Page 11 of Massive Size Lumberjack

“I haven’t seen you wear much,” she acknowledges with another playful smile at me. “But really? A neon yellow windbreaker? And yellow running shoes?”

I look down at myself. It’s true, I look like a fluorescent glow-stick at the moment, and let out a low chuckle.

“I have a limited selection of clothing, so I have to wear whatever’s in my closet, and it’s this neon shit. You know me, sweetheart. I’m not into clothes. I get my jollies from being outside and active.”

Grace throws her arms around my bronzed neck before going onto her tippy-toes for a sensuous kiss.

“I know, and that’s why I’m attracted to you, Mr. Rock,” she murmurs against my lips. “You’re not the average guy who’s indoors all the time, staring at a computer screen so that you’re pasty and white. Your muscles are all real, and come from hard labor, and not a personal trainer.” With that, Grace whirls on her toes and steps outside of her cabin, me following in her wake. “Ready?” she smiles at me. “Let’s go!”

Then, she darts down the trail, jogging faster than I expected. Of course, the curvy girl is no match for me when it comes to running because I’m an athlete. When I’m in Vegas, I work out six times a week at the gym, no excuses. I lift, run on the treadmill, and sometimes box to maintain my physique. Don’t get me wrong because it fucking sucks to get up at 5 a.m. to hit the gym, day in and day out. But if I want to maintain my physique, then that’s what needs to happen. A couple ofmy friends are already getting paunchy and rundown, and it’s because they don’t have the discipline. Meanwhile, I’ve been at it since I was fifteen years old and look like fucking He-Man as a result.

But yeah, Gracie has no idea that I’m actually a billionaire from Vegas, and the lies kill me a little more every day. I’ve been lying through my teeth to the curvy girl these past couple weeks, and shit’s getting slippery. The young woman thinks I’m a blue collar lumberjack between gigs, living in a shitty one bedroom cabin halfway up the hill from hers. She thinks that my physique is from chopping wood and clearing forest growth all day. She thinks that I scrimp and save to afford my life, when actually, the opposite is true. I’m actually a tech CEO who could buy and sell the entire town of Fairview if I wanted to. Hell, maybe I will. Who knows? It could be cool to re-name the town “Rockwell.”

But it’s been nice living in this fantasy. Gracie has no idea who I am, and doesn’t care that I’m a humble lumberjack. She loves me as I am, and basically stays at my cabin most nights now, letting me fuck that tender cunt whenever I want, which is a lot. I’m allegedly “between gigs,” so I don’t have to get up for work in the mornings. Instead, I fuck her young body morning, noon, and night, making her scream with joy. Oh, and she’s gifted me with her other cherries as well, so I’m fucking those too. What a lucky asshole, right? I get my choice of pussy, ass or mouth whenever I want, 24/7.

But I do my share. I help her with her so-called “farm.” Again, it’s a tiny plot of land seeded with maybe two hundred marijuana plants, halfway up the hillside. It’s not a lot of work, although there were a couple days when we had to hustle because of the weather, fertilizer, or other agricultural issues. But I’m never worried because my girl knows what she’s doing. She’s deft andquick to foresee any problems for her crops, and I respect her horticultural skills.

It's her family that’s the fucking mystery. In the time I’ve been using their daughter’s curves, neither her father nor brother have shown up once.

“Do they call, at least?” I asked, one brow raised after I claimed her hot and sweaty by the tool shed. We have the place to ourselves, so we basically fuck like rabbits all over the place. “Surely, your dad and brother check up on you every now and then.”

Gracie looked down, a flush on her cheeks as she bit her lip.

“Well, reception is bad here, but I do hear from them every now and then. Of course, I haven’t heard from them in a while, but it’s because our last harvest was plentiful, so Robbie and Jim have more than enough to work with. And it’s on me too,” she says quickly. “I haven’t reached out to them either.”

I nod thoughtfully while gently running my fingers through the come leaking from her pussy. I push the viscous seed back into Gracie’s damp hole because that’s where it belongs: inside my woman, where it can’t get out.

