The rasping sound of sandpaper filled the workshop, rough and steady, like a heartbeat. I tried to focus on the plank in front of me, on the rhythm Bastien had just shown us: long, even strokes, never forcing it, letting the paper do the work.
*Bzzzt.*
He stood close as always, his voice low but carrying over the scraping. “You want to smooth the surface without tearing it. Feel it."
*Bzzzt.*
What again?
"Let your hands tell you when it’s right. See hon?"
I swallowed hard, nodding, but it was almost impossible to concentrate. His arm brushed mine as he leaned forward to adjust my grip, his broad chest practically at my shoulder. The scent of wood dust mixed with his cologne and sweat, and for a second I forgot the lesson entirely.
“Better,” he said, guiding my wrist with his calloused hand. “Amanda used to love this part—seeing the wood change under her fingers.”
I felt myself blush, my skin hot where his body pressed into mine. I nodded again, pretending I was following his advice, when all I could feel was the weight of him, the ghost of someone else between us, and the ache in my chest that it wasn’t me he was really seeing.
*Bzzzt.*
I reached for my phone the moment Bastien turned to another student.
Shit...
That bastard again.
At first I tried ignoring him. Then it kept coming. Four, five times.
Not now. Please, not here.
My gaze blurred, not on the wood, but somewhere else entirely—back in the arguments, the guilt-traps, the endless doubts that still clung to him.
“Luc. Come with me.”
Bastien’s voice had made me jump. He had withdrawn to the back room of the workshop, out of sight, wainting for me. Sensing a hint of impatience in his voice, I sighed before putting my phone away and joining him in the shed.
He quickly got closer than expected, looming by my side, dust coating the sweat on his forearms. His brows knit together, not angry, but worried:
“You’re not here with me. What’s going on?”
Shit!
I swallowed hard:
“Nothing. I’m just... distracted."
I hesitated, not sure if Bastien would actually care. He shook his head, lowering his tone even more:
“Don’t give me that bud. I see it. You're elsewhere. It’s like… you’re not giving me all of you.”
Don’t read more into it.
"I'm sorry. I gues..." I sighed. "I also had a rough breakup recently."
Silence stretched, except for the chill going through my spine as Bastien’s hand was slowly patting me on the back, slowly. Then he got even closer and hugged me tight.
He’s straight, he’s just being kind.
It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t pitying. It was solid, grounding, like being caught in the middle of a storm and held until the wind passed. My face pressed against his chest, the scent of cedar dust and sweat filling his lungs, overwhelming and relaxing.
“I’m here sweetheart,” Bastien murmured, almost into his hair. "I'm here for you."
Don’t fall. Don’t fall.
I shuddered, wanting to melt into the embrace, but also terrified of how much I needed it.
“Come with me tonight,” he said, low, almost like a threat. “I don’t want your to be alone anymore. And I need someone close. I’m… missing the contact, you know?”
My stomach tightened. I knew exactly what he meant, but hearing him say it so plainly made my pulse hammer. Still, I nodded, too fast, desperate to please this beast of a man.
Bastien caught me just after diner, when everyone was drifting back to their cabins. He didn’t raise his voice, he just touched my shoulder and looked at me with that mix of strength and weariness that always undoes me.
“Hey hon'” he said, low, almost like a confession. “Mind' joining me in bed? Like last time? My cabin though.”
I didn't say a word, I simply followed his imposing frame along the small dirt road that bordered his cottage to the entrance. He sniffed the air, looked up at the sky for a moment, and sighed deeply before opening the door to his cabin.
Inside, it smelled strong. Like a mixture of woody, musky, and humid fragrances. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a tight wifebeater and tossed it aside, before removing his boots and his working pants.
The beast was now standing there in just his plaid boxers , sport socks and tank, his broad and shiny chest rising slowly. I stayed in my t-shirt and shorts, frozen in the middle of the room.
He gave me a soft look. “You don’t need to be scared. I’ll be gentle. Let me take care of you.”
Something in me melted at those words. I stripped to my underwear with trembling hands, and when he pulled me into the bed, my body just gave in. I gradually submitted to his quiet confidence and the way he handled me.
He wrapped his arms around my frail body from behind, pulling me flush against the warmth of his chest, his breath slow against my hair. His left hand started to massage my injured arm with care:
"Still hurting?" He asked while caressing the bruise. "I'll heal you."
He's so sweet I'm gonna melt.
I tried to quiet my heart, but it was hopeless. Every inch of him was overwhelming: the steady weight of his arm across my ribs, the roughness of his skin, the sheer size of him. I should have felt wrong, out of place. Instead I felt safe, wanted, even if it wasn’t really me he wanted.
Because then he whispered it.
“Amanda…”
My blood froze. He nuzzled the top of my head like it was natural, like he had done it a thousand times before. His voice cracked a little on her name.
