Page 4 of Hard as Wood

I keep my eyes locked on hers as I slide up her leg and under her full skirt. She’s so warm and soft, and I nearly melt into her. I continue to move higher until I reach the apex of her thigh. It’s warmer here, nearly scorching, and my fingers seek out the source of the heat.

She gasps as I graze the outside of her lips, the beautiful peach skin that folds into her core. I’ve watched her massage herself here many times. The air would thicken with a sweet smell, her breath heavied, a wet sound flooded my ears, her eyes closed, and she strummed herself with an easytempo until she cried out in a glorious pitch. Here I am, right at the source of so much euphoria—right at the place I’ve always dreamt of.

I push my finger in more, softly and slowly. She gasps, her nails cutting into my wooden back. “Tell me if it’s too much,” I whisper.

“Pineo, it’s so good. Oh, God, it’s so much better than I could ever imagine.”

I’m barely even touching her. My finger just dipped in her wetness. I’ve never been able to feel her before, but I’m sure that this is the wettest she’s ever been. I imagine my wooden cock could slide right into her. It’s like her body was made for me—as if a divine Maker made her as well.

I stroke up and down her slickness, moving easily. She feels so good under my touch, and I moan. “Does this feel good?” I ask.

“Oh, yes. Pineo. Too good.”

“It feels good for me too. I think that sticky stuff might erupt from me again.”

“Oh God, that’s so hot!”

Her breath is heavy—like the weight of when she’s about to scream out, but I just started. I don’t want the fun to end yet. I move down her until I reach her entrance. I watched her dive her fingers into herself, wishing that was mefilling her. Now, I slowly stick one finger inside of her. She clenches around me and cries out. “Oh, my God!”

I don’t know who this Godis, but I’m awfully tired of hearing his name coming from her mouth. I lean in to her ear. “I only want to hear my name on your lips. I’m the one who’s filling you, not God.” I don’t mean to be aggressive, but something comes over me when seeing her like this. My cock is longer than before, but not as long as it was minutes ago, and it’s like it has a mind of its own—begging me to insert myself into her, to claim her, to never let her go.

She grabs my face, looking into my eyes. “Yes, Pineo. Only you.” Something settles inside of me. I’m sated partially. “Good, girl,” I whisper, continuing to insert one finger while I play with her bundle of nerves at the top of her sex.

“Yes, Pineo! Just like that!” she cries.

I knew she’d like it like this. I’ve always been a good student; now is my time to shine. It usually takes her a while to finish her pleasure, but I’m confident I can make her reach her edge soon. Not that I want this to end. No, I wish this could last forever, but I bet there are a lot more touching sessions in store for us.

I increase my speed, applying the perfect amount of pressure.

“Oh, my! Pineo! Why are you so good at this?” she’s panting over her words. “Fuck! That’s so good! I’m coming. I’m coming!”

“Yes, you are.” I kiss her temple as she convulses in my arms, and I loom over her. Her body turns as rigid as my wooden cock. She arches her back, and now I’m moaning—watching as she melts under my fingers. My insides are mush again, and I erupt. Thankfully, it’s not as intense this time because I want to study Clara. I’ve never seen something so powerful come from her, and I want to remember every moment.

I’m still strumming her, and she continues to rock against my fingers. One of her hands brushes in the syrup dripping out of the hole of my pants. She gasps, twirling her fingers in the substance and bringing it to her lips. “Oh, you came, Pineo. Such a good boy.” She moans. I like being called a good boy. It makes my cock grow again.

I continue to move in her juices until her body slacks, and she stills, catching her breath. I kiss every inch of her face and nuzzle next to her.

“I still don’t know if I’m dreaming,” she finally whispers after a moment of silence has passed.

I bury my head in the crook of her neck, soaking in the smell of the fresh sweat on her skin. “If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”

Chapter three

Clara

I tried to stay up as long as I could. Even though my body felt like a tub of melted butter, and I couldn’t remove myself from the tangle of Pineo’s wooden arms, I did my best to keep myself awake. Pineo fell asleep quickly after he touched me to completion, and I watched him, studying the way his chest rose and fell. As weird as it sounds, I thought of my father. He made Pineo when I was a little girl. Maybe he sent magic from heaven down to Earth to turn him into a real man just for me. It was a comforting thought.

I couldn’t keep my hands off him as I snuggled close, tracing the grain lines on his arms and over his cheeks.I was mesmerized by him, a living, breathing, life-sized wooden man. My fascination with his form couldn’t keep my eyelids from drooping, though. My body felt too good and drifted off to a restful slumber.

Now, I’m afraid to open my eyes. Afraid that Pineo won’t be lying next to me and that everything that happened was just a dream. I can’t lie here forever, though. The rumbling in my stomach won’t allow it. I open my eyes and turn to the spot next to me—the spot Pineo lay as he ran his wooden fingers down my cheek while I fell asleep. Except now it’s empty.

Tears form in the corner of my eyes. Of course, it was only a dream. This is the real world where puppets don’t turn into men, and young women who dream about falling in love with toys become lonely spinsters.

A bang sounds from my kitchen. I’ve never been so happy to hear the clattering of pans. I jump from my bed, pull a blanket around me, and shuffle out of my room. Pineo stands at the stove, hands on his hips as he looks down at a pan.

I rush toward him, wrapping my arms around his middle and resting my head on his back. He rubs my hands on his chest. “Good morning,” he says, turning and kissing me on the lips. I kiss him back, less gentle than him, darting my tongue into his mouth. I’m just so happy he’s here andnot a figment of my imagination. He returns my hunger tenfold, grabbing my face and deepening our embrace. Yes, I’m starving, but his wooden lips elicit a deeper hunger. Fooling around was magical and perfect and everything I dreamed of, but I want more. I want his long wooden dick pounding inside of me, especially when it grows as long as it did yesterday, even if it’s dangerous.

My hands trail down his torso, fumbling over his crotch. “Oh no,” I pull away, looking at the torn fabric. “Your pants are still ripped.” I fall to my knees, assessing if I can sow the hole myself. His wooden nob pokes out.

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