5 comments/ 40495 views/ 3 favorites Iron Woodsman By: MichaelWest Chapter One -- Dark and Stormy Night The headlights of my Volvo sparkled off the big snowflakes as they fell so thickly that they seemed like a solid sheet of snow. The big white dots hit the hot glass of the windshield and melted as the wipers swept them away. It was now falling far more steadily and intently than just fifteen minutes earlier. I heard the loud whirl of the fan and felt the dry hot air blow around my legs, but I also felt the icy cold that seemed to radiate from the glass straight to my skin. Of course the radio reported how the weather had certainly worsened only now that I was in the middle of it. I now drove at a crawl looking for tell-tale signs of where the road was and was not. I could hear the sound of snow crunching upon snow. So I knew I was driving only on snow now, the pavement was buried under a foot or more still loose snow at least. As I passed tall markers that the road people use to guide the plows, I could see these were now only barely half exposed. The snow was falling faster and faster. I knew my way but it now looked completely foreign to me as the snow obscured every familiar landmark. In the darkness I did not see anything familiar at all anymore. Only stands of tall pines covered in snow and endless white beyond. The cabins in the distance were all dark, now vacant as their weekend only owners were home elsewhere. I was encouraged only by the passing sets of high reflectors that glinted as my lights hit them and the confidence they provided that this was still a road to somewhere. "Shit," I mumbled to myself at just how bad the weather had gotten in such little time. As I passed an open gate to a drive, I saw the lights on in a cabin off in the distance. These fleeting signs of life emboldened me to trek on down this lonely road just a little further. "Fuck!" I cried out loud as I hit the brakes I felt the car slide to a long stop. I glanced at my bulging belly where my baby still waited to be born. Not even a kick as she felt no danger it seemed. My heart pounded though and I felt how tightly I gripped the steering wheel. "What the fuck?" My cursing continued unabated. A literal wall of snow blocked the road where its route teasing went straight ahead just another mile and one-half to my road. "I'm only a mile from my road, maybe not even two." I spoke only to myself. In summer I could get home in minutes I thought. Even in winter it rarely took much time at all. "Just calm down," I said to myself with all the bravado I could muster. "You can back down to that drive and turn around." Thankfully I was nearly stopped when I saw the wall of snow. I was fine. And it is only about ten miles or so back to the main road I reminded myself in thought. "Shit." I whispered as I looked out both side windows. To each side was a near vertical wall of snow just a few feet from my mirrors. "That drive was recently plowed and big enough to turn around," I once more spoke logically. Details unnecessary then flashed back as survival made my mind think. I put my car in reverse and carefully backed down the gently winding road. At this snail's pace it took many minutes to thread back through the snow canyon to that spot I remembered. In my haste to get back turned around I forgot how I had seen this drive usually barred by a heavy steel tube gate shaped like a triangle between two round posts. I never recalled it ever being open before. In summer when you can see more clearly, I had seen how it led maybe a mile or so back to a large undeveloped tract of private land on the border of the State Forest. The cabin was virtually isolated and had been abandoned I assumed. I backed into the clear space between the road and the two big posts, it was snowy but cleared recently. "Fuck!" I heard how my tires began to spin and felt how the car wobbled but did not move. I was stuck! Foolishly I gunned the engine in hope that I might break free. I heard the tires spin freely! The sound was sickening. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." I muttered to myself. I was already regretting going out at all, then for taking the short-cut up over the mountain rather than go all the long way around, and now for foolishly trying to turn around in loose snow. I reached for my cell phone to call my husband. I dialed but got no connection. Worse I saw how my battery was also very low. "Shit." I muttered. "Fuck! "Damn!" I called and called again but still got nothing but silence. I could not find my charger as the sense of fear rose in me. I had called him before I left town and he knew I was on my way home. But I worried how he will be concerned when I don't get home. "Stupid." Suddenly, in the pool of light ahead of me, I could not even see my own fresh tracks in front of me now. And I felt a sense of real panic now. The snow just kept coming! "Think." The car was not too low on gas but it was not enough to idle all night I reasoned. At this rate I reckoned that the snow would soon bury the car and cover the exhaust too. I sat for awhile in the car frozen not by cold but by genuine fear. "What now." I asked myself as if I had the answer hidden from myself. I knew that a cabin was at the end of this drive. I assumed if the gate was open someone was there. I knew there was no other sanctuary for miles in every direction. Finally, I assumed I had