The first curious billboards appeared a few years ago, along a stretch of the Trans-Canada Highway in British Columbia just outside of Salmon Arm as motorists made their way up into the Rockies. The advertisements pointed the way to a unique roadside attraction:
CJ’s Chainsaw Chippins
the art of the power tool
It’s not quite as famous a tourist destination as the ski slopes of Banff, but the rustic storefront and cabin have been gaining in popularity in recent years, offering travelers and adventurers a unique insight into the local workings of an unlikely outfit that’s a rising media sensation. The Trans-Canada Highway hosts a dozen larger-than life billboards now, even East of the continental divide into Alberta as far as Calgary.
This particular summer Saturday was a busy one. Residents of nearby towns, especially those hosting visitors from afar, made the trek into the hills to visit CJ’s. Vacationers, not a few of them on motorcycle tours or long hauls in their RV’s from as far as Vancouver to the West or Ottawa to the East, timed their traversal over the Rockies so as to make a stop for some sightseeing and entertainment along the way.
A set of steel and wooden bleachers, like you would see at a high school sports field, were erected outside in front of a huge log that seemed to be the centerpiece of the picturesque setting. The seating was jammed with patrons by 10:30 in the morning, and a good two dozen more had to stand to the side as they made their way from the store to the rustic venue by 11:00.
An imposing black 4x4 pickup truck rumbled across the meadow, huge knobby tires and lifted frame easily navigating the ruts and rocks, splashing through the rivulet on the way toward the bleachers. Leaving the loud rattling diesel engine running after backing the truck up to the huge log, facing away from the audience, the driver exited to greet the buzzing crowd. Perhaps stereotypically, he was a burly mountain man in a sleeveless plaid shirt and well-worn jeans, sporting a shaved head and an epic red beard surrounding a gleaming toothy grin.
On the other side, down bounced the man’s companion, a fit, muscular woman who turned most of the onlookers’ gaze away from the driver. Her long, smooth, toned legs, feet encased in sturdy work boots, carried her to the back of the truck with a strut which could have been a combination of mountaineer and catwalk model. Her own plaid shirt was tied up to expose her midriff, and her jeans were sliced off just below her ass cheeks to render them as a pair of frayed denim short-shorts.
“Welcome to CJ’s!” The burly brute’s booming voice rang out. “Looks like we got quite a crowd this morning, eh?” He checked the area behind the truck, then got back behind the wheel.
“A mighty big ‘un,” the woman replied, her voice low in pitch but high in volume, carrying easily over the engine’s purr. “No town around here could hold all them.” Turning to the crowd, she asked with a theatrical wink and smile, “You people aren’t from around here, are ya?”
“Noooo,” a couple of kids’ voices called out. The woman zeroed in on the family. “So, where are ya coming from?” Meanwhile, the muscular driver inched the truck forward a bit, killed the engine, and re-joined his partner.
Getting a few names and hometowns from the spectators in the bleachers, the man and woman then introduced themselves.
“Well, thank ya much for coming oat to see us. I hope it’s not too much oatta the way.” The man smiled big. “I’m Reginald. Reggie for short. Reg for short-short.”
“You can call him Big Reg,” the woman smiled affectionately as he curled his arms, one after the other, into solid bulging biceps. “Or if ya mess up and say Big Red, that’ll work too.”
“On account of my red hair, ya see.” Reg ran his fingers over his smooth, shiny scalp, eliciting laughter from the youngsters in the audience and groans from the older ones. He frowned, feigning surprise, moving his hands to his cheeks, breaking out in a smile as he tugged on his beard.
“Yeah, he’s always like that.” Most of the males in the crowd didn’t mind a bit that the woman stepped right in front of him. Fun and cute enough to charm the kids and prudish ladies, and hot and sexy enough to begin to stir the libidos of the men, the female partner was already starting to steal the show.
“And this is Cheyenne,” Reg announced. “Cheyenne Jeanette for short.” She looked at him and shook her head. “Ah, not for short. CJ for short.”
A murmur went through the crowd. Half of the audience knew Cheyenne was the star attraction, those who had done a little research or who had been informed by some clever advertising. But the other half, those who just dropped by to see what the property was about, would have expected the burly man to be “CJ”. The murmur morphed into applause, and CJ took a bow before continuing.
The two plaid-clad proprietors worked the crowd for a few more minutes, giving prizes in the form of carved figurines to those who had traveled the farthest: a retired couple from the Philippines.
“Well, folks, we’re aboat to get started here,” Reg announced. “Who’s ready to see some bark flying?” He asked again after some affirmations from the audience, raising his arms abruptly to encourage some more enthusiasm. “Who’s ready to see some bark flying? Who’s ready for it to rain sawdust and woodchips?” Cheers went up from the bleachers.
