cheers them small, them tiny studs,
    Petite as fuck, but full of floods,
    Short and sweet, they’re badass buds,
    They hit her good, no empty duds,
    No stretch, just tight, they’re in her blood,
    Compact kicks, they shoot their spuds,
    Them little pricks, she loves their crud,
    She’d suck ‘em dry, they’re gold, not mud.

    Slender Whisper

    She’s wild for them, all thin and sly,
    Skinny shits, but fuck, they try,
    Sneak through gaps, she can’t deny,
    They pulse with heat, her lusty cry,
    No fat to flash, just raw and spry,
    Long or not, they don’t comply,
    Them subtle cocks, she’d never fry,
    She hails them twigs, their juice runs high.

    Tapered Spear

    She craves them sharp, them pointy pricks,
    A stabbin’ shaft, them narrow dicks,
    From thick to slim, they fuckin’ mix,
    A tool to shove, her raunchy fix,
    Their shape’s a mess, but she’s transfixed,
    Smooth as shit, they slide past tricks,
    Them spears of flesh, her lusty picks,
    She grunts for these, their spunk she licks.

    Compact Core

    She’s mad for them, them stubby fucks,
    No length to boast, but full of bucks,
    A dense-ass knot, they’ve got the pluck,
    Pound for pound, they don’t get stuck,
    Small but fierce, they run amok,
    They prove size lies, she gives a fuck,
    Them gritty stubs, her dirty luck,
    She’d slurp these nubs, their balls she’d pluck.

    Endless Reach

    She gawks at them, them long-ass ropes,
    Dangling low, them filthy hopes,
    Coiled tight, then out they grope,
    Unroll that shit, she fuckin’ copes,
    A cock to smack, her throat elopes,
    Reachin’ deep, she never mopes,
    No end in sight, her lusty scopes,
    She roars for these, their cum she scopes.

    Regal Crown

    She drools for them, them fat-topped kings,
    Hooded pricks or bare, she clings,
    Foreskin flops or peeled-back things,
    A royal tip, her hunger stings,
    They stare her down, no soft-ass flings,
    Bloated caps, her wet dream sings,
    Them brown or pale, she’d spread her wings,
    She’d suck these kings ‘til she’s half-dead, she brings.

    Veiny Map

    She’s hooked on them, them veiny beasts,
    Ridges bulge, her eyes they feast,
    Each line’s a tale, from balls released,
    Blood pumps hard, her want’s increased,
    A rough-ass path, her hands unleashed,
    They thrum with juice, her crude priest,
    No smooth shit here, her thrill’s policed,
    She screams for these, their stacks she’s greased.

    Spiral Dance

    She’s nuts for them, them twisted freaks,
    A spiral shank, them funky peaks,
    Not straight, not tame, they’re filthy geeks,
    They whirl through holes, her greasy seeks,
    A coiling beast, her cum-soaked weeks,
    Odd as fuck, they hit her streaks,
    Them weird-ass cocks, her lusty squeaks,
    She’d yank these pricks, her joy reeks.

    Quiet Stand

    She’s keen on them, them plain-ass dongs,
    Just hangin’ there, no loud-ass songs,
    No strut, no flash, they still prolong,
    A silent force, she’d tag along,
    Calm as shit, but never wrong,
    No fuss, just meat, her heart belongs,
    They fuck just fine, she’d hum their throngs,
    She growls for these, their chill she longs.

    Bulbous Bloom

    She’s all for them, them mushroom caps,
    A swollen head, them juicy slaps,
    They puff up proud, her lusty traps,
    A knob to taste, her filthy naps,
    Their girth a rush, she’d take their laps,
    No same old shit, they overlap,
    Each thrust they give, her hands clap,
    She’d gulp these knobs, their spunk she’d tap.

    The Unity of Form

    She fuckin’ loves all cocks, you see,
    Every shape, her wild decree,
    No flops around, they all agree,
    A prick parade, her filthy glee,
    Long, short, fat, or odd, carefree,
    They rise, they spew, her victory,
    A sweaty mess, her flesh spree,
    Them dicks she’d toast, her raunchy plea.

