It's warm today, really warm, so I stripped off my t-shirt about a half hour and leave it hanging off of the back of my chair as I look at the hickory log sitting on top of my chopping block, the wedge seated in the small split that I've started.

Hefting the ten pound sledge in my hand, I bring it over my head, hesitating for just a moment at the top to check my alignment before bringing the hammer down. The blunt steel head makes a whish sound as it descends, the sound obliterated a moment later as hardened steel meets hardened steel and a sharp ping explodes through the air around me, almost stabbing me in the ears and eyes for a microsecond before disappearing. The wedge disappears too, driven almost halfway through the thick hardwood log by the force of my blow, the small split yawing open widely now. Normally I’d have this in pieces already, but there’s a hell of a knot in the log that needs some more convincing.

Good deal. I reach down and get the bar I need to reach further before shifting my hammer to just my right hand, choking up on the handle and getting ready for another blow. It takes four to get the wedge the rest of the way through the hickory, the two halves of the big log tumbling to the side with my last strike.

“Now the fun part,” I mutter to myself as I take the wedge and hammer over to the side of the cabin, putting them away to grab my axe. It's an old one, none of this fiberglass handle shit that so many of the hardware stores sell nowadays. Nope, this baby's an old logger's axe, with a handle made of the same type of hickory that I'm looking to split. The axehead's wickedly sharp, I shaped it up just last night in anticipation of this work.

Picking up one half of the log, I line it back up on my chopping block before lifting my axe, bringing it down even faster than the sledgehammer fell. The log shatters, two halves tumbling off the stump of an old pine while the axe buries itself an inch into the wood. I wiggle it out, just another scar on a stump that's taken a thousand others over the years since I chopped this tree down and converted the stump into my chopping block and one half of my sawhorse.

I'm just fetching the other half of the main log to split when I see a flash of silver and tan and I stop, looking up to see my neighbor. She's stunning this close, her hair dancing in the light breeze while her white tank top and black jeans have my cock humming before even three heartbeats have passed. “Hi,” she says, her green eyes widening as I stand up. “Uh… I'm Chrissy.”

“Dan Benson,” I stammer out, my eyes crawling over her sexy body. I know I shouldn't, but she's the closer than most women have been to me in the past few years, and she's so fucking sexy that I feel like I just jumped into the deep end of puberty again. “Was the noise bothering you?”

“N… no,” she replies, her eyes poring over me, and I know what she's seeing. In a moment of weakness and assumption of privacy on this warm late spring slash early summer day I took my shirt off, and while she's maybe seen me a few times before, this is the first time she's been able to see my body with its twisted, puckered mass of scars that extend from my waist up to just below my ear. She stammers again, before looking down in her hands, blushing a little. “Uh, I just wanted to introduce myself and bring this over.”

She holds up a plate, and as she steps closer I can see that it's pie. More interesting than the pie though is the way her tits get squashed and lifted up as she does, soft and supple and huge, begging for my fingers or my mouth to…

Goddammit, I've got a fucking hardon that's stiffer than the logs I've been trying to cut, and all I can do is hold my axe in front of me like a fucking idiot. “I see,” I finally get out, arousal and shame mixing as her eyes resume looking over my body. “I'd take it, but my hands are filthy.”

“That's okay,” Chrissy says, biting her lip. “Uhm, if you want I can set it inside?”

Inside my house? This beautiful sexual creation wants to step inside my house? “Sure. What is it?”

“Oh, it's um… it's peach,” she says. “I first wanted to do berries, but it’s still a little early yet except for strawberries, and I thought the peaches were better. Do you like pie?”

Oh, I love pie… and the view Chrissy's giving me as she walks past me and I get a view of her sweet ass in those jeans makes me think of exactly what kind of peach pie I want… her, spread wide open on my table with her sweet juices running down the inside of her thighs for me to scoop up with my tongue.

“It's good… especially when it's nice and juicy,” I answer before I can even stop myself. Chrissy pauses for a moment, but sets the plate down on my table before turning around. “So… you moved in a couple of weeks ago, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, and I've finally reached the point I can't really take any more. I walk back outside to grab my t-shirt and yank it over my head. Chrissy follows me, her body pulling to me like a magnet even with my back turned to her. “Wow.”

“What's that?” I ask, looking over my shoulder and knowing what she's talking about. When I fell, I fell with my back up, and that's the side that got even more scarred, the pinkish white knots and twists of flesh extending two thirds of the way, even crossing my spine. “They don't hurt.”

She nods, her eyes still watching me carefully as I turn around. “How long have you had them?”

“Six years,” I admit, closing my eyes as the memory flashes back. “I was… I was a firefighter. There was an accident.”

Chrissy nods, looking up into my eyes. “Is that why you haven't stopped by? Your looks?”

No… I'm like this to everyone. Well, except for the hardon and trying to filter out every dirty sexual thought I’ve ever dreamed from coming out of my mouth.

“I guess it just kept slipping my mind,” I lie through my teeth as I look at her. She's got her hands behind her back and I wish I was whole. I could take her right here, in the dusty side yard of my cabin where the scent of pine and lake water fills the air. If I had a chance, I'd show her what I could do to a body like hers, with the pure whiteness of her tank top highlighting the creaminess of her skin while the black of her jeans and… oh fuck honey, you're wearing combat boots? Fuck me, I don't know why but I've always found a woman in tight jeans and high boots to be sexier than even high heels.