CJ pulled the handle of the tailgate, which fell open with a heavy thud. There were several “wow”s from the crowd as they gazed upon the power tool that took up most of the truck bed: a chainsaw big enough to fell a tree as big around as a dining room table, held in place by a lattice of 4x4 fence posts.
As Reg reached in for the saw, Cheyenne playfully pushed him away. “I’ve got that, big boy!” As CJ dragged the saw out of the bed of the truck and wielded it for the audience, forearms and biceps rippling as she leaned back for balance, Reg retrieved a set of safety glasses and heavy work gloves from the cab. Glasses and gloves in place, the smiling CJ posed for some photos, one boot propped up on the huge log in front of her.
“We’ve had some naysayers in our day,” she said. “You’ve seen the carvings oat behind the store, eh?” She waited for a few in the audience to affirm. “Every one of ‘em carved with a chainsaw by yours truly. No other tools used.” Some in the audience were among the doubters. After all, there were statues of everything from city skylines to standing bears, locomotives to coiled cobras, oversized chess sets to two-ton ladybugs. How could a rough and crude power tool produce such fine cuts and intricate detail? Many of the patrons had already marveled at the creations before attending the exhibition; those who hadn’t now wouldn’t miss the display for the world.
“Of course, this big ‘un here won’t do all the work. I just gotta impress ya first, bring ya in, hook ya. Then I can show you some detail in a bit.” CJ stood over the imposing machine that now rested on the ground, arms and core bending in some exaggerated stretches. “Ready to get this party started?”
The cheer was loud, but Reg wanted it louder. He pumped up the crowd with some more encouraging palms-up arm lifts, then took shelter beside the truck. CJ made a show of shaking off a glove and retrieving a set of ear plugs from her tight shorts pocket. Most of the guys and a few of the gals ogled her sexy curves as her sturdy legs and ass provided a few seconds of not-so-subtle titillating eye candy. Plugs installed and hand re-gloved, she took her position kneeling beside the engine casing. “It’s about to get loud.”
The enormous chainsaw roared to life with Cheyenne’s first pull. Even at an idle, the engine sounded like a large lawn mower, and as she pulled the throttle a few times, no one was able to hear the person next to them over the roar. The chain spun around the extended bar at blazing speed, as if eager to destroy anything it its path.
Dozens of phone cameras, and a few DSLRs, captured the moment the saw blade touched down. Shards of bark went flying around CJ’s ankles as the chain ripped a few inches off with the first three or four touches. Within seconds, she swiped the saw blade back and forth over half the log, stripping no more than the layer of bark with each pass. To the audience’s amazement, she handled the giant saw with ease, steady, smooth strokes perfectly forming a relatively smooth surface of bare wood. A tornado of tree bark, wood chips, and sawdust erupted around CJ, the violence of the cuts and engine noise an amazing contrast to the perfectly cylindrical shape emerging as she worked.
It wasn’t even a minute until half the log was stripped clean. Everywhere the saw could reach without flipping the log over was trimmed, except for a curious few inches near one end where she had left the bark all the way around.
As quickly as she’d started, Cheyenne cut off the engine and dropped the saw to the soft earth. As the last of the bark chips floated to the ground and the sawdust scattered in the wind, she and Reg both stepped forward, holding their index fingers to their lips to silence the beginnings of the applause from the crowd. Watching the duo hold their other hands to cup their ears, the audience noticed the far-off engine roar for another second or two before it ceased abruptly. The echo off the surrounding hills was part of the show.
“Oh yeah!” Cheyenne screamed sharply, cupping her ear again.
“Oh yeah!” the echo came back.
“Give it up for Chainsaw CJ!” Reg riled up the audience, who then erupted in cheers and applause.
After accepting some accolades, CJ grabbed a cordless drill with a three-quarter-inch paddle bit and drilled a hole deep into the log, low, near the ground. As she and Reg talked a little more about their outfit’s artistic creations, she hammered a spike through a link of a heavy chain into the hole. Pulling a sledgehammer out of the bed of the truck, she stood on the log and made a show of raising the head high in the air, then letting gravity swing it down to land squarely on the head of the spike. Three swings later, the embedded spike wasn’t letting the chain go.
Reggie attached the chain to the frame of the truck under the back bumper, got behind the wheel, and crept the truck forward. Giving it some gas as the chain became taut, the tension rolled the log halfway over till CJ yelled, “Whoa!”
“Whoa!” The echo came back as soon as Reg killed the truck’s engine, as if they’d worked on the timing.
