by Frankie Love
I think of the memes I’ve seen on Facebook about bearded men belonging between a woman’s legs, and I can’t help but let a laugh escape at this being my real-life actuality.
“Does that tickle?” he asks.
“More. I want more, Everett.”
Everett pulls off my panties, his hand cupping my bare ass, my fingers itching to touch him, to touch his cock. He’s still taking his time with me. His mouth is hot against my pussy and he runs a finger between my legs, over my ass, his fingers finding my most tender parts. His tongue runs over my pussy, tasting my wetness.
“I like knowing how ready you are,” he tells me. “I’m ready too.”
I looked down and see the outline of his hard cock in his jeans. But then his face is against my pussy again, his tongue licking me, tasting my release.
My eyes close and I move my hips ever so slightly, leaning into this intimacy with him.
“I need you on your back,” he tells me. “I need your legs spread, and to make your pussy mine.”
He stands, picking me up, in a way no man ever has before and carries me out of the living room.
I let this man unwrap me and now I’ll let him go down my chimney.
Chapter Six
Evie’s on her back. Her blonde hair framing her face, her lips swollen from our kiss. And her pussy is swollen too. Aching, wanting. I pull off my flannel shirt, and her eyes widen and she takes me in.
Tattoos cross my chest, sleeves on both arms. Her eyes run over me, and I know she likes what she sees because she licks her lips and lets out the slightest moan.
She wants me as much as I want her.
I spread her legs, and press my face against her pussy, she is so fucking wet. My cock so hard for her.
I lick her creamy goodness, my tongue circling her clit in tight movements that cause her knees to tremble, her thighs to shake. I lick her pretty little pussy up and down until her sweet release covers my face. I love making her wetter than fuck; I want her to cum all over me.
And then I’m gonna cum in her.
“Oh my God, Everett,” Evie moans. “Oh yes, yes, yes.” She writhes beneath me as the orgasm rolls over her. She’s breathless and panting and dripping wet.
She’s fucking gorgeous, that’s what she is.
And tonight, she is mine.
I sit up on the bed, my hands cupping her breasts, which are huge globes of perfection. Round tits made for sucking and titty fucking. Tits that were made for me.
“Everett,” she moans, propping herself up on the pillows. “I need to see you. All of you.”
Her hands reach for my jeans.
“Eager, are we?”
“Very,” she purrs.
I shake my head and get off the bed, not wanting to make this angel wait. Unbuttoning my jeans, and sliding off my boxers, my cock is hard and at attention.
“Oh, Everett.”
I turn and see Evie has covered her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, stroking my shaft, getting back on the bed, next to my already unwrapped present, a present I have already devoured once.
“Nothing is wrong... it’s just you’re really... big.” She moves her hand and I see a big smile spread across her rosy cheeks.
I love that my huge cock unnerves her, and now it’s going to destroy her for any other man.
“Why don’t you put me in your mouth first?”
She crawls to the edge of the bed with her round ass in the air, tempting me. I want to put my cock back there, but that’s for later. Right now, I’m going to let her open her mouth nice and wide and suck me off until my cum slides down her throat.
“I want to lick your cock so badly, Everett,” she tells me, sitting on the edge of the bed, her knees apart, her fingers pressed against her pussy as if remembering the orgasm that just rocked her.
“Good,” I tell her. “Let me watch you take me, watch your head bob up and down as my cock hits the back of your throat.”
She takes me, her soft hands stroking me slowly. “I want your cock. I want to taste you, Everett. Like you tasted me.”
She lifts a finger from her pussy and offers it to me. I suck her finger, her sweet juice getting me harder than fuck.
Her mouth opens and she starts sucking me, her hands cupping my balls, rubbing against my shaft. Her head moves up and down, and my hands find her luscious tits.
“Oh, Evie, fuck, that feels good,” I tell her.