no choice but to try and go to what I hoped was safety before the snow would be too deep even to walk through. "I can do this." Opening the door I felt the cold blast. I doubted my decision. I was afraid. "Damn its cold." My breath felt literally taken away. At least I had a good coat, thick wool socks and warm boots; although my boots were only low ones and hiking in deep snow would be difficult. But the rest of my clothes consisted of just a pair of jeans and a now too thin casual sweater. Obviously, I had not planned for hiking in the snow. As I put back on my driving gloves and tugged down my knit cap, both too thin for being out in this weather too long, I really tried to think of any other option. "Damn its cold." I repeated to myself as the door swung open and a blast of cold hit me. As I shut the door and stepped around it, I could smell the crisp clean of winter and the sight of barren trees. It would have been beautiful had I not been stranded. Off I tromped through the snow in a shallow depression that although filled with new fallen soft snow was firmer underneath. Still, I sank in past the tops of my boots with every step. It was really cold! And slowly, it led me off towards the cabin I hoped. It was warm enough in my clothes, my coat hung almost to the middle of thighs, but I could feel how my feet and hands were getting cold fast. It was now hard going as the snow got in my boots as I increasingly sank deeper with every step. The snow seemed to fall even faster now and the wind blew it all around in big flakes. "Hell." My nose was cold and getting snotty from the painful cold each breath took in. Cold snow hit my face and each inhale felt like tiny daggers. Yet I was sweating inside my clothes. I felt cold numb at my fingers and toes, and even my ears now felt cold. I carried my bloated body through the deep snow that sank under me to almost my knees with the next step. I had gone less than a hundred feet when I felt totally drained. "Fuck," I whispered visible breath into the cold. Every second that passed I swore I could count by my heartbeats. I struggled to free myself and almost lost my boots. "This is really bad," I cried out in frustration. Panting for breath, freezing, snow trapped in my boots and clinging to my too thin gloves I sprawled on the snow. Clawing, desperate, I pulled my body through the snow along the track but I kept sinking. It was zapping my strength to just get free, let alone make progress. I thought I might give up just then. Through the darkness a bright pool of white light enveloped me as I heard a calamitous roar and metallic clattering. Before me was a giant red bulldozer clamoring forward with a mountain of snow roiling before its wide blade. It was bearing direct down upon me! "Help," I screamed as loud as I could as my arms waived frantically in the air. As if obedient to my pleas the monster stopped. Two giant lights like the eyes of some beast glared before me. And suddenly it was silent aside from a gentle pounding of the diesel engine and an odd metallic clanking that was rhythmic yet erratic. "Who the hell are you," I heard a surprised man's voice over the machine's sounds. Then out of the darkness and into the light stepped a man shaped figure. He was bundled in a camouflage Army coat and matching baggy trousers, a pair of Lumberjack looking high boots and a classic plaid Stormy Kromer cap complete with the earflaps. I wanted to giggle at the craziness of my rescuer. But all I managed was a sigh of relief. My mouth began to speak even before my mind had caught up to its excitement. I sounded frantic. "My car got stuck, I need help, I am pregnant, please help me!" "Calm down," he sort of bellowed as he stepped through the snow to me. "What the hell are you doing out here." He said in more of a muffled tone as if he spoke not to me but to himself to lessen the surprise. "Give me your hands." He made a muffled groan as he pulled me up by my hands and seemingly whirled me along until I was next to the machine in a flat spot of firmly compacted snow. "Thank you," I finally spoke more reasonably. I told him my name and the pertinent details already set forth so far. Rather, I blathered and he listened. He looked as if I had stepped off the waxing moon still hidden above. Curious were his eyes and he just listened until finally I stopped talking. "I am Michael." He said with a smirk. In a quick summary, perhaps only to settle my nerves, he informed me that he was up for the week ahead and opening his place up. He added that he had plowed the drive after hiking in to get "the big red Iron Woodsman", his International Harvester TD-24 that he stroked on its treads as if it were a big cat. It took him all day and he had finally remembered to come shut the gate. I didn't understand the importance of his pride in such details, instead listening almost dumbstruck, but I was very glad to see such a vintage machine now. He continued with facts, such as how his truck had barely made it in and he was coming back to lock the gate for the night. In another fifteen minutes that gate would be closed and locked and he would have been gone for the night! I felt a tingle of fear run the length of my spine. "Shit," I thought at the importance of this last fact. And lastly, he explained that the road was closed. Apparently, the Highway Department was now busy piling snow up into here to keep