For the next thirty minutes, Reg and CJ narrated, personalizing their schtick with the names of some of the visitors they’d remembered, while CJ demonstrated her craft. Engine noise and crowd noise took turns filling the property as the huge saw stripped most of the rest of the bark and then made surprisingly delicate cuts. Two faces emerged in the log, one above and one below the oddly-shaped patch of bark.
“This will be sort of a crazy Roman totem pole. A mishmosh of styles for demo purposes.” She was able to make two cuts that “stabbed” all the way through the log about a meter long in one direction, then bisecting them with a stabbing cut in the other direction, forming six crude columns. After sinking another spike to hold the chain at one end of the log, and performing another roll to position the other end at a deep pit, Reggie had the truck pull the log upright, dropping it more or less upright a meter into the earth.
“Well, like I said,” Cheyenne continued after that task, “this big guy can go fast, but he can’t do all the little work.” She retrieved what may have been the smallest chainsaw anyone had ever seen, explaining that this one would do the detail work. Standing on the lowered tailgate of the pickup, she rounded off the columns into impressive perfect cylinders, and then went to work on the face below the remaining bark.
“I don’t want to bore ya to tears, so I’ll just finish up a bit more of this guy’s face here.” The tiny saw tip chipped away, forming eye sockets, a neck and jaw, and expertly leaving a prominent nose and cheekbones. “Gotta give him a bit of a haircut.” She trimmed away at the bark that she had left as the figure’s hair, fading it to the neckline and forming ears as she carved away at the sides of the head.
“It’s gonna take another couple days to finish this one up, but I think you get the gist, don’t ya?” The audience responded affirmatively, giving CJ and Reg a round of applause as they wrapped up.
“You all be sure to stalk us on all the social media that’s oat there,” Reggie said. “We’ll post some pics and videos of this one when she’s done, and you can make all your comments, yeah?” They wrapped up the show by having the audience give three short separate shouts, each one louder than the one before, giving them the thrill of hearing their voices in unison echo back to them off the surrounding hills.
· - ~ | ~ - ·
“Adults only? Eighteen plus only beyond this point?” The checkout desk inside the shop kind of stood guard beside a set of swinging doors that led out to an attached structure, like a barn. A few times every day, the a cashier would have to explain that beyond those doors was a different type of art.
“Let’s say, risqué. Maybe erotic? Just don’t want ya to be offended. Gotta keep the kids out, if ya know what I mean.” Such explanations would discourage the more prudish patrons, and frankly titillate some others. Erotic art in the form of paintings or sculptures has been around for centuries, but wood carvings? Presumably chainsaw-carved naughty pieces? The thought intrigued quite a few visitors.
In the main gallery, and in the yard out back, guests were awed by carvings of animals of all sizes, buildings, furniture, oversized household items, even abstract shapes. Having met the personable artist, Cheyenne Jeanette Sinclair, or having seen photos or watched the short videos of her at work, at the store kiosk or on one of her social media channels, people were impressed by her creativity and skill. It didn’t hurt that she was easy to look at, most men and quite a few women allured by her attractive features and downright sexy fit body, typically showcased in tight jeans and tops or short shorts with midriff bared.
CJ’s sex appeal hit the roof when visitors ventured beyond the “adults only” double doors. To think that this attractive woman not only indulged in, but created, such erotic pieces alighted every fantasy imaginable. Of course felled tree trunks lent themselves well to being carved into erect penises, and there were a few of those, ranging from knee-high to over three meters tall. Two flaccid penises, one circumcised and one not, were mounted on a wall.
There were several pairs of breasts, large and small, perky and droopy, light and dark, two with nipple piercings. A nude couple was engaged in an erotic dance. A tree with a double trunk was fashioned into a crotch with a gaping vagina, welcoming a large penis propped up with its tip inside. Several sex toys were lined up on a shelf, including male masturbators and 12- to 24-centimeter dildos; it was noted that they were for display, not actual use, because the chainsaw-only fabrication left them rather rough!
Two displays showed gnarled branches fashioned into the writhing limbs of headless fucking couples. A torso totem pole displayed a stack of tits and dicks. Four reliefs lay side by side, the toned breasts and buttocks of two male and two female figures, one of each face down and one of each face up, the face up male with an impressive erection and nut sac.
Several statues were positioned throughout the room, in styles ranging from mummy-like blocks to lifelike poses. A few of the male statues were made from a section of a tree where a branch grew up (or down if inverted) and out from the trunk, perfect features to turn into hanging semis and full erections. Talk about morning wood! This CJ appreciated the female form for sure, but apparently really liked cock!
