At sixteen, Abby had decided that she wanted to work outdoors in the woods. While all her friends left secondary school for colleges studying hair and beauty, catering, or aiming towards A-levels ready for university, she headed to college to study forestry and woodland management.

This came as a shock to her parents, who didn’t have a single drop of agricultural blood between them, with her mother being the financial director for a huge tech firm and her dad the operations director for a multinational building company. But they smiled and supported her, whilst secretly wishing it was a phase and that she would grow out of it and become more like Chloe, her older sister, who was in her final year of university studying marketing.

But by seventeen, Abby had changed her mind. She no longer wanted to inspect trees in the park or chop down the odd pesky tree in a garden. No! She wanted to be a lumberjack. Not a forester, not a tree surgeon, a proper, mud-soaked, chainsaw-screaming lumberjack. After finishing her second year at Plumpton College, she accepted a remote apprenticeship with a small old school timber crew in the remote pine forests north of the Cairngorms. The contract started shortly after her eighteenth birthday.

The crew took one look at her and wrote her off.

Five foot four, eight stone soaking wet, with a body that turned hi-vis into something obscene. Tiny waist, toned legs from years of hockey, and full, heavy 36CC breasts that strained every layer she wore. Her face didn’t help. Big green eyes, full lips, and long dark hair, she usually braided tightly under her hard hat. The men smirked, muttered “princess” behind her back, and waited for her to quit.

She didn’t.

Abby worked harder than every single one of them. She limbed felled trunks faster, dragged choker chains through knee-deep mud without complaint, and learned everything about the industry and the trees. Soon, she could limb a tree better than lads twice her age. Bruises bloomed across her pale skin like dark constellations. Blisters turned to calluses. And slowly, without a word spoken, the smirks faded into quiet nods of respect.

She was still the only woman and the youngest on the team.

Nights in the tiny static caravan she now called home were brutally lonely. The aluminum walls rattled in the wind. The heater struggled. After long Skype calls with her parents, her dad quietly proud but clearly worried, her mum openly disapproving yet still sending care packages, and her older sister Chloe, who was nothing but supportive, Abby would end the call, lock the door, and take care of the ache that built up inside her every single day.

She’d stand naked in front of the full-length mirror bolted to the wardrobe door, studying her own body as if it belonged to someone else.

First, the grooming. She’d spread her legs, lather her already smooth mound with warm water and unscented shaving foam, then carefully glide the razor over every inch until her pussy was completely bald and glistening. She’d part her puffy outer lips with two fingers, making sure every fold was silky, then repeat the process with her armpits before returning between her thighs to rub in a little coconut oil until her slit shone. Her clit would already be peeking out, swollen and sensitive from the day’s friction against her work trousers.

Then the real release.

Abby would lie back on the old bed, knees drawn up and spread wide, one hand mauling her heavy tits, pinching and twisting her thick pink nipples until they stood out like bullets. While the other worked between her thighs. She’d start slow, circling her clit with two slick fingers, then slide two fingers deep into her tight, dripping cunt, pumping them hard while her thumb flicked her swollen nub. She’d fuck herself relentlessly, hips bucking off the mattress, moaning loud enough that she sometimes bit the pillow to stay quiet.

When the first orgasm hit, she’d curl her fingers hard against her G-spot, sometimes squirting a hot gush over her hand and the sheets. She rarely stopped at one. The second would be even harder, three fingers stretching her, thumb grinding her clit, free hand slapping and squeezing her tits until they were red. She’d come again with a broken cry, thighs shaking, pussy clenching and pulsing, creamy juices coating her wrist and dripping down to her tight little arsehole. Only then could she finally sleep.

Three months in, she met Luke.

He was the quietest of the local farm lads. Smaller and slimmer than the others, with dark, messy hair and soft brown eyes. Where the other boys stared at her arse or tits and tried to mansplain everything, Luke just talked to her like she was a person. About lambing season, about soil, about music. He never once ogled her.