my road, a main one, open. This road was considered "closeable due to weather." He chuckled. "You are welcome to stay until tomorrow," he said kindly, "they should get the road back open by then." "Do you have a phone?" I gasped as I still felt out of breath. "At the house," he replied with a smile. Then he offered me hot chocolate. It was almost surreal. "Yes, please," I stuttered. He clambered up the side of machine sufficient to retrieve a big green Stanley thermos he pulled from the seat. It reminded me of the kind my Father might have used. I watched as he took off his glove and unscrewed the cup then the cap and poured out a cup. The steam rose quickly into the cold air as I pulled it to my lips. I gladly took a drink. As I sipped from the cup I saw how little caps on the two exhaust pipes bounced to the idling thump of the engine, clanking out that tune I had heard. I could smell the pungent scent of diesel all around us as the clean woodsy air whirled it around us. I felt sleepy and all my muscles ached. I just wanted to slump back to the ground and fall asleep. "I'm so tired," I sort of mumbled. "Come on," he commanded as he thrust his hand out to me. "You've been through a lot." It was hard getting up to the wide bench seat gradually filling with snow as we had spoke. He was respectful but practical as he sort of held me at my waist and then my butt as I pulled myself up the metal sides of this thing. Unglamorous as it was, I was in the seat. "Thank you." I was just grateful for his straight-forward help pushing my fat ass up there! It is hell being pregnant I thought. This made me laugh to myself inside and my spirits brightened again. "Pay attention and keep out of the way," he said to me just like a school master might to a child, "this antique has a cable run blade and I need to reach all around to work it." I didn't understand this most proudly spoken detail until he reached back to grab a lever behind us. The engine roared back to life, the sound of metal whining over more metal returned, and the blade rose so high I saw nothing before us at all. "Hold on." Suddenly, with a mechanical grace the machine pirouetted in place and we faced 180 degrees back that way. He was focused and quiet as he manipulated a forest of levers and the blade lowered once more as we jerked off to a start, the metal tracks clattering once more as the machine clawed and pushed its way forward at a slow pace, the snow yielding before its powerful efforts. "I love this stuff," he beamed out loud. We bounced on the lumpy firm seat and followed the curve of the road up its very gentle hills and down its small dales. "This old man once belonged to the Forest Service for fire fighting and then some one who logged out here and . . . ." He stopped talking as he returned to the constant pulling at levers as we moved. It was an odd orchestra of slow powerful movements. And he looked like a big kid at play with a real version of some toy. I thought he looked rather happy at his play. ***** As we rounded a bend and the trees cleared and we passed an old wooden barn with a big bright light shining over it doors creating a huge white pool of glistening snow. Further past this we slowed as we neared the cabin. It was a so-called A-frame style and had snow heaped at its base with a thin coat all over the roof. Nearer the cabin he stopped closer to the rear porch that was buried right up level to it in a drift. The machine once more erratically purred in idle as he helped me down. Kindly he walked me through the snow and into a snowy trench that led up to a set of stairs to this back porch. Inside the door was a wide rough slate floor that formed a mudroom. "Go inside and warm up by the fire," he said, "I need to put the 'Iron Woodsman' back in the barn for the night." Before he turned to leave, I managed to ask: "Can I use your phone?" He stopped and looked me over with a glance. I had momentarily wondered if I should admit I had no service, no battery and not yet called anyone. I felt silly feeling nervous in this stranger's home. I had no feeling he was anything but a nice man, but I didn't want him to know my husband was out-of-town for some reason. "Yes," he answered in a voice almost surprised that I felt I had to ask. "It is in the kitchen on the wall." He then laughed. "Be careful, it is a rotary!" "What?" I stammered in a surprised voice. "You should call," he began and stopped, mentally looking for the word. "I am married," I helped him with a confident smile. He paused for the length of an inhale. "You should call your husband," he said in that masculine tone of command, "tell him you are safe but stuck until morning at least," he concluded with a more light-hearted inflection. He turned and started to leave again but then stopped and turned partly back to look at me. His hat cocked with his head and his face all red with the cold. "Put your boots over that grate," he pointed as he spoke, "it will catch the melt water." "Okay." "Are your socks wet?" I just nodded. "Use those slippers," he smiled, "they are lamb's wool lined, and very warm." As he spoke he then pointed to a pair beside the wooden bench against the wall. He had already gone back outside when I sat on the bench after taking off my coat and hat and hanging them on the hooks on the wall. Then I sat and took off my boots, setting them over the grate. I slipped on his slippers