She moves faster, liking my encouragement, and I press her head down, so she takes more of me. She said she wanted to gag on my cock and I want that too.
She sucks me hard until my cock is ready to explode. I feel my seed shooting from my tip, her warm mouth taking me, her tongue rolling over my hard ridges. She’s moaning, eyes closed and wanting.
I pull my cock from her, the cum shooting in ribbons, and I let it fall across her massive tits that were made to be coated in my cum.
She licks her lips, her chest heaving, her body begging for more.
I tell her to turn around, my cock still hard and her pussy still wet. I roll on a condom and spread her little ass, so I can get my cock in her tight pussy.
On all fours, she takes me, and my cock fills her fully, fills her like we were meant to go together and she cries out as I thrust against her round perfect ass, her pussy tight around my dick, as if all of me is made for all of her.
“Oh, Everett,” she cries, panting in pleasure. “That feels fucking amazing.”
“You feel so good, baby,” I tell her, my hands on her tits, pulling her body to me as I pound against her. Her pussy walls thrum, her nipples erect and my cock relentless.
I fuck her hard, the way she wants and the way I need. Her body is curvy and soft and oh so willing.
“Oh, Evie,” I groan, coming in her pussy, wishing that condom wasn’t there because I want to feel all of her. She screams in pleasure, and I grin, loving a loud woman in the bedroom. A woman who understands that giving her body over to a man who knows how to fuck her properly is the best form of submission.
Evie is all woman, and she is all mine.
Now I need to make her understand that I can’t let her go.
Chapter Seven
Once we catch our breath, Everett offers me his shower, and I take him up on it.
“I’ll get dinner started. You made me work up an appetite.”
“That sounds great.”
In the bathroom, I lean against the door, catching my breath from the whirlwind. My legs still feel shaky, and my pussy still hums with pleasure.
Everett fucked me hard, with so much desperation and longing. Desire.
I run my hands over my bare body, wondering why I didn’t feel so exposed with a man who is a stranger.
But I don’t. Somehow, in the space of a few hours, I feel seen.
I shower quickly, surprised to see all his bathroom products are homemade. Mason jars line the bathroom counter, salves, and essential oils, but not in a prissy way.
No, everything here screams self-reliance.
Everything here screams I’m my own goddamn man.
I think about my bathroom counter at home. Bath and Body Works has pretty much been a staple in my life since I was twelve years old. I live for the buy one get one free sales at Sephora. My makeup alone would overrun Everett’s minimalist space.
Of course, I have a space for everything in my bathroom. I even wrote a blog post titled, Organizing Your Makeup Essentials.
Though in truth, my “essentials” included a Top 100 Must-Have list of products. Which is laughable, considering Everett’s goal of having only 100 items in his possession.
I try to imagine his eyes if he saw my house. J. Crew, Nordstrom, and Free People catalogs stacked on my Pottery Barn coffee table. Not to mention my closets.
Let’s just say I have a slight shoe addiction.
I dry off, pressing my face to the towel, relishing the smell of Everett... the smell of a real man. Looking in the mirror I realize I don’t
have a purse or toiletries... or any concealer. I was naked before him and I didn’t feel exposed, but now with my makeup washed off and my face bare... I feel naked.
I towel dry my hair and tuck strands behind my ear. Everett had given me a flannel shirt and a pair of boxers before I went to the shower. Slipping them on now, I like the way his large shirt cuffs fall over my hands. It makes me feel smaller than I usually do and that feels good. I pull on his boxers and roll down the waistband a few times, then I look at my butt in the mirror and smile.
At least my rear looks cute.
I step out of the bathroom, not quite sure what the rest of the night will hold. We’ve already fucked one another up and down, but I admit to already wondering if there could be more of that.
I wouldn’t resist.
In the kitchen, Everett is stirring a pot and as I enter, he smiles in that stoic way of his.
“You look beautiful,” he tells me.