Their first proper date was fish and chips in the back of his dad’s battered pickup, parked on a forestry track, watching the sunset.

By the third date, they were in her caravan. After an awkward romantic dinner and a cheap bottle of wine, they found themselves with clothes half off, hands everywhere. Luke was gentle but eager. He’d suck on her tits until she was whimpering, fingers buried to the knuckle in her soaked pussy, curling against her G-spot that he'd found with her help while she stroked his thick, veiny cock. She loved the way it throbbed in her grip, pre-cum slicking her palm. She’d drop to her knees and take him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the fat head, sucking him deep until her throat relaxed and she could swallow every inch, gagging softly while he groaned and stroked her hair.

He’d return the favour, spreading her on the bed and devouring her pussy for ages. Long, slow licks from arsehole to clit, sucking her swollen lips into his mouth, tongue fucking her until she came hard on his face, grinding against him and soaking his chin.

They never went all the way. Not yet.

“Soon,” they’d whisper, not wanting to rush it and wreck whatever this was, as they lay panting, their bodies slick with sweat and cum.

Then came the day of relentless horizontal rain and sucking mud. Twelve hours of it. When the boss finally dropped her at the caravan steps, Abby was drenched, filthy, and exhausted. She kicked the door shut, dropped her kit bag and chainsaw, stripped on the spot, and her mud-caked clothes hit the floor.

All that remained was a tiny black thong, stretched obscenely tight over her freshly shaved mound. The thin fabric moulded perfectly to every detail of her pussy, outlining her puffy lips and the hard little clit poking against it, and a black sports bra. Not sexy at all, but practical. It contained her heavy tits during the long hours in the woods, nipples poking through, stiff from the cold.

She stood in front of the mirror, turning slowly, cataloging every new bruise and scratch across her pale skin, her abs tight and defined from months of hard labour. She hooked her thumbs in the thong and peeled it down just enough to see how wet the crotch was, and not from rain.

She never heard the dirt bike over the storm. The knock made her jump.

Abby opened the door a crack and peered out. Luke stood on the step, soaked through, helmet under his arm.

“Bike’s fucked. Dad’s coming to pick me up, but he’ll be an hour at least. Can I wait inside?”

Abby opened the door wider. His eyes dropped instantly, pupils blowing wide as he drank in every semi-naked inch of her. Heavy tits, flat stomach, the tiny thong barely covering her glistening pussy.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, closing the door behind him, voice low and sweet. “I’m taking a shower to wash all this shit off.” She turned and walked to the tiny en-suite, then paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder with the filthiest little smile.

“Alternatively… you could join me.”

He was naked in seconds.

Steam filled the cramped cubicle. They washed each other with shaking hands. Abby soaping the mud from his arms and back, Luke gently cleaning her tits, lifting them to rinse underneath, thumbs brushing her hard nipples.

Then their mouths crashed together. Tongues sliding, teeth nipping. Her heavy breasts squashed against his solid chest, nipples dragging over his skin. His thick, rock-hard cock pressed upright between them, the hot length trapped against her toned abs, leaking pre-cum onto her stomach.

Abby dropped to her knees on the wet tiles, water cascading over her. She took his cock in both hands, stroking the veiny shaft while she licked the fat head, tasting his pre-cum. Then she opened wide and swallowed him, inch after inch sliding over her tongue until her nose pressed to his trimmed pubes. She bobbed fast, hollowing her cheeks, gagging wetly when he hit the back of her throat, saliva dripping down her chin and onto her tits.

Luke groaned, fingers tangled in her wet hair. “Fuck, Abby…”

He came with a guttural shout, thick ropes of hot cum flooding her mouth. She swallowed every drop, milking him with her throat until he was empty, then licked him clean with a wicked grin.