and indeed they were too big but indeed warm. For once I regretted that my feet had not swelled as I stood in what felt sort of like clown shoes upon my smaller feet. I walked down the hallway past a back bedroom now outfitted as a library and office, the open door to the bathroom and finally into the living room. I surveyed the wide open space. A warm reddish hardwood floor stretched from back to front, broken by a large ornate carpet and furniture arranged perpendicular to a large natural stone fireplace. The kitchen was on my left at the back around from the big central fireplace. The cabin had big open glass windows before this wide deck that looked out over a now fully snow covered valley beyond from which a brutally cold wind whipped the snow at the cold glass. In the kitchen I found the phone and called. I had plenty of time to tell me husband everything until Michael returned. He was relieved and worried. I reassured him how nice this man was and how safe I felt. I genuinely felt so, but saying made me feel much more assured of its truth. Finally, I told him I loved him and not to worry. Hanging up was the hardest thing I could do. Nervously I went to the overstuffed leather sofa now blanketed in a homespun quilt and sat nearest the waning fire. The flicking flames sent heat at me but I felt the chill in the air. It sort of poured from the wide black expanse of glass like beams of pure cold. ***** Over the sound of the fire I heard Michael on the back deck. A cold breeze swept the room as he swung open the door. I guess I had forgotten to close the inner one. "Did you get through?" I heard him say loud enough to carry down the hall. I leaned back on the sofa and turned my head to look down the hallway towards him. I heard him as he stamped his boots to clear the snow packed on them upon the grate. It rattled with a stiff metallic sound. "Yes," I sort of yelled down the hall to him in reply. I watched him unbundle from his winter wear and then watched as he walked towards me down the hallway. "Good," he said with a smile, as he walked in to the room with me. "I don't know how I can thank you." I said sheepishly. "Thank you is enough," he said with almost a blush. His voice was not overly deep but sounded very strong, although not hard or threatening. And he smiled, that almost shy smile, as if he were embarrassed by my thinking him a super hero. I had never seen so clearly rugged and masculine of a man betray such genuine sweetness. His face was rather handsome like an old Marlboro ad, but it had all the charm of a boy I thought. Especially his smile, it was disarming and hinted at mischief. I liked his smile. Michael was now wearing just a pair of tight fitting black thermal pants and a matching shirt that showed obvious perspiration. I have a weakness for a sweaty man. Not a dirty and smelly sweaty man, but that manly dampness to his skin. "Too cold," he asked with kind concern in his voice. "It is a little nippy." My tongue almost slipped and said "nipple-y." Even with a bra on I felt how they were poking visibly beneath my thin sweater. Instinctively I crossed my arms over them for warmth and modesty. He walked over in front of me to the fire and added another pair of split logs from an old dented copper tub. The fire began to light up and burn more intently. The heat felt nice. Oddly Michael had a very alluring musky scent to him at this moment. It barely hinted of his cologne, but smelled more clearly just like a man. I suspect my sense of smell was overly keen from being pregnant. Each inhale was that lovely scent of a man I found alluring, not pungent and sharp, but potent and subtle. Iron Woodsman I blushed as I realized I was having a wet panty moment. "Dirty girl," I thought and my face blushed. His hair looked damp and I saw the beads of sweat on his neck. Michael ran his fingers through his slightly longish hair on top. It was only maybe an inch or so, but he truly had a full thick head of hair. The naughty thought of running my fingers through his hair leapt passed my eyes. It surprised me to have such a direct thought about another man in my presence. The fire was burning as hotly as I was suddenly feeling all over. "You should get out of those damp clothes," he advised kindly. "The only real heat is this fireplace and it stays rather cool in here any distance from it." I was uncertain. My jeans were still damp and quite cold too. Even my sweater was not very warm suddenly. "I'll be fine," I deferred. "Seriously, you can change in the bathroom and I can lend you something warmer," he returned to his manly concerned tone. "I do not want to . . . ," he paused with a concerned look on his. "Please go on," I prodded him. "I do not want to sound creepy or anything, but you can take a hot shower," he concluded in a very matter-fact tone. The thought of a hot shower actually felt wonderful to my cool skin. It was a very practical suggestion and I understood how he felt awkward but I never felt it was anything more than a thoughtful offer. As he began to add another log to the fire I began to cry as I thanked him. All my pent up emotions collided with my hormones and I just cried even though I was quite happy. Poor man, he looked at a loss for how to console me. "I am sorry," he said with a sad voice. "No, no," I sobbed, "I'm happy, very happy you came when you did and for being so kind." "Do you need a