“I guess that's happened to both of us,” Chrissy says, blushing a little. She must be embarrassed, trying to be polite while she's disgusted by the freak in front of her who's obviously perving on her. “Uhm, I've been caught up in my artwork. I'm a painter.”

“I see,” I reply, not knowing what to say. It's not that I don't like art, but when you're a walking refugee from the house of horrors, looking at modern art tends to just get you depressed. Hard to see the beauty in Dali when he’s staring back at you from the mirror. “I guess you enjoy it?”

“I do,” Chrissy says, smiling a little. Suddenly she blinks and looks up at me. “Uh… I guess I should ask for your phone number. You know, if something happens at the house or something? You look like… well, I'm not very good with home repair and you look like you're very good with your hands.”

Oh fuck honey, you have no idea. Still, there's no way she could be looking at me like that, although I'm sure my cock is visible against my work pants. Those emerald green eyes widen a little more as she glances down and sees my bulge, and she swallows, but then her eyes go back up to me, and I see a change. She sees the scars, and while there might be a part of her that primally is intrigued... she could never see herself in bed with a monster, a freak like me.

Holding onto my anger with a tight grip, I clear my throat. I might be disgusting to her… but that doesn't mean I have to let it show. Especially since she’s trying to be polite at least. “Let me get my phone, I'll write it down for you.”

I walk into my cabin without another word, grabbing the little Post-It pad I keep on my fridge and write down my number, tempted to give her a fake number. But it'd be a waste of time, after all she lives right next door to me. Besides, I'm going to be bigger than her, and show her that despite her disgust, the revulsion she sees when she sees a body that's covered in melted mozzarella… I can still be neighborly.

“Here you are,” I reply as I emerge, holding out the paper. “Give me a call, I'll save your number.”

Chrissy takes the paper, reading my tone of voice and nodding. “Uhm… okay. I guess I'll see you around.”

“Yeah. I'll bring your pie plate back when I'm done,” I say as a farewell, but even as Chrissy walks away the side of me that hasn't felt a woman's warmth in six years watches every flex and curve of her ass as she heads to her house.

As soon as she's gone I go to pick up my axe again, but my needs are undeniable. Swallowing, I walk inside, slamming my door behind me and locking it quickly. I can't even make it to a chair, I need it now.

My pants fall quickly, my cock springing free as my mind is overwhelmed with images of Chrissy. Her voice, so soft and slightly throaty, sweet and intelligent… her face, a work of art with that cute little button nose, heart shaped chin, and plump lips that would looks perfect stretched around my cock as I force her onto her knees and feed her my thick, hard cock, more than she can handle.

It's already throbbing, precum leaking from the head of my cock when I finally get it out of my underpants, and I squeeze hard just behind the head, holding my hand still as I try to get myself under control. Last time, when I saw her on the dock I was out of control, so rushed that I came too fast. This time though I'm going to draw it out, letting my mind remember what she looks like… to enjoy every moment I can, and ignore the parts where she looked at me disgusted.

I start with slow strokes, letting my precum slick my shaft as I slide my hand up and down the stretched, slightly pink skin. Leaning back against the rough wood of my door, I bite my lip as I imagine her plump tits, the creamy lightly tanned skin generously wrapped around me as Chrissy rubs what has to be two pert little nipples together as she lets me fuck her tits, moaning my name as I show her what a real man's cock can look like.

I'm rising so fast I have to reach down, tugging down on my balls to stop myself from rushing as my mind is overwhelmed. Faster and faster I stroke my cock, my hips actually lifting from the door to thrust through my fist as I imagine her laid out on my dining table, those long legs spread and her pussy gleaming as I sink every inch deep inside her clinging snatch. Her hair would be spread out, a etheral halo that casts around her face as her eyes go even wider when I bottom out, pumping in and out of her with hard thrusts that shake the entire table, the two of us groaning as gasping.

In my mind's eye Chrissy bites her lip as her body betrays her, and it's that innocent little act that sends me out of control. I pump my cock hard and fast, groaning my need and want as I imagine fucking her body until both of us are covered in sweat and she's so exhausted she can't see straight. She can't remember that she's fucking a freak, a half fried monster… she's just drunk off the sensations that my body is giving her, her head rocking back and forth as she wails out….

I scream harshly as my cock explodes, my orgasm shaking my knees and I drop, catching my hand on the edge of the table as jets of white cream shoot out, coating the floor in front of me as my body spasms. I shake, throwing my head back as I keep coming, unable to stop until the world swims gray in front of me and I lose my balance, collapsing onto my side, my cock still dribbling onto my fingers, which are now slick from my emissions.

Groaning, gasping, I finally stop my hand as my cock aches, almost burning from how hard I've just climaxed. I roll onto my back, letting my heartbeat slow before I sit up, looking over at the mess beside me. I've shot a long way, all the way to the other side of the table, and the pure amount… I'm going to be on my knees awhile.

“Fuck it,” I mutter, slowly getting to my feet. My knees ache where I hit the floor, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to have bruises there tomorrow. “First things first… I need a goddamn shower.”

My cock twitches, probably thinking about how Chrissy would look in the shower with me, but it's satisfied for now.

Still, there's another side of me that's still screaming, screaming in frustration and anger and sadness. I'm living next door to the most beautiful, sexy woman I've ever met… and I know all she can see is the twisted monster I look like on the outside.