Page 8 of Hard Wood Daddy

People try to take advantage of me now. Usually, they come with smiles and reassurances, but I can see their deceptive eyes. They want the land. It’s valuable, I guess.

To me, it’s priceless. It’s part of me. I could never leave. I don’t fit anywhere else. In every way.

I can’t even fit through most doorways in town. I have to duck, curl my shoulders in, turn sideways.

People stare. They always stare.

There’s no way I can know if Lindsay’s one of those people who take advantage, unless I read the lease.

I should care about that.

A lot.

And I do, in a way. I like Lindsay and I want to trust her, and I don’t want to admit that I can’t read the lease agreement. But today, none of that seemed to matter.

Because once I saw Tess, I stopped caring about all that. Now, instead of figuring out how to save my land, I’m lurking in the woods outside the window to her cabin.

I can’t stop watching her. She’s got one of the nice cabins. Little but cute like her.

She’d be horrified if she knew how badly I want to violate her. How heavy my nuts have gotten looking at her. The way my dick hardened so I feel it throbbing through my entire body.

I watch as she sets her backpack on the bed and her kitten on the backpack.

The kitten’s tiny, but it looks vicious. It immediately starts jumping at the curtains with claws sticking out, and the claws look like needles.

My teeth grind. That little creature makes me want to run, but I want to look at Tess more.

Tess is fearless. She scoops the kitten up, and she smiles when she scolds it.

Then she bends down to do something on the floor—maybe unlace her shoes. I don’t know. I can’t see. And even if I could see her feet, I’d be too distracted to look.

Once she’s bent over, I get a real look at that ass.

God must be real. It’d take a God to sculpt something that perfect.

Just watching her move around gets me so hard, it’s like the blood rushes out of my head, my legs, my fingertips. I’m so fucking turned on by the sight of her unpacking that the fabric on the front of my worn jeans starts to tear.

I reach down, grabbing myself, trying to adjust. I’ve gotten so hard the head sticks out my waistband. The slit’s weeping and deep purple, for fuck’s sake.

I’ve had hard-ons before. I’ve jerked out relief a few times. I just…never used to think about it all that much. There’s not a lot of women on a mountain, and my relationship with the ones who come here has been professional.

I keep busy. I’ve been mostly alone.

I’d never seen Tess before.

So this isn’t like one ofthosehard-ons where I can just wait it out. When I grind my hand against my crotch, it’s no relief at all. I don’t want just anything rubbing against me. I want what I’m looking at—that big round ass shifting side to side.

Instinct’s giving me all kinds of ideas. I don’t know how many of those ideas are realistic.

I could rip apart her jeans and get that ass out where I can see it right. But then what? Can I just bury my face against her ass and…eat her?

Why do I wanna eat her so bad?

Tess straightens. Her hair has totally escaped its ties. It tumbles loose around her shoulders, and I swear to God, I can smell it from outside. It’s like Fruit Loops or something. That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever eaten, but I already know, she will be sweeter.

It gives me more ideas. I think about wrapping her hair around my fist, wrapping my fist around my cock, jerking off with her hair so that my dick hits her cheek over and over until I blow my load all over her face.

I think of those movies I saw when I was little where they put cream pies onto someone’s face.

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