drink or something?" I laughed inside at how naïve he sounded for a grown man. With a teasingly girlish giggle I said: "No thank you, I'm pregnant." "Oh," he smiled as if that obvious fact had eluded him for the moment, "I forgot they no longer advise brandy anymore." He laughed at his joke. "Cute," I laughed with him. "You take a shower first and then I will." "Ladies first," he smiled. "I do not want to be a bother," I smiled, "besides I want to take a long one, okay?" "Yes, of course, we have plenty of hot water." He smiled at me. "No bother," he laughed, "but it is a small cabin and I did not want to . . . ," he paused again. I imagine he was searching for how to say he didn't want to make me feel uncomfortable. I had seen that the only bathroom was down a hall that looked off this room and it seemed to be the only room with any door at all. "It is fine, please go first." I batted my eyes to show him that a lady always gets her way. "I only need a quick one," he laughed. I listened as he showered. The sound was muffled but I heard the water running through the pipes. I was shocked at how smitten I was for him. As cliché as it sounds, we seemed to just click. All the chemistry was there. He pushed my every primal button. I tried in vain to remind myself, "I am a married woman, almost eight months pregnant." "It's just your damned hormones again." I whispered to myself angrily. I was no virgin at the altar but I have only truly been with my husband, and I intend it to keep it that way. My thoughts rested final. After a while I heard the door knob creek to open and glanced down the hall on instinct. In an instant I had looked him over. Michael was wearing one of those large thick white terry towels and nothing else. He looked almost adorable holding it behind his back to keep it closed around his waist. I had feared he would be very hairy given how his arms and legs looked very darkly masculine hairy, yet he was not. The hair thinned just above his elbows and thighs, leaving just a delicate tuft on his belly and a handsome patch at his chest. Michael was muscular at his arms and legs and back, not overly ripped or cut, just well toned yet still possibly soft to the touch. Thankfully his back was hairless too. And his firm, yet fuller butt looked very squeezable. I could not believe how shameless my thoughts were and I felt silly at my attraction to him. "Stop it," I thought. In a few more minutes he came back down dressed in warm looking pajama pants and a looser fitting white tee-shirt. "Here are the warmer clothes." In his hands was a pair of warm looking gray sweatpants, a baggy tee-shirt and some heavy wool socks. "I wasn't certain about this but I brought a pair of boxers too," he almost looked ready to blush as he said it. "Oh," I stuttered. I had not thought about that. "I'll be fine, I can wash my panties in the sink," I said with my friendliest smile to reassure him he had not made offense. He showed me to the bathroom toward the back of the cabin. The cabin had no doors he explained, this allowed the heat to circulate, save the bathroom door. But it had radiant heat lamps that kept it very warm too. "Thank you." I slipped inside and closed the door. I heard him step away and walk down the hallway. Now I undressed and soon felt how warm the room was. My bra and panties felt dirty from the sweating I had done. I refused to acknowledge the other damp feel to my panties. I folded everything and put it on the hamper lid except my panties. Under the warm water of the sink I washed them and squeezed them dry. It was mildly amusing to watch my now big boobs sway as I worked. Although I felt nosy, I wondered why he had a new toothbrush on the vanity next to his used one. I hung my wet panties on the heated towel bar to dry. I had set the clothes he had given me on the toilet seat. But because I had to pee just then, I now moved these to on top of the vanity. "I hate having to pee so often," I thought to myself. The seat was lower but thankfully the bowl was longer than usual. I sort of squatted and went, a routine that had become all to frequent of late. Done I turned on the water and slipped into the shower. As I showered I thought how fortunate I had been tonight. I washed my hair and soaped my body, rinsing and washing. It was so relaxing to feel heat seep into me. The water felt steamy hot and the room felt almost humid like a jungle. When I stepped out of the shower, I felt how the heating lamp was keeping the room almost truly steamy hot. The bathmat was thick and soft under my feet, but the slate floor was rough and cold so I stayed on that mat. The walls were all yellowy pine boards, and the ceiling too. The room was small but had a floor-length mirror that hung beside the vanity behind the door when it was open. I could not help but admire my own body displayed fully in this mirror. I was nearly eight months pregnant and I thought I looked quite beautiful pregnant. Slowly, I turned slightly to the side and put one leg in front of the other. My skin glistened with beads of water that dripped from me everywhere. I was amazed how soft my skin had become almost from the day I knew I was pregnant. It was softer than silk to my touch. I loved just touching my skin. My belly was round and a perfect egg shaped hump. It was a beautifully feminine belly. And my belly button poked out as did my now huge nipples. Perhaps