logs at his feet.

Still entranced by Oren’s body; the strained expression on his pulled, tense, bearded face; the sweat trickling down his temples from the smoothness of his shaved head; I began to moan, unknowingly as my body was warming to the actions of my wrist and fingers.

With another log split with a cacophonous break, I began to heave and spasm. As Oren raised the axe for one more final strike of his primitive tool, my own device achieved its end as I spent my load forth with furious abandon, streaming thick arcing wads of come out the window and down onto my lawn below.

I shirked and gasped with each spasm of my orgasming cock. And once the deed was done, I leaned back from the window, pulled down the panes of glass and dropped the blinds, wiping shut the image of Oren’s labor in a fade to beige.