· - ~ | ~ - ·
After another successful Saturday show, Reg and CJ hung out with a few audience members who remained for as long as their guests wanted to convey their amazement, talk about their travels, ask questions, and take photos. Cheyenne loved posting with her enormous chainsaw, the most popular photo op. As in every bunch on every weekend, there were ladies, one to four at a time, pressed into Reg, and single and multiple guys clinging to the semi-legendary Chainsaw CJ. It was no secret that each got a thrill from the admiration, the subtle and occasionally overt sexual attraction and flirtation. Of course mostly men swooned over CJ, but she had her female admirers as well, from the questionably bi-curious feminine types to the obviously butch lesbians.
“Have I ever told you how absolutely fucking sexy you are?” Reg asked after they loaded the truck and were on their way around back of the property’s detached cabin.
“Once or twice,” Cheyenne replied. “Per day, every day. You just like how I handle a big tool, don’t ya?”
“A true artist.”
“I couldn’t do it withoat ya. Your support means the world, ya know.”
“What a team.” Reg shot her a gleaming smile, and they shared an intimate fist bump as the truck bounced behind the cabin.
“My favorite time,” Cheyenne said, pulling the knot in her shirt apart before they stepped through the door. “Shower time.” The cabin was set up as a multi-functional space, part studio, part office, part storage, and a space to relax with two large chairs and a couch facing the back porch. They made use of the shower after every Saturday exhibition, necessary to wash off the layers of sawdust and woodchips that clung to her hair and stuck to her face, neck, arms, abs, and legs.
“You’ll definitely need help,” was Reggie’s familiar response, as his wife discarded her crop top, her bare breasts jiggling to and fro as she shook out her hair. He could never get enough of the sight of her topless in her big boots and little shorts. His dick lurched in his jeans as he pulled off his shirt.
Naked in the shower, the couple took more time than necessary washing each other. Big Reg’s dick was as hard as the wood they worked with by the time he was grinding up against CJ’s ass, reaching his huge paws around the front of her to soap up her tits. Making out and manually stimulating each other in the cool cascading water, their shower was foreplay as much as it was to clean up.
After toweling off, the couple walked around the cabin naked to air-dry as they discussed her next project. Settling on the couch, their hands started wandering, anticipating some sexual release during their alone time.
“Performing like that always gets me so fucking horny,” Cheyenne said, gripping her husband’s dick, beginning to stimulate it back to full hardness.
“Makes me so fucking horny watching ya, too,” he replied.
“You had a couple of hot mommies hanging on ya after the show, ya know.”
“Didn’t notice. Was trying to get sight of you through that crowd of horny guys.”
“You think any of ‘em jack off to pics of me?” She straddled his lap, grinding her tight, toned naked body against his.
“No doubt. I sure would.”
“Or, did.” Her fingers encircled his stiff shaft, beginning to stroke.
As the two groped each other and French kissed deeply, their minds both flashed back to their high school days. Yeah, Reggie Sinclair had jacked off plenty of times to his favorite classmate. Cheyenne Pearson was one of the only two girls in shop class, and always the top student. In her Grade 11 and 12 years, she blew the rest of the class away with her woodworking skills, earning far and away the best grades, and won several local and regional competitions. The fact that she was considered too much of a tomboy for most of the guys suited Reg just fine, as he didn’t have much competition in the dating space. And there was something about the big hockey player’s shaggy red hair that she loved to dig her fingers into while they kissed.
It was ironic that her parents gave her a name that sounded like “Shy Anjanette”, because she was the opposite of shy, always outgoing and never afraid to speak her mind. After smoking some weed and fooling around more and more, CJ (the guys giggled about her new nickname rhyming with BJ) and Reg would talk about sex, what they would want to do when they became sexually active, even masturbation. She got him to admit to jacking off while thinking about her, and she gave him quite vivid descriptions of her own exploration with self-pleasure.
There was no way Reggie and Cheyenne wouldn’t end up together. After he realized during University that he had more business acumen than hockey skills, and she eschewed the corporate world, the two settled outside Vancouver and picked up their dating life where they had left off, though this time incorporating sex that quickly developed in vigor and intensity. Perhaps knowing this in advance, they had been each other’s “first time” during one summer break, and each was the other’s favorite sex partner by far.