cute, I was not thrilled by this bulging belly button; but, I finally adored my tits now. Pregnancy had given me at least another full cup, maybe more and they had swelled to an amazingly perky bigness. I studied them often. They were perhaps a bit too big for my smaller body, but perfect now and I prayed they stayed bigger. Although my areola remained the same size, they had visibly darkened along with my nipples that now looked massive upon such small circles of rougher flesh. I was afraid my nipples would remain both huge and nearly always stiff. Then I raised my arms and lifted my still damp hair as if striking a pose. My now almost too big tits lifted and I saw how truly lovely they looked over my amazing bump. Before getting pregnant I was a touch thin and had a more athletic build. Now I looked decidedly feminine, curved and soft, rounded and gentle. I loved how I looked. To me this was the best I had ever looked. I was shapelier and bustier, curvier and more beautiful than ever. I almost felt a little embarrassed by my now clean shaven sex. My natural bush is normally very dark; almost black it was so brown. And these last several months I had allowed it to grow to a very thick, very dark triangle as I abstained from grooming fully. Down between my legs I could see my full almost puffy outer lips and the inner ones that hinted out. Just this morning I had shaved it once more, but eschewing my landing strip I had decided on completely bald. I finally felt sexy again this morning for some odd reason. And I felt very naughty too. It looked sexy I thought, and the feel of it was amazing. I wanted to be sexy! Then I frowned. My husband had never seen how I displayed that "glow" that pregnant women have. He said I was beautiful, but it was in the same tone we women say "let's be friends." I still desired sex, in fact I think I desired it more with each week that had past these last few months, but he just didn't. I feared he found me ugly and fat. Bending over, I finally grabbed the oversized plush towel that felt almost hot as I pulled it from a heating bar. I ran the towel over my body, carefully drying my very full breasts. Lifting them as I dried them, I enjoyed how heavy they felt. I teased my nipples with the towel. They were huge and so sensitive I could only lightly touch them if I didn't want to get absolutely crazy horny. Now standing with my legs apart to dry my thighs I felt the round of my belly and then the fullness of my ass. I still marveled at how well I carried my extra weight. It filled out my ass and added some to my thighs but mostly I just had the full belly. My belly button made me a touch self-conscious though as I felt it. I dabbed at my lips to dry them. I had decided to shave them again so I would feel beautiful again. They were so incredibly sensitive. Just drying them with light dabs made me wetter inside than out. From my fourth month on I had felt a very strong urge for sex. I was very sensitive and very lusty. I finally relented to my needs and masturbated frequently. Any touching of my nipples or pussy made me heated and wet. Even the shower had stirred me to feel ecstatic. I had let the water run between my legs and had rubbed on my clit until I feared I would orgasm. I often did at home but was just too embarrassed now to. My lips were so engorged they felt plump to the touch and seemed to stay splayed open now if I didn't hold my legs tight together. The slightest touch made them tingle right up to my clit and caused my entire hole to moisten. I didn't even like to wear panties over my pussy as even they made me almost desperate for release sometimes. And the crotch was always warm and damp to the touch too. At home alone during the day or those nights I slept alone, I would undress and keep my legs apart. I could sill feel even the air on my lips but naked they didn't get so easily aroused by stray touches. I touched at my smooth lips with my fingertip, feeling at the damp slit with its tip. I wanted to feel something inside me again. I felt a frantic craving to be filled again by a cock almost every few hours it seemed. Even before getting pregnant, I kept a dildo hidden under my panties in the bedside table that I could fuck myself with. I used it mostly in the bath but if alone I used it in bed until I finally came. Slipping my finger into my flesh and parting the lips only makes it worse. Even fully fingering it only makes cock more desperately desired. I wanted to feel my dildo right now as I had just last night when I had bathed at home. I took long bathes now every night. Running the warm water over my pussy as I lay under the spigot with my legs spread up, I always fucked myself as I masturbated until I come. "Stop it," I whispered to myself as I felt my fingertip swallowed inside my now dripping pussy. "You're fucking shameless." The face looking back at me was shameless. I debated in my thoughts whether to put my bra back on. It was dirty. The shirt he gave me was baggy enough I thought. I often felt the need for the support but I never enjoyed wearing a bra. Especially that one since it no longer fit right. "Fuck it." I whispered aloud. As I slipped the tee-shirt over my head, I turned and gave a scowl at my bra. As I looked into the mirror I noticed my full breasts were blossoming under the white fabric. My nipples poked up fully and the soft cotton teasingly scratched at