Page 7 of Orn and the Real Girl

ORN

I KNEW that I shouldn’t have bolted like that, but I was left with no choice; when I caught the scent of Sara’s arousal on the air, thick and tangy-sweet like honey, my body’s reaction was immediate and violent.

Between one breath and the next my cock was an aching bar thrusting up obscenely from my groin, straining for Sara like a dog begging for table scraps.

I’d felt my whole body heat and swell, my pulse thundering in my ears like a battle song.

It had been all I could do to stop myself from tossing the table into the wall and pouncing on her then and there, when she’d done nothing but eat her food quietly.

I hadn’t pressed her for details, but it was obvious that the little human woman had been through something awful before she made her way to my cabin seeking shelter and aid.

I was the worst kind of monster to lust after her while she was so vulnerable.

But she was aroused, something dark and sinuous inside me whispered, nipping at my heels with questions.

But it didn’t matter how aroused she was, the rational part of me knew; sometimes the body reacted strangely to stress and upset.

And if she wanted me, she’d surely say something.

Or give any indication at all of her interest. But Sara had been nothing but sweet and polite.

Calm down, you lout, I told myself as I finally reached my tool shed and dug out a wedge of the drifted-up snow to let me pull the door open and slip inside.

My chopping axe was on the back wall, I knew—though it was too dark and murky in here to see.

But I paused instead of grabbing it, my gloved hand drifting towards my groin, where my arousal was still howling and insistent.

I bit my lip, glancing at the door, before ripping my gloves off with a growl and dropping my loose pants to my ankles, freeing my throbbing cock from its confines.

I sank to my knees, my hand already stroking the hot, leaking length before I’d even fully settled.

Bliss radiated from even that small, rough touch, and I groaned, my eyes squeezing closed.

With the silence and the dark all around me, knowing that there was no chance Sara would stumble upon me or hear me, I let myself fall into a fantasy.

I conjured her deep brown skin and large, lively eyes.

I pictured her sinfully full lips, so plush it felt like they couldn't be real, parted around panting breaths.

I imagined what her large, heavy breasts might look like as they bounced and swayed under me.

I imagined it was her honeyed cunt clenching around my shaft, rather than my hand, that her soft skin was under my other hand instead of being braced against my own thigh.

“Sara,” I ground out, utterly lost in the scene playing out behind my eyes, “You’re so fucking beautiful. So soft. I need you. Give me everything.”

Pleasure crested, my sac wrenching up tight and liquid heat barreling up my spine.

I slowed my hand’s desperate pace, dancing on the razor’s edge before release for several blissful seconds, an undignified whine escaping from my lips.

But even in my imagination, I had to ensure my partner came first, and so it wasn’t until I conjured Sara bucking and screaming under me, her neck arched and taut and her eyes rolled up into her skull, that I let my fist slide down to my swollen, sensitive knot and squeeze it like it was lodged in her cunt.

I came with a shattered roar, my body falling forward and my vision going spotty from the force of my orgasm.

I could hear my seed hissing and spattering against the cold dirt floor of the shed, each hard throb rocking me and threatening to tug me unconscious.

It went on for long seconds, longer than any other in my life, and by the end of it I was weak and trembling, wrung out and half-dead.

Once my vision cleared and I could get a proper lungful of air, I rose on shaky legs, pulling my pants back up and over my hips, wincing at the rub of the fabric over my too-sensitive flesh.

I grabbed the axe from the wall and opened the door again for some light so I could kick dirt onto the river of seed painted across the floor.

With a heaving sigh, I left the shed, turning to my woodcutting area.

I chopped wood for close to an hour in the snow, letting the burn in my muscles and the sweat running down my body cleanse my spirit of the last of its unwelcome lusts.

Sara was my guest, was trusting me to take care of her and protect her from whatever she’d been running from, and I could not, under any circumstances, allow myself to abuse that trust.

Once I was thoroughly worn out and had a nice pile of fresh logs to bring inside, I returned my chopping axe to its place in the shed, eyeing the conspicuous dirt piles with shame, and bundled the wood to bring inside.

I knocked on the front door in the pattern I’d showed Sara earlier, pleased she’d listened to me and locked it, and waited for her to open the door for me.

I wasn’t waiting long, the latch clattering on the other side in an instant, but I wasn’t prepared for what welcomed me when I helped her push the heavy ironwood door open.

The smell of arousal was stronger than ever, re-inflating my traitorous cock in an instant. The scent was so thick on the air I could taste it, was dazed by it like it had struck me in the head with the force of a boulder.

And clutched in her small brown hands was the story I’d been reading in bed when she’d arrived last night, forgotten and no doubt trapped somewhere among the blankets for her to find.

I cursed myself a thousand times, preparing to slam the door shut in her face and just run, but before I could she grabbed my coat lapels and dragged me inside with surprising strength, kicking the door shut behind us both.