MY LUMBERJACK

Marie was doing a story on lumberjacks. She was worried she would end up surrounded by a group of smelly, unkempt freaks, and she was. She just didn’t expect them to be so hot. She expected more beer guts and excessive body hair, but she was surrounded by happy trails and six packs. It made the smell of man sweat and sawdust bearable. It was easier to ignore their shaggy hair and constant spitting. Okay, maybe not the spitting. That was gross, and she found it difficult to walk without stepping in a loogie. The nasty bastards smoked and chewed tobacco, so they had excessive phlegm, and since they worked outside, they just spit EVERYWHERE!

Yes, she was disgusted by them, until they’d turn around and walk away. Then they’d pick up those axes and start swinging, with their muscles all taut and rippling. She decided to just not walk around.

“Did you want someone to give you a tour?” the foreman asked her.

“Yeah, sure. Will that require me walking through that, though?” she asked pointing to the loogie minefield.

The foreman grimaced. “I’ve never looked down before. That’s gross. Don’t worry; I won’t make you walk through that.” He turned away from her and called to a guy named Anthony.

Now Anthony also had a happy trail and a six pack, but it looked like he’d had a haircut in the last decade, he didn’t smell like tobacco, and he didn’t seem to be hacking up snot. Marie was pleased. She also noticed and was perplexed by his choice of pants. The men all wore tight-fitting jeans, but Anthony’s jeans were a bit baggy. They didn’t sag, they were just loose. She wondered if he ever worried they’d get caught in the machinery.

Before she could say anything, the foreman told Anthony to turn around and promptly tossed her on Anthony’s back like he was a pack mule. “Take Ms. Marie to the processing plant and show her around. Keep her off the ground, it’s nasty out here.”

“Will do, boss,” Anthony answered, like it was perfectly normal to carry women around his workplace on his back.

“Do you do this often?” she asked him.

“Do what?”

“Give women piggyback rides?”

“No, we don’t get many women around here. I suppose if more were here, I’d give more rides. What did you want to see?”

“If we can just follow the path of a felled tree so I can document the process, that’d be good.”

“Alright,” he agreed and walked her to the far end of the plant. “You saw them logging outside, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, over here is where they come in from the yard.”

He proceeded to walk her through the process, and she learned a lot. She also learned that he was the only one who wore baggy pants and would often get teased or scolded for it. He was reminded several times to stay back from the heavy machinery, so his pants wouldn’t get caught in it. He was also taunted about, “Being baggy, because there’s nothing saggy.”

Marie thought the guy who had come up with that phrase was an idiot. She was also surprised that it didn’t seem to faze Anthony at all. They called him Teeny Weenie and teased that he was wearing baggy pants to hide his tiny dick. Marie realized that all the tight-jean-wearing lumberjacks were outlined in their tight pants. She could tell you who hung left and who hung right. It was slightly disturbing, and she was happy to be on the back of the only person who didn’t seem to be putting his penis out there for show.

By the end of the day, she was happy to get out of there, but when Anthony set her down by her car, she watched him stretch and pop his back.

“I’m so sorry. I was so distracted by what was going on, I totally overlooked that I was such a huge burden on you. Let me buy you dinner. It’s the least I could do,” she offered him.

“That’d be really nice, thank you. I just need to clock out. Would you like to just meet at the local diner?” he asked.

It was an hour later that they met up at the diner. Anthony had showered and smelled very nice. His black pants were loose, but not as baggy as the ones he had worn to work.

“You clean up really nice,” she said in greeting.

“Thank you, you look great,” he complimented her in return.

They had a nice dinner and enjoyed each other’s company. At the end when she tried to pay, he stole the bill and insisted. He was such a sweet gentleman all through dinner; she invited him back to her place.

They sat on her couch, and she could tell Anthony was nervous, but she wanted to give him the go-ahead to kiss her. She finally just took matters into her own hands and planted one on him. He smiled and kissed her back lightly.

“Is this okay?” she worried.

“Yeah,” he said a little shy. He was so damn cute. He spent all day around crude, gross men, and he was so bashful and shy. It was then she realized that he might be self-conscious about what he had in his pants. He was teased all day in front of her. She needed to reassure him somehow.

She ran her hand down his chest, tickling his abs. She loved those abs. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t look down, hoping to help him keep up his confidence. “Anthony, have you ever heard the saying, ‘It’s not the size of the marker that counts, but how you scribble?’” she asked him.

He looked at her confused. “Do you want to color something?” He looked at her refrigerator, where a poorly-drawn horse was talking to a cat. It had been drawn by Marie’s niece, who was no artist, unless she was going for abstract. Otherwise, the picture just looked like a guy sitting on a bat and vomiting an orange blob.

“No, I don’t want to color. What I was trying to say is…” how did she reassure him without sounding like a whore? “It’s not the size of the sausage, but the way it’s stuffed.”

He looked at her even more confused. They had just eaten. “Are you hungry again?”

“No, no, um…It’s not the size of the pipe, but how it’s plumbed,” she tried again.

