Virgin for the Woodsman

by Eddie Cleveland

I embrace mine, desperate to let Cole feel half the pleasure he’s making me experience with his tongue twisting and furling around my clit. I open my mouth wide and slide his dick deep inside until I can feel the head cresting the back of my throat. I want to gag, but I force myself to breathe in deep and keep bobbing my head up and down his shaft, occasionally trying new things like flickering my tongue over the tip of him as I feel my body get closer and closer to my orgasm.

  Cole uses both hands to grip my hips and pulls me down onto his mouth, relentlessly battering my clit with his tongue as I writhe against him in pleasure. The bliss overwhelms me, my mouth opens wide as I scream out with ecstasy and Cole’s cock drops out, covered in my saliva.

  I shudder against his face, twisting and convulsing like a possessed woman. Finally, the pleasure stops coursing through me and Cole rolls me off of him, “Get back up here,” it isn’t a request. I’m only too happy to comply as I start to straddle his legs again. “No, turn around, I want to watch that sweet ass bounce on me as I fuck you,” he orders and I turn away from him.

  Cole lowers me down onto his shaft and I grind down on his cock until he’s inside me. After all the fucking we’ve been doing, the pain of that first time, brief though it was, is long gone. Now it’s nothing but bliss as he thrusts inside me.

  “Ride me,” he slaps my ass and I slide up and down his shaft, bouncing my ass on him hard as I bottom out on his dick with each thrust. He feels so thick inside me, like I’m completely filled up by him, but what I really want to be filled up by is his cum.

  My body is hungry for it as I bounce my ass off his body over and over, each time bringing myself up almost to the tip and then sliding back down like a stripper down a pole.

  Cole opens my ass cheeks, watching what is his and only his fuck him. My first and my last. That’s what I always knew he would be, but it feels so much more real now. Suddenly I can feel Cole’s thumb pressed against my asshole. Not like he’s trying to press it inside me, but just like he’s applying enough pressure to overwhelm me. It works, my pussy starts contracting around him, milking him as my orgasm crashes over me like a tsunami. The ecstasy spills over my senses until I can’t make normal noises. It hijacks my throat taking away all but guttural sounds and yips.

  Cole thrusts his hips high, piercing me deep as he empties his seed inside me. I can feel it spurt up against my walls, filling me with every last drop.

  Finally, I slide off of him and curl up against him, lying on his good shoulder and run my hand over his chest. “I love you, Cole,” I whisper, even though I would gladly shout it to the world.

  “I love you too, Abbie. For now, and forever. And tomorrow, we’re going to head out to build a new house. Our house. I’ll make sure it has rooms for us and our babies,” he smiles.

  “Babies?” I grin, “Is that so?”

  “Yep, you’ll be a perfect mom. Just like you’re a perfect woman to spend the rest of my life with.”

  I have to admit, as I lie down against his good shoulder and close my eyes, I like the way that sounds. I can’t help but feel like I finally took a different path and when I got muddy and was tested by life, I found everything I could ever dream of.

  36

  Epilogue

  Abbie

  I look down at little Parker, playing with his “choo-choo” as he likes to call his Thomas the Tank Engine. I smile as I rub my hands over my belly, these quiet playtimes are about to get disrupted for him. With our second baby due in a little over a month, life is about to get flipped upside down.

  Again.

  Parker gives me a toothy grin, his eyes are all Cole’s, but his lips are mine. “Mama, can I have dwink appo juice?”

  How can I resist that sweet face? “Of course, hon, just a sec,” I waddle over to the fridge in our three-bedroom log house and pour some apple juice into a small plastic cup.

  I can’t believe how normal this all feels now. It’s almost like my time in the Yukon and our escape to Alaska was all a dream. A fantasy I conjured up. Like the weeks we spent trekking through the woods until we crossed the border at night was a story I tell myself. Like the way we hitchhiked to Juno, me with a baby in my belly I wasn’t aware of yet, seems like a show I watched a long time ago, not my real life.

