The late-afternoon sun filtered in through the dusty windows of the general store, casting golden streaks over the rows of canned goods, hardware supplies, and handmade trinkets from locals. Jack Johnson—broad-shouldered and glowing with his usual mix of sawdust, sweat, and raw masculinity—stood near the front counter, idly flipping through a small notepad of wood measurements. His flannel shirt was unbuttoned at the top, exposing a thick chest dusted with dark hair, and the sleeves were rolled high up his forearms, veins prominent as he absentmindedly scribbled a few numbers with a carpenter’s pencil.
That’s when he heard the bell over the door chime.
In stepped the married couple—Elena and Tom.
Jack didn’t look up right away. He didn’t have to. He could feel the shift in the air, the slight tension, the pause in movement. And then her voice, like smooth whiskey on a warm night.
“Jack,” Elena purred. “Fancy running into you here.”
He looked up then, lips tugging into that slow, devastating smirk of his. Elena looked even better than he remembered—tight, low-cut white blouse that clung to her round, full breasts, each button screaming for release. Her jeans were skin-tight, hugging generous hips and thick thighs, curves on full display. Her dark hair was pinned up messily, like she hadn’t tried too hard but knew she didn’t have to.
Tom, on the other hand, stood a step behind her. Tall, lean, sandy-haired, and a little flushed already. His shirt was tucked too neatly into his jeans, but his eyes kept flicking to Jack’s chest, then his arms, then lower.
Jack licked his bottom lip slowly. “Afternoon. Didn’t think I’d see you two so soon.”
Elena’s smile deepened. “We couldn’t stop thinking about the… visit.”
Tom cleared his throat. “We were just… picking up a few things.”
Jack stepped closer. “Planning a trip out toward the woods again?”
Elena leaned against the counter, her cleavage practically begging for attention. “We might be. Depends if you’re around.”
Jack’s eyes never left hers. “I’m always around.”
There was a beat of silence. The clerk behind the register kept pretending to sort receipts. Jack leaned down just a little, bringing himself closer to Elena’s face.
“Why don’t you two stop by this evening,” he said, voice deep and velvet-smooth. “I’ve got a fresh stack of wood drying, and a bottle of bourbon begging for company.”
Tom looked unsure. But Elena? She nodded without hesitation.
“Sounds perfect.”
That Night – Jack’s Cabin
The moon hung high and full, casting silver light through the pines. Inside the cabin, the fire crackled low, casting flickering shadows across the polished wood floors. Jack had cleaned up—if you could call it that. Shirtless now, he wore only worn jeans that clung to his thick thighs and rested dangerously low on his hips. His chest glistened faintly, fresh from a quick rinse in the outdoor shower, and the scent of cedar and sweat still clung to him like a second skin.
The knock on the door came exactly at 9.
Jack opened it and stepped aside, letting them in without a word.
Elena entered first, wrapped in a sleek, short black dress that hugged every inch of her lush body. The neckline plunged scandalously low, baring the tops of her soft, perfect breasts. Her legs were long and full, wrapped in sheer stockings, and she wore nothing underneath—Jack could tell with one look.
Tom followed behind her, slower, eyes already wide. He wore a button-up shirt unbuttoned at the top, his lean frame visibly tense, his jeans snug in a way that betrayed exactly how nervous—and turned on—he already was.
“You two clean up nice,” Jack said, pouring bourbon into three glasses.
Elena walked to the fire, hips swaying with practiced grace, and bent slowly to warm her hands—giving Jack a full, mouthwatering view of her ass. “And you,” she said, looking over her shoulder, “don’t clean up at all. That’s half the charm.”
Tom lingered near the edge of the room, watching Jack with cautious curiosity. But Jack didn’t ignore him. He handed the man a glass, brushed their fingers just a little too long, and leaned in close when he spoke.
“You nervous?” he asked, voice low and intimate.
Tom hesitated. “A little.”
Jack smiled. “Good. That means you’re paying attention.”
He turned away, walking over to Elena. One hand cupped her chin, tilting it up, and he kissed her—deep, slow, claiming. She melted against him, one hand pressing flat against his thick chest, the other sliding down his abs. Her body hummed with need, already heated.
Then Jack looked over her shoulder—straight at Tom.
“She told me you couldn’t stop thinking about what you saw,” Jack said. “And I haven’t stopped thinking about what you didn’t do.”
Tom swallowed hard.
Jack held Elena’s gaze, then turned her gently around so she could face her husband. He stepped behind her, hands running up her thighs, over her hips, slowly unzipping the dress.
“Watch her,” Jack said. “Watch how much she loves being taken.”
The dress slipped down Elena’s body inch by inch, revealing every soft curve, every delicious swell of flesh. Her breasts bounced free, full and heavy, nipples already hard. She wasn’t wearing panties. Her thighs glistened faintly in the firelight.
Tom stared—entranced.
Jack kissed Elena’s neck, one hand squeezing her breast while the other moved between her legs, drawing a moan from deep in her chest.
“She’s dripping,” Jack said, fingers teasing. “You like seeing this, don’t you?”
Tom nodded, breathless.
“Then come closer.”
Tom stepped forward—drawn, unsure. Jack didn’t wait. He reached out, took Tom’s hand, and placed it on Elena’s hip. Their bodies were flush now, pressed together around Elena’s trembling form.
And then Jack kissed Tom.
It wasn’t tentative. It was hard, firm, dominant. Jack’s hand slid into Tom’s hair, holding him still as their mouths collided, Jack’s tongue teasing, tasting. Tom gasped into it, but didn’t pull away. His body pressed forward instinctively, cock hard beneath his jeans.
Elena, watching, moaned as she touched herself. She knelt beside them, stroking her clit, watching Jack take her husband like he’d taken her.
“You’re mine tonight,” Jack growled against Tom’s lips, his voice raw and commanding. “Both of you.”
He backed Tom toward the couch, kissing him again as he stripped him with one hand, jeans undone, shirt tossed aside. Tom’s body was lean but toned, sensitive and eager. Jack pushed him down onto the cushions, kissed down his chest, and then took him into his mouth—deep, slow, relentless.
Elena cried out at the sight—one hand buried between her thighs, the other squeezing her breast, her mouth open as she watched Jack dominate the man she’d married.
Tom groaned, body arching. “F-fuck…”
Jack pulled off slowly, lips wet, eyes hungry. “That’s just the beginning.”
He stood, stroking himself now, thick and pulsing, then turned to Elena.
“Climb on,” he ordered.
She didn’t hesitate. She mounted Tom, took him in with one deep stroke, and began to ride—back arched, tits bouncing, moaning wildly.
Jack watched them both, stroking himself as Elena moaned louder, as Tom clutched her hips and bucked beneath her. Then Jack moved behind her, bent down, and pushed into her ass—slow and deep—until both she and Tom were crying out in pleasure, bodies locked in rhythm.
The room echoed with the sound of sex—the slap of skin, the ragged breathing, the desperate cries of release. And when they finally came—together, loud and shaking—Jack was still in control, still the center of it all.
They didn’t leave until sunrise. And even then, Elena walked like she’d been claimed. Tom couldn’t stop glancing at Jack, lips still tingling from the kiss, body still sore in all the right ways.
Jack watched them go with that same smirk, lighting a cigarette on the porch, already thinking about who might wander in next.
This town had needs. And Jack? Jack was always ready.
Jack’s Page