“Oh, shut up,” I brush him off, peering over the counter see what he’s making. Chili and cornbread. Perfect meal for a night like this.
“I’m pretty impressed with your homemade bathroom products,” I tell him. “You do a lot of arts and crafts?”
“Arts and crafts? Not exactly.” He doesn’t offer more and that annoys me.
“What?” he asks, apparently recognizing my facial expression.
“It’s just... the way you don’t fill the gaps on your own? It’s kind of annoying.”
That makes Everett laugh again. It’s like every time I blurt something out that’s maybe not exactly appropriate, he gets a kick out of it. He gets a kick out of me.
“Sorry, Evie. I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m just not sure what exactly you’re looking for in terms of an answer.”
“How about just an explanation. S, you’re this hot mountain man who lives all by himself, but why? What do you do all day? Do you ever get bored? And where do get your groceries?”
“So you’re saying you want to know the whole damn story?”
“Yeah, I do. I mean, I know about your you know what.” I circle around his cock --which is pretty epic in terms of proportions. “But besides being amazing in bed, who is Everett? What’s the story?”
“Got tired of the bullshit so I moved out here. Five years ago.”
“You just quit your life?”
“Sometimes things don’t go as you expect, and it kinda changes the way you see the world.”
“And what changed your world?”
Everett dishes up the bowls of chili and brings the cornbread to the table. He turns and grabs a few beers from the refrigerator and uses his hand to take off the caps.
“Well, my parents died, my sister too. A car crash on the way to see me in my big ass job in the city. And after they all died, all I wanted was to have had more time with them.
“Life felt sacred suddenly... with no guarantees. I spent a lot of years wearing three-piece suits, working for the man. Not saying there’s no value in that, I mean we’ve all got jobs to make the world go around, but I just realized that wasn’t what I wanted.”
“So you cashed out and bought this place?”
“Pretty much. I write books now, about...” Everett’s cheeks redden, and I swear he’s blushing.
“Oh, my gosh what are you writing about? Are you writing some smutty erotica? Tell me everything.”
“No.” Everett shakes his head, grinning. “Though after today, I think I’d have plenty of good material.” Everett’s twinkling eyes meet mine , both of us seeming to remember the way our bodies felt inside of one another, his hands on my breasts, my hand on his cock, his come on my face.
“Okay then, what are you writing about, mountain man?”
“I just write about my life. You know how you write a blog? I guess it’s kinda like that, only e-books. I journal my whole year out here on the mountain and then publish it. People seem to like the day in the life sort of thing.”
My hands fly to my mouth. “Oh my God. What are you going to write about today?” Now it’s my turn to have a reddened face.
Everett laughs, dipping his spoon into his bowl and takes a bite before answering.
“Well, as much as I’d like to detail our time together for my rabid fans, I can easily gloss over it by saying I got nostalgic this morning missing my family, being as it’s Christmas time, and grabbed my ax, headed into the woods to chop down a Christmas tree. It’s up to you if you want me to add that I found a present when I was up on Mistletoe Mountain.”
“That’s what the mountain is called?”
Everett nods. “Sure is. Didn’t you see all those boughs of mistletoe up there? The mistletoe grafted on all sorts of pine trees up there. It’s a real special place.”
I consider Everett, I swear he knows everything. Cooking and hunting and making homemade soap. He is the modern Renaissance man.
I feel very honored to be here with him at all.
“You can tell your readers you met me. In fact, you can tell them I trimmed your tree.”
“I don’t think you’ve finished the tree quite yet, Evie. Gotta put a star on top, don’t you?” He grins, then takes a swig of his beer, and I do too. “Tell me, what would you have done tonight if you hadn’t ever gotten lost?”
I set down my beer thinking about how to answer. I have the distinct feeling that Everett is going to judge the way I spend my days and nights harshly... and I’m not quite sure that I want to ruin what we have found.
“I don’t know if I want to tell you.”
“Oh, you’re gonna tell me all right,” he says. “Honest, how bad is it?”