Sure, they had hooked up with and dated others while at University separately, but always stayed in touch. Reggie always had a thing for working out, even after his athletic career fizzled, his buff body, confidence, and sparking smile attracting his share of female companions. Cheyenne’s transformation from tomboy to tease was pretty abrupt, allowing her to be quite selective in her suitors. She selected quite a few. Her cousin had an ex-schoolmate named Daphne visit her from Texas for two weeks one summer, and the two of them bonded in a weird combination of alcohol, weed, Molly, and a fascination with guitars and power tools. The bond extended to the next summer’s visit when Daphne became CJ’s first girl-on-girl tryst, an experiment that continued with two other University friends until she got back together with Reg.
Now spouses and business partners, the couple frequently gave in to their desires after a session of artistic creativity or physical activity, or both, got them aroused. Here on the couch in the cabin after a satisfying show and shower, CJ sunk her pussy down onto Big Reg’s throbbing boner and started to grind.
Their sex was frisky, aggressive, vigorous, but not frantic. They took the time for some of their favorite positions, including his strong arms holding her up while he stood and bounced her, and doing her from behind as she hugged the back of the couch. Sucking and stroking his stiff cock reminded her of fashioning those branches into erections for the most satisfyingly graphic of her erotic art displays.
“Oh, Fuck, Ceej, you’re so hot,” Reg bellowed, pounding her as he lay on top with her muscular legs wrapped around his waist.
“Give it to me, Big Reg, fill me up with your creamy syrup!”
“Ah, fuck, I’m gonna blow!” The veins on his forehead and forearms were more defined as he pumped furiously. “Fuck, Chey, oh fuck!”
“Oh yeah, I want you empty!” Cheyenne smacked his firm ass while it clenched a dozen or more times. “Drain it all, Reg.” His large, hard, now-sweaty frame was shuddering as he spewed, his cock driving deep into his wife’s snug, slick pussy as she squeezed every drop out of him.
The two of them caressed and kissed for a minute before going into the bathroom to wash up. “Still horny as fuck?” Reggie asked when CJ plonked her ass down on the counter, masturbating herself and handling Reggie’s deflating dick.
“A bit,” she replied. He was never self-conscious, and she was never dissatisfied, when he came before she did. He’d always see to it that she got hers.
“Lil’ Reg?” he asked.
She laughed. “I think so.”
From the back of the bottom desk drawer, she retrieved a beaten-up wooden box and pulled out Lil’ Reg, a modest slim 15-centimeter carved wooden dildo. Big Reg watched as CJ reclined on the couch and teased her furry slit with the toy before inserting it into her vagina. He got hard again watching her fuck herself, the little log sliding in and out of that juicy valley in the forest of pubes. He thought back to the first time she used it as he swatted and pulled on his inflating manhood.
After one of their weed-fueled sex talks the summer they’d first fucked, Reg decided to give CJ a present she’d never forget. Even though he wasn’t as talented a woodworker as she, he handled a lathe and knife pretty well, fashioning a realistic-looking dick out of the hardest wood he could find, sanding, oiling, and conditioning it meticulously before presenting it to her in a felt-lined homemade wooden box, half as a joke just in case she wasn’t as keen as he hoped.
“I love it!” she had squealed. He’d never heard her squeal before. “I love him. I’ll name him Lil’ Reg.” She has kept Lil’ Reg ever since, long ago losing count of the times she’s masturbated with it, a few times in front of the one who gave it to her.
Her head thrown back in ecstasy now, Cheyene Jeanette Sinclair felt Big Reg’s fingers running through her bush to her clit, helping her to get off as Lil’ Reg pistoned in and out of her vagina. When she reached her noisy and animated sexual climax, she twisted and wiggled it, the two of them admiring the slightly frothy creamy nectar oozing out of the tight seal.
Cuddled up on the couch after cleaning up CJ’s messy pussy, Reg stroked her hair while she stroked his beard. It would be time for lunch and then back to work in a few minutes, but they enjoyed this downtime during the busy weekend.
With the advent of the Internet and some savvy marketing, the popularity of CJ’s Chainsaw Chippins was growing enough to bring in business even from a distance. Seventeen towns in British Columbia and Alberta had her carvings permanently on display in their town squares, and they were close to signing deals with Calgary and Winnipeg. Interest from private buyers and municipalities in the United States, from Juneau and Ketchikan to Spokane and Boise, were developing. Selling more of her art would definitely supplement the tourist income that came to a halt in the winter months, and that might get a boost as a result of a segment in a televised documentary series that was beginning to look like a real possibility.
They weren’t rich by any stretch, but they owned a beautiful piece of property, made a living doing what they enjoyed, and most importantly, they had each other. Life had its share of challenges for Reggie and Cheyenne, but it was a good life, and they made a point of reminding each other of that often. Sex wasn’t the most important part, but times like these, enjoying giving and receiving intimate physical pleasure, were sure worth making a priority.