His brow furrowed, but Anthony was determined to figure out what the hell she was getting at. “Maybe give me one more,” he encouraged.

She decided it was best to be blunt. The massive amounts of sawdust must have addled his brain. “It’s not the size of your dick that counts, but how you use it.”

His eyes popped wide. “That’s what you were talking about?” he asked shocked.

She giggled and leaned in to kiss him. Now that he knew what she wanted, he was eager to please.

“Marie,” he whispered as he groped her, “I know the size of my ax doesn’t matter to you, just the way I swing it, but I have a pretty damn big ax.”

She looked at him wide-eyed, as he guided her hand down to the front of his pants. He wasn’t kidding. His once-loose pants were very tight; at least they were all down the left pant leg. “Whoa!”

“Yeah, that’s why I wear the baggy pants. I can’t walk in anything else.”

“Wow, that’s a really nice ax.”

He gave her a big grin. “Thank you. How about you let me do some swinging?”

“Yes!” she agreed eagerly.

When she wrote up her report on the lumber mill, she went very in-depth on the different ax-swinging techniques. She knew Anthony would read it and truly appreciate the amount of thought she put into it.

And he did…repeatedly.

By Savannavansmutsmut

Timber

Timber

This must be the place, the event sign reads "15th Annual Lumberjack  Competition and Festival". I park my Hummer H2 and shake my head, only here would I not get teased about my choice of vehicle. I like my cars like my men big, strong and endurance ready.

I walk up to the ticket center and provide my name to a very curvy and bottom heavy cashier. She squeals and with a country twang yells "Well who do you know Missy? You've got yourself here an all inclusive V.I.P ticket , umm humm". I nonchalantly shrug my shoulders and laughing lightly ask her what does all inclusive include?
Excitedly she explains "Well everythang sugar!"
Booze? I ask back
"Ev-ery tha-ng" she enunciates.
Well damn, I'm going to have to give Julio a big fat thank you when I see him.
I beeline straight to the bar area, flash my VIP gold card and place my order. One Kamikaze downed before it even settles in front of me. Next I request a double amaretto sour, I start sipping on that while simultaneously motioning to the bartender for another. (Don't judge me, I come from a long line of "professional drinkers").
I even earned some serious cash in college by betting against and out drinking guys that were two to three times my size. And today my friends would be no different.

Deciding to check the competition out I request an extra tall amaretto sour light ice. Walking around the festival with my drink in hand, I spot all types of characters from shorties to the buff and beautiful; some thin fellas as well as lumberjack girls.  But nothing and I mean nothing could have prepared me for the gorgeous creature ahead of me.  He was splitting logs like he was conducting a freaking orchestra, effortless. The heavens opened, light shown on him and I swear I heard the angels sing "Ave Maria".

This perfect specimen of man was slinging the axe like it was nothing. T-shirt off wearing jeans with suspenders and boots only, the visual alone was enough for me to cum on the spot. Just as I completed the thought he lifts his head and our eyes met and holy shit did he just wink at me?

There's no way, right?  And just like that he's back to splitting logs, one after the other.  I try to pull myself together and act as if in that moment,  I didn't just pick out my wedding gown and the baby names of our future children. Shit that man was hot! But, It's time to replenish my drink. 
The crowd is yelping and hooting, looks like Mr. Future Husband just won. I smile and move on to the next spot, this festival is amazing.

After about an hour I walk in one of the bar/pub areas. I take a look around and I am a kid in a candy store. Most of the guys here appear to be single, at least the ones I was undressing with my eyes. 

Most have beards or goatee's but i really enjoy a nice clean face. Four Amaretto Sour doubles later and I push off the bar and start in the direction of a tall, dark complexion, bald fellow with no facial hair. Nice and thick in all the right places, at least I hoped. 

As usual my  preoccupied thoughts made me lose focus and I clumsily bump into one hell of a beautiful beast. Tall, ripped, olive complexion an absolute demi god with short wavy jet black hair. It's HIM; with a  gleam in his eyes he looks down at me and smiles. The wicked smile on his face as he held me face to chest told me several things,  #1 he was definitely a good time #2 He liked what he saw and #3 he was going to be mine.

Too much to drink, little lady? He questioned  in a deep velvety voice that made my panties melt right off of my body. With that comment I collected myself in a huff, "That handsome is very unlikely", I retorted. 

"Really? Because I seem to remember  you downing 4 tall drinks Amaretto Sour ring a bell? And before that ? I'll guess another and probably a Kamikaze  shot?" 

Still wrapped in his arms I say as calmly as I could "Why Sir, Are you following me?", I say in an exaggerated false astonishment. 

He replies with a simple sentence that immediately has my pussy purring. "I've had my eye on you ever since you walked in".
I now realize he is still holding me I coolly look at his hands holding me at this point up and I raise an eyebrow. He catches my drift and chuckles lightly and says "If I let you go, are you sure you won't fall in your inebriated state?" 