  Now that Cole found steady work under the table as an apprentice carpenter and we settled into a city full of people who have their own reasons for running away to a place removed by an entire country from the lower forty-eight, it just feels normal. It feels like home.

  I snap out of my daze, realizing that I’m staring at our son, happily playing on the living room floor. Cole will be home from work soon, so I guess I’ll get started on supper.

  I start peeling some potatoes and look out the kitchen window to the beautiful mountains in the distance. I could never get sick of that view. I love watching the snow at this time of year as it begins to creep down the sides of the mountain range, warning us of the winter to come.

  Cole walks in the door just as I throw the chicken in the oven. Just like he does every day, he crosses the floor, gives me a tender kiss and then a not-so-tender ass grab.

  “Hey! Hands off,” I laugh, but he knows I love that he can’t keep his hands off me.

  “No deal, that ass is mine, don’t you forget it,” he pulls me in and kisses me again.

  “Daddy!” Parker comes running across the floor to meet Cole with open arms. It’s not hard to understand why they call them toddlers, anyone who’s seen a two-year-old walk and run around knows that it’s the perfect description for them.

  “Hey little man, how was your day? Were you a good boy for your Mama?” Cole sweeps Parker into his arms and lifts him from the ground as our son squeals with delight.

  “I vewy good, wight Mama?” He looks over at me solemnly, like he’s swearing on a bible in court.

  “Always,” I agree, tousling his golden hair.

  “Family hugs!” Parker demands, holding his arms out to request that I join him in his father’s arms. I used to fit a lot easier before my bump popped. Now, at eight months along, I can barely feel Cole’s fingertips strain to reach me around Parker. Still, it feels amazing to be all together like this. And I know that in another month, these family hugs will be even sweeter when our little girl enters the world.

  “All right, you get off your feet Abbie, I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” Cole frees me from his grasp and places Parker back on his feet. “You and I have some ‘choo-choos’ to play with bud, let’s go!” Cole smiles down at him and Parker excitedly leads the way into the living room. Cole has always been better at playing with him than I am. He’s more exciting and engaging and Parker adores his one-on-one time with his Dad.

  I make my way over to the comfy chair across the room and watch them, smiling as I rub my belly slowly. If this isn’t perfection, I don’t want to know what is. As Parker’s eyes twinkle up at Cole and they laugh together on the floor pushing around trains, I feel our daughter give me a couple of kicks.

  “She’s kicking guys, come feel,” I interrupt their game, but Parker doesn’t mind. He loves feeling the baby give me swift little boots from the inside. I think it makes it more real for him. I guide his hand to where his sister is practicing aerobics and his face lights up with excitement. Cole stands over us and I can see the pride in his puffed-out chest and broad smile as he soaks in the moment.

  Yeah, it doesn’t get more perfect than this. I know my own Mama is looking down on me, happy that I took a chance, that I lived my life and that I found my path. The path that led me to the love of my life, to my happiness and to the family I’ve always wanted.

  Thank you, Mama.

  “I love you, Abbie,” Cole’s voice is deep and soft, like he’s talking to me in a dream.

  “I love you too,” I answer.

  “And me!” Parker yells.

  “Of course, no one could forget you!” I laugh.

  I guess so much of my life feels like a distant dream is because it is on
e. A dream come true.

  About the Author

  Eddie Cleveland was born and raised on the Canadian East Coast. He spent most of his twenties having reckless adventures before going back to school for pottery and graphic arts. With his travel itch still not fully scratched, he joined the Royal Canadian Navy, serving for 12 years with multiple deployments to South America and the Middle East. He recently released from the Canadian Armed Forces to pursue his passion of writing full-time. Virgin for the Woodsman is his fifth novel. You can check out his other works below. Join Mailing List or Check out Facebook Page

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  Saved by the Woodsman

  1

  Ashley

  “Can you believe my pic already has thirteen thousand likes? I only put it up, what, an hour ago?” I sweep my cell in front of Tom and Stacey’s faces. They don’t pay attention to the image of my ass perched on the edge of our hot tub in these killer Victoria’s Secret string bikini bottoms. They lived it, standing awkwardly to the side with their drinks while Ben helped me get the perfect shot.