But still, what the hell is wrong with these her family? Why haven’t these fuckers checked up on Gracie, when she’s young and alone halfway up the mountain? I mean, fuck, if I knew my daughter was being fucked rough and wild by a mountain man, I’d come up with a shotgun in my arms. I’d be hauled off for homicide at the first blast because that fucker wouldn’t have a head anymore.

But Gracie always excuses their actions, and she doesn’t like to talk about her family much either. She said her mom left whenshe was a kid, and her dad worked hard to keep her and her brother clothed and fed. I respect that, but still. Something’s not right, and I have a bad feeling about these motherfuckers. Selling a puny amount of MJ isn’t enough to feed a family, much less sustain yourself for the long run. There’s something jacked up going on, and I’m pretty sure that they’re hiding it from my beautiful girl.

But right now, we’re on a run so I put it out of my head. My girl looks gorgeous with that big bottom bouncing and jouncing as she skips up the hill like a gazelle. Fuck. I’m athletic, but cardio’s not my thing and I’m huffing and puffing by the time I get up there next to her.

“Winded, some?” she giggles as I bend over, my hands on my knees. “Who would have thought that the big ole lumberjack would be felled by trail running?”

I glare at her playfully, still trying to get my breath back.

“I tromp through the forest in my steel-toed boots conquering trees left and right,” is my growl. “I don’trunthrough the trees, I fell them. If they had legs, they’d take off through the forest when they see me coming.”

Gracie rolls her eyes playfully.

“Oh really, and do you brandish your axe over your head?” she snarks. “Like you’re getting ready to throw it?”

I pin her with a look.

“Baby, we don’t use axes on the job. We use fucking chainsaws that are bigger than you. When I don’t have you in bed, I take my chainsaw to bed and hump it like it’s a woman. It’s got a sexy smell, and the thrum of the motor makes me horny.”

Gracie giggles again before darting down the path, that big rump shaking deliciously with every step.

“Oh really, you fuck chainsaws?” she calls over her shoulder. “What other equipment do you fuck? Hammers? Nails? Maybe a leaf-blower?”

I growl, my blue eyes flaring as her giant breasts bobble so hard that they almost fall out of her sports bra. But the woman is onto something, and she doesn’t even know it because I’m a fucking pervert. Sure, I’ve been nasty in bed with her, punishing all three of her holes and playing eenie meenie miney mo between them whenever I want. But that shit is still straight sex to me, and pretty vanilla too. No, my tastes can get pretty fucking extreme because I like it rough. I like watching a girl take dildo in her pussy, and another in her ass, as she chokes with my cock in her mouth. I like spitting on her, and letting my saliva drool between her hungrily parted lips. I love seeing lipstick on my dick, and then watching her hump that lipstick canister, sliding it in and out of her slick folds before pushing it into her asshole too. My tastes are fucked up, and I just haven’t unleashed them on Gracie yet.

After all, the young woman was a virgin mere weeks ago. Her hymen was busted on my cock, leaving a telltale smear of red on that massive shaft, and when I saw Grace’s first blood, something fucking strange happened. Possession coursed through my veins, and I couldn’t think for a moment. The only words circling in my head were, “Mine, mine mine. She’s mine.”

But how the fuck would that work? I’ve been lying to Grace all this time, and about everything too. About my identity. About where I come from, and what I do for a living. About my family, and the debauched life that my twin and I enjoy in Vegas. Hell, Gracie thinks I’m a good guy. She thinks I’m a hard-workingAmerican, like so many of our fellow citizens, when the truth is that I’ve fucked so many women over the years that it isn’t even funny. I’m embarrassed to recall my exploits at this point.

So yeah, I have no idea how I’m going to break the ugly truth to Grace. She’ll be devastated and probably kick me to the curb. But it’s for the best because a woman so soft and sweet deserves better than me. She deserves a man who will care for her, and comfort her when she cries. She deserves a man who will put a roof over her head, and give her a passel of children. She deserves a man who’s loyal and kind, and who will make her an honest woman with a diamond on her finger and the promise of a golden anniversary. Meanwhile, I’m a motherfucker who only looks out for myself. Kids? Marriage? Hell no. That shit is fucked-up and I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole.

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