I realize that comment offends me. I am actually offended. 
I casually retort "I'm no where near inebriated, thank you. In fact Sir I would challenge you to try and catch up with me but, you appear to be full of assumptions and we all know what happens when you assume," I finish with a raised eyebrow. 
Chuckling lightly he calls the bartender over and orders two double Amaretto Sours we clink glasses together and drink up.
 The drinks keep coming and I am in my element all eyes are on me. Soon this tall thick tree will fall and wait.... I didn't bet any money. Well I will rectify that immediately. 
The next round of drinks come and before I take a sip i say " You know normally I make a wager.  How about $500.00 says I walk out of here no problem as sober as I came in. He retorts how about $500.00 says you walk out of here wobbling. 

I think this over and say "You're on!"
With those words the entire bar goes wild. Money is flying everywhere bets are being placed. I pull out five 100 dollar bills and he does the same, approximately six drinks in and my tiny bladder calls. I promise to return after receiving directions from the bar staff I make my way to what is labeled as "The Hens House". 

Taking my time and checking my make up, I think I sure hope I'm not wasting my time. Maybe I should be watching the games but I can't walk away now, never have I walked away from a bet and I sure as shit won't start today.

With one final check I open the Hen House door only to be met by Mr. Demigod himself. "I was beginning to think you fell in" he teases as he towers over me. "Miss me did you, Sir?, How is it i still don't know your name?" 

"It's Brenden and you don't have to call me Sir if you don't want to, you can call me handsome again". He smiles this amazing megawatt smile with perfectly white teeth."

"Down Kitty, down" I mentally chastised my vagina. 
With three inch platform construct boots on, Brenden is still towering over me and is now moving in for a kiss. Thank you, thank you, all things holy in the universe, he leans in and I reach up to close the gap when I hear a loud EXCUSE ME! Well that snaps me back into reality. 

Walking back to the bar I place my hand on Branden's shoulder and whisper "You know you can fold now if you want and we can get back the the games or more important things." Inwardly I'm hoping he'd agree to the latter.

He appears to search my face and thinking he says "How about one more drink" with those words he really takes a look at me. As if we didn't just sit here for almost two hours with playful banter and all. But his intense search of my body and face is suddenly making me feel self conscious.

What is he thinking?   I don't dare look away; instead I reach for my glass and enjoy all that is him and the heat that is generating between us. He's staring at my face and head, as if he could see my brain and all things inside it.  I have this tingly sensation my spidey senses are going off but my libido is over riding it. "Shit, I wish I was riding him" and just as I think this he smiles and says "drink up!" I do what he says but that nudging in the back of my head continues. He takes my hand and the crowd says their "Awe's and Boo's" he just waves his hand in the air and says "Another time fellas" as he guides me through the now packed bar.

It's there again that nudge, my brain is slowly putting pieces together. He takes me to a key card entry spacious office which is the size of some apartments, where he starts to make another Amaretto Sour at the wet bar. I try to play cool and walk around the spacious room. 

Awards and photos decorate the walls, Mr. Lumberjack  2000, 2001, 2002, 2003 through 2014, he's on the cover of Men's Health no shirt, veins bulging jeans hanging off of his waistline with an axe in hand suspenders hanging. Well damn that's one hell of a picture. The caption reads "Most eligible bachelor 2012-2015, Mr. Universe 2010, a Masters degree and many more shiny gold or crystal awards, recognitions blah, blah blah. I then read the name Brandon Fraiser-Garner trying to appear unimpressed I asked are these all yours? He tilted his head in acknowledgement.  And again with the tingly scalp I nonchalantly scratch my scalp and meet him halfway as he brings me my drink.

"Are you impressed he asks?" "Should I be?" I ask in an attempt to divert from answering and take a sip and it's delicious my girly parts purr again in appreciation. He has this mischievous smile on his face. 

"What's so funny I ask?" "You" he states. "Me?" "Yes, your such a contradiction." "Really?" I reply "How so?" In a matter of fact all business way he says "Your thoughts don't match your outer expressions or actions. I find you absolutely amusing and refreshing". "My thoughts? I say what do you know about my".... that's when it hits me. The nudging, the crackle of electricity, the easy banter. "Witch!"

His reply is quick "I prefer Warlock". "Really" I say? As I shut my mind down like it's Fort Knox. "Well, Sir I'm glad to have amused you tonight." I finish off my drink and and  make a quick pivot to exit the way I came in. (I do not like games and I hate losing) I make a quick dash for the door but he's faster.

He blocks me, like a brick wall I slam against his chest and into his strong arms as they wrap around me. I get a whiff of his absolute essence, the gods are good. His scent... it's all consuming, a sensory overload and I involuntarily lick my lips as a moan slips from my lips"Ummm" and practically purr.

"Where are you going? Don't leave just yet. "he says.
With another whiff of him i inhale deeply and nod my head.
Brenden explains "When I saw you walk in today and then stumble into my arms, well I knew I had to have you. In. here. In. my. office. Over. my. desk. In. my. chair. On my. couch. On. the. wall. On. my. rug. Everywhere. on. every. inch. of. my. office I want. you. I want you wobbling out of here like I bet you would, intoxicated off of my dick".
And that was all it took.

A true lady never tells all.
To be continued. .....

~Victoria Maundrell