  I ignore their indifference, smiling down at the screen. I love how the light sparkles off my 18-carat diamond, like Ben stole a star from the sky and put it on my finger. I don’t care if everyone is bored or jealous or whatever, this shot is getting the love it deserves. It might have taken almost an hour to get the angle and the lighting just right, but amazing butt selfies don’t just happen.

  I should know, it’s kinda my thing.

  “I believe it,” Ben nuzzles up against me in the hot tub, “everyone wants a piece of that ass.” I lean back against him and close my eyes, feeling the world swirl a little as the jets from the tub whirl over my skin and the pricey champagne hits me.

  “You guys are just too cute,” Kate intrudes on my moment from across the ten-seater tub.

  I flicker my eyes open and the room spirals a tad, but as soon as her sour face comes into focus, I miss the drunken kaleidoscope of colors.

  “I know, right? Aren’t they adorbs, bae?” Stacey prods on her husband Tom. Tilting her cut jaw at him and flicking her eyes our way. God, even her chin looks like it has muscles. Stacey and her man are both fitness models, I swear, my left ass cheek probably has more fat than both of their entire bodies put together.

  Tom wraps his thick arm over her shoulder and smiles. For a second, I wonder if his arm is crushing her with his ridiculously built bicep. “They’re perfect together,” he answers, “just like us.”

  Tom’s hand breaks up through the surface of the bubbly water and cups his wife’s strong jaw, the two of them might be built like human armor, but they still kiss tenderly. I can tell that it won’t be long before they retire to their room in our ski cabin and go fuck each other’s brains out. The image of their bodies slapping together, like two planks of hardwood sweeps through my mind.

  “You know, it’s getting late,” Stacey purrs, leaning over Tom like a kitty about to pounce. I can’t see either of her hands, but I can imagine where they are. I wonder if Tom’s dick looks really small when compared to his muscles on an even more muscular frame.

  I smirk over at Ben, next to Tom he looks like a pipsqueak, not that I’d ever tell him that. Still, I would rather the more natural look, even if he is a little on the short side and a bit scrawnier than I’d prefer. I shake the thought from my head and get another rush from the booze messing with my vision. Who cares if he’s a little small? He’s filthy rich. Besides, ever since he proposed, my Instagram fame has propelled to new heights.

  Just don’t wear heels around him that are over three inches. And don’t get fat. Then he won’t look like such a waif beside you. See? His stature is actually a good thing, it’s more motivation to stick to your diet. I smile at the famous bachelor who proposed to me after only four months together.

  Ben smirks back at me, his green eyes locking on mine. The day he put a ring on it, a lot of hearts on the internet were broken. Not only is he young and hot, but the fact that he earned his millions by outsmarting his opponents in poker games just adds to his appeal.

  He’s a risk taker. Hard to read. Sexy as hell. And he’s mine.

  2

  Ashley

  “Thanks for inviting us up here. Can you believe we’ve never been to the Telluride resort before? We’ve been meaning to come here for a little vacay, but just never found the time,” Stacey explains. I still can’t see her hands. I push the uncomfortable idea of her playing with her hubby’s little pecker out of my mind.

  “Of course! What’s an engagement celebration without my best friends?” Ben answers chipperly.

  “And my stepsister,” I chime in.

  “Foster sister,” Kate corrects me.

  Thanks for sucking the air out of the room, sis.

  I roll my eyes at her and ignore her bitterness. She’s just jealous that my star is on the rise and she’s still trying to get her first fifty thousand followers on Instagram.

  Like it’s my fault Ben saw me online and decided to ask me out? It’s my fault we hit it off and our fans absolutely loved us together? Seriously, she needs to get over herself.