I groan, “Well I’d have worked all afternoon, making the wreaths for my neighbors. Yes, I may be a party girl, but I’m a nice one. Besides, these wreaths need to be made so I can write a blog post about them. Then around ten or so, I was going to go to an ugly Christmas sweater party. The plan was to go to this party, get sloppy drunk on cheap shots. Probably annoy my friends by wanting to stay longer than everyone else.”
“And tomorrow?”
I smirk. “Tomorrow I’d wake up totally hungover and then meet some other friends for brunch, where we would drink Bloody Marys until late afternoon at which point I’d need to find decent clothing to wear so I could go to my sister’s for Christmas Eve dinner.”
I talk fast, thinking if I just put it out there, told Everett exactly what kind of woman I am, he could take it or leave it. No use tiptoeing around the truth. Hell, I have a distinct advantage here. I’ve seen his home, been in his bedroom and bathroom and have seen how he lives.
He doesn’t know much about me. Besides the fact he likes my breasts and my ass ... and my pussy. Besides the fact I make him laugh and he knows I can make a mean paper snowflake.
“Do you ever sleep?” he asks.
“That’s it? You’re asking about my sleep patterns?” I shrug. “Yes, Everett. I sleep. Probably too much actually. My working at home gig means pajamas and naps. And lots of them.”
“I work from home too.”
I twist my lips, realizing our work at home habits are very different.
“Okay, tell me, what does a day in the life of Everett look like? I’m guessing you don’t wear pajamas until dinner time.”
“Uh, no. At five a.m. I’m out most mornings feeding the goats, pigs, and chickens. Then I’ve gotta muck out their stalls. Check the traps I’ve laid in the woods. After I do that I have some morning coffee, maybe pull out my laptop, because even though I don’t have Wi-Fi and cell service, I do write on a computer.
“I make a few notes about the morning before heading out for a long walk. Most of the year there is a lot of work to be done outside. Working in the garden, mostly, and that gives me enough exercise. But in the winter things are quieter. Slower. So, I make sure to go on a long walk every day.”
I must be looking at him funny because he asks me why my eyes are raised. “No reason. I’m just listening. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever met another per
son like you.”
“Likewise.”
Not knowing if that’s a compliment or not, I take his chili bowl and mine to the sink and rinse them out. Our beer bottles are drained, and I reach for two more in the refrigerator.
“So what do you do after you take that long walk?” I ask, handing him a beer.
“I read. Work on anything that needs to be done in the kitchen. Check the solar panels, make sure they’re in working order. I work on house projects, like that soap and shampoo. That’s the sort of thing I do in the winter.”
“Your life seems really slow. Really quiet.”
“Quiet for sure, but it’s busy. I can’t take anything for granted when I have to do everything on my own.”
“Is it ever lonely, Everett?” He looks away then, as if not wanting our eyes to me. And I realize I’ve struck a nerve.
I stand up again grabbing our dishes to wash now, moving my hips a little more than necessary I add, “You know, Everett, you won’t be lonely tonight.”
Chapter Eight
Listening to Evie talk about her life reminds me that while our bodies are made for one another, our lives couldn’t be more different.
Sure, she and I both write for a living and work-at-home. We have the freedom to do things at our own pace, in our own time. But that time is spent very differently.
While she washes up the bowls in the sink and puts away the leftover chili and cornbread, I stand and add a few logs to the fire.
Johnny Walker is begging, so I fill his bowl with food and get him clean water. Afterward, I go to a storage closet and pull out a box that contains a few things left to me from my grandfather, including a record player and a small collection of his favorite records.
Over dinner, it’s obvious that Evie and I both conclude that our lives couldn’t be any more fucking opposite... but even so, she’s here, with me now, and I want to make her happy. I want to make her smile.
She has her heart set on trimming the Christmas tree and this will help her stay in the holiday spirit.