them to my pleasure. "Can't be helped," I thought. I put my hair back into a ponytail. And then I slipped on his loose lounge pants that were warm and plush like wool, but light and soft like cotton. I felt extra dirty thinking of not putting on my panties. Yet slipping into them I felt naughtier then if I was nude. They were perhaps too sexy of a pair right now. I had just bought several pairs of very sexy ones that felt almost long barely-there thongs compared to my now usual "Granny" panties. I walked out of the bathroom and went back into the great room to find him sipping a cocktail as he watched the fire burn. "Do you have anything to eat," I asked sheepishly. "Plenty," he smiled. "Can I at least cook you something?" "I planned on a toasted cheese sandwich and some creamy tomato soup," he said matter-of-factly. "Okay," I thought as I spoke, "I always sort of crave cheese." "I have pie-irons; they make a damned fine toasted cheese I think." "Okay, I will make the soup." "I like to use cream instead of water and extra black pepper," he said almost quizzically. I realized he was not certain what a pregnant woman could or could not eat. "Know much about pregnant women," I teased. "Nope," he smiled. "Not a thing." "We often eat crazy stuff and not very dainty portions either." I giggled. "Fabulous." He laughed. I stood up and then he showed me around the kitchen. It was small but functional. He had stocked it amply and everything was easy to find, from the cans of soup and an opener, to the pot, and everything else. As I lit the burner of the stove I soon felt its warmth as I prepared the soup. Yet all down my back I felt the cooler air. He put slices of bread spread with butter in his irons along with the cheese and I heard him whistle as he cooked them around the corner in the fire. Soon I had the soup ready and put in bowls along with spoons and crackers and even the pepper grinder on a serving tray that I carried to the coffee table. We talked as we ate. As he ate, Michael crushed classic saltine crackers into his soup and those sandwiches came out truly toasted, hot and the cheese flowed like lava, the butter roasted into the bread. It amazes me still just how much I crave to eat at times, and how much I can eat too. I refilled my bowl and asked for another sandwich. When asked he told me the name of the pricey aged cheddar he used. That seemed a tad too sophisticated for the Campbell's Condensed soup from the can we used. An odd sort of woodsman was my thought as we spoke a little more. He got up to make another beverage. I heard him add ice to a glass and watched him pour Gin and then clear soda into the glass. "What are you drinking?" "A gin and tonic," he said with a wicked glint in his eye as he said it. "I drink them a lot," he smiled, "I drink a lot of them." He laughed. "I noticed the bag of limes," I giggled. "I am from South Florida," he laughed. We talked about more random things for the time it took to finish and then I offered to clean up the dishes in the small kitchen as he drank his third full cocktail. ***** "Coffee," he asked politely. "No thank you." I was sleepy. I get sleepy early now and often doze right off. And all I could think of was bed. "I am sorry Michael," I began in my girlish tone, "but I need to go to bed." "Sure," he said with that expression that told me he was embarrassed for not realizing I was tired. "I get tired easy." "I understand," he said with a tone that suggested he was bluffing; "you should sleep in my bed." He paused as he seems to do as he searches for his words. I found him rather adorable in his genuineness. His eyes and expressions hid nothing. "Can you climb a ladder?" "What?" "Can you climb a ladder?" "I heard you the first time," I giggled. "The bed is in the loft and the loft is at the top of those stairs." He pointed to a sort of ship's style ladder that was steep alternating steps and rails that led nearly straight up to an open loft above. "I can with help, but I don't want to take your bed." "There is no other and all these sofas are too narrow for you." He said bluntly. He was right damn it, direct and to the point. "I couldn't," I resisted. "I insist," he sounded mock angry, "I will sleep in the den." He sounded very certain that this was his ultimatum. "Okay then." I relented. He kindly helped me up the stairs to the sleeping loft. It was nicely warm as the heat gathered up here from the fire downstairs. "Good night," he said in an almost fatherly kind voice. "Good night." I got into bed and pulled the sheet over my body. It was very soft cotton and felt just like a very comfortable old shirt. The electric blanket was rough and scratchy on my skin but very warm and the comforter was fluffy soft like a cloud. I clicked off the light and could see how dark is truly was outside the big windows. The snow still fell in heavy flakes. I yawned out loud as I snuggled under the covers. I had never slept with any other man but my husband and this would be my first time sharing the night with any man other than him. But my thoughts of his kindness relaxed my nerves and I shut my eyes to get some sleep. My first dream built in my mind's eye quickly. Fragments of images from everything that had happened soon whirled like snowflakes in a globe before my eyes. I knew I was asleep but everything felt real. "Would it sound awful if I said I would be willing to give you a