I have been sandpapering most of the morning, and I have painted the shelves. It's about time for us to install them in the tool shed.

When you bought land in the middle of nowhere, I was the first one you called. We spent an evening smoking and fantasizing about everything one could do there. The fire pit. Putting up a camp. Clearing a path. Making a clearing by the pond where one could sunbathe in the summers. Hanging a hammock between the trees. You knew from the workshops how much I like using my hands-painting, gluing, anything - so the only thing I had to do was show up.

Of course, the tool shed was already there when we arrived this morning.

"What an impatient guy you are!" I'm thinking, trying to wipe my face with a dusty hand, because sweat and dust go so well together.

My overall is a mess. So are my face, elbows and hands. I'll have to jump into that damn pond later to wash everything off, I guess. I expect you to be in the tool shed, welding metal sheets for the cabin. I go in. The radio is on full blast, but you're not there. You probably went to the woods to collect some firewood. City boy, learning to operate a chainsaw from videos, I smirk to myself. The paint on my chin and forehead is reflected in the shiny metal sheets. I grimace at my reflection. Wonderful colour. It even looks great on face and arms!

I am still admiring the paint on my face when I notice a movement behind me. You are at the door. I turn around. You are looking at me and laughing silently, with a black greasy trail on your forehead and neck. I can feel something is different. I turn back from you and see us both in the metal surface.

I sense you are turning into a forest creature; or is the metal distorting reality?

In two steps, you are behind me, asking a silent question. I nod yes. We are still looking at each other in the metal surface. You take my bandanna off and tousle my hair. The cloud of dust makes us both laugh out loud, but then we both turn serious and silent; the only sound to be heard is the creaking of the forest.

You start massaging my neck, and, without turning, I lean my head back, catching your breath, and mine. Entranced, I unbuckle the overalls, and feel my top sliding up my arms.

I hear you taking a deep breath as the metal reflects my breasts. The hands that were gently massaging my neck are bold now, exploring my nipples, ribs, belly button. I want them to be bolder and raise my arms.

You are a quick reader; in a second, one hand is pinning my arms above my head. The sheet is cold on my nipples to the point of pain, but the rest of me is burning and waiting for the other one, anticipating.

You are feeling each of my vertebrae all the way to the crack of my ass, which has been pushing against your hard desire, saying yes, welcome. The rest of my clothes is slowly peeled off.

Curious hands spread my ass cheeks, and your tongue is welcome by the already writhing furnace. Your fingers are exploring every curve and button on the outside and inside of my body. I can't see my face anymore; all I can do is sense and respond, which I do, vigorously. I come again and again as my pussy swallows your fingers. Next, they are in my hand and give me a smell of what you are doing to me.

My desire, at last, becoming a monster, I turn around to rid you of every piece of your clothes. Finally. We are on the floor. I climb on your already ready cock and enjoy the way you are still growing inside of me while your hands are enjoying my burning breasts. You kiss me while the forest or music is giving us the rhythm.

I want more; as your eyes are feasting on my hips, stomach and tits, I come to taste my cum on you. I savour our common juices with my tongue and fingers, as are you. Our breaths are getting faster than music now, and we don't know where or what each of us is. The mouths and fingers are getting savage, taking both of us to our own forest. Soon we are drinking each other in the middle of nowhere.