He pulled her up, kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her tongue, then lifted her effortlessly and carried her the few steps to the bed. He dropped her onto the mattress and immediately buried his face between her thighs.

He ate her like a starving man. His tongue spearing deep into her dripping cunt, sucking her clit hard, two thick fingers pumping in and out while his other hand mauled her tits. Abby thrashed, moaning obscenely, hips grinding against his face. When she came, she screamed, thighs clamping around his head, pussy gushing hot nectar all over his chin.

She was still shaking when she pulled him up and onto his back, straddled his hips, and grabbed his hard cock. No asking. No warning. She lined him up with her soaked entrance and sank down in one long, smooth motion, taking every thick inch until her arse rested on his balls.

They both groaned. She was so tight, so wet, her inner walls rippling around him.

Abby rode him hard. Hands braced on his chest, she lifted and slammed down, tits bouncing wildly, nipples stiff. She ground her clit against his pubic bone on every downstroke, chasing her pleasure.

Her first orgasm hit fast, pussy clenching rhythmically around his cock, juices dripping down his shaft. She didn’t stop. The second came while she leaned back, one hand rubbing her clit furiously, screaming his name as she squirted again. Luke’s hands gripped her hips, thrusting up to meet her, eyes locked on where his cock disappeared into her stretched pink pussy.

On her third orgasm, body shaking, tits heaving, cunt spasming violently, Luke lost it. He slammed up into her one last time and came with a raw, animalistic groan, pumping rope after thick rope of hot cum deep inside her. She felt every pulse, every spurt filling her up.

They stayed locked together, panting, sweaty, his cock still twitching inside her as the last drops leaked out.

Then reality hit him. “Shit, Abby, I came inside you!”

She laughed breathlessly, still impaled on him, and cupped his face.

“Implant, remember? We’re safe,” she said, easing herself off him and lying beside him in the now wrecked bed.

Luke exhaled shakily, then looked down between her thighs. His eyes darkened with fresh lust as he watched his thick white cum slowly oozing out of her swollen, well fucked pussy, creamy strands stretching between her puffy lips, and running down over her tight, crinkled star.

He reached for the packet of wet wipes on the bedside table and gently cleaned her, wiping away the mess with reverent strokes, then kissing her softly.

His phone buzzed. Dad was outside.

They dressed between stolen kisses, then shared another long, deep one at the door before he left. The second the door clicked shut, Abby stripped again, took a proper hot shower, and wrapped herself in a towel. She opened Skype.

Chloe answered immediately, smiling wide. “Hey, baby sis! How was the shit weather today?”

Abby grinned, cheeks still flushed, and flopped onto the bed. “Fucking incredible, actually. You have no idea what just happened.”

Chloe’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, my God. Tell me everything. And I mean everything.”

Abby bit her lip, then started from the beginning, the mud, the stripping, the mirror, the tiny thong clinging to her freshly shaved pussy. She described letting Luke in, being almost naked, the shower, dropping to her knees, and sucking his thick cock until he filled her throat with cum. She told her sister how he’d eaten her pussy until she squirted all over his face. How she’d climbed on top and sunk down onto him, riding him so hard her tits bounced and she came three times screaming. And, how he’d flooded her cunt with load after load of hot cum and then watched it leak out of her stretched hole while he cleaned her up.

Chloe listened, eyes wide, occasionally murmuring, “Holy shit,” or “That’s so hot.”

When Abby finally finished, breathing a little faster just from retelling it, her sister laughed softly.

“God, I’m so happy for you, Abs. You sound properly fucked and properly happy. Just… stay safe, yeah? And tell me next time too, I want all the filthy details every single time.”

Abby smiled, warm and sated. “Promise. Love you, Chloe.”

“Love you more. Now go sleep, you earned it, lumberjack.”

Abby ended the call, curled under the duvet, still smelling faintly of Luke and sex, and drifted off with a satisfied little sigh.

For the first time in months, the caravan didn’t feel lonely at all.