    A Chorus of Praise

    She yells it loud, let cum cascade,
    Each cock’s a crown, her lust’s parade,
    Difference fuels her ballsy trade,
    No best in sight, no shit delayed,
    All sizes slam, her form’s remade,
    Their stink, their slime, her town’s displayed,
    A gritty song, her voice unswayed,
    Them cocks are gods, her fuck’s replayed.

  • Ode to Hugs

    Clothed Embrace
    In layers soft, we meet and hold,
    A hug through wool or cotton’s weave,
    No skin to skin, yet hearts unfold,
    A tender press we both believe.
    The rustle of a coat, a scarf’s caress,
    Wraps trust around our silent cheer,
    A clothed embrace, no need to guess,
    Binds souls in warmth so pure, so clear.
    Through fabric’s shield, we find our place,
    A gentle clasp, a safe retreat,
    Emotions bloom in this chaste space.

    Bare Connection
    Naked arms entwine, no lust in sight,
    Skin meets skin in innocent accord,
    A hug unrobed beneath soft light,
    Vulnerability our sweet reward.
    No cloth to hide, no shame to bear,
    Just human warmth, a primal tie,
    The pulse of breath in quiet air,
    A trust that needs no reason why.
    Flesh on flesh, yet chaste it stays,
    A raw, unsexual intimacy sings,
    Healing flows through honest ways.

    Private Sanctuary
    Behind closed doors, we hug alone,
    A secret haven, walls our guard,
    No eyes to judge, no voice to drone,
    Just stillness shared, both soft and hard.
    The world recedes, its noise erased,
    In private clasp, we mend our seams,
    A whispered laugh, a tear embraced,
    Rebuilds us whole in tender dreams.
    This hidden hold, a sacred rite,
    Where trust is king, and hearts confide,
    Non-sexual, yet deep as night.

    Public Affirmation
    In open air, we hug with pride,
    Amid the crowd, beneath the sun,
    No need to shrink, no need to hide,
    A bond displayed for everyone.
    Arms lock firm, a bold decree,
    Affection pure, no lust to trace,
    Through bustling streets, we’re seen as free,
    A human touch in time and space.
    The world may watch, yet we stand tall,
    This public hug, a quiet cheer,
    Unites us strong, defies the sprawl.

    Healing Touch
    A hug repairs what words can’t mend,
    A fracture deep, a silent ache,
    Arms encircle, sorrows bend,
    A balm for wounds that hearts forsake.
    In grief or joy, it holds us tight,
    Dissolves the pain with gentle might,
    Restores the spirit, soft and slow,
    A cure no medicine can know.
    Non-sexual, yet rich with care,
    It stitches life with threads unseen,
    A healer’s gift beyond compare.

    Silent Intimacy
    No whispers needed, just the hold,
    A hug that speaks where tongues fall still,
    Emotions carved in contours bold,
    A closeness born of simple will.
    The rise of chest, the beat beneath,
    Conveys what words could never say,
    In quiet grip, we find our sheath,
    A tie no passion sways astray.
    This intimacy, pure and deep,
    Roots us firm in tranquil streams,
    A treasure ours to gently keep.

    Timeless Bond
    Through years, a hug remains the same,
    A ritual old as human breath,
    No spark of flesh, no fleeting flame,
    Yet stronger far than lust or death.
    In youth or age, it stands as one,
    A bridge across life’s shifting sand,
    Arms wrap tight, the past undone,
    A steady rock where hearts expand.
    Non-sexual, eternal, true,
    It holds us fast through storm and calm,
    A timeless thread to pull us through.

    Equal Exchange
    A hug demands no rank, no guise,
    Both giver, taker, share the load,
    In equal grace, our spirits rise,
    No power shifts, no debt bestowed.
    Arms meet as peers, a balanced dance,
    Each heart gives freely, takes in turn,
    A mutual trust, a fair advance,
    Where love’s deep embers softly burn.
    This parity, so rare, so sweet,
    Non-sexual, yet wholly near,
    Makes every clasp a joy complete.

    Universal Language
    Across all tongues, all lands, all creeds,
    A hug transcends what words divide,
    No script required, no complex deeds,
    Its meaning flows from side to side.
    In joy, in pain, in peace, in strife,
    It speaks where voices fail to sing,
    A global pulse of human life,
    A gift that only touch can bring.
    Non-sexual, yet vast and wide,
    It heals, it joins, it sets us free,
    A hug, the world’s unbroken tide.