Lumberjack Stories

Dean was buried in me, soft but twitching, his breath warm on my tits as I ground my hips down in slow circles. My folds raw and greedy from our last round, but I wasn’t finished. We were under the covers. I knew the others were still out there, but I didn’t care. Let them listen. I rocked again, grinding my clit along his root, teasing the length back to life. He groaned into my chest, one hand lazily pawing at my arse,...

The cold hit more than usual that morning, but I didn’t care. I was already half-wet before I stepped out the door, the flannel shirt sticking to my skin where it brushed bare curves. My nipples ached under the fabric. I wanted to feel him shiver when I slid the shirt open and pulled him in. I stepped out into the clearing. Empty. The mist clung low over the frost. Trees stood still. But no one was waiting. I stood there,...

I stopped pretending this was a one-off accident. Luis hadn’t said anything, but Cole definitely had. I could hear the shift in the way the boys talked. The teasing got bolder. The looks lasted longer. There was weight behind the way they greeted, that edge of expectation just below the surface. I didn’t mind. And the truth was, I needed it. The ache hadn’t gone away since that first time in the trees. My muscles burnt fr...

The whole day I kept wondering if anyone knew. Luis didn’t say a word. No awkward stares. No weird tension. He moved through the day steady as ever. If he told anyone, he was more discreet than I gave him credit for. Still, I couldn’t shake the heat that clung to me. Every glance from the guys made me wonder. Every passing smirk felt a little too long. I worked through the burn in my thighs and the ache in my arms, pushin...

I arrived just after dawn. Cold air, damp soil, and the deep hush of pine all around me. I tossed my bag off the back of the truck and rolled my shoulders. Ached to get to work. My last job had been good, but I needed distance. Space to breathe. To remember how it felt to be alone in my body, not twisted up with someone else's bullshit. The boys noticed me right away. They were clustered near the equipment shed, leaning o...

Mrs. Claus sat at the kitchen table, quietly fuming and sipping her third glass of Bodacious. Santa had returned home, exhausted and spent, and went straight to bed without even glancing at his scantily-clad and eager-to-share-her-beaver Mrs. Bastard. Saves up all year to travel the globe, emptying his sack everywhere but here. Housewives, widows, single women of all ages and sizes, but doesn’t keep a dribble for me. Well...