"You remind me of her. So fucking much." He continued.
His left hand went down my arm until it reached my hip, and came to rest on my left leg.
"Amanda..."
I didn’t correct him. I didn’t move. I let him hold me tighter, let him believe for a few minutes that I could fill the emptiness she left. Because selfishly, I didn’t care what name he used, I just wanted his arms around me, his warmth, his weight.
I closed my eyes and let myself melt against him, even as guilt and longing tore me apart inside.
When I thought the night had settled, when I thought I could finally drift off in his arms, Bastien shifted behind me. His voice was a low rumble against my ear.
“Luc… come here. No, wait,” he corrected himself with a soft laugh, “Amanda… let me hold you like we used to. Go on top.”
I hesitated, but his hands were already guiding me, strong and sure. I slid carefully over him, my thighs brushing the solid weight of his legs, until I was stretched out along his body. His wifebeater was still clinging to his skin, damp with the heat, and beneath it his chest rose and fell like a steady drum.
I felt so small, so light pressed against him. My cheek rested just under his left pec, and his heartbeat thundered slow and deep, shaking through my entire body. His warmth surrounded me, swallowed me, like I’d been pulled into the center of something impossibly safe.
He ran his big hand up and down my back, tender in a way I wasn’t ready for.
“Amanda…” he whispered, his voice thick, “I’m so glad you’re here. I thought I’d lost you. But you’re back. You’re back in my life babe.”
I knew I wasn’t. But lying there, caged in his arms, hearing that raw relief in his voice—it felt like I was being given something I’d never had. So I clung to his chest, absorbing his warmth, trying to be his girl, never breaking the illusion. And even though my mind screamed it was wrong, my body just… relaxed. My eyes closed. And in his arms, under his weight, under the echo of her name, I felt good. Too good.
When I woke up, I was still on him. I watched his sleeping face. He seemed so calm.
I slept on his body, and it felt so good!
And then I felt something very hard, like a thick branch, pressed against my belly. It felt weirdly warm and it moved from time to time, pulsing. At first I didn't understand what it was, but then, while feeling it with my bare hands, I realized that it wasn't wood but a massive cock.
No way!
It was tenting in his underwear desperate to be free. You could guess it's shape, titled to the left, trying to break free from the tissue, threatening to pop the buttons on his plaid underpants at any moment.
Several minutes passed. Bastien's breathing was still slow and measured, I couln't find sleep anmore, eyes glued to the package I had right under my eyes. I hesitated. I hesitated to do something wrong, but the temptation kept returning.
Shit. I need to see it properly.
I knew it was a bad idea. A terrible idea. But this guy had already fucked me in his sleep, cummed all over my ass and bed and I didn't get the chance to actually see it fully. I wanted more. I wanted the real thing, right in front of my eyes. I wanted control.
Carefully, I opened one button. No reaction. Then two. Bastien kept snoring while his cock sprang through the slit. It was like discovering a mysterious new species coming back after a long sleep.
Damn. It's huge.
His log was far bigger than your average porn-star cock. Mine legit looked like a dwarf in comparison. The mushroom head that I had seen yersterday was already impressive, but the whole package was absurdly thick and long, crossed by large purple veins.
I took my time, admiring the beast invading my space, growing and growing. I stared, practically drooling on this hunk of meat. He was maybe thick as a beer-can, if not even thicker around the middle of the shaft. There was this characteristic manly smell too. The pungent fragrance of his dick, pulsing a few inches before my eyes. It smelled of sweat, pheromones and dried piss. I needed so badly to taste it. I needed it in my mouth!
Slowly, I lifted his hefty shaft with the tips of my fingers and carefully wrapped my lips around his large cockhead. It filled my mouth completely, barely leaving room for the first inch of his shaft. I got immediatly addicted to the richness of its flavors, even more intense than the smell could have suggested. It was so hot inside my mouth. It kept pulsing on my tongue and it almost felt reassuring, like a second heart beating for me. The thickness, the large veins I could twist my tongue around, the intoxicating taste, all of it drove me wild.
"Amanda..." he whispered.
I froze. The beast was still snoring. I waited, trying to adjust his massive head in my mouth but I soon felt something bitter and gooey coating the entrance of my throat.
Is that...?
It felt a lot. Did he cum? His sweaty ballsack still hangged very low.
Precum then?
I resumed sucking on the head before feeling another bitter drop, right at my throat.
Yeah, that was only precum. But it was already thick and bitter. He seemed to produce a good amount of it too. If that was his precum, what would the real climax look like?
I got completely focused on my task. There was nothing else at that moment. There was no more toxic ex, no more problems with my family or my job. Only his cock and the pleasure I wanted to give him.