blowjob," I asked in a nearly girlish voice. Michael appeared from my sleepy fog and I could see him clearly as he looked at me without contempt as I feared and did not smirk as I would have hated. Perhaps I was naïve but I feared he might find it a disgusting offer. I feared he did not find a pregnant woman sexual desirable or beautiful. I sincerely was willing to. And to my own astonishment, I genuinely wanted to. I licked my lips tentatively I as awaited his reply. "Would you be offended if I asked you not to kiss me?" I feared falling in love with this stranger. I wanted simply to pleasure him and suck him, gratify him yet not have him kiss me like a lover. I squirmed beneath the covers. I felt burning hot. I struggled to get the covers off my body. I had never before even imagined being an adulteress. My conscious mind might have admired an attractive man but it had never crossed to truly cheating thoughts. Suddenly I was standing nude before him as he now lay on the bed where I once was. I watched intently as sat back on the bed and he moved back until he was laid against the pillows. I ran my hands over his chest and felt his masculine form, the fine hairs rougher than his smooth skin. My pussy grew incredibly wet as I ran my hands down his bare chest to the waist of his sleeping pants. His cock was already growing stiff with every beat of his heart as the fabric tented over his obvious bulge. As I tugged at the knot that held his sleeping pants closed to loosen it they seemed to simply vanish as now he was completely nude before me as I kneeled between his open legs. I stared at it fully erect form pointing to me. The head was perfectly shaped and his shaft was a delectable balance between smooth and veined. It seemed to twitch to the beats of my own heart. Iron Woodsman I was shocked by how desirable his cock was. His love muscle entranced me as I had never seen anything so beautiful. It was not overly large, nor too small, just right. It was just a few inches longer than my hand was wide and it looked as if I could easily encircle it with my lips. Yet it looked more powerful than any other cock I had seen before. Although I enjoyed giving head, it was never this intoxicating to me before. I knew how pleasant it must be and did not dislike giving this variety of pleasure. And I had never before dreamed of giving a blowjob to any one, especially a stranger. I had not imagined a man with a groomed bush or shaven balls before now, yet his intimate hairs were closely trimmed and then his balls looked wrinkled but smooth and completely bared of hair just like my own sex. "May I kiss your cock," I said in a seductively pleading whisper. "May I worship you?" I leaned forward and kissed just the tip of his head with my moist lips. I tasted the slick opening and felt his warm skin. I kissed and kissed gently to show how I sincerely loved his cock. "May I suck your cock," I added in the same seductive pleading tone. "Please let me suck you?" I was kissing the underside of his head and all over its soft flesh as I repeated my increasingly desperate pleas for permission to take it in my mouth. I kissed the length of his shaft to his thinned bush and back. "May I lick your cock," I plead, "let me lick it wet." I licked it with flickers of the tip of my tongue before each lick became a wetter lapping of his hard rod. Soon I was slithering my wet tongue all over his cock. "May I kiss and lick and suck on your balls," I begged, "please?" My kisses fell all over his lovely full sack and I felt each testicle as I licked them and sucked them into my warm moist mouth. "May I suck you off," I pleading in a girlish desperate voice, "I need to suck you and please you." I pressed my lips into a puckered kiss and pressed them to the tip of his cock. I pressed my lips and my mouth onto him, forcing my own lips open as his cock's head parted them and found my waiting tongue. I pushed my mouth upon him until I filled it with his cock. I suckled and licked his cock inside my mouth. My mouth was soaking wet and very hot. Suddenly I was bobbing my head frantically upon his hard cock, desperate to feel every sensation of it and focused on getting him off. I woke myself with a deep moan and gasped as this image became crisp and clear and fully in color before my still closed eyes. In a flash it faded and I realized I had my left hand on my right tit and my right hand was circling my hard clit. I was masturbating in my sleep. I was having a wet dream! God it was so real I thought. Who was this devil of a man I thought. Slowly my eyes opened and I could see his dark outline above me and between my wide open legs at the foot of the bed. I gasp loudly as I could not speak. My hands froze in place upon my two arousing pieces of flesh. In a very low voice he began, "I heard you moaning" in an innocent tone, "I was worried," he continued sounding genuinely concerned. "I am sorry that I could not look away." There I was laying, all the covers off of me, completely nude and my legs wide open, my tits mounded up on my chest with nipples poking hard, my pussy soaking wet and wide open to his view. I was mortified and embarrassed to my very core. "No," I surprised myself with the first words my brain could form, "don't." He almost managed to turn away. I was fearful I had offended him. "You are beautiful," he said with such sincerity that it melted my heart.