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.