I wanted to worship his dick so much, take it fully, make it cum so much. So I kept sucking his head while twisting his shaft with my hands (not even close to cover its full mass). I was flicking my tongue all around its prodigious dimension, trying to make him moan while he was sleeping.
I wanted this man to be happy. I wanted... to be his wife.
Then I got an idea. I got my tongue at the entrance of his cum hole, licked it for a while, and tried shoving my tongue down into it, it seemed so fucking big and elastic. I got the first inch inside, which made him quiver and moan. I tongue-fucked his helmet slowly, his precum dropplets were helping to lube it from time to time.
Damn... It's like it was meant for this tongue.
I was falling in love with his fat cock head. I french-kissed it, fucked it carefully, and it rewarded me with more tasty precum.
But I got interrupted: A deept grunt from Bastien, followed by two giant hands, landing on my tiny head and pushing me deeper on his cock.
His helmet got further down, until it completely filled my stretched mouth. Bastien then let out a roar that made the shed vibrate. It sounded like a bear about to devour it's prey, and his enormous balls contracted, pumping a mass of hot liquid from the base of his cock to his head, making every vein bulge along the way.
Shit, he's going to come!
His mammoth hardon grew hard as steel, no, like a tough pine tree, indestructible.
And then....
Boom!
I had never felt anything so powerful in my life. An explosion of hot cum flooded my mouth, a long, continuous jet that lasted at least three seconds. Three long seconds, at the end of which my mouth, already stretched by his beer can helmet, was filled to the brim with a very bitter, woody liquid, thick and lumpy. In shock, overwhelmed by the new sensations of his swimmers swelling my cheeks, I waited, not knowing what to do. Caught off guard, I couldn't have anticipated Bastien would squirt so much.
And it wasn't over yet!
"Huuugh, Amanda..." he groaned. "Shiii..."
Another pulse rose up his shaft. I swear I could feel a hot jet running all the way down his shaft under my fingers, rising to the head in my mouth. It was like a garden hose inflating under the pressure. And I was not ready for it.
Shit, I've got no room left!
A new, hot jet poured more semen into my mouth with terrifying force.
I tried my best, swallowing quickly the first load, feeling a copious amount of goo pass down my throat, but there was way too much left! With what the bear had already dumped in my mouth, I would have needed at least three more mouthfuls!
And soon a new pulse echoed in my skull.
Fuck no!
It was too much for me. Under the pressure of his sperm, my cheeks gave way, and I spat out a good portion of his seed, which spilled over my chin and Bastien's hard-as-wood balls. I tried to collect his hot babybatter, it was everywhere, still as strong as ever.
I didn't know if I liked the taste right then, too surprised by the amount of cum a man could carry around with him, but it was fucking bitter. Still, I had to avoid wasting his seed, so I swallowed again and again, trying my best to avoid spilling it, telling myself I'd have to clean it up afterward, but then I felt another jolt!
Fuck! He's going to drown me!
This guy was cumming so much I couln't keep up. Each pulse of his balls released the equivalent of several normal ejaculations. Each blast was separated by several seconds where his balls seemed to be recharging. I guess he had such a long cock that he needed his cum to be shot at very high pressure. Obviously, that required some preparation from his body. And it didn't seem to end!
"Ahhh, fuck..." the Hulk moaned again.
And his monster cock swelled with juice again. My mouth being saturated, I quickly pulled out his enormous head. I barely had time to reposition myself before the enormous head expelled a whitish jet right onto my face, covering it almost completely.
His balls kept contracting again and again, painting my face with acrid white cream.
This guy was a real insemination machine; I wondered how his ex could have tolerated such a thing. He just wasn't human!
Now I remembered. When he came between my thighs the other night, he had already ejaculated torrents of cum, but I hadn't realized their true power. To do that, you had to have them in your mouth or even right in your face. So I waited, watching this man cover me with hot, fragrant cum in jerky bursts, he came and came absurdly. I was still recovering from his first two spurts in my mouth, barely able to swallow them.
His body enventually stopped jerking and he sighed deeply, his horse cock slowly deflating.
Shit. What have I just done?
A deathly silence fell over the room. We were both drenched in sweat and cum, and I could barely see my surroundings, completely covered in a thick layer of his pungent semen. It was dripping onto his sweaty body in some spots, or starting to dry in others.
I had to clean it up. Fast.
So I licked, licked and licked. His beautiful, muscular body, his big, hairy balls, and I went to rinse my face in the sink. There were still patches of white stuff drying on his boxers and my pyjamas, but most of his swimmers were now in my belly, wich felt full and hot.
Falling asleep, I took my spot on his soft stomach and held him close. He must have sensed me returning to him because his arms quickly wrapped around my back, tenderly.
His deep voice whispered:
"Thank you babe."
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