  I always asked Ben what photo on my profile made him decide to contact me. His answer has stayed consistent. The one where I’m in a field of flowers in a Taylor Swift hat and a little sundress, is the shot he insists stole his heart. I don’t believe it though. Not when eighty percent of my pics are of my big bubble butt. I know what really drew him in. And, I know how to keep him.

  I snuggle back in the tub against my man, rubbing the ass that’s made me famous against him.

  “We should probably hit the hay though,” Tom announces loudly, tossing back the last gulp of his Patron. I look over at Stacey and notice her shoulders are slightly trembling, her hands still mysteriously under the water.

  Ewww.

  “Ok, wait guys. Before you go do your thing, let’s take a group selfie!” I know I’m kinda cock blocking, but it’s only going to take a second. Besides, that’s what they get for jerking each other off in the hot tub while we’re all sitting in it.

  “Another one?” Stacey whines.

  “It will only take a second,” I turn around and take another swig of my Dom Perignon, scrunching up my nose as the bubbles tickle their way down my throat.

  “You always say that,” Kate chimes in, “then it takes an hour!”

  “Oh shush! We’re here to celebrate my engagement, remember?” I grab the selfie stick, with my phone already attached. “So, please indulge me if I want to take pictures to remember it by,” I chide them. I leave out the part that the photos I’ve been taking at the resort are my most popular.

  Stacey and Kate quit being crybabies and everyone scooches together on one side of the tub. “Everyone ready?” I ask.

  “No wait a sec, here Tom put your arm under my tits and push it up so I look like I actually have some,” Stacey instructs her husband.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with your face being in this one? You don’t want to turn around and moon the phone?” Kate sneers.

  Jealous bitch.

  She probably wishes it was like the good ol’ days when she was the popular one and I was often confused for a boy with my short, anti-lice haircut and tattered clothes.

  “No need to take another belfie,” I use the popular phrase that Kim Kardashian made famous with the selfie of her huge ass, “not when I’ve got the most desired man on the internet on my arm.” I force a smile at her that turns genuine as I watch her lips twist down with envy.

  “Alright everyone, in three, two, one,” the flash on my cellphone strobes over us from where it’s perch
ed on my selfie stick. It’s hovering at the perfect angle over our heads and, with the fireplace crackling soft light behind us, we might not even need a filter with how good we’ll all look. Who am I kidding? You always need a filter.

  “Ellen DeGeneres has got nothing on us!” I squeal and flick my finger across the screen. “This looks even better than that Academy Awards pic she took with all the celebs.”

  “Ohhh, let me see. Did you get my good side?” Kate plucks the iPhone from my fingers and scrutinizes it. Her big brown eyes squint down as she analyzes the picture to death.

  “No you don’t, gimmie that,” I grab it back from her and quickly add my hashtags before she can find any problems. “It’s done. Everyone will love it. Annndddd, posted,” I smile up at her angry face and turn the phone screen back toward her. “See, it’s already getting tons of love,” I twist it back so I can watch the heart symbols collect numbers from my adoring Instagram followers.

  I hold my breath anxiously willing the numbers to rise. My chest tightens as I wait for the first thousand likes to roll in. If my picture doesn’t get that many off the bat, I have to delete it. You don’t make a living from being a model on this site with pictures no one cares about.

  More than that, I won’t be able to enjoy the rest of my night if my fans don’t care about what I’m doing. Every time the counter by the empty little heart jumps up in numbers, it fills my empty little heart with pride. The social media love soars past my magic thousand in less than twenty seconds and my nerves calm. I casually lay my phone on the hot tub ledge and protect it from the water with my big, fuzzy towel as the moment of anxiety rolls off my shoulders.

  “Of course everyone will love it,” Ben sits between us, wrapping his arms around our shoulders and pulling us both in tight. “It’s got two of the most beautiful women on the internet in it, so quit worrying and let’s get back to our party,” he smiles. I feel myself relax in his half-hug, especially once Kate’s scowl begins to transform into a sly smile.